#as in she has actual wardrobe space where she leaves her clothes

[aaandbackstabbed]

[writers-hes]

tell me you need me (1 of 2) | c. berzatto x reader

It was good when you started but Carmen Berzatto had the ability to make anyone fall in love with him no matter how much you tried not to. (friends with benefits!carmen, smut, mndi!!!, unprotected p in v, smut! smut!, angst!! fluff, maybe some bad words, blood, unedited) MASTER LISTS

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I need you tonight. Want to go?

You sighed at the message that Carmy sent you. “Want to go” was a code for “I want to have sex.” and it’s been working pretty well for these past few months. You both needed some sort of release for the pent-up stress that you both have. Carmy, with the Bear and you, with art. You were a full-time artist; creating art inspired by food using oil paint and other forms of media. You’ve been stressed with your upcoming gallery opening next month. Would they love it? It’s quite hard to meet the expectations after winning the Herb Alpert Award in the Arts last year. It was close to Carmy’s James Beard Foundation award, if not the same. In a way, at the end of the day, you were two people excelling in your jobs except for everything else. You sucked at relationships, friendships, connection…what wasn’t artistic; you sucked at. Carmy was the same. Without thinking, you typed your response, a four letter word. Maybe you’ll see him tonight.

-

Carmy enters your home like he lived in it. He had his own set of keys, it was easier that way. He’s been so stressed with the Bear and the only thing that he needs is to blow off some of that steam before he can be functional again. There was supposed to be a celebrity who was wishing for a whole fucking kitchen tour tomorrow and he had to stay behind to make sure that everything was perfect. 

“Hey,” he greets you when he sees you perched on your couch. He liked your apartment much better; at least you had multiple rooms and your own space. It’s not like his; there was work everywhere while yours felt homey. Except your studio down the hall—damn, how much do artists earn today?

“Hey,” you replied. “Did you have dinner yet? I can heat up some of the Chinese food I ordered earlier.”

“No, no. It’s alright,” he says, removing his shoes in the doorway. You were always so tidy and meticulous. No outside clothes on the bed; he had to learn that the hard way. “Actually, um, can-can I take a shower first? I want to wash the day away and I-I smell like the kitchen.”

“And you took the L,”

“Ubered here, actually.”

“Surge rates?”

“I was in a rush.”

“Oh,” you gulped. “Well, you still have your clothes in my wardrobe and your toiletries in my bathroom.”

“Which one?” he asked. “Which-which bathroom?”

“The one in my bedroom,” you replied. “You know where the fresh towels are. So…”

“Uh, yeah-yeah,” he says. “Thanks.” You only smiled at him. Conversation before your engagements are usually awkward because you both knew what the two of you were there for. It’s more comfortable afterwards; when he talks about the Bear or asks you about your art.

You and Carmy met from a friend of a friend. You were looking for chefs that could serve you inspiration for your paintings when she mentioned Carmen Berzatto. You reached out to him and he replied three months later, telling you that he can show you some of the recipes that he’s been working on. He’s an artist himself—Sistine Chapel art kind of stuff. He explained the components of his dish over dinner in your hotel apartment in New York. You mentioned that you were from Chicago and he mentioned that he’s from Chicago too…you drank too much wine and the rest was history. 

You both stopped communicating when he met Claire but he reached out again, asking if you wanted to meet. He told you all about her and how he fucked up. You drank too much wine again. History has the habit of repeating itself.

You swore to never fall in love with Carmen Berzatto and you didn’t…not until recently. He used to leave immediately once you’re both done. Lately, he’s been staying over. He talks to you about everything. He stays over and wakes you up with coffee and some Michelin Star quality pancakes or French toast. He watches you take your first bite before he takes his, likes to watch your reaction and likes hearing your praise.

You were too lost in your reviere to notice Carmen walking to you, all fresh and clean. He lays a hand on your shoulder and kisses your neck.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, voice deep and sultry. 

“You,” you replied, reaching up to massage his curls. 

“Good,” he says, removing himself from you and sitting on the opposite side of the couch. “Needed you today…but I want to talk first before…before…”

“That’s fine with me,” you replied, inching closer to him. “What’s wrong?” He puts his hand on your knee, squeezing it lightly. Since when was he so comfortable around you?

“I…I just… Mikey,” The name lingers heavy in the air. Anytime Carmen feels the crushing weight of the pressure, he says Mikey. Whenever he feels inadequate, not enough, never enough—he says Mikey.

“He’ll be proud of you, Carm,” you said, smiling at him. “Like everyone else is.”

“I’m sorry for not inviting you to the opening…Claire was-was there and…”

“I understand,” You put your hand over his to reassure him that everything’s okay. “I understand.”

“You wouldn’t have seen me,” he chuckled. “I was locked inside the walk-in the whole time and well, everything was great. What if I’m not needed?”

Is it too late for me to love you? 

“Carm…” you trailed off, trying to find the words. “Of course, you’re needed. The Bear wouldn’t be The Bear without you, you know? Your family must be so proud of you because I know that-that I am. I’m so proud of you and I-I need you so much,” you told him. “I need you, Carmen. More than you could ever know.”

Is it too late for me to love you? 

Maybe it was the words that you said, maybe it was the long forgotten show on the T.V., maybe it was because the T.V. screen illuminated your face in a way that was so, so beautiful. Maybe it was just him.

“Let’s go to bed,” he rasps, taking your hand and dragging you to the bedroom. Once he closes the door behind him, Carmy presses you against it, taking your chin and kissing you. It was slow and needy; this kiss was needy. You trail your hand underneath the white shirt that hugged his figure. You caress his sides up and down; softly; slowly and Carmen releases a whimper into your mouth. I need you. I need you. I need you. 

“Baby,” he whispers, pulling away from you to remove his shirt. “Baby, baby, baby.”

“I need you, Carmen,” you muster the courage to kiss his neck now, sucking and nipping right under his collarbone. He lets you do it, he lets you mark him like you own him. He tugs on the roots of your hair lightly. You lick the purple bruise, nipping it again just so it could last one more week. Carmen was sighing above you, letting you take him like he wanted to be taken. His hands itch, slipping right under the waistband of your panties to cup your heated cunt. “Carmy,”

“I know, baby. Let’s get you to bed, hm?” he asks, pushing you slightly. “Lay down for me. I missed you so much. Let me show you,”

You obey his commands, opening your legs widely like he likes. He crawls until his face is right in front and removes your underwear, tossing it to the side. He’ll take care of that later.

“You’re so wet,” he groans, when he lets his index finger trail along your slit. You buckle in need; silently begging him to do more. “So, fucking wet,” he repeats, parting your folds until he sees your glistening cunt. 

“Carm…” you whine. He spits on your clit and you whimper. 

“Let me taste you, hm?” you heard him say, his wandering fingers rubbing all sorts of shapes on your folds. You could only nod and he takes that, licking a bold stripe. You press your cunt against his tongue and he just takes it. He licks a few more stripes before sucking your clit softly. 

“Carmy,” you moan. Your hands trail down underneath your shirt, thumbs softly flicking your sensitive nipples. Carmy could just come at the sight of you playing with them but he holds back, sucking your clit harsher before plunging his thick middle finger inside you. “Oh, fuck,” 

He pumps the finger slowly…in, out, in, out while he licks your sensitive bud. 

“Fuck, Carmy,” you whimper. “Fuck me,”

“Later,” was his nonchalant reply; enjoying the sweet nectar that dripped from your sloppy pussy. It was better than any dessert he’s ever had before. If it was um to him, he’d have his head buried in between your legs, eating you out forever. You buckle again, pinching your nipples hard and tugging them. 

“Carm…”

“I know, I know,” he says, sucking your clit harshly for one last time before crawling on top of you. “Taste,” he orders. You obliged, opening your mouth and putting on a show with the way you licked your juices off of his finger. “Fuck,” he groans. He palms himself through his boxers while you sucked on his finger. You released it with one last suck before putting your hand on top of Carmy’s to feel his hardening cock underneath. You push his hand away while you squeeze his member lightly. Just enough for him to rut his hips against your hand. Just enough for him to toss his boxers to the side.

You tried to sit up to see him pump a few strokes, moaning your name while he did. He gets off the bed, looking at the way your body moved while you breathed. 

“Beautiful,” he whispers to himself before dragging your body to the end of the bed. He pries your legs open and puts one of them over his shoulder. He liked it like this, it fills you up in ways you cannot describe. “Need you to play with your tits while I fuck you, hm?”

He taps his cock against your pussy.

“Can you hear how wet you are?” he asked, sliding his cock in between your folds. You could feel the protruding vein run along your nub and you moan, massaging your breasts to show him your obedience. “Fuck,”

“Carmy…” you whimpered. “Please.”

He hums, grabbing his member and teasing your wet entrance with his pink tip. “You’re so…”

With no warning, Carmy plunges deep into you and you both groan. You were waiting for this. He’s been wanting this the whole day. He stays there for a few seconds before he thrusts in and out of you slowly. 

“Fuck,” 

The slopping noises inside your room reverberated in your walls and for a few moments, the sounds of your groans and skin slapping against skin heightens your arousal. Carmy thumbs your clit and he feels your walls clench around him.

“Don’t do that, petal,” he rasps, sweat dripping on his forehead. “I’ll cum fast if you do.”

“Sorry,” you choked out. He only grunts as he adjusts his pace. He was faster now and you could hear he ragged breathing. “Carmy, I need you.”

“Y-you need me,” he repeats to himself. “You need me.”

“I do,” you told him, moaning when he plunges his cock deep inside you. “Need you, need you,” 

“Oh, fuck,” he groans. “Tell me that you need me. Tell me,”

“I need you, Carmy,” you whine. “I need you to cum inside me,” 

Carmy’s eyes widened. You’ve never let him do that before. He always had to pull out or use a condom. 

“Want me to fill you up?” he asks, his voice strained. “I’ll fill you —oh, fuck,” 

“Yes, please,” you sobbed, breath hitching at the feeling of his cock twitch inside of you. “Fuck, Carmy.”

Sex has never felt this good. 

You could feel the breaking point come nearer and he does too. His movements were sloppier, his breathing even more ragged that it was. Your walls were clenching around him but that seemed to arouse him even more. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he grunted. “I’ll fill you up, hm?” 

