#and I will reach beyond the bars to the sun

[all-the-leaves-are-brown]

They put me in a cage but I am a plant and I grew around the bars.

They took the cage away but I am a plant and my branches remember the shape of bars long after I have been set free.

[witchofhimring]

Being the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and claiming Cannibal

This is sort of an offshoot of my Being the Daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen where Reader claims Cannibal instead of Tessarion. Thanks to @katiekatluvz for giving me the idea! Sorry for the long wait I finally have time to write after exams!

Minor Rhaenyra x Reader (platonic)

This happens before Aemond looses his eye.

This was dangerous, possibly suicidal. But after Aegon's comments earlier you could not take it anymore. It was another forced family gathering where Viserys tried to get his eldest child's family to sit with his second wive's. Things started out okay, there was eating and the occasional conversation. You were merely concentrating on just finishing your meal and getting the hell out. Everything fell apart, with it simple being an innocent comment made by Helaena. She had simply said; "When will you get a dragon Y/n?" Oh poor Helaena. She had meant well but of course Aegon had to stick his nose in matters not his own. "Maybe you would like a pig. Call it the pink dread." Aegon threw you a nasty look. Face heating, you shyly looked down, avoiding his gaze. Of course Aegon would find it funny to make fun of other peoples misfortune. "Shove off." Jaecery's snarled at Aegon. Aegon was not done, even when you had gone back to eating. "I guess one day you shall have a dragon. After all, you are a very strong girl." A thick blanket of tension blanketed the door. Everyone, even those at the other end, heard. Helaena's breath hitched, a low exasperated sound escaped Alicent. Aemond snorted. Your cheeks burned with hurt and shame. "Some of us burn hotter than others." Aemond added.

A fist slammed on the table. Visery's, despite being well past his prime, struck the table with enough force that it quivered. Even your mother, normally so vocal, had fallen silent. "You will not utter such slanders in this house." He snarled. At that moment Visery's did not remotely look like the loving grandfather you knew. Visery's glanced at his wife before ordering Aegon to his study. Hanging your head, you ran out of the room, ignoring your mother's cries.

Your door was locked, barring anyone from entering. Even your beloved mother. As the hour grew late there was silence outside. Night did nothing to calm the raging heat in your heart. Of course Aegon thought he was better, riding on oh-so-great Sunfyre and his silver Targaryen hair. And who was Aemond to laugh at you! He didn't have a dragon either!

Here you were, deprived of Targaryen looks and dragonless. Tears rolled down your cheeks. Outside a roar echoed across the water. Wiping the remaining tears you opened the window. A gust of wind nearly blew you back. Bellow the sea surrounding Driftmark thundered, crashing against rocks. Far ahead was a great black lump, so dark that even against the sky it was easily seen. You would have thought it was Vhaegar except that Laena and Daemon were in Pentos. Beyond a stretch of sand were the dragon caves. If one exited the gaves and ran across the sand they could reach the dragons. Sunfyre and Dreamfyre were snoozing in their cave. Vermithor and Silverwing were back at Kingslanding. There were others, of course. You entertained the idea it might be Meyles until the dragon roared once more. It's screech was nothing like you had heard. It sounded like metal being scrapped together. Yet instead of being afraid, an idea came.

Any sane person would have thought twice. Then again, Targaryens were not exactly known for their sanity. Waiting till the early morning, you slipped out. When the sun was just pocking over the horizon that Driftmark was quietest. The guards would be tired and few would be up. Down the halls you slunk, nearing the exit. There was a small side door leading to stairs. These stairs took one right down to the courtyard. Passing a pair of sleepy guards you slipped behind a pair of barrels. Now it was just down the steps. That was when you heard a noise.

A familiar drawl could be heard. Great. Aegon was awake. Quickly you ducked behind a pair of barrels by the door. He stumbled inside and right past you. "I should have kicked him." Once he was gone you looked left and right. Then came the hard part.

The court yard was empty. Not even your father Laenor would be out training. Beyond was the gate, with two guards standing sentry. If you could slip past them, and across the sand, then you could take a small passage that lead to the dragon cave.

It was down to luck. The guards would need to be distracted for long enough. Fortunately, there was luck on your side. The walls supporting the gate were made of stone. And they just so happened to be uneven pieces of stone. Meaning all you had to do was climb up. The guards were so focused on the other side that you could get up without being spotted. Small hands grasped the rocks and you climbed. It occurred to you at that moment wearing a nightgown was likely not a good idea. But it was too late to turn back.

The salty air whipped your hair. Reaching the top you had a view of the caves beyond. There were soldiers guarding but none were looking up. There were four you could see. And now that you had reached the top there was yet another problem. You had no plan other than wait and hope. It was poor planning strategy. Though in your defense you were ten. The sun was rising higher in the sky. Would you even be able to sneak out!?

"Change!" A call nearly caused you to jump up. Looking over the side you saw the guards marching away. Taking the chance you jumped down. The force in which your feet hit the ground made them sting. "Hey!" To your horror you saw guards rushing toward. Shit. Taking a deep breath you plucked up the courage and ran. Having a head start helped. But these were full grown men, and running in sand was hard. The only thing on your side was that they were covered in armor. It meant you were able to reach the dragon cave that remained unguarded. It was was left unguarded for a reason. Because none would ever dream of challenging The Cannibal. For a moment you looked at the dark passage, and then looked back. You could hear them calling out. "I've come this far." And with that, you headed in.

The first few steps plunged you into pitch black. The air tasted stale and the rocks threatened to rip open your feet. Most dragon caves were well maintained, but even dragon-keepers would not dare go near this one. A few steps later and a few crack in the walls gave light. Step by step you walked forward. Now you could smell it and it nearly made you gag. But you had come so far that to turn back now was not an option. You heard a deep rumbling and stopped. Even the foundations of this cave seemed to hum. When the noise stopped you proceeded. Ahead you saw the tunnel end. Finally you met The Cannibal.

Despite the dragons infamy few could describe it. In fact many did not survive such an encounter. And it was enormous. Only slightly smaller that Vhagar, The Cannibal turned his head and mad poisonous green eyes met yours. Dragon eyes had always fascinated you. They held this terrifying imperious gaze. But when you looked into The Cannibal's all you saw was a wild raging fire. You had heard of Wildfire, created by the lords of Old Valyria to mimic dragon fire. While you had never seen wild fire, you thought his eyes might be close enough. Dragon scales came in all colours, but black was rare. The only other dragon known to possess such a colour was Balerion the Black Dread. Smooth pitch black scales glistened in the sunlight. His great jaw had uncountable razor sharp teeth larger than you. The large tale swung around and The Cannibals body was facing you. Then he opened his mouth and fire curled at the throat.

"I will die." In that moment you felt fear and rage. You were as good as the rest of them. Why should you not have a dragon! “Dohaerās, Cannibal! Lykirī!” Those were the only words you could say. Something akin to fire swelled within you at that moment. A defiance bordering on madness. The fire in The Cannibal's seemed ready to burst forward. "Lykirī!" You thought those would be your last words. It was not fear you felt in that moment, but the desire to prove something "At least I tried, like a true Targaryen." The blast of white hot flame which would encase and disintegrate your body never came. Your eyes met his. The Cannibal was looking down at you with his imperious glance. Was he not going to burn you?

That was when you heard voices. It seemed the guards had decided to go in. Better to perish in dragon fire than whatever your mother might do to them for failing to protect her only daughter. Then you stepped forward. Now was not the time to be afraid. Already you had braved possible dragon fire. Over rock and bits of bone you stepped, ignoring the stinging in your feet. From The Cannibal was a ladder attached to a harness. "So The Cannibal once had a rider." At that moment you did not ponder too much. They said The Cannibal had never been ridden before. But since his very being was a mystery you supposed it was possible.

Scrambling up the rough ropes you desperately hurried to the top. "There she is! She's...she's on the dragon!" The Cannibal jerked back nearly sending you flying off. "Daor!" You ordered loud as possible. To your astonishment the dragon listened. Reaching the top you fastened the harness, securing you in place. The Cannibal seemed to know what you wanted, for the moment you were settled the dragon gave a great huff and speed down the corridor. Every jut of his muscle sent you roughly inching forward. "This is much more uncomfortable than I thought." You always imagined dragon riding as a smooth ride. But now you realized that was untrue. Then what would flying be like? You barely had any time to comprehend anything before sunlight was visible. The Cannibal then picked up speed. Suddenly The Cannibal launched into the air with a great jerk. Had you not been harnessed in you would have fallen. His leathery wing beat the air as the ground became smaller.

You would have smiled if it had not been for the fact your voice has disappeared. The thrill, terror and excitement nearly paralyzed you. The Cannibal was not going up smoothly. The dragon seemed to be doing his best in order to shake you off. Despite this the harness was well made, and thank the gods. You had just enough sense to seize the reins and pull at them. It did nothing to slow The Cannibal down but you were suddenly possessed with a renewal in courage. Sitting straight in your saddle there was suddenly a level of control you felt. The Cannibal must have felt it, for he leveled himself. Soaring above the clouds you finally looked down. "We really are close to the Gods." You muttered.

You flew several laps in the sky. It was less about commands and more about the connection between dragon and rider. You had to remain in control of your emotions. Not being used to dragon riding, your legs started to cramp. Deciding it was time to descend you ordered The Cannibal down. Surprisingly graceful, The Cannibal started to climb down. His cave became more clear. A crowd was gathering outside of the cave. You were not too surprised since they probably thought you dead. With a great thud The Cannibal landed sending sand into the air.

"Y/n!" You had never heard your mother scream like that. Practically leaping off the rope ladder you flew into your mothers arms. "Oh Gods Y/n!" Rhaenyra clutched you close with shaking arms. You mother who was usually so indomitable and strong was shaking and weeping. Her arms held you in a vise grip. "Y/n...never do that again!" Rhaenyra had broken apart, gripping you by the arms. Normally you would bust into tears and apologize. But a fire was ablaze in your chest was burning bright. Taking your mother by the hand you lead her to The Cannibal. Rhaenyra looked hesitant but seeing your determination encouraged her. Reaching out you placed a hand on The Cannibals warm scales. "Touch him." Rhaenyra's fingertips grazed the dragon. Then she steadied and placed her hand directly on the dragon. The Cannibal crooned and for the first time seemed something close to calm.

Looking back you saw your brothers, aunt and uncles. There was pride such as you had never seen on your brother's faces. Your eyes met Aegon's and Aemond's, for the first time you did not look away. This time it was them who looked away from your defiant eyes. You were Y/n Velaryon. Daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen. Rider of Cannibal. And fire dwelt within your veins like any blood of the dragon.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Taglist:

@katiekatluvz

[apassingbird]

Buck's barely awake when he drags himself out of bed and down the stairs, his hand still rubbing at the corner of his eye as a yawn escapes his body. The sun is just about to set, which means his fifteen minute powernap most definitely turned into an actual, several hour long nap. He can't be mad about it, though. He needed the sleep, needs more of it if he's being honest, his mind and body beyond exhausted after an excruciatingly long shift that never seemed to want to slow down or end.

He comes to a stop in his kitchen, knows that he should get some food in him, but the mere thought of doing anything more advanced than opening a nutritional bar package is enough to make him want to cry. He thinks about texting Tommy, his fingers just about to reach for his phone when the sound of a key turning, and then front door opening, fills the loft.

"You're here."

It's not so much a question as it is a statement because Buck might be exhausted, but not to the point where he starts seeing things. At least he doesn't think so. He blinks once, twice for good measure, and yeah, no, Tommy is very much here, smiling at Buck as he closes the door behind him before shrugging off his jacket.

"You're here." Buck says again, voice cracking slightly this time. He feels a little bit like crying again.

"Yeah," Tommy says, his voice soft as he closes the distance between them. "Yeah, of course I'm here."

He reaches out, then, and touches the tips of his fingers against the back of Buck's hands. It's a barely there touch, and yet it's sending shivers all throughout Buck's body. He takes one shuddering breath, and then he all but crashes into Tommy, burying his face into the crook of his neck, reveling in the way Tommy's arms instinctively wrap around his waist to pull him closer.

"You okay?"

Buck nods. "Yeah, just... 'm just tired."

"You eaten anything?" Tommy asks then, the palm of his hands rubbing soothing circles into Buck's back. "I can cook something for you."

Buck shakes his head at that, lips brushing against the warm skin of Tommy's neck as he asks, "can we- can we just stay like this, just for a little bit longer?"

"Baby," Tommy murmurs, one hand coming up to cradle Buck's neck as he drops a kiss onto Buck's hair, before he continues "we can stay like this for as long as you want."

[ceilidho]

exit, no entry wound joe bear graves x reader; part 1 (3.8k)

-

Local time at destination: 0500 hours.

And then the world rushes back to him like the culmination of a terrible dream.

Bear wakes up in another rosebush outside the front steps of the local library worse for wear. Blinking out of sleep-crusted eyes, shapes diverging in blurry unfocus before slipping back into material objects. A bench. A door. The thorny stems of roses already on their way out, already depetalling, the ground below covered in a thin layer of them. One petal even sticking to his cheek when he pulls himself off the ground, wincing at the branches that crunch around him, that tug against his skin and clothes.

His clothes smell of cheap liquor. Gin. Bourbon. It hurts to open his eyes, to sit up. 

“Morning, sunshine,” someone says. He remembers hearing it in his dream too. 

He looks to the source of his awakening, blanching when he notices the man staring at him.

Rip sits on the other side of the bushes on his haunches, looking deeply unimpressed. Hair slicked back for a change. “This what you get up to when I’m gone?”

Bear doesn’t respond. He struggles to his feet instead, hangover only just creeping in. Still drunk, to an extent. His knees threaten to buckle under him, forcing him to lay a hand flat on the wall to keep himself upright. One foot in front of the other. The walk home feels endless in the hour before dawn, hardly any light to guide him. 

“Pretty pathetic shit, Bear,” the man says, trailing along behind him. Not quite mockingly, but bordering on it. “Getting piss drunk and passing out in a bush? Really? C’mon, man. You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

There’s no sense in responding, Bear knows that now. No sense in even turning around to look. One foot in front of the other. Stumbling home alone under the cloak of night, dawn just around the corner; terrified that one day he’ll have to see it—the sun coming over the mountains, over the horizon. 

It’s been less than a year. He hasn’t yet made his amends with God. Forgiveness sits outside of him. Not quite the right time to let it in. Maybe that time passed a long time ago, a small aperture that shuttered closed at the approach of his eyes. He missed it sometime between killing a boy and losing his mind.

A man cannot hold himself up on the scaffolding of the world alone. There has to be something beneath him. There is no sense in repeating the horrors of the world back to him; he’s already lived them. He’s got something of a Midas touch for death. 

The months have been long since the divorce was finalised, since Lena left for good, since Buckley died, since Rip—since it all went down. If he thinks about it for too long, it seems like a nightmare that he woke up from still mad about; a nightmare he had no choice but to drink himself into a stupor over to escape. That’s the reality of the world. 

“You know, Bear, you’re not the one that’s fuckin’ dead,” Rip spits as he follows behind, matching Bear’s stumbling gait stride for stride. “So you can stop acting like it.”

There’s a truth in Rip’s words and it leaves him feeling nauseous. There’s also a kink in his neck and a headache threatening to split his forehead open. In the belly of him, he has a truth that says that the firmament of heaven is beyond his reach. When he looks up and the sky is void of coruscating light, the meagre stars like an exit with no entry wound, it doesn’t surprise him. Of course there wouldn’t be anything there.

On a good day, his heart feels like it’s weathered a siege. 

“So she left you! It’s time to fuckin’ move on. Go to a bar—I mean, you already are, so step one done—and pick someone up. Go on Christian Mingle or something. You keep living your life like this and you’re going to wind up killing yourself. And then the fuck good that’ll do?”

It takes everything in him to not turn around and do something rash. Only the nausea keeps him from making any sudden movements. Even if he were to turn around and do something, his knees would probably buckle under him. Probably throw up the contents of his stomach. Not much in there either. It rumbles when he thinks that, clenching at the thought of food. Then it twists, the nausea returning. 

One foot in front of the other. The walk home takes twice as long, his whole body aching.

“Heard you almost quit. Wouldn’t be the worst idea you ever had. Let Buddha take over—he’s earned it. Get yourself a nice piece of land in fuckin’…Montana or something. Couple cows, maybe some chicken—you could get a dog, Christ. You look like a guy who’d have a dog. Why don’t you have a dog, actually? You would’ve told me if you didn’t like dogs, so it’s not that.”

His forehead is greasy when he touches it to rub his head. Body secreting poison in his sleep. Oily. The corners of his lips crack when he yawns. It’s not like he’s never thought about a dog, about having something to care for, another living thing in his house. 

But—

(“Bear? …I don’t think we should have a child.”)

What he wants often falls to the wayside, slides off him like a glancing blow. 

Her old, familiar shape appears at the sudden loss of a dream: one where Lena’s gaze lingers on him long enough to burn; but then it is the sun.

Bear watches dawn break. Sunday morning. In a different life, he would’ve squinted into the light of a new day and closed his eyes against it, curling into the slighter body tucked into his chest for another hour of rest. Felt the rise and fall of her chest. Woken up to a hot mouth on his cock or fingers curling in his chest hair, petal lips seeking him out. Church after that, showering off the remnants of their morning, solemn in their pews with their chests still holding the laughter of an hour previous. Light as air, as a feather. 

He won’t go to church today; hasn’t in months. Not with the guilt of missing it the week before trailing after him, each missed week compounding month after month. The cracks in his faith webbing. Splintering out like stepping on the lake when it freezes over in the winter, crunching under his boot until he holds his place. Conscious that it could break under his feet.

“I grew up with a dog,” Bear finally responds, voice hoarse. First thing he’s said since last call at the bar. 

“Yeah. Figures. What kind?”

“Black lab. We called her Daisy.”

It’s another lifetime ago. Still living in his parent’s house, Daisy curled by his dad’s feet, her favourite spot to sleep. Television playing at a low volume, mom at the kitchen table doing her crossword, ink bleeding into the side of her hand. It’s been a long time since Bear buried all of them. He’s buried countless people since. 

“What—can’t get another? One and done? That’s how everything works for you?”

Teeth raze across his skin again. Trust Rip to always cut to the quick. Finally back in his neighbourhood at least, the street empty apart from the cars parked in their driveways or along the sidewalk. Bear’s stomach rumbles something fierce now, entreating him to eat. Worse than hunger is how he’d kill for a glass of water though. Anything to settle his head.

“Haven’t wanted a dog,” Bear grumbles, then clears his throat.

“Yeah, you have,” Rip scoffs. Bear hears him kick a rock, sending it skidding across the asphalt. 

“Fuck off.”

Heart silicified in his chest, composed of fossilised shells and rocks and bones. It feels heavy in his chest. 

He turns down the street leading to his house. 

“Gotta let someone else in, Bear. Girl, dog—whatever. You can’t keep this up forever or it’ll kill you.”

When he turns around at the door, fishing in his pocket for his keys, the sidewalk beyond his house is empty. 

(So a man lies down and rises not again; till the heavens are no more he will not awake or be roused out of his sleep.)

Every Friday like clockwork, Bear stops at the diner down the street for a coffee and a slice of cherry pie before heading to the bar. 

Today is like any other. He leaves the house with only his keys and wallet and walks the long twenty minutes to the diner. Every time he fights the urge to drive, but there has to be something holding him in place. A reason not to throw it all away. 

It’s never completely empty when he shows up, but it’s never full either. His seat at the back of the room is open as usual, like they put up a sign before he comes ambling down the street that says Reserved for Joe Graves and then pluck it away before he opens the door. It’d be nice if that were the case. Nice to have something just for him for a change. The thought comes with its accompanying pang of shame. Desire is a dangerous thing; anything he’s ever wanted has come at him with sharpened teeth, clamping down on his leg and ripping through the flesh. Bear trap for old Bear. 

He slides into the booth and waits for someone to notice him. Never bothers to flag someone down—if it’s ten minutes or even half an hour before he’s served, that’s fine by him. 

“Hiya,” a clear voice says to his right, pulling him away from staring through the blinds out the window. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee, tea?”

The face Bear turns to meet is pleasant, smiling. Wide and untroubled. It’s not a face he recognizes though, despite months coming to this diner and becoming familiar with the staff. If he had to guess, he’d bet she only started a few days ago, maybe a week at most. She still has the sparkle of someone who hasn’t had the goodness beaten out of them yet. 

“Coffee,” he says, his own smile strained. “And a slice of pie.”

“Sure—we have key lime, blueberry, apple—”

“Cherry,” he interrupts, not letting her build steam. The wick in his chest burns too low for any conversation. The quick flicker of her brow makes the shame in his chest swell again. Forgive me sitting on his lips, unsaid. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I do this. 

She nods and scurries off to the back, skirt swishing with her movements. Bear notices only because his eyes get stuck there, somewhere between the curves of her hips and the roundness of her ass. When he realizes where he’s let his mind wander, he pulls it back, flattening his lips into a hard line. Any sort of indulgence feels wrong, a taking that shouldn’t be taken. He hasn’t even begun to pay penance for all the damage he’s wrought. 

It’s only on her way back that Bear notices the small bump protruding from under her apron. His mouth goes dry. When she reaches him again, he wordlessly accepts the cup of coffee and her reassurance that the pie will be out in just a minute. For a moment, he can hardly meet her gaze, eyes locked on the gentle curve of her belly, caught off guard in a way he hasn’t been in months. 

The first thought with any clarity is, what is she doing working here? A crummy diner on a Friday night. Down the street from an even sleazier pub. His second thought is to look outside at the poorly lit stretch of road and think that this is no place for a pregnant woman to be alone. He recognizes each car in the parking lot save one, likely hers. Drove herself here with the expectation of driving herself home at the end of the night.

If it had been Lena—well, he never would’ve let it be Lena, but if it had been, Bear can’t imagine letting his pregnant wife drive herself home in the middle of the night. Can hardly stomach the thought. 

She’s not Lena though, so he has no right. 

She’s gone before he has time to say anything else, skirt swishing behind her. It catches his eye again. When he tears his gaze away for a second time, he swallows back the metallic taste of self-loathing. It curdles in his mouth. It’s the sign telling him to stop coveting, stop looking out into the world and wondering what he can take. It’s his hamartia, his fatal flaw; thinking himself above the reproach of God. Thinking that he can kill, fuck, curse, and stray farther and farther from the light only to find his way back in the dark. 

The bell above the door rings when someone else comes in and Bear tenses. His shoulders only relax when two older women step in and head to a table. 

He watches as she picks up a plate from the pass-through window and heads back towards him. When she places it in front of him, he draws a deep breath in, trying to catch more than just the aroma of fresh baked cherries. 

“Here we go…one slice of cherry pie, straight out of the oven.”

“Thanks, honey,” Bear rumbles, smile finally meeting his eyes. 

“No trouble. The guys in the back said they make it special for you. Joe, right?”

That gets him to levy her with the full weight of his attention. The thought of her asking about him. “I go by Bear.”

“Oh. Alright, Bear.” She twists the word around in her mouth and seems to find it satisfying. “I think I’ve heard your name before. You were—I mean, you’re part of Pastor Adams’ parish, right?”

He clears his throat, cutting off the triangle point of his pie with the side of his fork. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Me too,” she confides, voice a low whisper. A secret between strangers. She doesn’t glance around though, doesn’t bother to draw out the ruse. “Or, I was, anyway. Haven’t been to service in awhile. I, um…I remember you. From a year or so back. You and your—um…you and your wife used to always sit up at the front.”

The fork scrapes against the plate. “Ex-wife.”

He catches her wince from the corner of his eye. “Oh. Sorry. You just—” She doesn’t have to say it. The slight dip of her eyes tells him all he has to know, and besides, it’s his own fault for still wearing the ring. Even with the paperwork signed and dated, even with Lena in another state now, starting a new life without him, the thought of taking it off makes him break out in a cold sweat. 

“It’s not—” Bear starts before giving up. He curls his fingers into a fist on the table. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine. Not a big deal.”

She fidgets in the silence. Bear can’t bring himself to break it or make the atmosphere less oppressive. He tenses under it, the ache in his low back worsening. These days, he always aches. Nerve damage, a disc on the verge of slipping, an old ankle injury that flares up whenever he goes running. A ghost that follows him from haunt to haunt. The ring on his finger is just another old ache. 

“So, uh—” he clears his throat, nodding to her belly. “Your first?” 

It’s inappropriate, hardly his place to ask. Incredibly intrusive for someone he’s met for the first time, a stranger just trying to do her job and serve him coffee and pie before he goes off to drink himself half to death again at the dive bar down the road. 

Still, he asks. 

Only the faintest wrinkle of her nose betrays any embarrassment. “Oh. Yeah. First one.”

“Congratulations.” It’s sincere. The envy in his gut is old, but it’s a manageable pain. 

“Thanks,” she says, with a small, private smile, hand resting absently under her belly. “I’m excited. I’m only a couple months along, but, uh…it’s been a journey. Just me and baby against the world, you know.”

That stops him in his tracks. Screws up the whole course of his evening because suddenly the sound of the bell over the door jingling doesn’t draw his attention away. It stays fixed on the smiling girl to his right that just opened her mouth and said something unacceptable. 

“Where’s the dad?” he asks, far too bluntly. 

She shrugs. “Somewhere. Didn’t stick around long enough to tell me where. It’s fine though—I’ve got my little peanut. That’s all that matters.”

“You told him and he left?” 

The pie sits cooling in front of Bear as a pit in his stomach opens up. It’s a terrible, empty hole that holds truths like the fallibility of the body and the good shouldering the burdens of the world.  

He only regrets being so direct when her lip quivers, a little motion that betrays her until she wrests control over her face again. “It’s not his fault. I don’t think he was—well…you know, it was a surprise.”

“That’s—” he struggles to find his words, “—that’s not right.”

Again, she shrugs. “That’s life.”

Bear feels his eyes go hard. A coldness settles under his skin. 

In the deep, dark gut of him, only anger lives. He spends his days questioning why God has allowed everything else in his life to fall apart, has allowed countless other people to die, but refuses, for reasons unbeknownst to him, to kill him. He’s given him enough opportunity and enough reason. 

The answer he circles back to time and again is the same. An eye for an eye. Divine wrath. The litany of his sins could be sung until the end of time and there’d still be more to sing. It’s only right that there would be consequences for him. 

The rage that simmers in his blood now is twofold. It begins with the sharp pang of injustice, of witnessing a punishment meted out to someone innocent. The girl standing by the booth he’s shoved himself into, almost too small for a man of his size, cannot be deserving of the same punishment that he’s brought upon himself. She has never killed. The babe in her belly has never killed. The two of them should never have to meet at the point of two paths converging with the likes of someone like Bear and proceed down the same road together. 

Then it sinks into a familiar territory. A place at the core of him where righteousness gives way to envy, as it always does. After what he's been through, the thought of someone having everything that he's always desperately wanted handed to them on a silver platter and then sending it back leaves him feeling a bit off-kilter. Not quite right. 

“Bear?” Her voice breaks the silence. When he blinks, concerned eyes stare down at him, brows furrowed. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he rasps, dragging a hand down his face. Shaking it off. “Sorry, I—got lost in my head. Sorry.” 

“That’s alright,” she says, again gentle in her voice and smile. “Easy place to get lost in, isn’t it?”

He makes a sound in acknowledgment. Drags the silence out. Her mouth twists shy under his scrutiny. 

“Anyway, I have a few other tables to get to, if you don’t mind. Enjoy your pie. I’ll check on you in a bit.”

He eats his slice of pie in silence as she leaves, eyes following her to her next table. Rage still sizzles under his fingertips. It makes his hands shake, old nerve damage and anger problems. 

It’s like a gun punch to think of her all on her own. It’s not right. For someone like him, well, it’s—deserved, earned. Inevitable, even. Every step taking him further away from grace, from its light. No one who knows his story would think otherwise. 

She’s a pretty thing though, this new waitress. Too tired, the bags under her eyes testament to that, no matter how well she hides them with makeup. Slightly puffy anyway, maybe from a lack of sleep or too many tears. His stomach aches at the thought. It must have come as a shock, the bottom of her world dropping out from under her when the baby’s father took off. Dragged away from the church not through her own doing, but the fault of another. Not her shame to bear, and yet. 

He forces the pie down. Bites that taste like nothing, 

Bear hears the lilt of her voice from two tables over. “Refill on your coffee, hun?” 

A supplicant sits in his place as he sips his coffee. The hour slips by into the next and it starts to come together in his mind. Why he's been forced down this long road alone, why God hasn't struck him down yet despite every terrible thing he's done. His eyes follow her flit across the diner, the light seeming to bend around her like a halation. 

When Bear looks across the room at her, he thinks, Lord, do not think I am waiting patiently for your hands. Every part of me trembles with anxiety.

(O Lord, show me I can fall apart together again; but not just yet.)

He stays until the last customer has finally left, waiting for her to come back to his table with an apologetic smile. When she does, Bear hands her his empty plate, watching her take a step back when he scoots out of the booth, rising to his full height. He makes note of the way her eyes round as they follow him up. Taller than her, unsurprisingly. Surprising though, the way her bottom lip droops just the slightest bit. 

“Is it just you closing up?” he asks, voice a tad too gruff. He clears his throat again, looking around for anyone else. 

“Well, the chef’s cleaning up in the back, but, uh—” she looks around the diner, conspicuously empty apart from the two of them. “Yeah. Just me.”

Bear gestures with his chin towards the door. “I’ll wait ‘till you’re done, then walk you to your car.”

“Oh, Joe—”

“Bear,” he corrects.

“Bear,” she amends, fingers twisting together now. He relishes the sound of it on her lips. “You don’t have to. I’m used to it, honestly. I know I just started here, but I’ve done closes before, you know.”

“I’ll wait outside.” A statement now. Stubborn. He’s always been a bit mulish, hard to shake off. 

He can tell the second she relents, shoulders slumping. “Alright. I shouldn’t be too long…you can leave if you get bored though. Won’t blame you.” 

He fights the urge to tilt her head up by the chin to make her meet his eyes. Just barely restrains himself. 

Leaning against a tree out front, he twirls the ring around his finger as he watches her clean up. For the first time in a long time, he slips it off.

[spaceclefairy]

Lonely Hours

You're beginning to suspect, much to your own exasperation, you may actually like the Ghoul. The problem is, he may actually like you, too (in his own way).

Act I | Act II | Act IV | Act V | Ao3 Compilation

This is not the first gunfight the Ghoul has caused in your no-name wasteland town, and it absolutely won’t be the last. It is the first gunfight (well, that he has caused) that’s spilled into your office, though. You’re not thrilled about that, but, hey, as often as he’s come through town lately, it was bound to happen eventually. On the off chance there's anyone left roaming the streets when he shows up, there's always the possibility of him causing trouble.

You, currently, are crouched for cover behind your desk, staring down the sights of a rifle. You see the Ghoul clearly in the middle of the street, but you’re not worried about him. He’s a ghoul - resilience is part of the game. No, you’re busy picking off the horde of strangers attempting to shove their way into your office, particularly the ones killing the occasional straggling citizen of the town. Your front door is long gone (so much for that lock, huh, Cooper?), and the bars that serve as windows are barely hanging on by their bolts.

You manage to pick off most of the horde, and the Ghoul takes care of whatever your rifle won’t reach. When the gunfire tapers out and the encroaching horde is decimated, he climbs through the hole where the front door used to be, boots thudding on the dusty wooden floor. He doesn’t holster his gun.

“Get your shit,” the Ghoul orders. Dust drifts up from the wooden floor where his boots are planted. “We’re leavin’.”

You climb up from behind the desk and set your rifle to the side. “What the hell? Why?”

The Ghoul doesn’t answer for a beat. Rather, he grabs the closest bag of yours he can locate and starts shoveling shit into it (since you don’t appear to be listening to his orders).

“Because they were comin’ after you,” he finally replies, rifling through your desk drawers. He pulls out cases of chems and all the caps he can get his hands on, then looks up at you expectantly. “I said, go get your shit.”

“They couldn’t be coming after me. I’m a bounty agent,” you reply, cocking your head. “I’m off-limits”

“Well, they didn’t seem to think so,” the Ghoul replies, slinging his shoulder bag over his shoulder and tossing your pack over to you. “I’m not gonna tell you again, darlin��.”

You can’t imagine why anyone would be coming after you. Even if the plan was to rob the office and take the bounties on hand, it’s generally understood killing a bounty agent is more trouble than it’s worth. And no one, bounty hunter or otherwise, wants an agency coming down on their head for killing an agent over a few caps. 

You sigh. “I guess I’ll have to contact the agency in Filly. They won’t take kindly to this - this town is under their protection.”

“That’s just a couple days' walk,” the Ghoul says. He grabs you by the shoulder and guides you out the backdoor. “Let’s go.”

“You’re coming with me?”

“Didn’t you just hear me say we’re leavin’?”

You don’t have time to elaborate. Gunfire rings out in the distance, closer than you’d like for it to be.

“Just surprised is all…”

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

The sun is just setting down beyond the horizon when you find a lean-to to stop at for the night. It’s just a rickety, wooden shack, riddled with holes and falling in like most everything in the wastelands, but it’ll serve its purpose just fine. There’s no way to build a fire in the lean-to, but you’d gotten your hands on a Vault-Tec contraption that gives off a queasy, dim greenish glow when you press a button

When you’ve settled in, you all but inhale one of the powdery ration packs you’d brought with you. The Ghoul takes a pull off of his inhaler and produces something unidentifiable from his shoulder back that he proceeds to eat. You do not have the capacity, nor the desire, to ask him what he just ate.

You sit cross-legged, crumple up your ration pack, and toss it into a corner of the shack. “Do you want to take the first watch?”

He grunts his acquiescence and pulls a liquor bottle out of his backpack, chasing whatever he just ate with a swig of moonshine. You’ve never seen him eat before - nor any ghoul, actually. It never occurred to you they could.

You spread your jacket out on the ground as a makeshift blanket. You curl into yourself, arm tucked under your chin, trying to stave off the impending chill of the night. It’s not the worst place you’ve ever slept, nor the worst company in whose presence you’ve slept, but you can tell that sleep won’t be coming anytime soon.

The Ghoul’s thick drawl splits the silence. “Quit fidgetin’.”

You roll over and look up at him. “I’m trying.”

“Could just fuck instead. Might help you sleep.”

You can barely see the Ghoul in the dim lamplight, but you know he’s smirking. “Here?”

He shrugs. “Got nothin’ else to do.”

“Except keep a lookout?”

He pats his thigh. “Well, if you come up here, I can still keep a lookout.”

It might be the fact that you can just barely make out the Ghoul’s face in the dim light, but he looks at you with what suspiciously appears to be genuine affection. He strips his gloves off and tosses them to the floor, right next to the gun he keeps close to his side. He takes your outstretched hand and guides you to climb up into his lap and straddle his thighs, then grabs your hips and scoots you closer to him. 

You half expect him to just yank your shirt over your head, but he doesn’t. He’s oddly gentle with you when he strips your shirt over your head and unbuttons your pants. It never fails to confuse you when he’s gentle with you, because gentle is simply not in his nature.

You decide to see how far you can push it.

You unbutton the top button of his shirt, waiting for him to tell you no, but he doesn’t. You unbutton a second, then a third, waiting for the inevitable that’s enough, but it doesn’t come. You assume he probably thinks you can’t see him well enough in the lamplight to see what his bare skin looks like, but you can. His chest and stomach are red and raw like the rest of him, build slight but still muscular under his pitted skin. You run your hands down his chest, down his stomach, and unbutton his pants. 

He sighs when you wrap your hand around his half-hard cock. He lets you palm him a good couple of times before he's pulling you closer by your hips so that your still-clothed cunt is pressing down on him. You steady yourself with hands on his chest and grind down on him.

The Ghoul’s touches are never patient, but when he wraps a hand around the back of your neck and pulls you in for a kiss that's all teeth and tongue, you get the sense he may be trying to be patient. That’s different than the last couple of times - he didn’t exactly bother to take his time when he was shoving his dick down your throat or fucking you stupid. There’s nothing else to do out here in the wasteland in the dark though, so he can take all the time he wants. You just don’t know why he wants to take his time. It doesn’t really matter, you suppose, as long as you’re both enjoying it (and you are).

The Ghoul breaks contact with you long enough to tug at the band of your unbuttoned pants. “Take these off.”

You fumble around, crawling out of his lap long enough to strip off one leg of your pants and underwear. At the same time, he lifts his hips up so he can jerk his pants down and almost completely unseats you. You’re held steady by his hands on your hips and unceremoniously yanked back down into his lap.

You can’t resist teasing him. “Oh, you want to pick up the pace now?”

“I told you last time you’re gonna ride me sundown to sunup,” the Ghoul says. He slides his fingers between your legs and spreads your lips apart, trailing a finger lightly through your folds. “I meant that.”

“I - oh - I see,” you manage. You take his heavy cock in hand, stroking him while he slides a finger into you. “Guess we’ve got plenty of - ah - of time.”

His eyes glint in the dim light, and you can just barely see him grin. “If you can hold out that long.”

It’s half challenge, half teasing, and it makes you lean forward and smash your lips against his. His unoccupied hand grabs your chin, forcing you to slow the ferocity of your kiss. 

You’re still not sure how to handle the Ghoul’s patience, but he makes that decision for you. He pulls back and presses his thumb to your lips, pushing between your teeth. You wrap your tongue around his thumb and suck, grinning when he hisses through his teeth. His cock twitches in your hand.

“You’ve got a real talent for that,” the Ghoul says, chuckling. You hum, and he pulls his thumb from your mouth. He swipes the wet digit across your nipple, then pats your hip. “Come on, sugar, climb on.”

You gladly oblige, holding him steady in your hand and sinking down onto him. It’s a stretch, but it satisfies a deep ache you didn’t realize was burning inside you. You roll your hips, lifting up and sliding back down onto him agonizingly slowly. You have every intention of doing this as slowly as you possibly can, but the feeling of you hot and wet, clenching around his cock, finally breaks the Ghoul’s patience.

The Ghoul grips your hips and thrusts up into you. Your hips come down to meet his, and it’s all you can do to keep yourself steady. You wrap your arms around his neck, and he pulls you flush against his chest. 

It's physically the closest you've ever been to him, you think. The past couple of times, you've only been able to get his pants down over his hips. He even kept wearing the duster the first time. Now, though, you feel his skin pressed to yours, and it’s warm and somehow comforting, especially here in the dark. 

When you cum, it's sharp and heavy and almost without warning. You'd gotten lost in the feeling of him slamming his hips against yours, of his skin sliding over yours, of his face pressed into your neck and teeth scraping over your flesh. It had become as familiar as your own heartbeat, his touch. Although, in the end, it's the soft grunts and groans the Ghoul makes, just loud enough for you to hear but soft enough to tell you he’s still trying to keep himself in check, that tips you soundly over the edge.

The Ghoul groans your name, hips stuttering as you clench around him. He wraps his arms around your waist, trying to hold you down flush against him. You don’t give him a break, though, and keep grinding down on his cock until he’s damn near howling in your ear. That only makes you fuck him harder, and you cum again, still riding the high of the first one. 

That’s what tips him over the edge - the feeling of you coming twice from just his fingers and his cock - and he cums deep in you, thrusting up into you until he’s spent. He sighs and pulls you off his cock, but he holds you in his lap while he comes down from his high. 

Even after you’ve both relaxed, the Ghoul holds you against him. His spend drips out of you; it runs down the back of your thigh, and you’re sure he can feel it in his lap. He doesn’t seem to care. He only moves to clean you up with the edge of his duster and wipe himself off, then grabs his inhaler and a vial of what you presume is rad-away and holds it to your lips for you to take a breath.

When he’s satisfied you’re taken care of, he gathers you up close to him and rests his chin on top of your head. “Go to sleep.”

“Thought you wanted me to ride you ‘till sunup?” you ask, face squished against his chest. “It’s still dark out.”

“We’ll give it another shot when it’s your turn to take watch.”

You fall asleep to the slow drag of his hand rubbing your back.