“Yes, please, Carmy,” you whine. He could only nod, doing his best to keep his orgasm at bay. He wanted to prolong this feeling; this emotion but he couldn’t. “Fuck, Carmy, I’m cumming, I’m cumming. Carm—oh!”

He follows soon after, moaning your name as he shoots ropes of cum inside your pussy. He could feel your walls clench around him and he thrusts in slowly, to ride both of your orgasms away. 

“You-you liked that?” he asked. He doesn’t pull out. Instead he takes your other leg and hangs in on his shoulder. “We have to make sure that not a drop goes to waste.”

You nodded and felt his hands caress your legs slowly. He slowly lays your legs back down on the bed and crawls on top of you, kissing your torso, neck, and your chest while he did. 

“Stay there,” he ordered and you nodded in assent. You just let him cum inside you. He walks over to the carafe on your bedside, filling the glass with water and then, taking a hand towel from your cabinet. He pours a little bit of the liquid onto the towel. You sit up when he wordlessly gives you the glass of water. He watches you finish it and kisses your head when you gave him the glass back. He sets it on the floor carefully before opening your legs so he could clean you up.

“No,” you shook your head and he stops, alert because you told him no. “I’m…I’m still sensitive,”

“Okay, petal,” he nods, taking the glass and the towel away. He picks up the tossed articles of clothing puts it in the laundry basket. He was quiet when he takes a fresh set of pyjamas and underwear from your wardrobe. “Raise your arms,” he says and you do. He puts a new shirt on you. “Lay down.” You followed him. He puts a new pair of panties on you. “Thank you,”

You were so tired now but you were still so aware of Carmy’s actions. He stands up from the bed to wear new clothes and sits down on the bed. He carefully places your head on his lap and plays with your hair.

“Thank you,” he says, bowing down to kiss your forehead. “Why don’t you sleep for me, hm?”

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

“Waffles or pancakes?”

“Waffles with whipped cream.”

-

Why won’t you let me love you?

There were times when you’d fight with Carmen. A disagreement over something so, so, so small. This time, it was big. It was the opening of your gallery and he promised to be there. It was a big night—multiple art collectors and mongers from all over America came to see your latest pieces. They were all inspired by the food you grew up eating in Chicago; a collection of how culture, identities, and personalities affect eating. Your paintings were in vibrant colors—cup ramen with cheese, cannoli, food that you grew up eating whenever your mom was away. There were small details on the significance of the new collection to your life and he wasn’t there. You were on the stage, telling everyone how grateful you were to the audience but you were preoccupied, looking for a familiar mop of curls in the crowd. He didn’t come. He didn’t go. 

You smiled at them half-heartedly before leaving the stage, ready to be whisked away by some art dealer. You were whisked away by multiple guests, asking you for more details on the painting. You all told them everything they needed to know, what they should do if they’d like to make a purchase…

It would have been alright if he texted you…but he promised he’d be there. He promised he’d take you home. He promised.

-

Carmy was sitting alone in his apartment. He left The Bear earlier than usual and went straight home. He did it all, shower, put a nice suit, and fix his hair. He did it all, he even ran to the nearest florist to buy you flowers but he didn’t go. 

Isn’t this what lovers do? 

He wasn’t your lover. He couldn’t let himself be distracted again. He had to focus; he couldn’t fail the people that relied on him. He looked at the bag of groceries he got from the store; he was supposed to cook you something special tonight. Have you eaten yet? Fuck the suit that he paid for dry cleaning; fuck the flowers; fuck him. It must have hurt you—he knows that. Tonight was a big night and you were so excited to show him a painting that you’ve been working on. 

“I won’t sell it,” you told him. “I’ll have it shipped to you first thing in the morning.”

Would you still send it to him?

-

By the end of the night, you were exhausted. Happy, but exhausted. It was normal; talking to everyone and being scintillating the whole night was work but it was worth it. Your paintings all had their new owners, except for the painting that you promised to Carmy. Would he still want it? You were alone in the studio, wrapping the 4 by 3 foot canvas with the best quality glassine. You were giving this to him tomorrow. If he doesn't want to have it, you’ll probably just donate it somewhere else. 

You laid awake in your bed all night long, waiting for his text. It was funny, just last week he was begging you to tell him that you needed him but when you needed him most, he wasn’t there. 

You arrive at The Bear just before it opens, the big canvas tucked under your arm. He was sure to be there and had always told you to use the back door if you weren’t dining. You always obliged, of course, opening the backdoor to reveal everyone. You’ve met Sydney and Richie before but you haven’t met the others yet. You were an alien in an unknown world; Carmy’s employees looking at you, as if wondering who this girl was. 

“Hey,” Sydney greeted, looking at the glassine covered thing that you were carrying. “Didn’t know you were coming in today. Congratulations on your exhbit,”

“Yeah, Congrats. What’s that, sweetheart?” Richie asked. 

“Oh,” you just nodded. Carmy couldn’t even look at you. “I just came here to give this to…uh, Carmy,” you cleared your throat. “Carm…?”

“Uh, yeah-yeah,” he stuttered. “Can we go to the office?” 

“Sure.”

You followed him into the office while Richie tells everyone to go back to what they were doing. Your heart was hammering inside your chest, afraid that this was going to be another one of those petty fights that you’ve had with him. 

You were wrong. So, so wrong. 

“You didn’t come last night,” you told him, shielding yourself from him with the painting. “I…I waited.”

“Sorry,” was his laconic reply. You nodded, chuckling. 

“That’s all?” you asked. “Just…sorry? No explanation, no nothing?” you asked. “I was looking for you the whole night, Carm. You promised you were coming,”

“I don’t know what-what you want me to say,” he says, looking everywhere but at you. “I-I-I’m sorry, okay? I had other plans.”

“You promised months ago that you were coming,” you repeated. “I called Sydney last night because you weren’t answering and she told me that you left early.”

“You’re spying on me now?” he asks, suddenly defensive. “I had things to do that night. I can’t-can’t just put everything on hold for-for you.” He spits his words like venom, voice getting louder with every word.

You frowned, not recognizing who the boy was in front of you. It’s not like you asked him to put his life on hold. Your heart was beating so fast in anger, ears ringing. 

“I see. So you just need me around and you-you just I don’t know, call me because you need to get your dick wet?” you asked, matching his volume. “You just need me around when no one else is there to fuck you? Is that it?” you asked. “What the fuck?” 

Carmy blinks, tries to think of the words he’s about to say but he couldn’t stop himself. He could never seem to stop himself. 

“You’re the only one desperate enough to do so,” he shrugs. It breaks your heart in pieces, really. The nights Carmen spent nuzzling his head in your shoulder before you slept probably meant nothing to him. Your face falls, contorting in hurt at what he just said. Fuck Carmen Berzatto. Fuck him. “I’m not your fucking boyfriend. I don’t know why you expect me to just-just-just do something!”

“Maybe I wanted you there as my friend!” you shouted over. Your voices could be heard from outside but everyone else pretended like they weren’t listening to anything that you both were saying. You were shouting over each other now, the fuse just breaks. “If you didn’t have any fucking plans to actually go, then don’t give me your good for nothing fucking promises!”

“I don’t need a girl leeching on me when I’m opening a fucking restaurant. Do you want me to put everything on you just because you asked me to? I’m not your fucking boyfriend. You know that right? And maybe-maybe I don’t want to be your fucking friend either!”

“Why would I want you to be my boyfriend, Carmy? You’re-you’re fucking unreliable! You have issues that need fixing. You think Claire could fix that? You think I could fix that? You think the girls you get wrapped around your fucking finger can fix your fucked up fucking head? Huh? Is that what you think? You’re so fucking miserable you make everyone around you miserable! Grow up!” He’s hurt. That’s what you thought of him? That he was miserable? Did he make you miserable?

“I don’t need to go to your fucking art exhibition when they’re all fucking shit.”

You closed your mouth before you could protest. The pain of his words felt like a slap on the face. If he regretted it, he didn’t show it. You turned away, nodding. 

“Fuck you, Carmen. Don’t fucking call me. Don’t fucking knock on my door. Don’t…don’t fucking think of me. I’m fucking done with you,”

“Yeah? You’re done with me, huh? Fuck you,” he spits back. He heard the waver in your voice; heard how you tried to steady everything. He wanted to say sorry but you were already leaving. Richie and Sydney couldn’t even ask you what happened because you were rushing out, throwing the painting you worked hard on for days at the back. Fuck Carmen Berzatto. Fuck him. 

-

“Fuck!” his chefs could hear from outside the office. Everyone heard the vile things you both screamed at each other; everyone heard why you were so angry. Everyone fucking heard. Nobody dared to move, they didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Carmy’s anger; not when The Bear was about to open. Continuous loud bangs and sounds of some object being thrown were heard too. Sugar sighed. 

“Carm?” she called from the door. “It’s almost opening,”

“I-I-I know, Sug.” he replied, blinking. “Uh, can-can you guys go ahead? I’ll be there, I just-just need to you know, calm down?”

“Okay, Bear,” she smiles, tapping the door frame before leaving Carmen in his own thoughts. He gets out of the restaurant through the back door, about to light a cigarette, when he sees the canvas wrapped with glassine. 

“Fuck,” was the only thing he could mutter before taking it and sitting where the staff usually stayed at when they wanted a break. He lights up a stick and lets it hang loose on his lips while he opens your gift with shaky hands. He was so immersed in the experience, gently removing the tape and making sure that nothing was ruined that he didn’t notice Sydney. 

The glassine reveals a painting of a plate of cannolis. He remembered that he told you the story about cannolis during Christmas and how he wanted to recreate that—take it for himself. He traces over the precise brushstrokes shakily. 

“That’s a good painting,” Sydney spoke, her hands behind her back. “Would be a waste to just throw it out.”

“I know,” Carmy nods. “I’m sorry you had to uh, hear all of that.”

“It’s…something,” Sydney replied, making Carmy chuckle. 

“I always…always seem to uh, fuck up everything,” he muttered. “I was on the way there, you know? Last night?”

“Yeah. You were so excited,”

“I was,” he coughed. “But I didn’t go because…” Words died down in his mouth. Why didn’t he go? “I’ve said some things and she-she doesn’t want me to call her anymore and I-I understand but like, I don’t know, Syd.”