[revasserium]

i carry your heart with me - Zoro with an s/o he meets during his travels

i carry your heart (with me)

opla!zoro; 1,776 words; fluff, a bit of angst, and then fluff again, fem!reader, implied smut but none actually written out (i know, maybe next time lol)

summary: whipped!zoro is whipped.

a/n: this is painfully self-indulgent. but if u wanna read about zoro being grossly in love... here you go.

he meets you in a city of gold — golden leaves and golden apples, golden wheat and golden cattle. he meets you with your golden voice, a sound like liquid sun; he meets you with your gold-spun dreams, and somehow, he knows you’re the one.

he’d never known a song could sounds so beautiful till he heard you sing for the very first time. he doesn’t blame the jostling crowds of men at the bar as they try to push just an inch closer to the stage, their eyes hazy with candlelight and greed.

but later that night, after too many drinks and a few good hours of usopp regaling their best adventures, zoro kisses you and thinks himself the greediest of them all.

“come with us,” he says, with the sun setting fire to the evening sky.

“come with us,” he says, murmuring the words against your skin, cloaked beneath the darkness of night.

“what would i even do on a pirate ship?” you’d asked, laughing as he ghosts his lips along the column of your neck, content with the thought of drowning himself in the texture of your bitten off sighs.

“dunno, you can sing… we’ve been looking that.”

you pull away to stare at him, and somewhere behind the glassy glaze of your eyes, he finds oceans that he’d never sailed, oceans the depths of which he thinks he could spend the rest of his life trying to explore. but he saw something there that night he’d seen the very first time he’d caught your eyes — the glimmer of want like lamps behind a submarine’s windows — and in them, he sees a thirst for adventure that mirrors his own.

a thirst that he’s tasted on the open salt breeze, in the wild, uncertain whomph of unfurling sails against the backdrop of a dawning sky.

you hum against the skin of his shoulder and he lets his fingers track an indulgent trail along the length of your spine.

“can i at least sleep on it?” you ask, laughing as he sighs huffily and makes to roll away from you. you pull him back with another kiss and he lets himself be properly lost for the first time in what feels like centuries.

in the morning, you find the bed empty and the sun beyond your small bedroom window is cracking over an eggshell dawn. the wind is warm, but the ground is still chilly — the sky is the shade of a fading bruise and by the time you reach port, the grand pirate ship with the sheep’s head mast is no longer there. you sigh, wrap your shawl more tightly around your shoulders and wonder if he’ll ever think of you again.

he does, though he wouldn’t get the chance to tell you for years and years and years.

“i thought you said you’d convince her?” sanji asks over a freshly rolled cigarette and two tankards of barrel-aged beer.

zoro shrugs, “i tried.”

“shoulda tried harder, then.”

zoro grunts, taking a long swig of his beer and wincing as he glances between sanji and the glass.

“what’dyou put in here?”

sanji’s grin goes lopsided as he waves a hand vaguely through the air, “oh, just somethin’ with a bit more bite. looked like you needed it.”

and for once, zoro doesn’t snipe back. instead, he stares at the tankard for a long second before drowning the entire thing in a few forceful gulps.

just then, luffy rounds the door into the kitchen and grins at the two men at the counter.

“whatcha talkin’ about?”

sanji jerks his head towards zoro, “just about zoro’s lost love.”

“she ain’t lost. we know exactly where she is.”

sanji opens his mouth but pauses as he realizes there are two things zoro could’ve denied and he’d only denied one.

luffy grins, “oh i know. i convinced him to let her go.”

sanji frowns, “wait what? weren’t you the first one that said we should ask her to join?”

luffy nods, still grinning, “sure! yeah, her singing’s the best i’ve heard, but if she’s not ready, we shouldn’t force her. she’ll find us though, someday. and she’ll just join the crew then!”

there’s a kind of childish, miraculous certainty with which luffy says things that always leaves strangers baffled. but his crew knows him better — they know that his blind trust only seems blind because he puts his trust in things that other people might not yet be able to see.

and he doesn’t strike out this time either, even though it’s years before any of them would meet you again.

though meet you, they do, but this time, it’s amidst canon-fire and wood dust and the incoherent shouts of retreating marines.

zoro sees you first, flying through the air on a thick length of rope, a small instrument strapped to your back, landing light on the deck like a ghost or a daydream. you’re different now, your limbs a bit longer, your hair a bit lighter, twisted back with a strand of golden ribbon so bright it might’ve stolen light from the sun itself.

“its — it’s you!” luffy is a bit breathless and there’s a dark soot smudge across his cheeks, but he’s smiling all the same.

“yeah, i heard you guys were looking for a musician?”

zoro wipes down the length of his swords, his eyes never leaving your form as he makes his way to you.

“so, guess you slept on it, huh?”

you turn towards him, and he’s once more held still by the look in your eyes. there’s a fierce, feral fire there that threatens to ignite everything it touches, and when you smile, zoro feels the burning inside him just as strong as before, as if he’s held a piece of you in his chest all these years and the proximity to you has finally set it ablaze.

“yep. i did. and here i am.”

luffy laughs and claps you on the shoulder as sanji lights up a post-fight cigarette, grinning toothily at you as he asks if you’d like anything to eat or drink. and soon, the rest of their growing crew joins you as you’re pulled away from zoro for what nami had termed a proper straw hat initiation.

he thinks he’d never appreciated music until you’re the one playing it — later that evening, he lets himself be carried on the moonlit tendrils of your voice as it dances over a soft melody of strings and the ever present lullaby of the drowsy sea.

and then, even later, when he finally gets you alone enough to press his mouth to yours, he thinks that your skin smells of a thousand untold stories, collected in the curve for your neck and the bend of your hips, arresting his senses like so many exotic perfumes from distant lands. he maps a constellation of wants and unsaid words into the long, sinuous expanses of your thighs and re-teaches himself the meaning of greed as he kisses a line up your stomach, back up to your lips to find you smiling.

“hey,” he says, reaching down to run a finger along the high of your cheeks. freckles. you didn't used to have them before.

“hey yourself, stranger,” you say, adjusting your body slightly so he can lay down next to you.

neither of you remark upon the lingering ghost of a night long past, the shapes of your bodies curled into almost identical shapes, the darkness wrapped around you like a promise that’s made to be broken.

“how’d you even find us?” zoro asks, letting his thumb trace absent circles into the soft of your kiss-bruised shoulder.

“weren’t you listening at dinner? i was ‘rescued’ from another pirate ship by the marines and —”

zoro scoffs, “i’ve hung around usopp long enough to know bullshit when i hear it.”

you quiet, though it’s not an unpleasant silence by any means.

“you wanna know the truth?” you ask, shifting to pillow your cheek against his chest.

he nods, “yeah, that’d be nice.”

you bite your lips, “i went looking for you. the morning after you left. but by the time i got to the docks, you guys were already gone.”

“hm.”

you let out a long sigh, “why’d you leave?”

you shift to look up at him; he glances down to meet your eyes. there’s no accusation in your voice, just a simple curiosity. and somehow, that stings more than zoro would ever admit.

“you… you didn’t seem like you were ready.”

he clears his throat and looks away, luffy’s words echoing back through the years.

“and… we knew that you’d find us eventually.”

when he looks down this time, your eyebrows are cocked and there’s an indulgent smile on your lips.

“well, guess you were right.”

you shift again to curl into his side and he adjusts slightly to slot his body more comfortably against yours. he remembers wondering how two bodies could be made separately and still fit so perfectly together like this. and here and now, he wonders how that might still be true after so many years.

he grounds himself in the rhythmic cycle of your breaths.

“zoro?”

your drowsy voice stirs him from the edges of his dreams and for a moment, he doesn’t remember when or where he is — if he’s back in the golden village lying in your tiny, warm bedroom, or if he’s on the going merry, with you tucked perfectly against his side.

“yeah?”

“will you be here in the morning?”

“mm. yeah. i will.”

the blankets rustle, the world around you shifts, like a camera with a mismatched lens, and for a second, just a single second, time bends back on itself, and zoro feels one moment superimposed over another. a fracture, a singularity, a temporary double-exposure.

and then, the film flickers and time unwinds itself, and he can hear the soft shushing of waves against the merry’s hull.

“do you promise?” you ask, curling your fingers against zoro’s chest as he turns towards you to pull you closer into him.

“yeah,” he says, his voice already thick with the syrup of sleep and dreams, even as he leans down to drop a kiss into your hair —

“i promise. ‘m not going anywhere.”

feed me opla!zoro reqs pls i beg

[itsabouttimex2]

Can I request a platonic yandere sun wukong and macaque realizing that the teen mystic monkey they've been raising is planning to leave ffm?

O Child of Unity

(I’m assuming you want Shadowpeach, then? I’m still not the best with it, but I’ll try! Also, a new bot is up!🧡💜 Also again, this fic is compliant with Deepest Hues- which I’ll expand on soon!)

There are four base colors in our world: black, white, yellow, and red. Together, these four hues represent the base components of alchemy- nigredo, albedo, citrinitas, and rubedo.

In times ancient and forgotten, a massive reservoir of these four colors existed in each corner of the earth. Like pools of chaos they surged, brimming with power and life. From each of these brightly-hued depths did an egg arise, containing a Mystic Monkey of incredible potential.

One of light. One of shadow. One of snow. One of fire.

And recently, a brand new simian, born of a union from nigredo and citrinitas, pitch black and bright yellow fusing their mystical lineage into a mottled green.

Their union blessed the world with a little virescent monkey, big eyes and soft fur-

You.

The world is such a wonderful place, you’ve learned. Geysers of boiling water and hunched spikes of snow. Sand white as bone and lakes stained pink by algae. Forests comprised of just one tree and diminutive flowers with digestive maws.

From book to book you’ve torn, indulging your curious brain in every last little wonder of the world- from glacial peaks to crystal caverns.

How many pages have you worn away by now, dreaming of wonders far beyond your reach? How many dreams has your mind spun, longing for something new? How many times have you lost the world to a lovely little daydream that took hours to shake?

A less generous eye would view this behavior as unhealthy. They might even refer to it as a ‘coping mechanism’, spending half the day locked into a foggy haze, pretending that life was more exiting, more fulfilling.

Even you had come to realize the inherent instability of your constant stupor, eventually.

All you have to do to fix this problem, then… is make those dreams a reality!

…right?

Right! No time to waste worrying!

Packing is easy! It used to be a time-killer of yours as a child, pretending to go on adventures across the world with only your trusty well-stocked backpack. All these little games were played out under the watchful eyes of your fathers, ensuring your fun never turned dangerous or led you somewhere that was off-limits.

You’d pick a locale and prepare for an ‘expedition’ with snacks and clothes, always running and asking Bába to open the pantry for you.

“A winter adventure,” Sun Wukong would lovingly coo, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Sounds like fun, bud! Don’t forget to pack your warm socks, kay?”

He’d laugh and play along, pushing sandwiches and chocolate protein bars into your hands, always with a pouch of juice to pair. Sometimes he’d go the extra mile of bagging them up, giving you a paper sack that wouldn’t be out of place on a field trip.

(How often you begged to be enrolled in school, physical or at least online. And your fathers would ‘tsk’ and shake their heads, but quickly promise you ice cream as a bandage balm for your youthful sorrow.)

And then he’d watch your little journeys with a quirked eyebrow, smiling as you pulled your plushes (given that you had no playmates outside of base simians and your often busy fathers) along and narrated your games.

You’d fill out a page in your bulky journal detailing the ‘journey’, consigning your little hours of make-believe to white pages.

And as you had grown, that many-paged journal stayed tucked under your arm, all your thoughts and hopes written away into it.

Even now, as you stare out at the endless horizon so plainly in front of you- the book is held to your chest, warmed by the excited beat of your heart.

It holds all those dreams you’ve dreamt for a full decade now, each one precious and utterly perfect to your nostalgic mind.

The grass is long and bright, glistening with morning dew. It sparkles under the rising rays of the sun, a picturesque landscape laying in front of you. Flower Fruit Mountain (Mount Huaguo, as your fathers sometimes called it) was beautiful. Is beautiful. But pretty can only satiate the mind for so long, and certainly couldn’t fulfill your wanderlust any longer.

You had explored every cave, climbed every tree, mucked every puddle, cuddled every monkey.

It had been nice. And you’d miss it, but-

The world was waiting!

And you could wait no longer.

Stuffing the oversized book into your backpack, you do the one thing you’ve wanted to do for years- and take off running.

Lush grass rips under your feet, laying in scattered half-length piles as your boots tear across the wet ground. Muddy footprints squash down flowers and weeds alike, nothing stopping your gleeful dash.

Over puddles and through tree crooks, beneath towering canopies and across deep ponds- you run. All that hampers you is the heavy bags strapped to your back and waist, full of the supplies you once only dreamed of handling during a journey.

A real, actual journey! How long had you waited?! Years and years! And it was finally coming true!

But you turn the corner of a rock too quickly, and smack head-on into something solid and warm, the figure grasping you tightly.

And all too suddenly, one of your fathers- Macaque- stares down at you, clearly displeased.

“Explain,” he sharply says, holding out the note you had left on the dining table, unfolded and excitedly penned. It had been written in such a rush of gleeful adrenaline that some parts are nigh-unintelligible.

But; even with wild pen scrawl and joyful errors, it was clearly an intended farewell.

The claw marks shredding through half of the paper is proof that he hadn’t exactly taken the notion well.

“Y/N. What the hell is this? You’re running away?”

“N-no! I’m just-“

“Do you think this is how it all works? You throw a note on the table and head out into a world you know nothing about?”

“I do know about the world! I’ve been researching it for years!”

“Your ‘research’ doesn’t mean a thing! You have no skills, no experience, nothing!”

“Because you won’t let me do anything!”

The accusation causes him to bristle in anger, lips pulled back as he snarls. His fangs, glistening and sharp, draw your attention.

(Sometimes you forget what Macaque has done. How scary he can be. Sometimes you forget that he’s never regretted his crimes. Moments like this are happy to remind you.)

Your bravado and boldness vanish startlingly quickly, shrinking under the furious gaze of the simian.

The Six-Eared simian snags your wrist, stomping over to a cavernous rift of shadows. With your arm held tight, he jumps in and drags you along.

You fall from a ceiling and into the waiting arms of your other father, Wukong. He grins and nuzzles the fur of his cheek to your own, relishing in the warmth of familial closeness. A golden brazier burns next to him, recently lit and brightly chugging the wooden fuel within.

“Someone was up to a little bit of mischief, huh?”

His reaction is the polar opposite to Macaque- where his husband blows up and seethes, the Great Sage lies to himself and pretends that everything is okay. It’s easier to think of his child as a little imp than an outright runaway.

As Wukong dotes, Macaque rips away the thick jacket and boots that you were wearing, throwing them into the nearest closet.

You didn’t need them, after all. You weren’t going anywhere.

Though a part of you is disgruntled to have some of your clothing torn away so suddenly, it’s only when he snatches the backpack that you scrabble from the Great Sage’s arms.

“Don’t mess with that!” You call, trying to wrangle the bag from his grip- but he’s got your journal before you manage to pry it free.

He holds the gargantuan journal, full of all the dreams you had through your life- to see snow penitentes, to view miscolored lakes, to visit ancient forests, to explore the world that had been kept from you for so long.

“This is what gave you those ideas? Your little baby book, kiddo?”

“It’s not-“

“Shut it! You tried to run away. You don’t get to speak right now.”

He takes a moment to breath, glaring at the offending journal. To him, the answer is clear- get rid of the book, and he’ll get rid of your silly ideations of “freedom”. If it comes undone to the very binds, then maybe you’ll give up on leaving and return to the cozy schedule your fathers adhere you to. Forehead kisses and morning cuddles, shared meals and long naps through the cold of winter.

Without it, his life will go back to being perfect, and to an obsessive villain like Macaque?

A little bit of your sorrow is worth the happiness that keeping you close brings.

“Enough of these pointless dreams.”

The Six-Eared Macaque stands to his full height, the multicolored glow on his ears fading to black as his eyes burned red. With one angry sling, he throws your book into the deepest ashes of the gilded brazier.

It catches quick, melting and warping for just a brief few milliseconds before incinerating.

You stand there for a moment in sheer disbelief, watching as a decade of heartfelt writing crumbles away in seconds.

The raw, unspeakable hurt it produces leaves you breathless and mute, incapable of summoning even a single sorrowful word.

Macaque staggers back as tears bubble up in your eyes- even the villain himself has realized that this was a step much too far. His intention; as often to the innocent and undeserving, was to inflict suffering.

Even his own family wasn’t off the table.

His sable hands are much too slow in retrieving the book from uncaring flames, snagging only an empty cover now bereft of inner pages.

Ruined. Utterly ruined and destroyed.

The slow realization that you’ll never have back your childhood journal, never read again your years of games and research, never write another word in the precious book, never finish it- never, never, never, never, all in a devastating row.

The realization sinks in slow, but clicks into place all the same.

A low whimper builds in your throat, slowly pitching up as wetness spill down your cheeks. So many tears fall that they blind your vision, pairing well with the sobs that escape you.

Wukong glares at his partner with boiling eyes, a look of outright hatred in them. “Macaque. What. The. Hell.”

“…they h-had to learn a lesson,” he weakly justifies, his cowardice bubbling up in full force.

Run from Five Phases Mountain. Run from the Brotherhood. Run from Wukong. Run from the Lady Bone Demon. Run from the Samadhi Fire. Run from consequences and run from heroes, and pray that everyone forgets how badly he deserves to be punished for his cruelty and arrogance and sins.

Still a little rat, slinking in the shadows.

“Get out,” the Great Sage snarls, fangs dripping with immeasurable hatred, and, as ever, as always-

Macaque runs.

Wukong turns to you as his pitch husband bolts, throwing off his chest-plate and wrapping his unfathomably powerful arms around your quivering form.

He’s warm, much like a spring of volcanic water, or sun-kissed wood.

Or a raging, burning fire.

You don’t really want to be warm right now.

But the ferocity with which you pound his chest and gut leave the simian utterly unfazed, shushing and hushing you all the same.

“Shh, pumpkin, shh. You know your Bába hates to see you cry. C’mon, let’s dry those tears. Y’know what? How about we get you some ice cream, bud? Something sweet and cold to make you feel better.”

Wukong doesn’t wait for a response. He rarely does. The immortal boosts you up into his arms, heading to the kitchen. He kisses your cheeks and forehead and the bridge of your nose, trying to placate your tears with an overdose of physical affection.

This was your life. Your world.

And you were starting to doubt that you’d ever leave it.

[blogthebooklover]

I'll Never See Her Again (Noa)

Author's Note: Here's another one shot based on Disney's Pocahontas. There will be two versions: This one is through Noa's perspective, the other one will be through Mae's. I also included two minor OCs in this one! I took a few liberties with how Noa's village, and elders establish their rules and laws. This is also available on Wattpad.

Noa hung his head in shame, sinking to his knees and burying his face in his hands.  Why did he have to feel this way?  It was his fault that Mae was captured and imprisoned.  Why did he have to care for this human?  For this Echo.  He felt tears run down his cheeks.  He didn’t want this to happen.

He heard footsteps in front of him, and the gentle touch of a hand on the back of his head.  Noa lifted his head and realized it was Soona. “Are you well…Noa?” the female chimp asked him, nudging the young male’s shoulder in concern.  Noa shook his head, he blubbered out, “This is my fault.”  Soona placed her hand on his shoulder, “No, no, no.  The elders…have strict laws…”  “But the laws are wrong.”  Soona lifted both her hands to frame Noa’s face, and placed her forehead against his.  He let out a shuddering gasp at this gesture.

The female chimp pulled back to look in his eyes, “Come, come, come.  I have…an idea.” 

Soona took Noa’s hand into her own, and helped him to stand.  The two walked further into the village to where the elders took Mae.  Two male chimpanzees who were just a bit older than Soona stood guard at the entrance.  “Shell…  Quartz…” the female chimp stuck her hand out in greeting.  The male chimps greeted the female with a brush of knuckles between each other.  “Noa wishes…to look into…the eyes of the Echo,” Soona spoke softly, also using her hands to sign certain words to the two male apes.  

Shell and Quartz exchanged a look with each other.  They signed to each other for a few moments until coming to a conclusion with a nod.  “You can…see the Echo.  But…hurry before…elders come back,” Quartz said, pulling back the woven fabric adorning the door frame.  Noa turned to look at the female chimp beside him.  Soona nodded and gently pushed him into the tent.  

 X.X.X.X.X

When he was inside the tent, Noa briefly looked around the interior to find Mae.  His golden jade eyes widened in surprise and felt relief when he did.  Mae was kneeling on the ground facing away from him, she was placed inside a small wooden structure, and she was curled up into a ball with her head lowered to her chest.  Like the ape in the cage from the children’s book.  

He walked over slowly and went down onto all fours.  The young ape reached out and brushed his fingers along her shoulder.  The female human turned around quickly in defense, before breathing a sigh of relief when she saw who it was.  Noa had his hand through the bars, hanging limply as he stared at her.

“Noe,” she whispered, her sky blue eyes brimming  with relief, sadness, and concern for her ape companion.  She placed her tiny hand into his, feeling his fingers enclose around it.  

He bit his lower lip, feeling tears stream down his cheeks at the sight of her.  Noa reached his other hand through the bars to take hold of the back of her head.  

The young human leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his.  She heard Noa breathe a sigh of relief at this gesture.  She had witnessed the other apes in Noa’s clan exchange this gesture of affection between each other.  And Noa was sharing this moment with her.

“I am sorry,” the young male breathed against her lips, “I did not wish…for this to happen.  I do not…want to see…you in pain.”  “I have survived harsher conditions beyond your village,” she whispered, trying to sound humorous.  However, even Noa could sense that her words were meaningless in this situation.  The elders were going to decide whether to kill her, or keep her here as a prisoner when the sun rises the next day.

He pulled back slightly to look her in the eyes, still keeping close.  “None of this… should have happened,” he brought the hand that was holding her head to cup her cheek, “this is my fault.”  She lifted her own hand, took a gentle hold of his wrist, and rubbed her thumb against the grain of his fur.  “If I do die, I don’t regret ever meeting you,” Mae whispered, offering the young ape a sad smile, “my friend.”  He inhaled sharply at this statement, he felt more tears well in his eyes.

Soona called out from the door frame, “Noa…we must go.  The elders are returning.”  He exhaled through his nose.  The male ape ran his thumb along the human’s cheek once more.  He let go as he stood up, only to catch her hand and squeeze it gently.  There had to be some way to convince the elders to not sentence her to death.

Noa let go of Mae’s hand, only for her to continue reaching out to him.  He reluctantly turned away in despair.

He could hear her let out loud sobs after the woven fabric closed behind him, and brushed against the fur on his back.  He ground his teeth together, at her broken sounds and to also keep himself from crying again.

[oddinarylani]

'we hardly ever hug' w/ best friend skz

w: angst in lee know's part, anxiety in felix's

𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷.↴

your ears perk at the sound of the door knob rattling but your eyes remain fixed at your laptop screen curiously. eyes flutter over word after word on the document, making a quick adjustment to a phrase, then returning to reading over. it was a vicious cycle really for editors - and this was your seventh piece to edit this week, and it was only wednesday.

the sun had set hours ago, and only the quiet rumbling of a passing storm could be heard besides the quiet shuffling of chan entering your shared apartment. your ears hadn’t perked to sound in hours, and when your eyes filter over the time in the corner of your laptop screen, they widen a bit, now realizing how late it's truly gotten. 

“hey.” you greet happily as his form invades your vision. he’s slumped, shoulders sagging a bit and dark rings have formed around his eyes further creating tender purple lines stemming from them. maybe you had noticed it over the past few days and just not said anything (or maybe your brain truly was beginning to melt into some slushy matter from non stop editing for work) or maybe it was particularly showing today, but chan was starting to look bad again. your heart aches slightly at the sight. 

“hey.” he says quietly, yawning as he makes way to the fridge, eyes filtering over it’s contents and finally reaching for the water bottle he was looking for that took him far too long to notice. “how was your day?” he asks, his eyes melting into a softer gaze as he turns to look at your curled form at your shared kitchen table, cracking the seal on the cap of his bottle. 

“you’re looking at it.” you laugh tiredly, your own gaze finds the mess of a few coffee cups and a couple of breakfast bar wrappers alongside a coffee stained napkin with a pretty brown ring in the middle of it. “nothing too special. i made it to book seven though.” your fingers scroll through your latest progress, knowing full well now that you were coming to a stop for the night. 

“oh wow… seriously? you’ve been at it for that long?” you nod, chan’s lips twinge to the side at the sight of your tired eyes. 

“what about you? what’d you do today?” you ask, making a move to stand to prepare a snack before bed. 

chan sighs deeply, his shoulder bumping into the wall as he makes a sloppy move to lean into it’s surface. he’s slow to start talking about his day, but you listen intently and quietly, giving him all the more room to rant. as you listen, you can’t help but hope that some of the weight on his shoulders is lifted. he talks about pressure from the company, a never ending viciousness of a love-hate relationship. he knows he’s been working extremely hard lately, it feels like more than he’s ever done before, but he can’t bring himself to stop. not when the pressure of performance and appearances weighs too greatly on him. not when fans were waiting for the next schedule, the next comeback, the next taste of artistry. it was the least he could do for them, was share what he loved so greatly. so he’d go above and beyond in providing - even if it meant sacrificing pieces of himself. 

for a moment you think he’s going to cry, which breaks your heart further. your snack is abandoned, instead he has your full undivided attention and and ever softening gaze looking right through him. 

“i don’t know. just feels like i need a big hug right now. that’d help.” he attempts at laughing off his grief, setting his water bottle down on the counter and making a move to grab his discarded work bag. “well,” he slows his movements only by a hair at the sound of your voice. “come here then.” you smile softly. “i could use it too.” 

when he turns around, his eyes are wrinkled handsomely into a soft smile and he waddles over with arms spread. you wrap an arm around his shoulders and another around his waist, embracing him as full as possible. chan goes for a similar movement, his hands softly rubbing at your back as he settles into your embrace. the press of his body against yours is nice, and it was altogether a foreign feeling you wished wasn’t so foreign. chris was your best friend, it was strange you didn’t hug more. 

“y’know we’ve only hugged like 3 times in our entire friendship.” you mutter against the fabric of his hoodie. he laughs, lightly swaying you side to side as he does so. “i was just thinking the same thing actually.” 

“why don’t we hug more this is nice.” you close your eyes for a moment to take in the feeling. the warmth of a friend, the protection you felt from him that you hoped he also felt, and the sleepiness that was washing over you softly. “i don’t know… we should more often.” you can’t see his smile, but you can sure hear it in his gently muffled voice. 

𝓵𝓮𝓮 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀.↴

for the third time in the span of a few hours, you curl further into yourself and hide away neat into the comfort of your bed, and push your hands to your eyes - tears, yet again, beginning to flow freely down the rounds of your cheeks. it’s pitiful, really. you think to yourself. that this is the third time this evening you’re crying and that you can’t manage to scoop yourself up and maintain some level of productivity before calling it a night. but maybe, the small voice in the back of your head reminds, you’re just being a little hard on yourself, and you’re allowed to cry. 

the confines of your bed begin to feel hot, but you can’t bring yourself to get out - instead your head swarms with your grief and intermingles with the heat - creating a dangerous tincture. your mind glosses over the thought of your roommate being able to hear you, in fact you completely disregard the notion. 

a quick few taps at your door bring you to face a little clarity. you sit up slowly with the push of your hand to your mattress, and call out, “yeah?” 

“can i come in?” minho asks, his hand resting on the knob to await your clearance. you confirm, a bit weak, a bit sad, and he bites at his inner cheek as he makes way inside. 

he must’ve just showered; he brings in a clean scent with him and his skin looks nice and glowy. you wipe at your face quickly, huffing out a breath in attempts to stabilize your voice. minho beats you to speaking as he sits on the edge of your bed. “what’s wrong?” he asks softly, looking over your splotchy features with curious eyes. 

“a-ah…” you shake your head, unable to meet his eyes so you instead focus your eyes on your hands and the surface of your comforter. “i know you don’t like comforting people so, you don’t have to worry. i don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

he drags out his voice, claiming nonsense - which earns him a slight smile from you. “we’re friends, you can tell me.” he assures. 

you sigh once, adjusting your sitting, then proceed to tell him about your most recent falling out with your friend from school. he knew their name well, his face settling into a sort of unimpressed expression from the start; which yet again earns him a smile from you. it wasn’t a great end - a  video sent in explanation of their lack of boundaries that you were tearful through, and years of memories now down the drain. your lip wobbles at the end of it, and your hands focus on fidgeting. 

“i-it just… it makes me really upset.” when tears fall down your cheeks again, his brows melt as does his expression, and he leans up and opens his arms. “come here.” he urges. you shake your head, “no no no, i know you don’t like physical conta-” “it’s okay, just come here.” he smiles gently. 

you swallow, scooting forward on your bed to wrap your arms around his waist, the side of your face resting in the junction of his shoulder and chest. his arms wrap around you and you feel totally enveloped in a kind of odd safety. you’d only hugged minho a handful of times, maybe. and while the feeling was new, it was also refreshing. 

“you’re so warm, you need to take a cool shower. it’s too hot in here.” his hands smooth over your back a few times, and the vibration of his gentle voice lulls you into a newfound peace. his hold is gentle - not tight like some people hugged, just light - but it brought a sense of comfort over you you didn’t expect. 

“i think i can count the number of times we’ve hugged on one hand.” you chuckle, adjusting your cheek against his shoulder, bringing your arms up higher on his waist.

“enjoy it now, you won’t get it again.”

𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓫𝓲𝓷.↴

get home soon, loser. i don’t wanna remind u again that i miss you dude.

of course you do. i’m your funniest friend, i bet you’ve been sooooo bored since i’ve been gone. 

i’m gonna kill you when i see you again, fr. 

then who would you have around to be your funniest hottest bff?

i’ll start taking applications now for ur replacement.

you chuckle a short evil laugh, tossing your phone on your bed as you make way to your bathroom to start your shower. changbin had been gone now for some months on tour, and with busy schedules and time differences, you hadn’t all the time in the world to chat like you used to. but now with them returning, you were planning on surprising him at the dorms when the guys came back from the airport. as a testament to your long glorious friendship, you’d made it a point to remind him of his bestie back home and had sent him flowers to his hotel one night after a concert in vienna - as you tie your hair back you think back fondly to his spam texts of that night. 

you’re quick in the shower, and when you step out, a toothbrush in your cheek and sweatpants pulled on half-hazardly, you hear a ding from your phone and your brow quirks at the sound. 

didn’t know you got a new door mat while i was gone.

your brows furrow at the text - and the speed at which you toss your toothbrush from your cheek and rinse your mouth to bolt towards the door was thoroughly impressive to say the least. “no way no way no way-” you mumble to yourself as you slip on a t-shirt before throwing open your apartment door, seeing changbin in all of his sleepy glory at your door, a face mask pulled to his chin. 

“bin!” you say affectionately, throwing your arms around him tight. “hey!” he greets back, just as happily, lifting you from the ground as his big arms circle your back. you laugh at his antics, holding on as tight as possible, who knew when you’d get the opportunity again?

“when’s the last time we’ve hugged?” you question as he sets you down, your hands come to rest on his upper arms as you both part, his own resting on your upper back. “i don’t remember, just enjoy this will you?” he scolds playfully, squeezing you once more. 

“oh! i got you something.” he pulls away again to reach for a small bouquet of flowers that rest against the wall and floor in the hallway, handing them to you. “payment for vienna.”

𝓱𝔂𝓾𝓷𝓳𝓲𝓷.↴

“y’know how lucky you are that i let you drag me here?” your eyes focus on nowhere in particular, washing over the bodies at the party, finding some of the guys intermingled and talking to other artists of the party. while it wasn’t crazy by any means, mostly glamorous what with all the designer clothes and such, it was a social outing nonetheless. you were still very thankful for the invite and opportunity to join the boys at a company party as big as this. “it’s because you love me so much.” hyunjin looks over the rim of his drink, a sassy squinting look shot your way before he takes a sip and runs a hand through his hair. 

your relationship with hyunjin was one that had spanned many years; you still hold onto fond memories of him when you were two little bratty kids, running around in playgrounds and stomping in rain puddles. to an innocent bystander, it seemed as though you might’ve hated each other, but there was a deeper understanding to it all that only you both understood. the constant roasting and bantering was your favorite part of your friendship. it was all in good fun. 

besides, how much could you really complain when you were dressed nice (not out of your own pocket, thanks hyunjin) with a drink in hand and good company. and then the games started. it actuality, they were pretty fun, that was until two hands planted themselves on hyunjin’s back and pushed him into the center of the activities, promptly taking you with him as he grabbed your hand. you make an unceremoniously peeved expression at hyunjin, boy would he get ever the earful after whatever it was you two were about to do. 

“i take back every time i’ve ever said i loved you.” you side whisper to him, to which he rolls his eyes and chuckles behind his hand. “you love me so much what are you saying.”

you’re quickly explained the rules of the round; choosing between a 60 second moment of eye contact or a 6o second embrace. you’re quick to speak up, “i can’t look him in the face. i’ll laugh.” you notice briefly some of the other members laughing quietly. when you turn back to hyunjin he has an abhorrent look on his face, ever the drama queen. “i don’t want to hug you either, though.” he snickers. “i think we have to, come here.” you turn your body to face his, opening your arms for him to walk into. he groans in protest, but wraps his arms around you nonetheless.

you rest your cheek on his shoulder and hold him warmly, sighing into the comfort of the embrace. “when’s the last time we’ve hugged? i can’t remember.” you mutter against the fabric of his button-down. he hums, before resting his chin on your head. “i don’t know, must have been a while ago.” his voice is quiet, almost like you’re the only one who can hear it, it somewhat warms your heart despite the bickering and playful arguing that defined most of your friendship. 

his arms feel somewhere between solid and light around you. not too over encumbering, and not not holding you at all. he’s wearing a light fragrance with a true feminine edge and you’d never admit it to him (you would) but it felt really nice to hold hyunjin and to be held in return. the time is ticking down slowly, you’ve forgotten about the other people in the room for a moment, and when the timer goes off you squeeze him one last time before parting. 

“let’s never do that again.” he smooths his hair, a slight guiding hand on your upper arm to walk back to your spot at the edge of the crowd of people. you flash him a knowing smile, one he returns with ease. “yeah. never again.”

𝓱𝓪𝓷.↴

“dude! you almost had it, c’mon.” you jump giddily in your spot next to han, your hands wrap around the fronts of your calves as you pull your legs in tight. he groans, the agitated tapping of the controller alerts your ears as your eyes stay firmly fixed on the game on the screen. 

han had invited you over for the night to play the newest chapter of a video game, it was highly anticipated, and not just between the both of you but it seemed everyone and their mom’s were playing it at the moment - so naturally you got roped into it too. so far, the first three chapter had been amazing. lots of action, amazing graphics and animation, you were surprised to say the least as it drew in your attention seamlessly. and now here you were, on a friday night beside your best friend watching the newest tales in the story being told. 

“i knoooow,” he drawls, once again taking a potion as his character’s life began to drain from damage. “i can’t get past this part, there’s no way to block him.” he’s regained focus, teeth biting into his bottom lip as he leans a bit more forward with new purpose - a full health bar and the dwindling end of his enemy is beginning to peak over the horizon. 

your mouth rounds into an ‘oh’ like shape, nails digging into your legs as you keep watching. “you got one potion left, you’ll be fine, you got this.” you remain calm, which han is forever grateful for as his hands are starting to get sweaty on the controller with anxiety. 

“oh shit-” he perfected his timing on his character’s block, and in a few hits, the enemy was downed. your arms shoot up, “yes! DUDE i knew you’d do it.” han tosses hs controller to the side, and you both throw yourselves into each other’s arms with comity. han is cheery and excited and pats your back with excitement as you rock back and forth in each other’s arms. 

the excitement cools down as the loading screen for your character plays in the background, and you find yourself in a moment of quick thought in your friends arms. “i can’t even remember the last time we’ve hugged, haha.” you smooth a hand over his back as you both part. “yeah we never really hug, but i’ve never really noticed to be honest.” he snickers behind his hand, picking up the controller once more. “me neither!” 

𝓯𝓮𝓵𝓲𝔁. ↴

your trembling hands reach blindly for your phone, your vision blurred and focused elsewhere in your bedroom. inside your skull pulsed a mush of ideas, a flurry of thoughts; moving so quickly in and out of your conscious brain that you couldn’t match them, there was no keeping up. there’s a strong tug at the back of your throat, not even swallowing soothed the ache. your vision registers more clearly when your phone vibrates as you mistype your password. you curse under your breath, stabilize the hold on your phone with two hands, and manage to find your texts with somewhat ease. 

there was one person you were looking for, one familiar sunshiney person you could always count on since you were both little. your hands stumble over words in the text you send him. 

hey, i’m not feeling too well rn. could i come over?

your teeth take your thumb nail between them, blood pools in your cuticle as you pick it. 

oh no :( how about i come over instead? i wouldn’t want you driving feeling bad

okay, let me know when you leave and get here. 

it’s soon that your thoughts are interrupted, and you hear the sound of your front door opening. in walks felix with a beanie and a mask on that he tugs to his chin. he calls your name, closing the door behind him quickly and locking it. you peak out from the hallway, forcing yourself to smile when you meet his eyes.

“hey.” you greet, somewhat breathlessly felix notes. he tugs off his beanie and mask, “hey, what’s wrong?”

you turn to walk back to your room, felix follows as he had many times. his presence alone soothes the ever growing unease in you, but still it grows. the anxiety.

“i’m…” you sit on your bed, pulling your sweatshirt down your hands. the godforsaken pull at the back of your throat reemerges, and you feel your eyes gloss over with tears which has felix’s expression melting. “i-i’m trying not to freak out-” your lips tremble into a sort of frown and he immediately reaches for you, murmuring a few gentle comforts to you. “come here, it’s okay.” 

you let him pull you into his arms as your first tears spill over your waterline, wetting your cheeks furiously and heaving sobs from your shoulders. with your face in his shoulder, your own arms around his back, you close your eyes and try desperately hard to focus on the feeling of felix holding you. the feeling of his voice close to your ear, the feeling of his chest rumbling as he speaks, the warmth of his hands on your back and head, and the gentle rock of his arms. soon your tears are stilled and dried, and you rub at his back to part from him to which he agrees, pushing your hair over your shoulders. 

“when i think about it, we’ve only hugged a handful of times in our friendship, can you believe that?” it’s an attempt to lighten the mood and distract you from the anxiety you’ve now trained to keep at arm’s length. 

“i was thinking the same thing too, actually. but you give such good hugs and you’re very affectionate, i don’t know why i don’t hug you more.” you wipe your face with your sleeve, leaving red blotchy skin in your wake. he frowns at the sight of your sadness and panic, and pulls at your arms to bring you in to hold you once more. 

𝓼𝓮𝓾𝓷𝓰𝓶𝓲𝓷.↴

sleepovers with seungmin always ended up stretching over the course of a few days; not on purpose, it just always ended up that way. now with his break in schedules, he had all the free time in the world for you to annoy him - and annoy him you’d succeed in. it’d been a few hours since he stepped through the threshold of your apartment, but you were already planning on your friday night plans spanning the entire weekend. 

he kept himself busy in your kitchen, promising to make quick work of dinner as you shuffled through your most recent liked songs, your chin resting in your hand as you waited for him to finish. 

“it smells yummy.” your eyes still remain fixed on your phone screen. he hums quietly in agreeance. 

it was too peaceful - and you of course always had to keep seungmin on his toes. you place your phone face down on the counter top, looking at him suddenly. you had to be sneaky of course, something unsuspecting, but enough to get the reaction you wanted. you pull your lips to the side in thought. 

his back was turned to you, a billowing stream of steam wafted off the pan he was cooking in. he had his sleeves pushed to his elbows and occasionally parted from the stove to wash his hands off or chop away on your cutting board. you smile to yourself as your plan blossoms. not that it was anything crazy, but just something to tick him off a bit. 

you stand, remaining diligent in making your footsteps quiet. you eye his movements, positive he’ll be staying at the stove for a moment as you approach him slowly. you smile to yourself one last time before raising your arms and winding them around his middle, pressing your cheek to the center of his back. 

immediately you’re met with a long drawn out groan, which only makes you squeeze him tighter, swaying him side to side as you chuckle against him. “whyy?” he asks you, his arms lifted a bit so as to not touch you. you press yourself closer by his slim waist, admiring the feeling of his warmth and the softness of his sweatshirt. “you’re just so huggable, i don’t know what you want from me. and-!” you continue, voice an octave harder as the realization hits you. “when’s the last time you’ve let me hug you? it’s been years!” 

he shakes his head, grabbing a bell pepper from the cutting board to chew on. “it has not been years.” he assures. “mmm pretty sure it has been.”

you remain connected to his waist, only hugging firmer as you enjoy the feeling of your friend in your arms. he groans again, but this time it’s followed with a short chuckle. “let me go.” you shake your head. “what’s in it for me? you’re so huggable i don’t think you realize.” he hums, trying weakly to pry your arms from him, but you persist and only hold him tighter to you. 