Don’t know why I could never seem to just let myself enjoy things. I don’t belong anywhere else but in the fucking kitchen. It’s the only thing I was good at.

“I didn’t really want to to, uh, fuck this up.”

-

I want to talk to you.

Come to my apartment after your shift. Or whenever.

Carmen feels his palms sweat when he reads  texts you sent him days ago. He decided to go today, finally—he was never good at confronting things; always so explosive, so defensive. He didn’t know what he’d feel like today. He knocks on your door and hears the shuffling from the other side. He just got out of The Bear; he was tired but he forced himself to go. He had to go. 

“Hey,” you smiled tightly when you opened the door. “Come in.”

He nods, wordlessly entering your apartment like how henused to. Bag and shoes on the side. Somehow, this made him more nervous than usual. This was a prelude to something else entirely; he believed that.

“How are you? he asked, voice small and looking down. 

“I’m…good,” you replied, looking away. “You?”

“Busy,” he replied. The air felt heavy and his palms were sweating. “I’m…I’m sorry for not being there when I promised you that I would,”

“Why weren’t you there, Carm?” you asked and he could hear the sadness in your voice. He knew that your exhibit meant a lot to you. “You…you told me you will and well, you were…the-the person I want to be there the most.”

“I didn’t know that. I’m- I’m sorry,” he shrugged. “But why? I mean, I-I don’t know art. I like my shit but I-I’m not cool or understand—“

“Because I like you, Carmy.” you told him, looking at him now and trying to go nearer. He stepped back and you stopped your tracks.

“You—what?” he asked, shaking his head furiously; like your confession offended him. “You…like me.”

“I do,” you nodded. “But…it doesn’t matter.”

“Fuck. How many times do we have to go back to this very same place for you to understand?” he asked, running a hand through his hair. He told you before that he didn’t want to date. You told him you understood. You told him he was being egotistic when he told you not to get attached. He wanted to leave. He didn’t expect this to happen—he didn’t want this to happen. “I don’t—I don’t—“

“Carmy,” you cautioned him, trying to ease your beating heart. “Can you listen to me? I-I-I like you, okay and I’ve been thinking about it too. I’m—you’re always staying behind after sex and well, I just maybe thought that you liked me too.” You replied, swallowing his rejection for now.

“I don’t,” he snaps, tone sharp. “We’ll both be miserable in a relationship. I’ll never make-make you happy. You’re right, you know? I’m unreliable and-and-and issues that I need to fix…and I’m not the one you’re looking for,”

“I’m sorry for saying that. It wasn’t my place to do so,” was your meek reply. How does he feel so far away when he feels so, so, so close?

“No, uh,” Carmen blinks, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I-I-I needed to hear those things, you know? I’m sorry too…for everything.”

“Thank you.”

“That’s it then?” he asked. He was distressed. How could he fuck this up after telling Sydney that he didn’t want to fuck things up with you? “I…I had fun,” You were the only one who kept me afloat when everything else turned to shit. I missed you when we stopped talking. I should have fought harder. What else could I have done?

“Fun,” you chuckled bitterly. “Fun…that’s the only thing you’re going to say to me?”

Carmy frowned. 

“What else did you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, Carmy!” you exclaimed, pacing back and forth but never towards him. “God! Tell me that I’m important to you. Tell me that I’ll still be your friend…tell me that you—that you—that I mean more than a fuck!”

Silence. Carmy couldn’t find the words to tell you what you truly meant to him…that he wanted what you wanted too but he was too scared to fuck it all up again like he did with Claire.

You nodded, looking away. You breathed in deeply, as if trying to relieve yourself of the hurt. That’s all you’ve ever meant to him. 

“You lead me along and it’s fine. I know that it’s my fault for wanting other things but at least…at least tell me that I’ll still be your friend; that I still matter to you even if I dug myself a hole by feeling things. Tell me that you still need me to put everything on hold for you because I’ve been waiting you to call me all day…”

“I don’t want you to do that. I don’t want you putting your life on hold for me,” he rasps. “I don’t…”

“But what if I wanted to?” you asked, face slightly contorted because you didn’t want to be so vulnerable in front of him. Not when he hasn’t told you what you wanted yet. Carmy was just looking at you, tapping his foot on the floor. It was a nervous habit that he developed. Fuck, he needed a cigarette.

“Can you, uh, leave?” you asked, voice low. “I…” 

“No, no, no,” he begs, rushing towards you. He grabs a hold of your elbows to remind you that he was there. Would it mean anything? Would his touch convey all of the words he wanted to say? 

“Carm…” your voice breaks. “Carm…”

“No, no. You’re not just that to me,” he reassures “But you have to understand that-that I can’t love you like that.”

“Carmen, please…” you beg, tears brimming in your eyes. “Please…just, just leave,”

You’ve never asked him to leave before but it seemed like it was what you really wanted—like it was what you really needed. He nods, kissing your head softly before detaching himself from you. 

“I’m sorry,” Carmy said. “For-for not saying the right, uh, things.”

“Yeah,” you nod, hiding yourself from him. He hated that you had to do that when you’ve cried on his shoulders multiple times. He never liked seeing you cry; he just didn’t know that one day, he’ll be on the receiving end of your sadness. He watches you rub your forehead, biting your lip to stop yourself from crying. If you started crying, would he stay?

-

It’s been months since Carmy left. He’s been in his best form in the kitchen. He was making things easier for his staff; he was working twenty four hours a day. Going to The Bear early to help with prep; staying late to help them clean after a long shift of cooking and cooking and kitchen tours. He’s been getting acclaim—more acclaim, really. There was a waiting list on his restaurant and positive reviews from left and right flooded in. The Bear was dubbed as “The Restaurant of the Year” in Chicago despite being less than a year old. 

He’s been doing good—perfect. 

It was like he was a hamster in a fucking wheel with no other way to escape. He likes putting himself in gear, like driving fast because it makes him believe that nothing really hurts him. He didn’t like being at home; it reminded him too much of you. It reminded him of when you’d lean on the kitchen counter, a small smile on your lips while you watched him cook you something. He didn’t like sitting on the couch because it reminded him of when he slept with his head on your lap. He didn’t like it in his bedroom because he’s reminded of that night when you pulled him closer in your sleep. He didn’t like The Bear because the painting that you gave him hung so proudly by the dining area. It was marvellous—they said. How was he able to get a painting that you did when your art was so valuable and in demand? 

He was moving so fast so you wouldn’t cross his mind but it seemed like no matter what he did, he'd end up thinking about you anyway. 

It didn’t matter, how come a fall like that made him feel like flying? Maybe he’s waiting for it to hit him but he was feeling alright. 

He was alright. 

“Chef!” Sydney called, looking at Carmen who was chopping the vegetables like a madman. “Carmen!”

“Fuck, what, Sydney?!” he asked, slamming his knife on the counter. 

“You’re bleeding,” Marcus told him and Carmen looked down, blood was all over the chopping board. “You’ve been bleeding for a few seconds now…we’ve all been calling your name, Chef.” 

“Fuck, I-I-I’m…” Carmen was a blubbering mess, just watching his hand bleed like it didn’t matter. “I’m-I’m,”

“Take a break, Carm,” Sydney says but her partner just shakes his head. “Carm—“

“Sydney, don’t—don’t make me take a fucking break, please.”

“You’ll need to clean up and make sure there’s no more blood,” Sydney told him. “I’m not fucking around,”

“Yeah,” he nods, putting his fist over his heart and drawing circles. Sydney nods and Carmy fixes his station. 

He couldn’t stop shaking, though. Even Tina saw how his hand trembled. What the fuck?

“Carmen,” 

“Yeah…just…just give me a second, please.” he nods, picking his knife again and doing everything perfectly. Like clockwork. He’s back. He’s back. He’s fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m alright. 

PART 2

AN: Thank you for the love! This is going to be a two-part fic because I love how everything is right now… Don’t forget to comment / reblog if you like it! I read every single little thing you guys type…even the hashtags.

TAGLIST: @kpopgirlbtssvt @morgthemagpie @hal3ynicol3 @1800-queen-trash

[writingintheshadowsforever]

Riri Williams x Reader Personal Space Heater

You grew up in California, and whenever it came time for a family vacation. Your parents always picked some sunny tropical paradise. You weren't used to dealing with any temperatures below sixty degrees, and snow was practically a myth to you.

Riri knew all of this prior to inviting you to spend Christmas with her and her mom. Usually you would go home for the holidays but your parents had finally been able to retire from their jobs. This year, and were currently traveling all around the world like they always wanted to. Initially, they did offer to send you, your older sister and brother plane tickets of your own. So all of you could fly over and meet them in Greece where they would be for the next week or so. But all of you turned down their offer, deciding it was best to just let them enjoy their journey together. Your parents always wished for alone time like this, and were only offering to be nice. That's the kind of parents they were, so you guys decided it was time to return the favor.

Your older sister decided to go home with her own boyfriend, who was eager for her to meet his family. He had met hers last year, and it was the same thing for Riri. Last year, all three of you had brought your significant others home, and this year, all of them wanted to do the same.

You thought Riri was being ridiculous when she forced you to go shopping for a whole new wardrobe.

"Babe, those thin hoodies and small ass coats aren't going to do any good in Chicago. You're going to freeze your ass off, " She told you.

"And we can't be having that now, can we?" You joked, shuffling through the jacket rack.

"No, we cannot." Riri mused her eyes, drifting lower and lower, admiring the view. Despite all her protests, you still chose to wear a pair of white jeans that were a little tight on you, and while she was worried. About you shivering to death in the pants due to the Boston cold air. She had to admit the jeans did your ass justice.

"Seriously, Riri, stop staring at my butt and come help me pick out an appropriate jacket. Our flight is leaving in a couple of hours, and we need to get there early to beat the crowd." You said, turning around to face her, knowing she was only half-listening to you.

Her eyes stayed glued to your backside until your body was fully turnt around. She looked back up, almost instantly giving you a grin despite the irritation on your face. "Alright, step aside. I got this, and stop worrying we're on good time right now. This store isn't even crowded. We'll be out in no time."

"Yeah but traffic is going to be a bitch" You reminded her.