“i’ll let you hug me when we watch the movie.”

you break your arms from around his middle and look at him incredulously. “really? deal.”

he keeps up his end of the bargain, after dinner you start up your tv and after seungmin sits down on your couch, you plop down next to him and lean your head on his shoulder, his arm coming to circle you lightly. you only see it for a split second, but as the movie starts you look up to seungmin and see him smiling ever so slightly. 

𝓳𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓲𝓷.↴

“that’s my yang jeongin!” you yell from the barricade of the guest section. jeongin had invited to fly you out to seattle for a concert stop right in the middle of the tour; having been friends for so long he knew he wouldn’t see you for a while on this stretch of tour dates and invited you to come see him so you wouldn’t miss him as bad (as he worded it) though it’d been a few years since you’d seen him perform last, you knew a great deal of his talent and knew he was nothing short of the best of the best and agreed for a little weekend getaway. 

the performance exceeded your expectations on all levels - his stage presence was insane. you knew he was talented but hadn’t any idea of just how stunning he truly had grown to be. “go best friend!” you shouted again. 

when the concert concluded, the boys were quickly whisked away to the hotel to rest up - jeongin was keeping in touch with you the entire time, letting you know management would meet with you in the lobby before being sent up to his room. you followed suit, stopping at a korean restaurant on the way over. 

you did so good! i was amazed, i’m stopping somewhere first before i come by.

ah, thank you, what are you getting?

surprise hehe >:)

oh no

you met up with management and let them check over your bags and the food you’d gotten for the both of you and were quickly sent up, pulling your hat down further on your face as you did so. with a knock at the door, jeongin stands from his bed and make way to it - smiling when he saw you. “hey, you did so good! the concert was insane.” you walk in when he lets you pass him and you set your stuff down on the table across his bed. 

“thank you~” he grins, cheeks a bit pink and eyes wrinkled handsomely.

“come here, i’m so proud of you.” you open your arms wide, taking a few steps closer as he unwillingly opens his arms for you and lets you hug him as hard as you wanted. “i know you hate this but you have to let me hug you, i missed you.” 

you always knew jeongin to be not the touchiest. he always strayed away from your hand holding and hugs as a kid, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss you, and his heart feels full and warm to hear you say such meaningful things. so he indulges, not just or you, but for him too. his arms are fully around your shoulders, his lips pulled into a tight smile as he rests his cheek on your head. 

“i missed you too. did you see me mess up?” he snickers. when you pull away you rest your hands on his waist for a moment. “you messed up? i really couldn’t tell.” 

“good.” 

is this good? i have no idea, i haven't written for all of the guys yet so some of these might not be the best? lmk.

[flawdchaos]

Pinky Promises

Robert Rosenthal x Reader

Word Count - 1840

- this is a part 2/continuation of Spilled Drinks that was requested by anon.

Ever since the night Y/N had literally ran into Rosie at the bar she couldn’t seem to rid herself of a small smile, no matter what she did. When the girls made it back to their barracks that night, the ambushing of questions went on for well over an hour and even into the next morning.

“You have to talk to him again, Y/N. We both saw the way he looked at you when you were dancing.” Violet declared as she pinned her hair back under the white cap the Red Cross was gracious enough to bless them with. “You know Violet is right, Y/N. He’s already dreaming of a house back in the states and curly headed babies running around.”

“Hazel!” Y/N stopped midway through her dress buttons to lightly smack her friend on the arm, cheeks burning bright red. “I just met the man and for all we know, he doesn’t care and will never speak to me again.” Reaching down to grab her work satchel packed full of supplies.

“Well Y/N if that was the case I don’t believe Mr. Rosenthal would be waiting outside for you, would he?” Violet taunted, Y/N’s head snapping up to meet her friend's gaze. Violet stood peering out the window, fingers holding the blinds open enough to see outside. Hurriedly, Y/N rushed over the window trying her best to not trip over her own feet.

Sure enough there stood Robert Rosenthal - hands shoved in his pockets gaze searching the area around him.

“Go get him, tiger!” Hazel bent forward, laughing.

There truly was not much left in this world that could phase Y/N. She had seen it all in the cruel reality that was war. Men she had grown close to over the span of their visits to the nurses stations would come back battered and broken, some beyond repair - and despite all of what she saw, she was always able to ground herself. She had to. But now, she felt like a young school girl again. Her body was littered with anxiety - sweaty palms, shaking hands, and a racing heart. Why?

All because Robert Rosenthal was standing outside of the nursing barracks.

The squeaking of the barrack front door brought her back down to reality for a moment before the brightness of the sun had her quickly shielding her eyes.

“Rosie, is that you?” she more than obviously knew the answer but she still could not convince herself that it really was him.

“Uh, yeah”, he let out an awkward chuckle “I wanted to stop by this morning and see how things were going. Maybe walk you to the nurses station since I’m heading in that direction.” he was rambling. She stood, head cocked up to him, eyes squinting still from the sun. “I mean, unless, that makes you uh - uncomfortable.”

“I’d love the company. The commute can get a bit lonely.” that same small smile making its way back onto her face. Rosie extended his hand for Y/N to lead the way and with one quick glance back inside she saw her friends staring out at her, smiles plastered on each of their faces.

“What is on your itinerary, today?” Robert finally spoke up.

“The usual. Work until roughly 1900, probably later since there is a mission today and hope to make it back to the barracks in time to do some reading before I get up and do it all again tomorrow.” Y/N paused, kicking a few pebbles along the path before she continued. “How is the day looking for you?”

“Nothing too crazy but I am going up today.” he said nonchalantly, stopping Y/N in her place.

“You’re flying today?” she almost felt like throwing up. Maybe it was selfishness or chosen ignorance but Y/N had grown to hope the war wouldn’t need Robert anymore. She hoped she could protect him from it but all she could do was treat the wounds he would inevitably bring back to her.

“Yeah, debriefing starts at 0730. I’m heading over there once we get you where you need to be.” Her anxiety ridden mind could not help but imagine this was Rosie’s goodbye to her.

Y/N stepped forward to Rosie, grabbing his hands in hers as she looked up to maintain eye contact.

“I know I am just a nurse and you can’t tell me what you're doing up there or where you’re going but you have to pinky promise me you’ll be safe.” Dropping his left hand, she stuck her pinky out expectantly.

“Cross my heart.” he said, as their pinkies connected tightly.

As they continued along their walk, conversation came easily. The pair were still strangers by most accounts and each of them hated it. Y/N wanted to know everything there was to know about Robert Rosenthal and she had made it her plan to figure it out. Stopping outside the nurses station, Rosie removed his hat and began anxiously squeezing it in his hands.

“Be safe up there, fly boy.” Y/N teased, attempting to keep the mood as lightened as she could.

“As long as you do the same down here.” Y/N nodded.

“This mission will be my 20th. I’ve got a two day pass calling my name once my feet hit the ground. Let me treat you to a real introduction and dinner.” Rosie spoke quickly, nerves taking over the brunette.

“I would love that, Mr. Rosenthal.” rising on her tiptoes to plant a quick kiss against his cheek. “You know where I'll be when you get back.” With that, Y/N took a step back and hurried inside to her awaiting duties.

There wasn’t any other time that Y/N had remembered the clock dragging by so slowly. The seconds ticking by was beginning to drive her up the wall and she had to busy herself with random duties. It was while she was restocking the gauze that she heard the all too familiar rumble of the engines overhead. She couldn’t make it to the window to count the returning planes but she hoped, with all her being, every single one of them returned. Hazel’s blonde curls popped around the closet corner, an all too familiar sign that the once quiet med bay was about to pure, unadulterated chaos.

“We’ve got boys already headed our way.” Hazel spoke softly, as if she tried to lessen the blow.

“How bad?” Y/N asked but was only met with a small head shake from the blonde - it was never a good sign.

When Y/N finally saw Robert Rosenthal, he appeared in the med bay doors adorning some cuts and scrapes across his face.

“I told you I would make it back, pretty lady. My leave starts at 0700 sharp. Let’s go to London.”

It was pure luck that her days off coincided with Rosie’s rendezvous and that Helen and Violet were great at covering for their friend. The train ride was where Y/N finally got to the bottom of who Robert Rosenthal truly was. Shortly after taking their seats, Y/N couldn’t help but start to prod.

“Alright, tell me everything Mr. Rosenthal. Give me all the dirty details.”, her cheeks flushed bright red ,”uh- not like that i mean tell me - uh - tell me something no one else knows about you or something.” She could have thrown herself off of the moving train at that point but Rosie just flashed her a smile and started speaking.

“Robert Rosenthal, from Brooklyn, New York. I was working in law before all this mess. I loved it. Graduated top of my class actually. But after Pearl Harbor, I couldn’t keep sitting on my ass while my country needed me so - I enlisted.”

“No secret wife or kids back at home?” Y/N poked.

“No ma’am. It’s just me. And - uh - as far as something no one on this side of the world knows about me - I was the captain for my college’s baseball team. I was trying to be the next DiMaggio.” a small chuckle escaping him as he finished his sentence. “Now what about you?” he asked, softly bumping his shoulder up against the girls.

“Nothing too crazy for me. I always loved helping folks, I was told my whole life I was meant to be a nurse. Once we started fighting this fight I knew I had to volunteer - sorta like you I guess. I’m not dropping bombs or toting a gun but knowing I patch you all up before you get back in the saddle is enough for me.” she sighed, turning up to glance at Rosie.

“And no secret husband out at war or kids back at home?” Rosie mimicked her early question. Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “God no, Robert. Where I’m from I don’t turn heads.” He took a moment to look at her, maintaining eye contact before he took his large hand and grasped over hers before pulling them on to his lap.

“Well Y/N Y/L/N you turned mine - and maybe after we get all this nonsense settled with the bad guys, I can give you a tour of Brooklyn. I know just the place that I’d love to take you dancing.”

“I’m most certainly holding you to it but for now, let’s explore London.” raising her free hand to the platform approaching quickly.

“Yes ma’am. How would you feel about a picnic?”

“That sounds absolutely lovely.”

Rosie stood up as soon as the train hissed to a stop, busying himself with gathering the overnight bags each of them had packed. He stubbornly insisted on carrying both to the hotel around the corner. Y/N knew they would have to enter as colleagues and nothing more, separating as they went to their respective rooms to drop off their bags before meeting again in the hallway.

“Let’s go find sandwiches.” he spoke quietly and Y/N nodded, falling in line behind him as they walked past the lobby and out to the streets. For the first time Y/N really took in the size of the city around her and she couldn’t even help that her jaw was almost to the floor. The Germans had done their share of damage but it didn’t lessen the experience for her at all.

“What is it, Y/N?” Rosie questioned, taking a step towards her.

“I’ve never seen a city like this before. This is just - wow.” Rosie broke out into an ear-to-ear grin. “It is awesome but wait until I take you to Brooklyn. We’ll catch the train to New York City and I’ll make sure you take the ferry to see the Statue of Liberty.”

“You promise?” Y/N broke from her trance to look up as Rosie smiled and turned to her fully, sticking out her left hand.

“I pinky promise.” he said, watching as Y/N connected their hands tightly. “You better believe it. I haven’t broken a promise yet.”

AUTHORS NOTE - hi friends, i hope everyone enjoyed this little part two to spilled drinks. there may be a part 3 to this little series if it’s wanted. please feel free to give me feedback or more requests as my inbox as open. i’m still new to this so i appreciate anything :)

[roseglazedlens]

⦑ a night away ⦒✶.* prequel to a kiss away, and how it all happened.

requsted by anonymous (ask at the end) pairing(s): leon kennedy x gn!reader | friends to lovers synopsis: heartbroken, you find yourself back at the bar, unsure if love is meant for you. leon wants you, so badly, but he restrains himself (unsuccessfully) thinking someone else is better suited for you, someone that is not him. content: suggestive imagery, one kiss, one excited leon, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, mentions of alcohol, addiction, oral (m! receiving), death special thanks to @sporeghost, for the beta, for being a sweetheart of a friend, and for his drop dead gorgeous writing. « 2.1 k words┇masterlist┇ao3┇reblogs appreciated! »

Loving is easy. To be loved is difficult.

It’s easy to love perfection after all. You might not be perfect, like no one is, but you’re damn close to it. But Leon? He thinks his soul is fractured – by the blood in his hands, by the poison he consumes, eternally cursed by the perpetual guilt of living.

Your smile is crooked – full-teeth, gum-showing. Yet you smile like the sun after a weeping rain, a smile that outshines the worst every single time. Your steps summon life underneath you, summon life within him. You are blinding, bestowing your shine to all, up and high, beyond reach.

If he tells you his feelings, will you find happiness with him? Or will you follow him into the dark, and never see the light again?

You look best in the sunlight. Not six feet under, decaying in his own pain and darkness. Peeping at your glow is more than enough for Leon. He isn’t worried about heartbreak at all, because heartbreak with you is healing. That’s the kind of effect you have.

So you can imagine his worry when he hears your voice slurring through the phone, almost inaudible against the bass-heavy party music in the background. Leon doesn’t know where you are, or what you are doing, but he wants you safe. Needs it.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long to find you at a bar three blocks away from your apartment. You don’t normally go to bars, that he knows and appreciates. He’s well acquainted with the aftereffects of alcohol.

Leon evades the crowd, manoeuvring through the waves of hazy drunks, cigarettes in one hand, clinking glasses in another. They don’t know how intoxicating it all smells, how deep one can possibly fall into the bottomless pit of a martini glass. Perhaps they know. Or don’t care. After all, they came to escape too, just like you.

He finds your lone silhouette slouch into the bar table, a full glass and empty bottle next to you. Leon didn’t recognise you at first.

“Didn’t expect to see you in a place like this.” Leon picks a bar stool closest to you and takes a seat.

“Leon…?” Your eyelids weigh you down. “H-How did you...”

You don’t look at him, instead readjusting yourself just slightly to bury your face in your palms. Guilty, and you know it.

“Don’t talk.”

Leon rests his hand on your forehead, feeling your temperature burn lightly against his hand. While he has you there, he signals the bartender for a glass of water. You remind him of himself two years ago, deep into a bottle before midday.

You try to reach for your drink, but Leon moves the glass away. Replacing it with the iced water served to you. “Drink this.”

Leon watches you take in a big gulp. Your eyes blink open aggressively, regaining a bit of conscious since Leon arrived.

“Better?”

“Better.” You heartbeat slows by a fraction, voice clearer now, but your surroundings are still spinning. Leon waits for you to finish your next swig before talking.

“What happened?” Leon offers you his kindness, lacing with an undertone of concern. You plant your face into your drink. “You can tell me.”

“H-He…” Your tears well up, and his heart breaks at the sight. “He b-broke up with me, Leon. Over text too. I tried calling him, but I keep reaching voicemail. Did the four months meant nothing to him?”

That sucker you met on a dating app. Leon can’t recall his name, that’s how much he hates the guy. Promising you the world, delivering all but crap.

A man who hurts you like this isn’t a man. Just a child. It’s been three times since he watches your heart broken with fake proclamations of love by one of these men. Leon knows he can kiss you better, love you better, make love to you better than any other man on this world. Anything you want, he can do it better. Except that he can’t.

You are the light he doesn’t deserve, the light he depends on.

“Fuck ‘em. He doesn’t deserve you.”

You shook your head. “Nobody loves me, Leon. Nobody wants me. I’ve never had a relationship that lasted over a year.”

“That’s not true.” Because I want you. More than you’ll ever know, more than you’ll ever need. I want you like a plant wants light. Hell, I need you like a plant needs water. “All of D.S.O loves you.”

You sigh deeply. He knows the fact that’s not what you meant, but some secrets are not meant to see the light of day.

“I need a drink.”

“No. You don’t.” Leon cuts you off, pouring out the poison into the sink by the bar. “Drinking won’t solve anything. You should know this.”

The music in the background crudely echoes, much harsher and obstructive this time. The people around you are chatting, cheering, dancing – but there is only two of you in the room. At least that's how it feels like. Leon watches your hand twitch on the glass, eyes avert with guilt. You know he is still marking the days, thirty-seven weeks of sobriety. You know he is right.

“You shouldn’t be here.” It’s your turn to move his hands away from the glass.

“I’m here to take you home. Don’t worry, I’m not going to relapse anytime soon.” Leon puts a hand over yours. An act of comfort, consolation.

“Go wash your face.” You obey, and it helps just a little. By the time you’re ready to leave, Leon is waiting for you with your bag in his hands. “Come on, let’s go.”

“What about the tab?”

“It’s all sorted.” It’s the least he can do for you.

The summer nights should have been cool, but as if to compensate for the heat of the day, the wind taunts harsher. The gust prickle your bare skin that wears only a T-shirt and jeans. Your balance tips ever so slightly.

Leon leans to you right before you slip, hands gently grasping your shoulders. You catch your feet, fistful of his jacket for support. The smell of your fresh cherry blossom shampoo melt into his senses.

He pulls you aside around the corner of the building – you are too unbalanced for the nighttime crowd, almost tripping three people in your fall.

“Lean back.” Leon peels you off his chest, almost reluctantly. You feel so good in his arms. “Take five.”

Beyond the neon skyscrapers, fogged starless sky, you share the moon together. You vision rotates and coils around the glowing sphere, but next to Leon, you feel safe, relieved, despite everything that happened today. You, who witness your third relationship fall apart. Him, who witness your light slowly fading away.

“Leon…” Your words are slurring again.

“He’s such an ass.” You didn’t let Leon respond, and he didn’t try. Leon knows you just need to vent right now. “Every time I’m at work, he says I work too much. Then he says I’m too controlling when I’m home.”

“I hear you.” Leon nods, watching at how your face twist and turn when you talk about this jerk who doesn’t deserve you.

“He’s always out with his friends. When I do the same, it’s a bad thing. I never complain about anything, ever. What gives?”

Leon listens, nodding responsively.

“You know what’s worse? He told me I give bad head.”

Leon freezes, blood that ran along his nerves surge between his legs. It wasn’t weird for you to share details about your relationships. It prides Leon that you entrust him with such information.

But for you to be this forward about your intimate activities? That’s a first, probably conspired by the alcohol in your system. Leon can only wish that the alcohol in you isn’t going to catch him adjust both of his pant legs, hiding the strain between his pants.

“Well, are you?” Leon teases, feigning nonchalance.

“It’s not my fault I have a small mouth.”

His gaze passes your lips, open and close as you speak, tongue peeking underneath all that plumpness. He shouldn’t. Definitely shouldn’t be imagining your lips grazing against him right now. Or how your mouth will look around his cock, your tongue swirling against his length…

Leon clears his throat once more. You unintentionally cut off his imagination before it can go rampant.

“You know… I’ve realised you never talk about your relationships.”

You raise your hand to scratch your chin, recalling if there is anyone that makes him double take. But Leon Kennedy never double takes. There’s not a moment where he’s breaking his stoic, cool-guy demeanour. Not even at Jill, which you would drool over at.

“Not much to tell.” Not much he can tell you.

“C’mon, we’ve been through too much for you to act coy now.” You nudge him on the shoulder. “Guy like you? You must have someone.”

“Not sure what you mean.” Leon can feel you snuggle in closer, almost brushing against his strained jeans at your lower abdomen. He strategically smooths slightly away from you, desperate to suppress himself.

“I mean… You have a really nice jaw. And a nice body.” You gaze at him up and down, eyebrow raising, tongue peeking and rolling over your teeth.

“You think I’m handsome?” Leon offers you his crooked grin. “That’s quite bold of you.”

His cerulean eyes lit up, for a sparkle, staring intensely into yours. Your throat clears itself, unaware of the warmth sinking into your cheeks. Leon wonders if you know how cute you look right now.

“I-I’m just saying what others think.” You shuffle away from the wall, moving in sync with your feet towards the well-lit street. “Let’s get going I’m feeling much bett-”

“Not so fast.” Leon holds you in place. Your body turns against your own will, finding your back curving into the wall.

“Leon…?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

Look at you. So sweet, doe-eyed as you walk right into the lion’s den. The sensitive part of your neck partially exposed just to entice him. Thinking everyone is made of good intentions, that they just want to be your friend, and that no harm will ever become of you. That’s just in your nature.

It’s also in people’s nature to take advantage of someone like you. Even when your wrists locked against his, body trapping you, you still trust him. He’s internally conflicted – conflicted whether if he wants to pounce at you or protect you. Both, in that order.

Leon brings his lips closer to yours ever so slowly. So softly, leaving you plenty of space to withdraw, to stop. Begging you to stop him from ruining something so perfect between the two of you.

Waiting… Waiting for any sign of uncertainty, any lace of hesitation, any reason to push you away and laugh it off. But you don’t. You don’t flinch, in fact you close the distance more.

He tilts his head down, and your head up. Leon moves his hands, feeling a bit bolder too, wrapping them around your back. Reciprocating all the same, your irises capture the moonlight in your eyes, glowing in the dark. Leon can’t keep fooling himself anymore about how you want this. You want this too.

He closes his eyes. Lets your raspy breath guide him to your lips until they brush lightly against yours. Magnitude of emotions riled up within him, pouring into an endless stream of longing finally fulfilled.

“I, uh…” Leon silences your thoughts in place of another heated kiss. Taste of your tongue lingers with the filth of alcohol, Leon wants nothing more than rid the taste of it from your mouth. His body flushing against yours, burning, drowning, into all of you. Into all of the love you grace him. Platonic, romantic – none of it matters. He just needs you.

The parting of lips is almost melancholic, a separation of two souls connected by this ephemeral moment. You are losing balance, eyelids closing, consciousness fading into a light snore.

“Let’s get you home, sweetheart.” Leon lets out a tiny grin when you lean your body weight on his torso, which is cue to take you home.

Under his care, Leon helps you into your apartment. Doesn’t leave you like that – no, that would be too cruel. He helps you remove your jacket and shoes, carrying your slumbering body to the bed. Tucking you in. And a cheeky kiss too, while you’re unconscious.

Maybe you’ll remember what happened, maybe you won’t. Leon knows that he will cherishing this memory for a very long time.

thank you sm my sweetest for the ask!! i hope you enjoy this fic even after i took some liberties (hehehhee). i absolutely, absolutely LOVE writing for friends to lovers, and something ab first kiss with all that yearning makes me swoooonn harder than smut haha

also, thank you all who liked, commented, reblogged so graciously on 'a kiss away' (the sequel), it has 950 notes now?? sometimes i still go huh, how did that happen?? rlly can't do it without with you guys, from the bottom of my heart thank you smsm

thanks for reading! come check out my other works. ––yours truly, rose. tags: @carlosgf @sporeghost @navstuffs (pm me for tags) © roseglazedlens - please do not translate, copy, repost or feed to ai without permission - thanks!

[sunboki]

🧷 SKZ WHEN THEY NOTICE YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE

◌ including : ot8 !

◌ warnings : mentions of creeps & harassment

◌ notes : i really loved this shade of pink, hopefully it conveys the lovey-dovey mood i’m feeling since valentines is close<3

BANGCHAN asked to join you on your night-out, a well deserved one at that due to your constant workload the week before. it was nice to relax with Chan at the bar you frequented on your day off, not worrying about deadlines or coworkers, just him and the world. yet the light feeling in your chest was quick to disappear upon seeing that person here. your hand unconsciously squeezing his, discomfort evident. of course, your boyfriend was already on alert, reading you easily. “awe hey stranger! who’s this? already dating in the office aren’t you, how scandalous.” the rhetorical question answered with a sheepish chuckle on your end, noticeably tense. but when the girl reached towards you Chan was quick to pull you behind him—facing the perpetrator with a taught expression. “i don’t think we’ve met before and i hope we never do. so let’s not touch what’s mine or things will get messy, alright?” proceeding to melt into a worried mother during the walk home, holding you in the coziest hug of your life whilst serving his protective-bear role. “i’m here to take care of you y’know. i love you too much to see you so nervous.”

MINHO was meeting you at the nearby park after practice, excited to finally be spending time with you after such long rehearsals. whilst he was enamored by your text messages, he didn’t ignore the part where you mentioned wearing the sundress he’d bought you for your birthday, daydreaming about how breath-taking you’d look with the sun dancing on your skin. however what he wasn’t anticipating was to see your eyes panic-filled, running up to him where you usually met up with urgency. “there-there’s been this guy following me for the past twenty minutes, i’m really really scared-“shh, it’s alright. let’s go.” he quickly yet ever-so calmly placed a possessive hand on your lower back, stealing a hasty glance behind you before hurrying into a busy café. “i can see you fidgeting, nothing will hurt you as long as i’m here.” having found sanctuary at a booth near the back of the place, he acknowledged the anxious bounce of your leg. “i know~ i’m just upset our date was messed up.” you whined, graciously accepting your drink from the waiter. a sort of scoff was Minho’s reply, amused. “well i’m upset everyone in this café gets to admire you in that sundress and not just me.” — “seriously Minho?”

CHANGBIN agreed to take the next step with you. next step as in meeting his family, quite an important step considering that his favorite people were meeting eachother for the first time. but as Changbin adjusted the collar of his shirt he caught sight of your nervous expression. well, it looked normal for most people, but he could tell when it came to you that there were too many thoughts swarming through your head. “what’s going on? there’s something on your mind.” standing in front of you, he cupped your face in big, warm hands, forcing you to look up at him. your eyes tell. “it’s just, i want to meet them but i can’t help worrying.” you bit your lip, basically sensing the cock in your boyfriend’s brow. urging you to go on. “i’m worried i won’t make a good impression. i know family means a lot to you and i don’t want to mess that up.” Changbin visibly softened, thumbing your cheek in a comforting manner. a low, yet kind laugh had you glaring up at your boyfriend, that is, until he spoke. “they’re so excited to meet you i don’t think it’s possible to leave a bad impression.” — “yeah?” your lips quirk upwards, slightly more relaxed. the car ride was filled with his apparent excitement, beyond ecstatic. and it was safe to say his family loved you, having probably been more excited than he’d told you. did you mention how good your boyfriend looked while cooking? in an apron? lord have mercy.

HYUNJIN remembered when he met you for the first time like yesterday. fist wrapped around a subway strap as the blond stared at his phone—listening to a song he’d been frequenting. Hyunjin glanced up, mindlessly scouring over the many passengers around him, and in the midst of people his gaze landed on an elderly gentleman. not anything strange of the sort, till his eyes traveled lower to where the man’s hand was. then it hit him. in front of the elderly man stood you, wearing a cute, shorter skirt. what you didn’t notice was that exact man was taking disgusting up skirt photos without you knowing. searching desperately for anyone who saw what was going on without luck. so, taking a deep breath, he squeezed through, just so happening to smack the phone from the man’s hand and stand behind you. the creep gasped in reply. “oh! sorry sir!” Hyunjin falsely apologized, happily crushing the phone with his shoe. “ah, i’m so clumsy today.” the cracked screen splintered when he handed it back, sporting the fakest smile in the book. while ignoring the gentleman’s anger he then tapped on your shoulder, turning to face him. wow. you were stunning. “there was a guy taking up skirt photos of you, don’t worry, i took care of it. what station are you getting off at? i’ll stay with you ‘till we get there.”

HAN knew you hated going to the doctor, so he always took the time to join you, rubbing small circles on the top of your hand as you sat in the waiting room. perhaps other people found it stupid that you got so nervous, but your discomfort was never seen as weakness to Han, even though he knew you felt inferior because of it. instead, your boyfriend would turn on the music unbelievably loud in the car—basically forcing all the intrusive thoughts to be blocked out with the blasting sound. and when you arrived at the office he would spend the entire time distracting you, whether that be with his silliness or sharing airpods to listen to music together. “this songs sucks Ji, what’s up with your taste?” you giggled, shoving his shoulder playfully while he lifted his hands dramatically. “Changbin hyung’s recommendation, he said he listens to it when he works out.” you scoffed at this, finding everything about the song to be over-the-top. except the banter ended abruptly when a nurse called your name, immediately glancing at Jisung worriedly. “hey, it’s okay, alright? i’m right here, ‘m not gonna leave you.” a tight-lipped smile served as a reply, shuffling to the room. afterwards he basically treats you like a baby, not even letting you go anywhere without clinging onto you. “my baby is so strong.. i’m so proud~”

FELIX excitedly skipped around the back-room, cheerful to have you join him for an interview. usually he’d dread them, but today was different. a great kind of different where he finally got to experience an interview alongside you. yet there was one thing. one thing that ticked Felix from the very beginning. and it was how strangely the questions were geared towards you compared to him. for him, questions like “how is it to have you lover with you on this interview?” or “what are some of your favorite things to do your s/o?” whilst you were asked questions such as “do you ever get jealous of the attention on Felix?” and especially the “does expectations with your own beauty make you insecure when dating Felix?” that one had him nearly saying something, noticing how you squirmed in your seat—trying to shake off the offensiveness. but no matter how much his professional façade was important, there was no way he could sit still when you looked so pained. “excuse me for saying this, but these questions are a bit personal, don’t you think? it may come off as disrespectful to them, so please, let’s make sure it’s not like that.” he leaned forward, eyes glaring dangerously at the director despite how kind he appeared on camera. no less Felix gave the team a chronic headache for their senslessness, proceeding to spoil you absolutely rotten with a warm bubble bath, flowers, and gifts. there was no feeling bad about yourself when with him.

SEUNGMIN peered over your shoulder, watching you scroll through your feed. a normal Thursday night, but your heavy sigh was enough clarification something was up. he nuzzled his face into your neck, a quiet gesture he often did to urge you to speak your mind. “you know how we planned to go to the beach this weekend?” Seungmin hummed softly, patiently waiting for you to collect your thoughts. “well yesterday i tried on some swimsuits and i just… don’t like how they look on me. i’d embarrass you.” embarrass? embarrass?? he wondered how the thought even occurred in your pretty mind, if anything he should be happy you weren’t going to the beach—no one else but him able to see you looking so beautiful. but of course he knew you wanted to go, and he wasn’t about to let your negative thoughts ruin that. “the thing i’d be worried about is someone asking for your number, i would too if i saw you looking like that.” he placed his head on your stomach, a content smile on his face. “i love this.” he placed his hands on your hips, then your thighs. “and this.” then your chest (with a soft squeeze much to his pleasure), then your face. “and especially this.” you laughed when he blew a raspberry in your cheek, the puppym treasuring your precious laugh. “you’re too breathtaking to miss out on this beach day, so let me love you so much you don’t think like that ever again, hm?” he pounced, earning a squeal from you. “Yah- Minnie-“

JEONGIN saw your expression contort staring up at the massive roller coaster, eyes trained on each loop and twist—turning green. “c’mon Y/n! it’ll be fun, promise!!” your friend called out, pressuring you into going with them. and of course your adorable boyfriend was fumbling to help you out, equally as useless in this situation. “..actually we planned to ride the teacups before we have to leave!” god, Jeongin was an awful liar, but you didn’t say a peep when he led you away from the others. “were we actually going to ride the teacups?” you mused, watching the spinning saucers rotate round and around. “nope, you just looked uncomfortable.” — “was it that noticeable?” you narrowed your eyes, dreading hearing your friends’ remarks tomorrow if that was the case. luckily, it wasn’t. “to me, yeah.” curse his stupid smile, sly when his face was so innocent. Jeongin was a menace. “you suck.” you stuck your tongue out childishly, yet pointed towards the ride. eyebrows cocking playfully, you appeared all too entertained by Jeongin’s hesitance. “c’mon Innie, it’ll be fun!” the poor thing nearly hurling after the ride, you questioned whether perhaps you should’ve been the one to keep him from throwing up initially, not the other way around. having to basically carry the cutie to the car. yeah, he may act all macho, but he���s really just a baby, please take care of him.

permanent taglist — @starlostseungmin

all rights reserved for @sunboki

[turcott3]

off the table

charles leclerc x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, angst, kissing and fluff! (this is not edited apologies for any mistakes)

positions fics masterlist

~but i just wanna know is love completely off the table?~

-

your eyes fluttered open as the sun filled the las vegas hotel room. you roll to face away from the window and you’re met by a familiar sleeping face. the relationship you and charles had created was special but complex. you weren’t together. you’re primary relationship is sex and nights out together but it never extended beyond that. occasionally you received a grand prix invite, las vegas being one of them. he messed with your feelings often. one second it seems like he wants you and the other he’s leaning on a bar counter talking to another woman. you just let it happen because you wanted him, even if it does hurt you not knowing.

“good morning char.” you say quietly as the brunette stretches out and looks at you.

“good morning amour.” he smiles before getting up out of bed. you wanted to reach out and grab for him but you didn’t wanna push your limits. you yearned for him. all you wanted was to be his and his only, but it was starting to feel like too much to ask for. every day you’ve spent together, a bubble of anxiety grew in your chest.

“what time do we need to leave?” you call out.

“we have a few more hours no worries.” he smiles walking back into the bedroom and climbing back into bed, quickly nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck.

“how many is a few more?” you giggle, scratching his scalp lightly.

“like four or something.” he says, his breath on your neck was hot and sent goosebumps all over your body.

“i need to get a shower okay?” you say and he pulls away after pressing a short kiss to your neck.

“okay, ill be here.” he smirks laying back on his side, scrolling on instagram. you enter the bathroom, grateful for the escape you just made. he made your mind spin. when he cuddles to you and kisses you, yet doesn’t care to want you is the mode confusing experience you’ve had. you let the warm water soak your body as you stood in your thoughts, tears pricking your eyelids. eventually you lost the fight and let the sobs wrack your body. all you wanted was answers. tearfully, you finished the shower and dried off, staring at your puffy face in the mirror.

“am i just not good enough?” you whisper to yourself. you walk out into the bedroom to grab clothes from your suitcase, avoiding looking in charles’ direction.

“y/n?”

“i’ll be out in a second.” you say shutting the door behind you. quickly, you slip on your clothes and hang your damp towels.

“y/n?” he asks again as you walk out.

“what?” you say, eyes still red and face still puffy.

“come sit, what is wrong?”

“i don’t know.” you lie sitting down next to him, not wanting to possibly ruin this trip.

“yes you do. tell me.” he pushes clearly wanting an answer.

“you confuse me charles. you confuse me so much and you’ve made me catch undeniably strong feelings for you but you confuse the fuck out of me. one second i think you may want me and then the next you’re talking to another woman. i’m just confused on why you wanted me here.” you express as lightly as possible.

“i do have feelings for you. i truly do y/n, i don’t want you to think that i don’t.”

“then why don’t you want me charles?”

“i do i just- im just so busy and stressed with the season i don’t want to have more things to keep up with. not that you don’t deserve the absolute best, i just don’t think i can give you what you deserve.”

“well i’m here right now aren’t i? i’ll come to every race, every event, everything. i am here for you and you only. i don’t want to get in your way so im trying my best to stay out of the way and id say ive done pretty well.” you add, tears falling once more and he nods.

“is love just not something you’re looking for right now? tell me baby.” you say as he pulls you into his lap, wiping your tears.

“it is. i don’t know why ive been pushing you away. you’re too good to me and i feel like if i can’t be 100% here then it won’t work and you deserve 100%.”

“i’m willing to try, only for you.” you say and he kisses you on the cheek.

“mon amour. you’re incredible.”

“so does this mean?”

“yes, it means you’re my girlfriend, i’m not even gonna ask i’m declaring it now.” he giggles and hugs you closely to his chest.

“look at us, newest couple on the grid.” you laugh.

“and arguably the best, sorry everyone else.” he says placing a light hand on your lower back.

“definitely the best.”

-

“carlos, this is my girlfriend y/n. you’ve met before but i figured i should re-introduce with the proper title.” charles giggles at his teammate.

“hello y/n, it’s great to re-meet you.” he smiles sticking his hand out to you which you gladly shake.

“it’s great to re-meet you too.”

“alright well baby, we got to get to it so, ill see you in a bit alright?”

“alright, good luck out there char.”

“thank you.” he smiles kissing you sweetly on the lips before walking off with his teammate.

“i was waiting for this day to come.” one of the staff says nudging you.

“really?” you giggle.

“yes, last race you weren’t there and he was like ‘i wish y/n was here, she makes me calm.’”

“how sweet.” you smile at the woman before she follows behind them.

guess love was never off the table.

-

sorry this is so short😭

[mythicalmaven]

Beyond Boundaries - Oscar Piastri (PART SEVEN)

Masterlist

Time for chapter 7! The chapter I am sure that a lot of you have waited for! Hehe! I also added a few social media elements into the chapter, which I think turned out nice! But, don't worry, it's still mostly just words <3 and I'm honestly OBSESSED with this chapter! Can’t wait for chapter 8!

↳pairing: oscar piastri x female!norris!reader ↳word count: 5K ↳chapters in this series: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven ↳chapter warnings: friends to lovers, brothers teammate trope, bestfriend!reader, fluff, smut, NSFW, 18+ content (mdni!), fingering, handjob, praising, explicit sexual content!, sex, p in v, first time together

↳series summary: Since Oscar joined McLaren as your brother’s teammate, you two have quickly become best friends. Recently promoted to be Oscar’s physiotherapist, you both relish the opportunity to spend more time together. However, as the new role brings you closer, you both realize you might be feeling more a little more for each other than just friendship

The sun peeked through the curtains of Oscar's bedroom when you felt yourself slowly waking up, slowly opening your eyes, you realized you were still laying in Oscar's bed, without Oscar tho. He must have gotten out of bed earlier.

You reached for your phone on the nightstand next to the bed. Immediately noticing two text notifications, one from Lando and one from Oscar.

You clicked on Oscar's text and smiled as you read it. He texted you good morning, as well as saying he was downstairs to grab the both of you some coffee. It was cute, the effort he was putting into everything.

After you replied to Oscar that you just woke up, thanked him for the coffee and told him that you'd see him in a bit, you opened your text notification from your brother, immediately knowing something was up, so you start typing back to him

After your last text, you immediately opened Instagram, typing the designated username in your search bar. Once you've reached their profile, you click on the post to check the pictures from up close.

You honestly had no idea what to do now. The PR team was gonna be very very busy to fix this whole ordeal, because you either had to come up with some very devious lie to convince people that you were not the girl in question or you had to convince people that the boy in question wasn't Oscar. And to be fair, neither of them seemed like a an achievable solution.

You kept staring at the comments, reading them all. Some even more shocking than the other. Let's just say that this was not the way you expected to wake up after a night of sleeping in Oscar's childhood home.

Talking about Oscar, he just walked back into his room, confronted with your blown pupils and beet red face.

"Are you okay?" Oscar asked placing the two cups of coffee on his nightstand, before carefully sitting down on the edge of the bed, looking towards you "You're bright red, are you feeling sick?" he asked, worry lacing his tone.

You shook your head and handed Oscar your phone, showing his the post you've been staring at for the past 5 minutes.

f1gossip

liked by username1, username2 and others

f1gossip Oscar Piastri spotted making out with a mystery girl right outside a nightclub in Melbourne last Sunday👀 The girl has not been identified yet, but according to a few sources, the mystery girl might be none other than Y/n Norris (featured in the last picture), considering she was seen leaving the same nightclub as Oscar and her outfit potentially matches the one from the mystery girl👀

tagged: oscarpiastri and yourusername

view all comments

username1 EXCUSE ME

f1.content.2024 Holy fuck man, we knew that Oscar was a hot lad, but him making out looks even hotter🫠

user8290 no one can convince me that this isn't y/n😱 ↳ oscarpiastrifan81 I KNOW RIGHT ↳ username2 i don't know about you, but i kinda ship it

f1addict231 i can guarantee you, that is not Y/n Norris😂 ↳ user437 hahaha are you blind? ↳ norrisgirlie290 girl, even a blind person could recognize y/n in this

username3 Oscar dating Lando's little sister, y'all are delusional🤨

user41 no clue who she is, but i'm her now😍 ↳ username9183 for real tho, when I saw this i was like: GIRL, HOW DOES IT FEEL TO LIVE MY DREAM

piastrisgirl21 I highly doubt that's her 👀🤔

"Oh fuck" he muttered, feeling a little embarrassed by the fact that the press had caught them. They would have been fine if it they limited their kissing to just inside the hotel room, since there was pretty much no media there, but both of them apparently were too drunk to realize that kissing outside of the club was everything but smart.

Oscar must admit tho, that aside from the shame he was feeling of getting caught, seeing the pictures of them also making butterflies rise in his stomach. An immediate blush creeping onto his face.

"What should we do?" you asked, sounding a little nervous.