Riri nodded her head in agreement, moving the jackets aside a little faster. So far, every time, she tried to let you pick out something you liked on your own. You completely failed the assignment while the clothing would no doubt be stylish and beautiful on you. The material was weak and nowhere near thick enough to for the Chicago winter. Not only did she not want to deal with your whining about being cold, but her mother would kill her if you showed up on her doorstep in insufficient clothing.

It took her about twenty minutes, but she was able to pick you out two strong winter coats, a few sweaters, and three pairs of pants. You had also found a pair of black snow boots and an oversized hoodie with your favorite band on it to add to the pile.

"Are you sure you don't want anything, babe?" You asked her as the cashier scanned the clothes.

"Naw mamas, I'm all good, unlike you. I'm actually prepared for the Chicago snow." Riri said, waving you off. It was the third time you offered to buy her something.

"I still think you're exaggerating about how bad it's going to be. I mean, if I can handle the cold weather of Massachusetts, then Chicago should be a breeze."

Riri let out a laugh. "Oh, and by handle, you mean you spend every waking moment locked up in your room with a five-hundred dollar space heater. That has enough power and range to keep the whole building warm."

"You say that like you don't crash in my dorm the second winter hits," you shot back.

It was funny because the same way you weren't really thinking about how cold it would be in Chicago. When you decided to go to MIT, you did no research about the weather in Massachusetts. Your first year when the cold temperatures hit your teachers had to threaten you with a failing grade to get you to attend classes in person. Your parents sent you back to school with the expensive space heater next semester. Riri did have one of her own, and while it did get the job done, yours worked wonders. When she walked into your dorm room, it felt as if you had an actual fireplace in your room with flames ignited. Of course, she crashed with you.

"Yes, I enjoy being as warm as possible, but unlike you, I still know what real cold is, and I'm going to enjoy watching you eat those words later on." Riri said, shaking her head.

You paid for the clothes and ended up buying her something after all. Riri spotted a Starbucks before the two of you reached the exit and wanted a hot chocolate along with two cake pops. No doubt there would be one in the airport, but you knew from experience the line would be stupid long. It was the last thing you wanted to have to deal with, so of course you got her what she wanted. Also, getting yourself a hot mocha with a chocolate chip cookie.

Riri ended up making the drive since you had to repack your bags with the new clothes. Traffic was heavy, but the two of you still managed to reach the airport about five hours early for the flight to Chicago, and while the lines were long. Both of you knew it could be much worse around this time. Once you and her were made through security and was fully processed for the flight. Riri fell asleep with her head resting on your shoulder.

You let her sleep for the entire wait time, knowing she had to be tired. The young genius woke up two hours early to finish packing for the both of you. Well, it was mainly your bags she had been worried about. Her snooping through your suitcases is how she came to the conclusion. You were completely unprepared for this trip to Chicago, and that's what really led to the shopping trip.

While you appreciated her concern and loved the way she was looking out for you. Deep down, you still weren't worried about the cold. How bad could it be?

Eight hours later, after one long flight with only a slight delay, your question had been answered, and you were regretting your decision to not change your clothes. Riri urged you to go in the bathroom and switch out of the tight jeans. One of the pair of pants that she picked out, but you stood your ground.

She didn't even try to hide the smirk on her face as your teeth chattered. While your the bottom half of your body shivered. You were smart enough to throw on the black wool coat with cotton padded on the inside.

"H-h-how ar-are we-we getting ta-ta-to your mom's? You stammered out the question.

"There are some Ubers down here come on," she told you, taking your hand into her gloved one. She could feel how frozen your hands were through the glove, and her eyes glanced down to see both of your hands bare. "Ma, where are the gloves I gave you?"

You looked away at the tone of anger in her voice. While she was probably taking joy in being right. The last thing Riri wanted was for you to be sick, which is why despite all the teasing she was doing. She made sure you had everything you would need to stay a little warm. "The gloves are in my bag. I didn't think I would need them, alright." You admitted falling back behind her as a cold gust of wind blew past.

You pressed your chest to her back and wrapped your free arm around her waist. Riri didn't protest at first, but then your freezing cold hand touched her bare stomach. She jumped a foot in the air with a shriek. A few people glanced at the two of you, and one guy shot her an apologetic look as his girl stood behind him with her hands stuffed in his pockets. If anyone knew her pain, it was him.

"Y/N, have you lost your damn mind?" She cried out, releasing her grip on your hand as she wiggled out of your hold.

"My hands are cold. I'm cold," you whined, wrapping your arms around your waist. Pressing your hands into your own jacket as tight as possible.

"Yeah, I get that, but what's wrong with my jacket pocket?" Riri asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Body heat is better," you said with a shrug.

"Bruh, you do that again, and I will revoke all your cuddling privileges," Riri threatened. Her hands held out in front of her to ward you off.

"Fine, fine, I'm sorry now will you please." You begged motioning for her to turn around with your head.

Riri raised a single finger at you with a stern look, warning you not to try anything funny. Nevertheless, she turned back around so you could resume hugging her from behind. This time, your hands slipped into her jacket pockets. The two of you finally made it to an Uber, and after putting the address into the GPS. He started the drive to her mom's house. The car ride was silent as you cuddled up to her in the backseat.

Riri paid attention to the route he was taking, not just for safety reasons, so she would know when the trip was almost complete. Halfway through, she dug in her bag, pulling out an extra pair of gloves. "Unless you want to see my mom strangle me to death, put these on."

You slipped the gloves on without argument, murmuring a quiet thank you.

A few minutes later, the driver pulled up to a two-story dark blue house with the edges of it painted white. There was a big porch leading to the front door with chairs set up on either side. There were Christmas lights lined up on the outside along with a few reindeer statues in the front yard.

"So much for waiting for me to put up the decorations," Riri grumbled under her breath. She opened the car door and got out waiting for you to follow before shutting it. The driver let the window to the passenger seat so you could pay him. Meanwhile, Riri got the luggage out of the trunk between the two of you. There were four suitcases with only one belonging to her. You packed a little more than she did, considering this was her home.

"So this is your last chance to back out if you're having any second thoughts." Riri said, fumbling with her fingers with her eyes directed at the snowy ground.

You could feel the nerves coming off her in giant waves, which surprised you. Up until this point, she had been nothing but calm about this whole thing. Heck, when you took her home last year to meet your parents. Riri handled it with ease. Nothing fazed her, not even when your siblings cornered her with if you hurt my baby sister conservation. That every other girlfriend you had in the past seemed to dread more than anything.

"You know I would grab your face and kiss you right now, but my hands are starting to freeze through these gloves. Come on, Ri, you know there's no such thing as second thoughts with me. At least not when it comes to you, I'm sure about everything when you're involved. Let's get inside before both of us freeze our asses off, " you told her.

She found herself releasing her deep breath she didn't even know she was holding in. At your reassurance, the nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach seemed faded away just like that. Riri lifted her head up to see you standing there shivering as snow fell from the sky. But you had a big grin on your face with your hand extended out for her to take. She did tugging you closer to her so she could press her cold lips to your own. In a heated kiss that would warm both of you up.

"Riri Williams, if you don't get in this house and bring that girl of yours in here with you. I'm going to come out there and drag both of you in here by the ear. It's below zero out there with a blizzard going on. Now is not the time for y'all to be out sucking face. This is not a Hallmark movie." A woman's voice yelled from the porch combined with the sound of a screen door flying open.

Riri pulled away as heat rose up on her cheeks due to embarrassment. You covered your mouth with both of your hands to muffle your laughter. "Sorry, Momma, we coming."

"Right now," her mother demanded and disappeared back into the house.

Riri let out a groan as you shook your head in amusement. "I'm so glad you find all of this to be so funny."

"Hey, you kissed me," you said before bursting into laughter bending over with your hands on your knees.

"Help me with the bags before she makes good on her threat," Riri snapped, smacking you on the shoulder. You straightened up a few seconds later to slide a duffel bag onto your shoulder and to take the handle of one of the rolling suitcases. Riri might have sounded frustrated, but you could see the humor in her eyes.

You followed her into the house and was presented with. A spacious and cozy living room on the back wall was the furniture consisting of. A large dark gray sectional sofa with a futon at the bottom and a recliner in the corner of the room. A big glass table was positioned in the center of the floor covered in little whatnots and two jars filled with candy on either side. On the other wall of the living room, there was fifty-five to sixty inch flatscreen TV with the Samsung logo on the front. It was resting on top of a big brown TV stand with a cabinet area at the bottom.

A cop drama was playing with the volume set pretty low, making background noise.

"Momma," Riri called out, setting the suitcases off to the side. She motioned for you to do the same as she headed towards a doorway. You dropped the duffel bag on the floor by the suitcases and hurried along right behind her.

The doorway led to a kitchen covered in white tiles floor with a brown dining room table with six chairs pushed in. The kitchen was a mix of modern and old schools with an island in the middle matching the brown table. A brown-skinned woman who had maybe an inch on Riri was at the kitchen sink with her back to both of you. She was dressed in a black shirt with some blue sweatpants and a pair of black bedroom shoes on her feet. A blue bandanna was tied on top of her head, but box braids spilled out of it, going down to her back.

"Riri, I hoped you took those shoes off at the door. No tracking in my kitchen." The woman said without turning around.

"Shit," Riri muttered, turning back around to go do just exactly that. She gripped you by the waist, moving you along as well. Both of you left your shoes by the door along with a set of others before making your way back to the kitchen. By now, her mom was done in the sink and was mixing some raw chicken in a bowl of seasoning.

Her mom paused her cooking to wipe her hands and come over to both of you. Immediately, Riri threw herself into her mother's arms, who wrapped her arms around her in bear hug. "It's good to have you home, my little genius."

"It's good to be home, momma," she replied, burying her face into her mother's neck. They stayed like that holding each other for a solid ten seconds. Before her mother's warm brown eyes settled on you standing in the doorway. You gave her a little wave with a small smile.

"Alright, come on, introduce me to your girlfriend. She's the first one you bought home in forever." Her mother said, pulling away.

Riri took a step back and took you by the hand to pull you forward. "Mom, this is y/n. we've been dating for about a year and a half. Y/N, this is my mom."

You held out your hand for her to shake "Mrs.Williams its so nice to finally - whoa, okay." You let out a small gasp of surprise as she knocked your hand away and pulled you into the same bear hug. She shared with her daughter just a minute ago. You were a little hesitant at first, but eventually, you did return the hug.

"Don't be shy sweetheart you're practically family at this point. My little girl hasn't ever brought someone home even when I would beg her to. The fact that you're here lets me know you're something special, honey, " She told you.

"Mom," Riri whined.

Her mother gave her a wink as she finally released you. "Why don't you two go get settled in. I'm cooking dinner for tonight, but there is some leftover lasagna in the fridge. If you don't want that, it's early in the day. I'm pretty sure Riri would love to take you out in the city. Just have some fun and enjoy yourselves. We can catch up at dinner."

You and Riri ended up going out into the city after eating some of the lasagna that did not disappoint. Despite the cold weather, you loved sightseeing the city of Chicago captivated by the beauty of Riri's home. Now that you were in the proper clothing, the cold wasn't as bad, and you were ready to take full advantage of the mountains of snow. You were like a little kid pulling Riri into a vacant parking lot to make snow angels, build a snowman, and do every other cliche activity. You witnessed people doing on TV during Christmas movies. Riri didn't mind one bit even though she grew up in this weather and had done these things a million times. Doing it with you made her feel like it was the first time.

The sun was getting ready to set as the sky started to turn a dark blue. By the time the two of you made it back to her house, Riri went into the house to wash up and attempt to get a quick nap in before dinner. Her mom was sitting in the recliner watching The Brothers and informed her. The food would be ready in about two more hours. You were still outside sitting on the front porch watching the snow fall.

It was when the winds started to pick up and get stronger with each breeze. You called it a night and went inside. Riri was in bed buried under the covers, and there was a small space heater going, making the room slightly warmer than the rest of the house. You shrugged out of your jacket, socks, and gloves before slipping into the bed with her. She let out a soft hum to greet you and turned her body around to face you.

"How you feeling, Ma?"

"Snow is freaking beautiful but got damn I'm freezing," you whispered through chattering teeth.

"I told you to come inside and watch the snow fall, but you never want to listen." Riri gloated, shaking her head with an amused smile that you could barely make out under the darkness of the duvet.

"Well, it's a good thing I have you to warm me up then, huh?" you commented. Riri wasn't sure of what you meant at first but found out a second later. When your feet pushed their way under her legs. You grinned as Riri let out an even louder shriek than the one from earlier. No doubt your toes were the coldest part of your body.

"Holy shit y/n" Riri shouted, attempting to scoot away, but you let out a whine stretching your legs out to follow her. You wrapped your arms around her waist to pull her back.

"Okay, okay, your feet can stay, but you got to chill," she complained, squirming in your arms. As your hands found her bare skin again. "You lucky I freaking love you because your ass should be on the floor for that little stunt."

"Come on, you're used to this. I'm not, which means you have to be my personal space heater."

"Man, you could've given me a heads up, at least."

You shook your head. "You would've said no."

"Damn right now come here let's get some sleep before the food is ready. I'm tired, and my mom will not tolerate us ditching dinner." Riri opened her arms, letting you settle in her embrace with your face buried in her chest.

"Oh yeah, I love you too, Ri,"

Riri gave you a quick squeeze indicating she heard you, and both of you fell into a blissful sleep.

[cas-skz]

Enigma Part 3

Song Min Gi x (fem)Reader

Summary: Song Mingi is a mystery to you. A man with morals, to a certain extent. The method to his madness isn't typical: Violence, threats, and crime. After the first time you encounter him, he's got you locked in. The first encounter, wont be the last.

Warnings/Tags: 18+, MDNI, Suggestive Content, Language, Mentions of Drugs/Murder/Suicide

Word Count: 2.5k

Part 1 | 2

Written By: @littleforeignaffairs

You and Tiff stand in silence in your new bedroom. You look around the room as she makes up your bed. The room is fairly plain, but in a comfortable way. You run your fingers over a dark wooden armoire, admiring the details. You sling your fingers through the door hook, pulling the door open slowly. You catch glimpse of a fully intact wardrobe. One belonging to a slim female. You glance over your shoulder, making eye contact with Tiff.

“Really?” You start, scoffing a little “He placed me in his hook up pity room?”

Tiff walks up beside you, her hand reaching out to touch a piece of clothing. She shook her head a little

“Other than me, there hasn’t been a female stepping foot into Min’s space since Charlene”

You follow Tiff’s stare into the armoire. She pulls open the other door, revealing pictures pasted on the inside. She runs her fingers over the memories and looks to you.

“This was Cherry’s room”

Tiff forces a little smile, turning back to your things. You look to the photos again, seeing photo’s of a younger Tiff and Mingi. There is a third person, who you assumed to be Charlene, “Cherry”. You close the doors slowly, suddenly feeling guilt in the words you said. You purse your lips, wandering over to the side of the bed. You sit, pulling your legs up onto the mattress.

“What happened to her?” Your words are hesitant.

Tiff freezes, a heavy sigh leaving her lungs before she continues unpacking your bags.

“Min took me and Charlene in a handful of years ago. We both worked for Lee, got into a lot of trouble for him” Tiff nods slowly, her eyes staring blankly downwards “Mingi helped us get away from Lee. But, Charlene was his favourite girl. He did everything he could to get her back…”

Your mind starts to wander, thinking of how Lee treats you compared to the other girls. Even Alise. He is kind to them, respects them too. But for you, Lee always went above and beyond. Tiff’s voice begins to hum in your ears, bringing your attention back to her.

“Where is she now?” You interrupt.

Tiff closes your bag. She walks past you to place it in the armoire.

“I suggest you don’t touch anything in here that isn’t yours”

“Tiff? What happened to her…”

“I’m actually kind of surprised he told me to set up this room for you”

You turn onto your knees, facing Tiff. You start to speak again, your curiosity getting to the best of you.

“Tiffany” A low toned voice startles you both.

“Jesus Min” Tiff returns to her loud, foul mouthed self. “Stop fucking doing that”

Mingi walks into the room, bringing a heavy cloak of tension with him. His eyes are stuck to you, making you feel a little uncomfortable. You shift on the bed awkwardly, knowing he heard your conversation. His head turns slightly towards Tiff, but his eyes remain on you.

“You can leave now”

You look to Tiff, who returns your concerned expression.

“I didn’t say anything, Min”

The thing you’ve noticed about Mingi’s subordinates, including the girls, is their respect for him. Tiffany has shown herself to be quite outspoken, the most comfortable with poking and prodding at him. She appears to be the only one who can really push his boundaries. Though this topic, this girl, is one even she dared not speak of.

Mingi doesn’t respond to Tiff, he merely motions towards the door with an upward nod. Tiff presses her lips together, taking her leave. Mingi waits until he hears the click of the door closing over. You can see the muscles in his jaw tense. He takes another few steps into the room, the tapping of his shoes against the floor breaking the harsh silence.

“You’re awfully nosey” He finally states “I’m letting you stay in my home. Trying to keep you safe…”

Mingi’s words are quiet and calm, but they stab in your stomach. Stinging you with shame and guilt. You try to avoid his gaze, but he leans down gripping your chin with his fingers. He turns your face slowly to make you look at him. His eyes narrow,

“You could at least keep to yourself. Have a bit of respect”

“I’m sorry” The words leave your mouth before you even process that you had said anything.

Mingi drops his hand, straightening up in front of you. You breathe out slowly, the unknown tension leaving your body.

“There are some rules you need to follow while staying here” Mingi crosses his arms over his chest “First, you go nowhere alone.”

Your face scrunches

“You’ll have one of my men with you at all times”

“I’m not a child”

“Second. You have a curfew of 11pm..”

You scoff loudly, arms folding underneath your chest

“...Unless you’re working. Which you’re now working for me along side Tiffany”

“Excuse me?!”

Both you and Mingi hold each other’s stare. You can feel your blood boiling in your veins. You part your lips, running your tongue over your teeth. Mingi raises a brow

“Which part do you not understand”

You clench your fists at your sides. You feel as though he’s mocking you. Mingi shoves his hands in his pockets, waiting for a response from you. He tilts his head, rocking on his heels. He nods slowly as a response to your silence. Though he takes it as you agreeing with him, you’re just trying to  hold your tongue from saying something you’ll regret.

“So. You understand?”

You squint your eyes, a sarcastic smile pulling your lips.

“Yes Daddy”

Mingi's face drops, turning pale. He swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing noticeably.

“Don’t call me that” His voice is low

“Well, don’t try to control me or act like one”

Mingi avoids your eyes now, running his hand through his hair. His hand rests at the back of his neck

“The house is free roam. Treat it as your home while you’re here” His voice seems softer now.

His eyes finally rise to look at you. Though you still feel angry with the conditions he’s given you, the way Mingi looks at you, you can almost detect a bit of concern. From what you have seen of Mingi, his eyes are dark. But they appear soft, almost sad, when focused on you.

“I’m down the hall if you need anything”

Mingi’s voice startles you. Your cheeks flush a light pink when you realize you’ve been staring at him a little too long for comfort.

“Tiffany’s room is next to yours”

You nod with an awkward amount of enthusiasm

“Sure. Okay”

Mingi nods once, reaching for the doorknob.

“I’ll see you in the morning then. Breakfast goes on the table by 8:30”

You force a small smile, pretending to fix up the bed.

“Mhm”

The night feels so long, dragging on uncomfortably. It’s difficult to pin point what exactly is making you feel uneasy. You’re in a strange home, with multiple strangers who suddenly decided they need to keep you safe. Lee, someone you used to trust with your life, is now apparently trying to hurt you. Kill you? You don’t even know that much.

You sigh heavily, kicking the blankets off your body. You sit up in defeat, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. You toes touch against the floor, its surprisingly warm. You wrap your arms around your body in habit, making your way over to your door. Peeking through your door, you slip through, avoiding any bit of noise.

The hallway is fairly dark, but a dim light fades in your direction. You move slowly, following the light to a door at the end of the hall. You peer through the crack, pushing the door open carefully. The door creaks when it swings open. You scan around the room, making the assumption that this was the room Mingi said was his.

You furrow your brows, noticing there isn’t a bed in the room. Your curiosity starts getting the best of you, pulling your further into the room. A couch, large desk with paper scattered, walls filled with news articles and photos; the room is set up more like an office than a bedroom. Though as you stray further, his wardrobe comes into view. A large closet set before an en suite. It seems though he treats his bedroom as an office, or vice versa.