Oscar didn't really know either, not sure at least "Well, I think we should at least call my PR manager, because I honestly have no idea what else is smart"

"What do we say to her tho?" you wondered, not really knowing how to come up with a solution that would work.

"Well, we've gotta decide if we wanna lie to her and just say that it was me with another girl" he suggested, pursing his lip a little nervous "Or we tell her the truth, and just tell her that it indeed was us. But that we were wasted and did something stupid"

Before you had the time to process your emotions and react to it, Oscar felt his phone ring. He reached inside his pocket and took out his phone "Speaking of the devil.." he began, nervously looking at his phone "What do I tell her?" he stammered, wanting to be sure that you agree with what he was going to say.

"It's okay, Osc. I'm fine with both" you replied, before quickly getting up from the bed "While you answer that phone call, I'll go to the bathroom real quick" you said, before walking towards his bathroom.

Once you were out of sight, Oscar pressed the button to accept the call, lifting the phone to his ear "Hello" he softly spoke.

"OSCAR PIASTRI, for fucks sake. Care to explain?" he heard her ask on the phone. She was agitated, that was clear and totally understandable "And don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about, because it's all over social media. And with Y/n?"

Oscar sighed, knowing that they have been stupid. Still contemplating on what he should tell her. If he should be honest or if he should come up with a lie. He continued to listen to his pr manager rambling about the fact that she expected these things from Lando, but not from him. And that they were already busy enough with Lando's way of presenting himself in public sometimes, that she didn't feel like having the same issue with Oscar too.

Oscar took a deep breath, before looking down at his lap "It's all just a big misunderstanding. The girl in the pictures with me is not Y/n. They were just coincidentally wearing similar clothing" he lied, his face feeling warm, because he absolutely hated lying "I was drunk and made a mistake, I admit that in all honesty. But the girl in the picture is not Y/n.."

"You honestly expect me to believe that? Everyone that knows Y/n, can recognize her. The tattoo on the back of her arm is showing in one of the pictures, Oscar..." she said, immediately seeing right through his lie "Any random girl would be totally fine, that would have gave me a lot less work, but Y/n of all people. This could cause a big dent in both of your public images, because this is highly unprofessional. Kissing your co-worker while you're wasted. And let's not even get started on the fact that it is your teammates younger sister"

"I'm sorry" he muttered, feeling incredibly embarrassed by the whole ordeal "We were both wasted and I don't know what came over us, okay? It was stupid, we made a mistake, but it's a little too late for that now"

"You don't have to say sorry to me, you're doing this to yourself. Please just make sure this doesn't happen again, okay? " she explained, slowly starting to calm down and starting to be a little bit more compassionate "I know that you can't choose who you're attracted to and that being drunk can make you do senseless things, but please remember that you guys both have a public image that you need to keep up. You both can't afford to damage that, just because you two can't keep your tongues out of each others throats in public"

"No worries, it won't happen again. We were wasted, it was just a one time thing" he replied, defeat lacing his tone "What should we do about these articles?" he asked her, wondering if she had an idea.

"Well, regarding the press, for now nothing. The less attention we give it, the less suspicious it seems. The media will find a way to throw you under the bus anyway" she said, pausing for a deep breath "But regarding McLaren, you both better come up with a very good explanation. Because Zak is gonna kill you both, when he finds out"

"I don't even want to think about that" he whined.

"Well me neither" she said, a small laugh leaving her lips "Now, thanks for the clear up. Take some time to let this all sink in and I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

Oscar sighed and agreed with her, apologizing again for the stupid mistake, before ending the phone call.

He threw himself down on his bed, opening his messages to text Logan, but quickly saw that he already had a text from him. Since you were gone to the toilet anyway, he felt like he had a little time to text with him.

Oscar put his phone down next to him when he saw you walking in, shooting him a small reassuring smile.

"How did it go?" you asked as you walked back into his bedroom, jumping onto his bed again, seating yourself down next to him, your back resting against the headboard.

He shifted his gaze towards you "Well, that could have gone worse" he said, quickly explaining to you what they discussed.

"Yeah, still mad at myself for letting this happen" you said, disappointment lacing your tone, trying to avoid eye contact "It shouldn't have happened"

Oscar felt a pang in his heart "Do you mean that you regret that we've kissed, or?" he asked uncertainly, afraid of your answer.

You shook your head "No, you idiot" you shot at him, immediate relief entering Oscars body "You know, that call you just had proved yet again that it's just smarter that we stay friends and don't date, it just makes things too complicated. It shouldn't have happened, but it did, nothing we can change about that" you explained to him, honesty in your voice "But the fact that it shouldn't have happened, doesn't mean that I don't feel what I feel"

"So, no I'm not regretting it at all, none of the things we did that night" you said softly, glancing back up at Oscar. "And to be truthful, I don't think I've ever had an orgasm that intense before," you admitted quietly.

Oscar felt a rush of heat, arousal stirring instantly, feeling himself getting hard already. It was almost embarrassing how easily you could affect him. Just a few words from you, and he was a mess, like a teenager all over again. He couldn't help it.

A small smirk crept onto his face, proud of himself for making you feel that way. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I love making you feel good," he admitted, unintentionally using the present tense. He hoped you wouldn't notice. It was true; if he had the chance to make you feel good again, he would in a heartbeat.

He looked down at his lap, nerves returning. "I feel the same way, by the way. Your mouth felt incredible. It's by far the best I've ever had," he confessed, feeling a bit vulnerable about being so candid. "I came so quickly, it was embarrassing. I felt like a teenager again, struggling not to blow my load within a minute."

You chuckled lightly, honestly feeling a little honored about it, turning your head to look at him. "I think it's cute, I see it as a compliment" your voice a soft whisper, trying to avoid looking at his lips. You really wanted to kiss him, but you knew you shouldn't. Those last few words being ignore a hand full of times already.

"I was actually a bit insecure beforehand. I really wanted to make you feel good but was so afraid I wouldn't be any good at it, you know?"

"You? Not good at it? It was amazing," he reassured you.

The whole conversation stirred feelings in Oscar that he had tried so hard to suppress, but it was no use. Seated with his back against the wall, he glanced down at his lap. He was fully hard now, the outline of his erection clearly visible in his shorts. Oscar quickly moved his hands over his lap, trying to cover his arousal, hoping to make it seem like he was just more comfortable that way. The pressure of his hands only enough made his dick twitch involuntarily.

You noticed the flush on his face getting more evident. You glanced down at his hands, obviously trying to hide his predicament.

"You're hard, aren't you?" you asked, gently biting your lip. Your sense of reasoning began to fade again, and you were on the verge of ignoring the words: 'we shouldn't.'

"Yeah, I'm so sorry" Oscar apologized, letting out a sigh. "It's just that talking about it, made the memories resurface again"

You scooted a bit closer to him, slowly moving your hand towards his, which were still trying to cover up his arousal. Your fingers carefully slipped under his hand, giving his hard-on a firm but gentle squeeze. "Don't hide it," you whispered.

Oscar let out a soft moan, the mere feeling of your hand on him enough to drive him wild. He moved one hand to grab onto the mattress. He hesitated, everything in him wanting this. But a voice in the back of his mind reminded him of your words, the hand that was still covering yours gently squeezed your hand, before moving it upwards, his fingers carefully wrapping around your wrist, trying to pull your hand away from his member.

"Y/n, we shouldn't," he said, much against his own desires, wanting to respect the boundary you had set. One that he knew you were probably only ignoring in the heat of the moment.

"Shouldn't we, or don't you want to?" you asked, using your other hand to remove his fingers from your wrist one by one, before placing it onto his abdomen, your hand slowly making its way back down where he needed it most, palming him through his shorts. He moaned at the feeling, squeezing the bedsheets tighter with his free hand. "I know you want to, Osc."

"I don't want you to regret this, baby," he whispered, putting his own needs aside, focusing on your feelings instead.

You turned onto your side a little, moving your lips close to his neck, before pressing a soft kiss against his skin. A small smirk formed on your face when you saw the little goosebumps appear on his neck, a soft whimper escaping his lips when you palmed him with a bit more pressure.

"I would never regret pleasing you, Osc," you said, your lips now next to his ear. "How could I regret being intimate with you? Look at you, you're so hot. And the sounds you make when I please you... God, you make the hottest sounds. It makes me so wet, Osc."

"F-fuck..." Oscar let out a loud moan, clasping his hand over his mouth to prevent the others in the house from hearing him. He felt his dick twitch inside his shorts, involuntarily bucking his hips against your hand. Your words alone almost made him cum right then and there.

"Just have a little fun with me, Osc. No strings attached, okay?" you suggested, your lips traveling back down to his neck, peppering it with seductive kisses.

You had found his weak spot, the thing that made Oscar lose his mind. The thing that made his self-control crumble to pieces. He caved, giving in to his strongest desires.

Without a word, he shifted his position, now sitting on his knees in front of you. His hands slid to the back of your thighs, gripping them firmly as he pulled you further down the bed, until your were laying down completely. You lay back, your heart racing, anticipation building as he climbed on top of you. Oscar pinned you down, his big hand wrapping around both of your wrists, securing them above your head, while he used his other hand to cup your cheek.

"Please don't stop. It's so hot when you talk to me like that," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, leaving you flustered and desperate for more. Your arousal was evident, and Oscar noticed, feeling a surge of confidence and satisfaction. The sight of you beneath him, eager and responsive, made him feel all kinds of things—powerful, needed, and deeply connected to you in this intense moment

You looked up at him, locking eyes with his. His pupils were dilated, his desire unmistakable. The intensity of the moment made you let out a soft moan as you maintained eye contact. Oscar’s lips descended to your neck, pressing against it and sending shivers down your spine.

Deciding to heed his earlier words, you began to recount the details of the night you spent together last Sunday, confident it would only fuel his desire further. As Oscar's lips found that sweet spot on your neck, you moaned, "F-Fuck, Oscar, just like that," your voice low and sensual as your hands struggled against his grip on your wrists. "It feels so good, just like Sunday night."

"You feel incredible against me, Osc," you murmured, referring to the way his arousal pressed against you as he hovered above. Both of you still fully clothed.

Oscar groaned, his hips moving slowly against yours in a rhythmic grind, seeking more from you. He slid his hand beneath your shirt, cupping your bra-covered breast. You responded with a moan, "Yes, Osc, just like that."

Oscar's moans mingled with kisses on your neck, his breath faltering at your words. He paused, then said "Fuck, baby, you're so hot"

You let out a shaky breath, fueled with arousal "You made me feel so amazing, Osc. Your lips on my neck, your fingers filling me up—you're so hot. It felt incredible."

He moaned louder, his hand moving away from your breast to the back of your neck and into your hair, tugging slightly. "You know what I loved even more, Osc?" you asked seductively.

"Tell me, baby," he almost growled, his breath ragged, his arousal throbbing with need. His teeth grazed your neck, eliciting another moan from you.

"I loved sucking you off, Osc. You're so big, you made me feel so full" you chanted as the arousal started to pool between your legs more and more, the way he was responding to your words fueling you with desire "I loved to way you pulled on my hair when I sucked you off, baby. It made me so wet" you spoke, the nickname escaping your lips, fully intentional. Knowing that it would make him go insane.

Oscar let the moans escape his lips without holding back, feeling himself getting even more turned on than he already was. The way you talked to him made him lose control and you knew it. It was exactly what you wanted "The sounds you made when I had my lips wrapped around you, god. It was so hot. The way you moaned out my name when you came, god, it made me come untouched" you said, knowing that he was about the snap any moment.

Oscar couldn't hold back any longer and crashed his lips against yours, capturing you in a passionate and lustful kiss. His lips moved in perfect harmony with yours, his tongue licking your bottom lip, asking for entrance, which you gladly granted. The kiss deepened, growing hotter and more intense. Your tongues intertwined, exploring each other with fervent desire.

Oscar released your wrists, and your hands immediately traveled to his neck, one of them diving into his hair and pulling gently. He moaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating through you and making your desire spike. His hands roamed your body, fingers trailing over your curves, squeezing your waist, and sliding up your sides. His touch was everywhere, igniting your skin with every caress.

You broke the kiss for a moment to catch your breath, both of you panting heavily. "Can I take this off?" Oscar asked, his voice husky as he tugged at the hem of your shirt. You nodded, and he quickly pulled it over your head, tossing it aside. Not wasting any time, you tugged his shirt off as well, your hands exploring the newly exposed skin of his chest and shoulders.

Oscar's hands moved to the waistband of your shorts, and with a questioning glance, he asked for permission. You nodded again, breathless with anticipation. He slid your shorts down, and then removed his own, leaving both of you in your underwear.

Hovering over you once more, Oscar ground his hips against yours, the friction sending waves of pleasure through both of you. He lifted his hips a little, to allow him to slip his hand between your legs, fingers teasing you through the fabric of your panties. You moaned, your back arching in response to his touch.

"Oscar, please," you whispered, your voice filled with need.

"Anything for you," he murmured back, his lips finding yours again in another searing kiss. His fingers slid beneath your panties, and you gasped at the intimate contact, the heat between you both growing unbearable "Fuck, you're so wet for me already"

"Yes, Osc, all for you," you panted, the tension between your legs quickly building as Oscar worked your clit in perfect circles. "Your fingers feel like magic, Osc."

"Yeah?" he asked breathlessly, his voice thick with desire. "You like that, baby? You like my hands on you?"

"God, yes," you moaned, your hips bucking against his hand. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Oscar's lips brushed against your ear, his breath hot and heavy. "I won't, baby. I love making you feel good."

As his fingers continued their expert movements, your hand slid down to palm him through his boxers. Oscar groaned, his hips pushing into your hand. "Fuck, that feels amazing," he whispered, his voice strained with pleasure.

"Just like that, Osc," you encouraged, your voice a mixture of moans and gasps. "Keep touching me, don't stop."

His fingers sped up, the pressure and rhythm driving you closer to the edge. "You're so wet for me," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck. "So perfect. I want to feel you come on my fingers."

"Fuck, Osc," you cried out, your body trembling as the tension inside you coiled tighter. "I'm so close, please."

"I've got you, baby," he assured, his voice soothing yet filled with lust. "Come for me. Let go, just for me."

With a few more skillful strokes, your climax hit hard, waves of pleasure crashing through you. "God.. Oscar!" you moaned out, your body arching as you rode out the intense orgasm. Your hand tightened on him, and he moaned in response, his own arousal evident.

"That's it, baby," he praised, his fingers slowing but still working you through your release. "You're so beautiful when you come."

As the last tremors of pleasure faded, you collapsed back onto the bed, breathing heavily. Oscar pulled his hand away, bringing his fingers to his lips and licking them clean, his eyes locked onto yours. "You taste amazing," he said, his voice rough with desire.

You reached up, pulling him into a deep, hungry kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. "Your turn," you whispered.

Your hand slipped beneath his boxers, wrapping around his hardness, and you began to stroke him with slow, deliberate movements. Oscar groaned, his hips thrusting into your hand as he buried his face in your neck. "Fuck, that feels so good," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You increased the pace, your hand moving with more urgency as you felt him getting closer. "Oscar," you whispered, your voice dripping with seduction, "I love making you feel this good."

He moaned loudly, his hips bucking involuntarily. "God, the way you touch me," he groaned, his voice filled with awe. "You're so good at this. It feels incredible."

You smiled against his neck, enjoying the power you had over him. Your hand moved faster, your grip tightening slightly. "Tell me, Osc," you coaxed, "Tell me how much you love it."

His breaths came in ragged gasps, his hips moving in sync with your strokes. "I love it so much," he panted, his voice trembling. "Your hand on me... it's better than any fantasy. Better than anything I could ever imagine."

You felt his cock twitch in your hand, a clear sign he was edging closer to his release. "Oscar," you whispered again, this time with a hint of praise, "You're doing so well. I love how hard you are for me."

His entire body tensed, his muscles straining as he fought to hold back. "Fuck, you're amazing," he managed to say, his voice thick with desire. "I can feel it... I'm so close."

Sensing his imminent release, you adjusted your technique, moving your hand faster inside his boxers and applying firmer pressure. Each stroke elicited a deep moan from Oscar, his control slipping with every passing second. "God, yes," he groaned, his voice desperate. "Just like that... don't stop."

You could feel his cock pulsing, his release building rapidly. "I'm so close," he panted, his voice tight with need. "I'm gonna come."

You paused your movements, your hand stilling as you looked into his eyes. "Not yet," you said softly. "I want to feel you come inside of me."

The words caught him off guard, and he moaned, his arousal spiking. "God, you have no idea how much I want that," he said, his voice filled with longing. "But I don't have any condoms here”

"I'm on birth control," you replied, your voice steady. "And I'm clean. If you're okay with it, I am too."

Oscar's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and desire. "You’re sure?" he asked, his voice husky.

"Yes, Oscar," you assured him, pulling him into another deep kiss.

After you pulled away from the kiss, Oscar looked at you again, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Are you really sure you want to do this?" he asked softly. "As much as I want to, I don't want you to feel pressured into anything. Our first time means a lot to me, and I don't want you to regret it afterward. I want it to be perfect for you."

You smiled warmly, your heart swelling with affection. "I want this. I want you," you said, your voice filled with certainty. "You mean a lot to me, Oscar. You have nothing to worry about. It's you, and that's what makes it perfect."

Oscar’s eyes softened with a mix of love and relief. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle kiss "I want this so bad," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "And I need you so much."

With those words, he leaned in, capturing your lips in another passionate kiss, his hands exploring your body with renewed intensity. You felt a shiver of anticipation as he moved, both of you ready to take the next step together. The statement of how you shouldn't be doing this, long forgotten.

As you kissed, your hands moved to his boxers, helping him slide them off. He did the same for your panties, both of you eagerly discarding the last barriers between you. He pulled back for a moment, his eyes raking over your body. "You’re so beautiful," he said, his voice filled with awe. "Every part of you."

"And you’re so hot," you responded, your eyes trailing over his toned body. "I love your chest, your arms, your abs... everything about you." your fingers trailing over every part as you names them.

Oscar began to position himself at your entrance, his gaze locked with yours as his tip teases your entrance. You moaned softly, your body aching for him. Slowly, he pushed inside, filling you completely. The sensation of him stretching you, the heat of his skin against yours—it was more than you had ever imagined.

"God, you feel amazing," Oscar whispered, his voice a mix of awe and desire. "So perfect."

You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as he began to move, each thrust driving you both closer to the edge. The sensation of him inside you, the sound of his breath mingling with yours, created a symphony of passion that enveloped you both. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“You’re so amazing,” he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. “I’ve dreamed of this moment more than I'd like to admit, but now that it’s real, it’s even better.”

You blushed, your heart racing with excitement, your hands exploring his back. “You feel so good, Osc. Everything about you is just perfect.”

He paused, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, as he halted his movements, biting his bottom lip. Closing his eyes to avoid eye contact, because he was sure that he would have blowed his load the second he looked into your eyes.

You looked at him with a playful smile. “What’s going on?” you asked softly.

“I need to slow down a little,” he confessed, his cheeks flushing slightly, a hint of embarrassment in his voice as he said “Otherwise, I’m afraid I’ll finish too quickly. And I really don’t want this moment to end yet.”

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands. “To be fair, I find that kind of hot,” you said with a teasing grin. “It just shows how much you want this.”

Oscar’s face lit up with a mix of relief and pleasure. “God, you really know how to make me feel good,” he said, his voice dripping with desire.

With a renewed sense of urgency, Oscar pulled out of you completely, just for him to thrust himself back inside you right after. The sensation overwhelming you, causing you to moan out loudly.

As the intensity built, Oscar’s movements quickened, his thrusts becoming more urgent. You could feel the pressure building within you, your body responding eagerly to each powerful thrust.

“I don’t think I can hold back much longer, baby,” Oscar panted, his voice strained with need.

“Then don’t,” you replied, your voice filled with determination. “Let go with me.”

He moaned, his hips bucking harder against you. The pace of his thrusts increased, each movement sending waves of pleasure crashing through both of you. You matched his rhythm, your body moving in sync with his as you both approached the brink of climax.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you moaned, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Me too,” Oscar grunted, his voice filled with urgency.

The pleasure surged through both of you, building to an intense peak. With a final, desperate thrust, you both moaned loudly as you reached the pinnacle of your shared ecstasy.