You turn back towards the door, but a collection of articles catches your eye. A lot of the information is blacked out or written over in red ink. From what you can piece together, it exactly what you expect: Drugs, Vandals, Assault. A sharp pain squeezes your chest when your eyes land on a photo of familiar faces.

You pull the paper off the wall. As clear as black and white can be, the faces of Lee and Cherry look at you. The pain rises from your chest into your throat.

“murder suspect”

“assault”

“manipulation”

“substance abuse”

“suspicion of suicide”

Before you could piece together any information, a hand grasps the paper from your hold. He startles you. You look up to meet his finger pointing close to your face. Mingi doesn’t speak right away, but the look on his face and the paper crumpled in his hand are enough to tell you that he isn’t happy.

“What are you doing in here” His voice is unstable.

“I couldn’t sleep”

“So your idea of a lullaby is to invade someone’s privacy?" Mingi’s voice becomes harsher with each word.

Dumbfounded, you stare at Mingi, unable to form any words. That feeling of cowardice resurfaces in you. You cheeks feel hot as you cast your eyes away from his. Mingi grabs your face from underneath your chin, forcing you to look at him. Your knees weaken from his grasp.

“I asked you a question”

The eyes you had seen earlier, soft and concerned, are replaced with displeasure. Still, you cannot form any words. You merely hold your stare with his. His eyes scan your face. A gleam of guilt in his eyes changes his whole demeanor. He can see the hesitation and fear he’s instilled in you.

Mingi drops his hand, backing up from you.

“When I said the house was free roam, I didn’t mean disregard my privacy”

His words are still firm. You can’t understand why he has to scold you for everything. He’s the one who brought you in. You didn’t ask for this, yet you have to constantly tip toe around him and the secrecy on why he’s even brought you here.

You feel like a child. Belittled.

“If I'm such a hassle to you, why bother bringing me here” You look to the floor, tugging at the sleeves of your sweater.

Mingi huffs

“I already told you that I suspect Lee is planning some shit”

“And?” You look back to him “What do you think I’ve been doing without you for the last 2 years?” A sudden surge of anger hits you “Why do you think you suddenly need to take care of me? I was doing just fine before you pulled me aside in your club”

Mingi furrows his brows, a slight wince at your words

“I’ve known you for a whole what… 40 hours? And you just boss me around, scold me and make me feel belittled. You say Lee is so bad, he treats me better than you do”

Mingi’s jaw tightens. You swear you could hear his teeth grind.

“You told me you’ve known him for a long time. Something obviously happened to that girl”

You point to Mingi’s hand. He looks down at the ball of paper in his fist before relaxing his hand, the paper slowly crinkling.

“You’re making me involved but you’re not even telling me what’s going on. Why he’s doing this”

Mingi lifts his head, but doesn’t meet your eyes.

“You should go back to bed” He’s quiet

“You’ll be going with Tiffany tomorrow. She’s going to start training you to work the bar."

He spoke no other words, and walked past you, leaving the room. You watch him leave, unsure how you're supposed to feel. One moment he's making you feel a like a burden, the next you're filled with shame and guilt.

You push your food around on your plate, the quiet scraping being the only sound in the dining room. You glance up at Mingi, who sits across from you at the table. He focus is on an iPad, presumably work. He grabs his mug, bringing it to his lips. His eyes raise, looking over the rim of his mug at you.

Neither of you look away. Not until Tiffany enters the room. Mingi looks to her. He sets his mug down, and motions for her to come over to him.

As instructed, she walks over to him, standing between you two.

“Take her with you this morning. I want her to know everything. Floor, drinks, stock” Mingi looks towards you “Everything that I’ve taught you, pass on to her”

“If you want to replace me, just say so” Tiffany laughs, shoving Mingi roughly.

He raises a brow, looking up to her. Tiffany rolls her eye, grabbing his mug of coffee.

“Tough crowd”

You can’t help but smile at how Tiffany treats Mingi, and how he just accepts it.

“So” Tiffany takes a drink of the coffee “She’ll work a few hours, come home to rest, then come back again tonight to work with the girls?”

“No.” Mingi’s voice is hard, curt.

Tiffany looks from the mug, to Mingi. Her expression shows clear confusion with Mingi’s response.

“She’s learning everything, except hosting?” Tiffany reiterates.

Mingi has that stern look in his eyes again. He doesn’t respond to Tiffany verbally. He merely raises a brow. Tiffany looks down to you, breathing in deeply.

“Everything except hosting it is”

“Why” You immediately interrupt. “You’ve obviously seen me work the floor before. You’ve seen me at your own club”

“I said No”

“What is it with you that you have this dying need to keep me out of sight from everyone” Your voice starts to escalate. You can see Mingi’s expression changing, slowly becoming frustrated with you

“I already told you it’s to keep you safe until this situation is figured out”

You scoff a laugh

“Right, yes, I’m sure. It’s everything to do with Lee, and not some sick joke you like playing”

Words just roll off your tongue. You don’t even know why you’re arguing with him. You don’t know if you’re actually mad about the situation, or just like seeing Mingi get worked up.

Mingi narrows his eyes at you.

“Do you have to make everything an argument? Can you not just listen to me for once?”

“Yes Daddy”

Mingi slams his fist onto the table. Simultaneously Tiffany chokes on her coffee, spitting it out. You flinch at the sounds. Mingi’s face reddens and he looks away from you, flustered. You stand up a look to Tiffany

“I’ll be ready in 10”

You glance back to Mingi, his eyes still avoiding you. You sigh, walking off.

Tiffany watches you walk away before turning her attention back to Mingi. She wipes the coffee off her chin and laughs.

“Oh, Min. She’s a keeper”

“Fuck off…”

[void-botanist]

hey! this is chance & here’s the prompt for week 6. what are your oc's bedrooms like? messy? neat? carefully designed? or a collection of their favorite things? you can verbally describe or use photos, whatever you think is best.

Time to answer this one finally! I think I'll talk about Nicea, where the entire crew has 2+ bedrooms.

Declan: he has the largest private room on the Nicea, but that's not saying much. It stays pretty neat because there's just not a lot of stuff in there, but he has a collection of ship pens, stationery, and books. His bedroom at the office is less neat and holds most of his clothes, but because he literally just repurposed an office room it's pretty spartan. His bedroom in his suite at his mother-in-law's, which is a remodeled shed, is not that big but it's very cozy and messy because A) he actually uses it when he's there, and B) it holds all of his art supplies that aren't in his small traveling collection, like all of his paints and canvases, and a bunch of random detritus, mostly in his desk drawers. The one thing you will not find in any of his rooms is a photo of Cady, because he can't stomach the thought of just seeing that. He gave his one photo album to Tristan for safekeeping.

Tristan: her room on the Nicea is the standard not-that-big size, and she keeps not very much in there. What is there is usually in stacks, except for the mini calendar and picture of her and Gil tacked to the wall over the desk. Her room at home, though, is set up to be as cozy as possible, with walls that are a soft dark blue, dark floral curtains, padded rugs, and ample dresser space so the drawers actually close when everything gets left in a wad in there. There's not much else in the way of decoration, though, because this is a room for sleeping.

Rodney: he keeps the most things in his room on the Nicea, because he has more than a couple clothing items there (he never wears the flight suit), and three books that he's reading, and his tablet, and four chargers, and seven data cables, and his laptop, and his fuzzy blanket, and his ship slippers, and some space M&Ms, and thirteen colors of nail polish and an entire nail kit, and previous issues of the Svando's magazine that he's forgotten about. He has a full-size calendar on the wall and also is slowly accumulating pictures there, mostly of him, Isabel, and Spinder, and places he's been. He keeps everything pretty neat on the whole, but he's always in the middle of something. By contrast he has almost nothing in his hotel rooms, but they kind of come already prepared. His room at his mom's house looks pretty empty and tidy because it's infrequently used, but it has various old trophies and rocks and drawings and stuffed animals filling it out.

Isabel: her room on the Nicea is always kind of a mess, because she also keeps a small but complete wardrobe there, and she's constantly bringing bags of snacks in and finishing them. She tries to keep her hotel rooms neat for housekeeping, but at her mom's house she will not hear any complaints about her throwing her shit everywhere in her own room, Fay. Unlike Rodney she has updated the decor in her room multiple times, mostly by stripping out the old curtains and putting new posters on the walls. No matter what she does, though, one of the posters is always of a hot guy and one of them is always of a vintage actress.

Spinder: like Tristan, he wears a flight suit on the Nicea, so like Tristan, he mainly has undershirts and underwear as his wardrobe there. Aside from that he keeps very little in his room and most of it in the closet, but he's been considering putting up some pictures or something, which maybe he does prior to leaving on their big trip. He's fastidious about his hotel rooms, partly for housekeeping and partly to avoid wrinkles in his clothes, but he inevitably ends up spreading his shaving kit all across the bathroom counter. At Nieram's house, he also sleeps in a room with built-in shelves full of childhood stuff, half of it his (romance novels, handheld puzzle toys, school art projects) and half of it his older brother Pat's (vintage music paraphernalia, minifigures for games he no longer plays, school art projects), because they shared a room after it became clear Spinder and Michael were not capable of doing so. He doesn't try so hard to keep this room clean while he's there, but he still always hangs up his clothes.

And a bonus, because I haven't talked enough lol:

Tatya: her room on her as-yet-unnamed ship is her main space there, and hers is by far the most decorated ship bedroom. She has a ton of woodburning projects hung up on the walls, with a shelf for her various reading materials and a shelf for knickknacks (they both have plexiglas covers to prevent stuff falling out everywhere), and a little tapestry over her minifridge. She even replaced the lamp covers with something more homey. Her bedroom on Basenaum is similar, except the architecture actually goes with her "rustic" sense of decor. She's somewhere in the middle of the neat-messy spectrum, where she tries to keep things clean but her spaces always look very lived-in.

Nicea taglist: @kahvilahuhut @kk7-rbs @outpost51 @writernopal @athenswrites

[paintedscales]

day: What does your OC wear on a normal day? Why do they default to those clothes? Do they wear similar things, or do they change it up? wardrobe: How big is your character's wardrobe? Do they wear things threadbare, or can they afford new clothes often? Are they any good at mending and repairing their own clothing?

Hiii! Thanks for the ask! :D These are a lot of questions! • w •!! I'll put them under a read more since I know I tend to have a lot to write! ^^

OC Asks: Character Design Edition

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

What does your OC wear on a normal day?

On a normal day, especially in recent time, Nomin can be found wearing a loose-fitting jacket and shirt combo that kind of is treated like a short dress almost! She also chooses to wear sheer tights and some ankle-high boots. She'll also wrap her hands, and often wear a flower in her hair (this yellow dahlia can be seen in a lot of her outfit choices, too!)

Why do they default to those clothes?

They're all relatively easy to throw on for the most part. The shirt and jacket especially. She doesn't like complicating her mornings. Things that take a long time to get dressed into feels like a waste of time, and is generally saved for more important events where she is expected to get dressed up. Out of her routine, ideally, the thing that should take the longest time to do is braid her hair or wrap her hands.

Do they wear similar things, or do they change it up?

That outfit is actually the only one like that that she prefers as opposed to her robes or deel from the Steppe. It's a more city-focused fit that she's adopted. Otherwise, her travel clothes are a lot more involved. Especially pending on where she's traveling.

How big is your character's wardrobe?

The only reason Nomin's wardrobe would be big is because of me and how I just like making outfits (shoves all my Style Savvy, Shining Nikki, and other dress-up games under my bed). Ideally, Nomin's wardrobe is actually pretty small to fit in with her largely nomadic nature. She would have casual clothes, small clothes (maybe a good few pair of them as the only thing she has multiples of), light travel clothes (for temperate and desert travel), and heavy winter clothes (when winter would hit, or if she was in the Tail Mountains).

I suppose I could say that with her more stationary life on the island sanctuary, that affords her wardrobe space to have a myriad of clothes and styles that she's fond of from traveling. Though it's also possible that she'd just leave them in there till the time was 'right' to wear them (so for events).

Do they wear things threadbare, or can they afford new clothes often?

Nomin doesn't really like her clothes getting aged and tattered, and will repair what she has when she can. Though if things are torn or ripped beyond repair, she'll generally go out of her way to buy something new. If the hems are coming loose, or if there are small scuffs and tears, she doesn't really mind too much. But if it's becoming a problem, then yeah, she has to do something about it before it gets worse.

With her understanding of trade and bartering on the Steppe, I'd also go out on a limb and say that Nomin is very conscientious of her money, saving it, and being able to afford new clothing items. Only if she wanted, though. Probably the only major disagreements she gets into now with Estinien are about his lack of understanding money and commerce.

Are they any good at mending and repairing their own clothing?

Moderately. It's all self-taught stuff, so things can get stitched, but it's not going to be invisible because of a 'pro-seamstress' touch' or whatever. You'd be able to tell when Nomin has repaired her stuff, because the stitching will be tight and maybe even a little crumpled.

When it comes to her stuff, she's very meh about it. Though I can guarantee you that if she is repairing anything for Estinien or her children, she'll make a larger effort to make sure her repairs aren't easily seen (she's not the best at it, but she's getting better).

[taechaos]

Can we have some jealous/sweet smut with textbook love couple?🥲 like I guess OC was wearing an outfit that was a little short and some guy was checking her out and trying to get at her but she didn’t even realize it and Jungkook gets mad and you know😏

this really went off the fucking rails 😷

"I don't see the point in you coming, we just go there to get high."

"Maybe she wants to try it," Taehyung shrugs before looking up from his phone with a mischievous grin. "What if she's secretly a freak–"

"I'm not, I just–" you sigh, reluctant to reveal your intentions behind wanting to tag along with Jungkook to a frat party. His reason is clear: his body is craving another drug trip. Yours is unknown to them, and you purse your lips where you stand uncomfortably in the student lounge. Why would such a motivated student go out on a school night to get influenced? Oh, no reason, just want to damage my organs because YOLO, right? "I want to spend time with you," you simply reason to your unwilling boyfriend.

Jungkook clicks his tongue, an indication of an incoming refusal, "It's a crackhouse with live softcore porn, and I know for a fact you'd hate it there. Remember last time?"

The issue is that you do remember last time, and also the time that you weren't there. Much like a fairytale, it ended happily both times, but the beginnings were rocky—and you didn't want to miss out on that chapter before jumping to the end. It ruins the tale.

"It's okay sugar tits, I give you permission," Taehyung says while playing a mobile game with his tongue sticking out, unaware of the stares he's getting in response.

"The fuck did you just call her?"

"I'm not asking for permission," you roll your eyes and put your hands on your hips to assert the tiniest bit of dominance on Jungkook who you hover over. The two men are relaxed in their seats while you're tense from knowing you're going to have to rebel against Jungkook. He isn't going to give in. "I will come."

"No, no you won't," is his plain and casual command. You send him a subtle glare but he merely raises a brow, as if challenging you to retaliate.

"You're not her dad, dude. If she wants to come, she will," his friend chimes in defensively.

"Thank you," you point at him with wide eyes.

"First of all, you're not even a part of this conversation," he tells Taehyung. "Secondly, I'm looking out for you as your boyfriend," he gives you a pointed look. "Thirdly, not her dad? Wouldn't you beg to differ." The suggestive hint makes your face flush in embarrassment, and his wink worsens it.

"Excuse–"

"You told me not to tell him!" The discussion ends when you march out of the lounge to cool off your heated skin along with your high nerves. This relationship did begin when you didn't take no for an answer, so what's the harm in doing it again?

—————

The night you lost your virginity, it was autumn and easy to figure out what to wear for a party: warm and cozy with some charming color. It's spring now, and a little more difficult to decide on what to wear without looking like a "high school girl" as Jungkook often describes your outfits.

Your roommate is more cultured in that field, and was kind enough to lend you her help.

Soyeon racks her eyes over your closet with a hand over her chin, elbow crossing her stomach as leverage for her other arm. Nothing is exactly screaming out sexy to her, and unless it's a cosplay gathering, your wardrobe needs more diversity; dressing shirts, skater skirts and knee highs are out of the question.

You wait to hear her thoughts while shifting in your seat on your bed until she quietly giggles. "And I thought I was conservative." She cranes her neck to you, not moving from her position depending on your answer, "Do you want to borrow my clothes instead? They're more... suitable?"

You nod. "Sure. I mean— if you don't mind."

You trust your friend to take care of the clothing portion, and it's with a few cringing "ehhh"s and "mmm"s that you are satisfied with the outcome of this minor quest.

A thin black turtleneck with unnecessarily long sleeves cover your knuckles like sweater paws, and the fabric hugs your torso tightly but ends just below your belly button. Soyeon found a solution to your discomfort with the slight exposure of your stomach by matching it with high waisted denim shorts and nude pantyhose. It's chilly at night, so it's the perfect outfit: doesn't stand out and fits in just right. You don't look like a high school girl nor a nun.

You kept your only concern to yourself because it's not much of a big deal, but it bothers you that the denim shorts don't reach your knees. By your standards, it's a little... inappropriate, but your roommate assures you that it's a common choice in this occasion. You let it slide.

—————

Your worries of being too early faded the moment you stood before the frat house that boomed with music and flashed with violet. You don't know the time code for parties, but you must be late considering the crowd inside. People are chattering loudly when you squirm past them, but there's enough space in the living room for you to breathe. No softcore porn or crack yet. Not many are dancing either. It seems all good here.

However, the search must go on because Jungkook is nowhere to be found in the living room. You hear deep howls from the kitchen and it piques your attention, prompting you to look there next. You can only hope Jungkook's not high yet, or has a girl on his lap.

When you walk in, the kitchen that is remarkably smaller than the living room is filled with men taking shots from the center counter, and Jungkook leaning against the other counter surrounding the walls with a joint in his hand. You stand still in the doorway, suddenly nervous of his reaction, but relieved that he's alone nonetheless.

He inhales a deep breath and the small smile on his face falters when his redshot eyes drag themselves onto you. He stands straight once you lock gazes, and you grin at him before he shuts his eyes and clenches his jaw. You unconfidently strut over to him, reaching his side in only a few seconds as he glares at you.

Only a syllable comes out of his mouth before his attention diverts from you to another guy nearby in a flash. "Hey, eyes off," he calmly demands the man behind you. You glance at him when he raises his hands before looking elsewhere. You presume that's sign language for backing off, and your shoulder blades move awkwardly at the guess of what he might've been looking at. "What the hell are you doing here?" he brings your focus back onto him.

"I wanted to check up on you," you lean into him to not yell out your words.

"Check up on me?" He's incredulous. "Do you realize where you are? You shouldn't be here."

The moment is interrupted when Namjoon and Taehyung enter the scene, and you stop gnawing on your inner cheek. You don't have any answers you want to tell him, and your muscles relax when Jungkook's friends notice you.

"Oh shit," Taehyung smiles widely, "you're actually here." He appears to be sober and you smile back at him. Namjoon on the other hand, is as high as a kite as he brings you into a light hug. Your eyes widen and you awkwardly pat his back, fixated on his dazed expression.

"I haven't seen you in so long," he says as he ruffles your hair. Jungkook slaps a hand over his face at the interaction and drags the skin with his fingers. "How have you been? Do you want a molly?"

"Dude," your boyfriend intervenes, annoyed. "Why are you back here?"

"Alcohol." Namjoon disappears behind you to search the fridge and cabinets and you look at Taehyung again. He's drinking in your awkward stance as he licks his lips while Jungkook takes another drag from his joint.

"Girl, you are fucked," he says when his eyes trail back to yours with a snort. "You came here in those clothes, when you have a boyfriend? Jungkookie, I have some bad news for you. Your cock isn't even satisfactor–"

"Seriously though," Jungkook tells you with furrowed brows, "why are you here? I told you not to come." His reaction is influenced by the weed, not so mad as he is confused by your rebellion without reason—you must have a cause for waltzing in here, especially after his warning.

You hum in discomfort and shift your weight onto your other foot. "I already told you..."

"Don't give me that bullshit–"

A yelp cuts off his words when you jolt forward from a slap to your bottom. It wasn't a hard hit, but the surprise factor has you throwing yourself on Jungkook. Taehyung's jaw drops while your boyfriend barely reacts.