"God, I love you" he whispered, his orgasm causing the words to accidentally spill out in the heat of the moment. He instantly felt fear creeping upon him, afraid that he just ruined it all, unaware of what you were about to say.

“I love you too, Osc,” you replied, your voice thick with emotion as Oscar continued to thrust gently into you, making sure not to stop until you both had completely ridden out your release.

Earlier, you had spoken of ‘no strings attached,’ but your heartfelt response seemed to suggest something more profound.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Oscar collapsed against you, his breath coming in heavy, satisfied gasps. He looked into your eyes with a mixture of awe and adoration. “That was incredible,” he said, his voice filled with emotion.

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair. “It was perfect,” you whispered, your heart full of love and satisfaction. “Thank you for making it so special.”

—————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺—————

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Taglist @aceyalonso @saachiep81 @landosgirlxoxo @andruuu28 @il0vereadingstuff

[bitchiswild]

About You

Jennie x F! Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: angst

A/n: damn 😔🤚

Requested

In a dimly lit bar, the ambient sounds of clinking glasses and murmured conversations blended with the soft strumming of a guitar. Y/n, the lead vocalist of a local band, stood on the small stage, her fingers lightly grazing the strings of her guitar. The crowd hushed as she began to sing, her voice filled with raw emotion.

"There was something 'bout you that now I can't remember," Y/n's voice resonated through the venue, capturing the attention of everyone present. The lyrics were a reflection of her own heartache, a melody that echoed the pain of a love lost. As she continued, memories of a past romance surfaced in her mind.

~~~

(past)

"What are you writing about, my love?" Jennie, her girlfriend, asked, her fingers gently caressing Y/n's shoulders. Y/n sighed contentedly at Jennie's comforting touch, looking up to meet her eyes, which were filled with adoration for the girl before her.

"I'm working on a song about you, actually. I'm calling it 'About You'," Y/n replied, a soft laugh escaping her lips. Jennie joined in, their laughter intertwining in the warmth of the moment.

"Can I hear it when you're done?" Jennie asked, her curiosity blending with a genuine interest in Y/n's creative expression.

"Of course, babe. Once I perfect it, I'll let you be the first to hear it," Y/n assured her, a radiant smile illuminating her face.

"Anything you write, Y/n, is perfect in my eyes," Jennie whispered sweetly, her words carrying a sincerity that melted Y/n's heart. The air between them filled with an unspoken understanding, a connection that went beyond the words shared. In that intimate exchange, the love they felt for each other was beautifully woven into the fabric of the moment, creating a tapestry of affection that lingered in the air.

Weeks passed, and the song "About You" evolved into a beautiful melody that resonated with the emotions Y/n harbored for Jennie. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting warm hues across the sky, Y/n invited Jennie to their cozy apartment to share the finished piece.

The room was filled with the soft strumming of Y/n's guitar as she began to sing. Jennie sat on the couch, captivated by the heartfelt lyrics that seemed to paint a vivid picture of their love story. Y/n poured her soul into every note, and as the final chord resonated, a profound silence enveloped the room.

Jennie looked at Y/n with tears shimmering in her eyes. "That was beautiful, Y/n. It's like you've captured the essence of us in every word and melody," she said, her voice filled with genuine emotion.

Y/n smiled, feeling a mixture of vulnerability and satisfaction. "I'm glad you think so. It's all about you, about us."

As the last notes hung in the air, Y/n set the guitar aside and moved closer to Jennie. Their eyes met, and in that shared gaze, the unspoken connection between them deepened. Jennie reached out, tenderly wiping away a tear from Y/n's cheek.

"You have a way of turning the ordinary moments into something extraordinary," Jennie confessed, her fingers gently tracing the contours of Y/n's face.

Y/n leaned in, capturing Jennie's lips in a sweet and lingering kiss. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the soft melody of their love lingering in the air. The song had not only become an ode to their journey but also a bridge that reconnected their hearts.

After the kiss, they held each other, savoring the warmth of the moment. "I love you, Y/n," Jennie whispered, her words echoing the sentiment expressed in the song.

"I love you too, Jennie," Y/n replied, a profound sense of completeness settling between them.

~~~

"I don't get it," I asked, confusion and heartbreak intertwined within my words. Jennie's revelation felt like a sudden plunge into icy waters, a shock that left me breathless.

"Y/n, get it in your head. You and I have different dreams," Jennie declared, her words hitting with punctuated finality.

"But... but, I thought we were each other's dream?" I stammered, my voice barely audible as the weight of her words pressed upon my chest.

"I lied. I can't be a low-ball artist's girlfriend. You won't make it out there. You've been playing in the same five bars for the past three years, and there has been no movement," Jennie uttered venomously, her words cutting through the air like shards of glass. Each syllable felt like a blow, a relentless assault on the dreams I had nurtured and believed in.

My heart shattered into fragments. Being an artist was not just a career; it was my soul's yearning. Being a singer wasn't merely a profession; it was the rhythm of my existence. And Jennie... she was my dream personified. Yet, here she was, dismantling them all with ruthless precision.

Tears welled in my eyes, betraying the depth of the pain coursing through me. Jennie noticed, her gaze faltering for a moment, a fleeting acknowledgment of the devastation she had just unleashed. "Y/n, I—" she began, an apology clawing its way out.

"No. Just leave, Jennie. Never come back," I interrupted her, my voice devoid of emotion, each word a struggle to push past the lump forming in my throat. My lips quivered as I turned away, unwilling to let her see the extent of the devastation she had wrought.

The air between us hung heavy with the shattered remnants of dreams, the echoes of love, and the profound ache of betrayal. As I walked away, the weight of her words clung to my every step, a haunting melody of heartbreak playing in the silence she left behind.

~~~

(Present)

"It's the same damn thing that made my heart surrender," she continued, her eyes closed as she poured her soul into the song. The lyrics unfolded the story of her love for Jennie, the only woman who had left an indelible mark on her heart.

"I miss you on a train, I miss you in the morning," Y/n's words hung in the air, expressing the ache of loneliness that accompanied Jennie's departure. The crowd listened intently, drawn into the narrative woven by the heartfelt lyrics.

In the midst of the audience, unbeknownst to Y/n, Jennie stood watching. Her gaze fixed on the stage, she felt a mix of emotions listening to the song inspired by their past. The lyrics resonated with her own journey, the sacrifices she had made to chase her dreams, leaving Y/n behind.

As Y/n continued to sing, the intensity of the moment reached its peak. The bar was silent, captivated by the emotional performance. That's when Y/n opened her eyes and, to her surprise, locked eyes with Jennie. A bittersweet realization washed over them both.

The song reached its poignant conclusion, and the crowd erupted into applause. Y/n, momentarily caught off guard by the unexpected gaze, collected herself and graciously acknowledged the audience.

After the performance, as Y/n made her way off the stage, she noticed someone waiting for her backstage. It was Lisa, the new drummer of the band, accompanied by a familiar face—Jennie. Y/n's heart skipped a beat as the two approached.

"Y/n, meet my girlfriend," Lisa grinned, introducing Jennie to the bandmates.

Y/n and Jennie exchanged glances, the unspoken words of the past year hanging in the air. In that moment, surrounded by the music that once united them, they felt the possibility of a new beginning. The echoes of the song lingered, serving as a reminder that sometimes, the most beautiful melodies emerge from the symphony of life's unexpected twists and turns.

[wyattjohnston]

stay forever - jake debrusk

summary: the real reason jake was scratched against l.a. on october 21.

word count: 2.9k

note: have been absolutely fascinated by him pulling a tyler seguin for 9 months and started this fic back in october...

An emptiness overwhelmed Juliet’s house as it always did when her parents had returned back to Connecticut. It was a purchase she regularly regretted—three bedrooms more than one person needed and more living spaces than she could ever fill—but people had gotten to her with their constant comments about needing to grow up. Needing to prepare for a family.

She hoped that her future husband would appreciate its location on the Pacific Coast Highway because that wasn’t something she regretted.

For the time being, she owned a very unnecessarily large house which she only lived in part time when her filming schedule allowed. She spent a lot of time on her own waiting for company to arrive.

Juliet’s company for the evening was someone she didn’t see very often at all—mostly when he was in California for work, or when she visited her parents—but someone she always wanted to see more often than she could.

She sat down at her kitchen bar, a poorly made cocktail sitting in front of her, and her feet swinging around the base of the chair as she waited for Jake to arrive at her door. By the time the GPS tracker was outside her house, her drink was empty, and she was filled with nervous excitement. She waited by the intercom, no longer embarrassed to open the gate the second he pressed the buzzer, and then opened the front door to wait for him to walk up her driveway.

“That drive feels longer every time,” Juliet told him, reaching for his belt buckle as soon as he was in reach so that she could tug him closer until they were chest-to-chest.

With the door closed and the car disappearing out of the gate, he nodded, saying, “I think I learnt the entire history of the Pacific Coast Highway.”

“I can send a car to pick you up,” she reminded him as she did every time he was in California.

“But how would I know that The Beach Boys released a song about it in 2012? Or the Australian pop punk band who mentioned it in one of their songs? Or—”

“I get it,” Juliet cut him off, still leading him through the house with her hands on his belt. “You like facts about the Highway. Music about the Highway, specifically.”

Before he could get any more words out, Juliet pressed her mouth to his, still keeping him close with her hands on his belt.

They had the whole afternoon together—the whole night—which was a luxury that they were rarely afforded, and Juliet was overwhelmed by all the things they could do together. As was usually the case when near Jake, she never got any further than an arm’s length away.

The Pacific Ocean stretched out beyond Juliet’s balcony as they sat and watched the waves roll onto the shore beneath them. Being cuddled up under the warm afternoon sun was more than she could ask for. She fit so naturally in the space between Jake’s legs, her back pressed against his chest and his fingers hiding underneath the hem of her cropped shirt and across her rib cage.

There wasn’t much to talk about that they hadn’t already spoken about in their daily phone calls or their frequent texts, but the silence wasn’t so bad. Just being with each other, in each other’s space, pressed up against each other on her surprisingly comfortable outdoor couch was enough. Juliet caught him just smiling at her on more than one occasion. It was nice to just see him in person rather than on a phone screen.

The sun had sunk below the horizon, leaving behind the pink sky Juliet so adored about Malibu. She looked over her shoulder at Jake and melted into the instantaneous kiss.

“Do you want dinner? Abbey made you the chicken one you said you liked last time. The one that fit with your nutrition plan?”

Jake’s forehead came to rest against the back of hers. He asked, “You remembered that?”

“I wrote it down and you hadn’t said your plan had changed. I hoped.”

Her fingers started to tap against her ribs.

“God, I need her to be in Boston to be my chef.”

“I can ask her if she wants to,” Juliet said without hesitation.

“Do you come with her?” he asked, his mouth pressed against the back of Juliet’s neck. “Because the only person I want to move to Boston is you.”

Juliet hummed. She didn’t want to rehash the conversation they’d had all summer, not on their first night together since he left for training camp. She’d thought about moving back to New England, about being closer to her parents and her sister, about being closer to Jake. Her house might have been too large for just her, but it was a better alternative than uprooting herself for a relationship where they hadn’t even said they love each other after nearly twelve months.

Her sister’s commentary about them being unable to say the L word because they spent too much time apart always fell on deaf ears.

“Jake—Jake,” Juliet panicked, shaking his shoulder viciously. “Jake. Your alarm didn’t go off.”

He woke all at once, a violent flail sending his limbs in all directions as he sat up. His first instinct was to reach for his phone on the bedside table; his phone that wasn’t there.

Typically, on the rare occasions when they woke up in the same bed, Juliet was wrapped up in his arms before she’d even woken up and before either of them even thought about getting out of bed there was slow, lazy, but oh-so-good, morning sex and a healthy amount of cuddling.

That morning, though, she watched him launch out of bed so quickly he nearly tripped over the top sheet he didn’t take time to remove. She couldn’t fault him.

She tried not to follow him around the bedroom too closely as he dressed, nor throughout the rest of the house, but she found herself picking up things that fell out of his overnight bag and slotting them back in gingerly.

It was the lack of speaking that was the most unnerving. Jake wasn’t a typically angry person, in fact Juliet couldn’t recall a time where she’d seen him mad, but the heavy footsteps and the tension in everything he did made her hesitant to speak.

On the kitchen counter downstairs, next to an empty bottle of red, was Jake’s phone which he swiped off the counter with such fervour that it crashed to the floor, causing Juliet to recoil. Jake didn’t seem to notice.

Standing in just the shirt she’d managed to throw on, Juliet kept her distance as Jake scooped up his phone and ordered an Uber. If Juliet were to be petty, she’d have mentioned that if he’d let her organise a car then none of this would have happened. Except, she wasn’t petty, nor was she interested in stoking fires, so she stretched out the bottom of her shirt as she nervously wrung it through her hands.

The silence remained until Jake looked like he was readying to leave, standing up from where he’d been leaning across the island and texting furiously. He didn’t look away from the screen.

“I’ll see you after the game,” Juliet said, tentative to break the silence but not at all wanting to let him leave without saying anything at all.

Jake scoffed, “I’m not gonna play so don’t even bother.”

Juliet stepped towards him, the space reducing to only a couple of paces, reaching out to him with her eyebrows pulling together. She asked, soft, scared, “What? Why? Are you injured?”

“I’m late, Juliet,” he snapped, still not looking up from his phone. “They’re not gonna let me play.”

“Oh, well, I’ll still come,” Juliet said, harried. While she was relieved that he wasn’t keeping injuries from her, her brain was reeling to create a solution. “Maybe I can talk to somebody and tell them I had an emergency—”

“Don’t do that. Whatever you fucking do, do not do that.”

“Okay… I don’t have to do that.”

Jake used the buzzer to open the gate to let the Uber driver in and Juliet’s eyes began to well up with tears as she heard it get closer to the house. Their perfect night shattering before her eyes was creating a tightness in her chest she hadn’t felt in years.

She reached out to him, despite him being too far away, and asked, desperately, “I’ll see you after the game, though?”

“Sure, whatever you want, Juliet.”

“Jake.”

He didn’t respond, only pulled open the front door as the Uber stopped in front of it.

Juliet, panicked and incapable of thinking anything else, ran to him and gripped the loose sleeve of Jake’s hoodie and said, “I love you.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t so much as look at her before he shrugged her off, got into the Uber and closed the door, his phone immediately pressed to his ear.

It wasn’t the confession she’d imagined, that was for sure.

Juliet had considered cancelling her car and watching the game from her couch. Through the entire process of getting ready—which was getting longer and longer every day as the comments she was seeing got worse and worse with every second she aged—she stared at her phone for any sign of Jake. Whether he was going to beg her to show up or tell her to not come at all, she wanted something. She got nothing.

Sitting at her kitchen island, staring at the ugly painting her agent had bought her to congratulate her on an Oscar nomination the year prior, she didn’t think she’d ever felt more pathetic—and losing that Best Actress Oscar when it was universally agreed that she would win was the previous champion for that category.

With the car arriving shortly to pick her up, Juliet knew she had made an unconscious decision to go to the game. She had her jersey across her lap, the 74 hidden, and was the least excited she’d ever been for a hockey game.

As with every public appearance, Juliet made sure she was at least able to fake a smile before she got out of the car. Oliver, her driver, was her greatest confidant and the best secret keeper she knew. He’d seen her in some truly horrible states and, while it may have just been the ironclad NDA, not even her agent or PR manager had heard about the worst breakdowns. She was hugely grateful for him and the minor adjustments he suggested to make her seem realistically happy.

It was always a while before she was noticed at games; most people weren’t in the target demographic for her movies, and those that were weren’t expecting her to be there, so she was able to walk the concourse, get a beer and sit down before the whispers and photos started. She wasn’t hidden with centre-ice, bench-side seats and it was only a matter of time before the camera operators found her—she stood out enough being the only yellow jersey in a sea of black without being famous.

She shouldn’t have gone alone was her main takeaway before the first period even started. She’d never had the problem before, but never before had she felt a dull ache in her chest and never before had she so desperately wanted a buffer.

It wasn’t until the beginning of the second, when LA scored their first goal, that Juliet’s face was plastered across the screens. It was, at least, a good enough reason for being caught looking as miserable as she felt. She smiled, nonetheless, throwing her hands up into the air as if to ask what can you do and also to show everyone that she was wearing what she deemed to be the correct jersey. Even if they booed her for it.

The texts that started coming through weren’t a surprise. It wasn’t unheard of that someone she knew was also at the game, though they were much more likely to be rooting for the Kings and in a box where they wouldn’t be bothered.

Juliet made a point to not pull out her phone until intermission because too many people had opinions on her not paying attention when she was out anywhere, and she didn’t need to give them anymore ammo. So, she waited until she was standing in line for another beer before she pulled it out of her pocket. Most of the texts she ignored because they were from people she never really spoke to asking her to get drinks after the game, one was from her sister with a tweet mentioning her being at the game which she reacted to with a thumbs down, and, finally, one from Jake.

He had been scratched, just as he said he would be, and the text was almost definitely sent at the exact time she was shown on the screen.

Thanks for still coming. Will you hang around after?

She sent back a text and closed her phone, ready to order another beer and ignore her phone for the final period.

Do you want me to?

Yes. Course I do.

It was something. That’s what Juliet was forcing herself to think, anyway.

Juliet didn’t need much to get past security; not when someone had come for her. It meant that, despite Jake’s disinterest in her being there that morning he hadn’t gone to the trouble of calling off her escort.

Her way down to the locker rooms was filled with people stopping her for photos. It wasn’t like her to deny people, and she hadn’t any other time she’d been caught at a hockey game, but she had somewhere to be and when she didn’t know exactly what was waiting for her.

There was no Family Room for her to wait in, unless she wanted to crash the Kings’ room uninvited and face more questions than she’d already been hounded with that night, so she bravely stood in the hallway unaccompanied as she waited for the coach to address the team and for Jake to be free enough to come and meet her. The few very confused Kings staff and partners she passed were to be expected, at least.

Juliet was ready to open up her burner account and search her own name in Twitter—she was already in a bad enough mood that any comments she read about her cellulite or the confusion about her cellulite when she was allegedly too skinny after her last role couldn’t do any further damage—when the visitor’s locker room door opened with a groan. Jake had the decency to look sheepish, repentant, when he stepped out. He didn’t look at anybody but Juliet as he crossed the hall to meet her.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice low and shy. “For still coming. I don’t think I would have if I was you.”

“I nearly didn’t,” she admitted, trying to act cool when she knew that she could only look as desperate as she felt. “You really hurt me, Jake.”

“Yeah, I—I know, Juliet. I shouldn’t have taken any of that out on you.”

The door opened again, the agonising groan rattling whatever small amount of composure Juliet had been able to pull together, and she looked down at her feet.

Jake closed the gap between them, making room for the wave of people to exit the locker room, and Juliet put hand on his chest to steady herself at the unexpected movement—she hadn’t realised how good it would feel to touch him and felt herself lean ever closer.

“Do you have to stick around? Or can we go somewhere a little less noisy?”

“I have to get on the bus, Jules,” he said, his head lowering. He put his hand over hers on her chest to keep her close. “I want to go back to Malibu. I don’t want to sleep by myself in a hotel room when you’re in the same city…”

Juliet sighed. “But you had one chance.”

He started to look around and Juliet knew he was looking for somewhere more private for them. He opted for slightly around a corner, not quiet by any means but at least out of the thoroughfare. Juliet was long past being caught in a compromising position with anybody—and, truth be told, any positions she’d been caught in were hardly scandalous and all with serious partners—so she wasn’t worried about effectively being boxed in against the wall, with Jake leaning down to talk to her.

“God, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “None of it was your fault; you didn’t deserve to be treated like that. I love you and I treated you like shit.”

She tilted her chin down and looked up at him sheepishly through her eyelashes as she asked, “You love me?”

Jake’s laugh was abrupt and aborted just as suddenly as it started, the realisation that it was not the right time was clear on his face. “Well, yeah. Yes, Juliet. I don’t think that should be the thing that gets me over the line, though.”

“I’m still really mad at you,” Juliet said, even as she slipped her arms around his waist. “But I think I’m just going to enjoy you while I have you.”

Juliet was delighted to share a photo sent to her by her sister of her and Jake leaving Honda Center hand-in-hand, mostly so she could caption it ‘I want to be @/taylorswift when I grow up’.

She was even more delighted when less than ten minutes later she opened up Jake’s story to see that he’d reposted it with a caption that just said ‘same’.