"If that isn't the cutest ass I've ever seen," the culprit chuckles without taking his eyes off your butt. He's almost slurring his words, and his lopsided grin doesn't seem intentional; he must feel too numb to form a full smile. You watch him in disbelief much like Taehyung. "You got any coke?"

"She's taken, man–" he takes on the peacemaker role, but it's futile when Jungkook gently removes your arm from his chest and walks forward to the stumbling man.

"Oh, my ba–" his face scrunches in confusion when his cheeks are grabbed and squished, leaving his mouth gaping. You peek from above Jungkook's shoulder to see him raising his joint before stubbing the burning tip onto the man's tongue. A scream resounds in the overcrowded room when it makes contact, and you fall back into Taehyung's arms while the deafeningly loud music tries to drown out the pained sounds. It's barbaric.

"Ah, shit," he pushes you to the side and pulls back Jungkook, who's still abnormally calm. The whole situation feels surreal, and it seems as if no one realizes this isn't a dream.

The man stops struggling against Jungkook's hold when he's released and falls to the ground, crawling back while sucking his teeth. He's whimpering and afraid. "I didn't know," he speaks with a lisp, pathetically begging, "I apologized! I-I'm sorry!"

You cautiously take a few steps back, almost like you're trying to flee the scene, but it just seems like a good idea to avoid Jungkook's temper right now. Just as you're about to turn around and sprint, you're held back by a hand on your shoulder. No words are exchanged when you're dragged away, a bruising grip on your forearm as you stumble out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

"Some fucking deja vu, huh?" your boyfriend fumes, basically shouting out his words without glancing at you to notice your struggles to keep up with his pace.

Lunatic Jungkook: Unlocked.

You trust sober Jungkook to not hurt you when he's angry, but after seeing him commit such a painful act, it's more than reasonable why you're currently terrified of him while he's high. To think you were so comfortable with him earlier because he's high. His calmness makes him all the more unpredictable, and you're unnerved when he shoves you inside a random bedroom. Some reversed deja vu.

"I'm going to ask you again: why the fuck did you come here?" The only attack is with his eyes that send daggers at you, but you keep your guard up in fear of what he'll do. You have to tread lightly.

"I was worried what would happen if I wasn't here with you." Honesty is your only approach in this instance because when he's glaring at you like that, it conveys that he doesn't want to hear any more of your ludicrous excuses.

He rolls his hand, gesturing you to continue. You're nervously forcing out your words, "I didn't, um... know how you would act around other women while you're on drugs when I'm not around." When his face falls into monotone, you defend yourself, still tense, "Last time, you kissed Soyeon and before that, another girl! I-I had my reasons..." Your voice grows smaller, just like how you feel under his gaze. Your eyes flicker to your shoes.

"And those shorts?"

At your silence, he takes a few steps towards you and leans into your face, slightly bending to level with your height. He tugs on the hem of your shorts harshly, emitting a flinch from you. You don't return his stare. "What the fuck are these? You're stupid enough to come here, but coming here in these shorts? Are you okay?" He taps your cheek, encouraging you to look up at him, but it's both humiliating and intimidating. "I know you're not a slut, baby, but why are you so adamant on acting like one?"

"I wanted to fit in," is your weak defence in a mumble, gaze still downcast. You shouldn't feel so ashamed.

"No, you told me you wanted to make sure I wasn't cheating," he counters. "Don't fucking twist things now. You didn't need to dress up to see if I was fucking someone else."

Your round eyes shoot up in panic at whatever he's insinuating, "I didn't want you to realize how paranoid I was."

"So this was your grand idea?"

"Ah," you groan, just wanting this argument to end already. You know what he's thinking: "I was stupid. I didn't learn my lesson, and I ended up hurting someone because I'm stupid."

You release a relieved breath when he gives you distance to sit on the twin sized bed. He's facing you as he says, "When I tell you not to do something, you don't do it. I'm not trying to dictate you, you understand that, right?" You meekly nod and clamp your mouth shut when he continues, "You pull this shit again, I'm going to hurt someone else again. Simple as that. I don't care if they did anything, I'll hurt them as long as it gets you to listen to me."

"Okay," you exhale, shyly walking between his legs at his beckon. You tower him, but it's not helping your confidence as he places his hands on your hips.

"Okay," he whispers back as he plays with the waistline of your shorts. A moment of silence passes, and you allow yourself to calm down enough to sit on his lap and lay your head on his shoulder. "I like the high school girl look better on you."

You sheepishly grin but decide not to respond for the safety of your friend. He pulls on your pantyhose and it slaps against your thigh when he releases it.

"Do you forgive me?"

"Can't stay mad at you," he murmurs before pecking your lips. It's you who leans back in to extend the kiss, and he responds gently. It ends when he chuckles, "Passive smoking, hm? You feeling okay?"

You nod and lock lips again, his hand soothingly rubbing the side of your thigh when you clasp your hands behind his neck. Maybe he's right, maybe you did get a buzz from the secondhand exposure, but it doesn't influence your actions as you lower one hand to his chest. It just happens to fall on his crotch.

"Mm," he pulls away with a suppressed laugh, "you're actually high? Your hands just got a mind of their own."

"Then tie them," you offer in a breath. His brows shoot up, but his surprise doesn't prevent him from unbuckling his belt singlehandedly.

"A bondage kink? Who are you and what did you do to my nerdy girlfriend?" His joke emits a small laugh from you but his smile falters once his belt is in his hand. "Take your shirt off first."

It's no longer a guess when you slip out of the turtleneck in a flash; you are under some spell when you stand and hold your wrists together. The leather grazes your skin and sends delighted tingles down your spine.

"I hope I'm not going fucking crazy and hallucinating this," you hear him whisper behind you. A laugh escapes you and interrupts his internal monologue, and the buckle is clasped. "Now for the shorts..."

He stands up, pressing himself against you and peeking from your shoulder to undo the button of your denim shorts. You can feel his erection grinding against you when he tugs them down to falll at your ankles. You step out of the garment and turn around. When he gets out of your way, he gestures you to lie down and your hands are pressing against your back when you do so.

You watch him take his short off before straddling you and leaning down for another kiss. It's merely foreplay; he cups your clothed pussy and runs his hand down up and down, prompting you to sigh into him. He bites your bottom lip just as he slips his fingers past your underwear, murmuring against your lips, "Can you take me right now?"

"I think so," you shy. "I want to."

"Good," he sighs and removes his hand to massage his erection while undressing you completely. "I think... this is a better lesson."

"For what?"

"You don't know?" he pushes the cup of your bra to pinch your nipple mercilessly, and he hears your pain through your small scream. "A guy got burnt for no reason then?"

"No, no, I know," you gasp when he twists your sensitive nub, "because I'm stupid and I shouldn't have ignored you." Your back lifts off the mattress when you clench your teeth to suppress another scream. Despite your bounds hands, it's him talking down on you that renders you submissive.

"Mhm," he's condescending in his speech, "he did something wrong, but so did you, right? This is just the consequences of your actions, isn't it?"

It's his stinging touch that makes you agree to whatever he says, and you whine, "Yes!"

That's the only confirmation he needs to push his jeans down to his thighs along with his briefs, and your now bare pussy shies away from his cock by bending your knees. He pushes your legs even closer to you, and your efforts went against your intention by exposing yourself to him completely now. "You're so pretty," he admires with slight awe, "but I can't be shallow... You don't deserve to treated well."

His words make you shutter; you didn't do anything that wrong, but you aren't courageous enough to voice your thoughts. Everything he's told you today have turned out right, so he knows better to make that call. You stay unresponsive, head turned to the side to avoid his fierce gaze.

"No, you should hurt as much as he did," he mutters to himself as he trails a finger down your folds. You shiver and his gaze travels to your shy one. "What? Are you scared?"

You are unconfident with your denial, "No."

"Look at me then."

It's with a deep inhale that you glance at him, and your breath is caught in your throat when he shoves himself inside. Your whimpers resound brokenly in the bedroom where the bass of the music drowns it out. You feel the vibrations, but it doesn't serve as a distraction and you're aware that Jungkook can pick up your pained noises. He's simply ignoring you, but you can't dwell on the thought when he lets you adjust for a few seconds only before ramming into you. Your whines aren't enough for him, after all, what's a better indication of pain than a scream of agony?

His thrusts are out of rhythm, but quick and rough nonetheless as his hands push you deeper into the mattress as if to hold you down before taking your nipple in his mouth—more specifically between his teeth to bite.

"Jungkook!" It's not a gentle bite, and you know it wasn't meant to be, but you try to squirm away nonetheless. Your flight instinct is futile because his strength overpowers yours, keeping you in place with his palms while you struggle and cry.

"No more, please!" You wail when he finally sits up, and he watches you bounce back and forth due to the force of his thrusts. It's so pleasing, especially your moans, but mixed with your bitching... it's irritating.

He grunts, the sound bordering on a growl before he says, "You deserve worse."

"I don't! I didn't do anything." Your protests fall on deaf ears, or rather ears that need you to shut up. He wraps his hand around your neck in a chokehold, daring you to speak with his grip as he moans through a bit lip.

"Your ass was hanging out in a room filled with men," he speaks in between moans while you gasp to catch your breath, sounds of pleasure getting suck in your throat when he slams deep enough to hit your sensitive spot. "You didn't listen to me! Ah..."

Your windpipe is getting crushed the tighter his grip gets, and your cheeks start to flush until he drops his hand to lift your hips, spanking you while you wheeze. "You want attention that bad?" His words are mere gasps when he starts to lose himself, now gripping your waist to match his thrusts for you.

"Only yours," you muster out as your eyes roll to the back of your skull, letting him do all the work while you get closer to your climax.

"Lying whore." He slaps your tit before completely concentrating on his release, inching closer and closer by the second teasingly. It builds up in his stomach, and his abs contract and tense while he pistons his cock inside you faster, not drained enough to get sloppy just yet. It's when a loud moan resounds in the room, reducing to pants with slow drags of his length. "God, yes..."

You feel it when he cums, painting your walls white and warming up your insides, and he rubs your clit so fast that it has you seeing stars in mere seconds. It's so quick, the high, and your moan is music to his ears; he's too spent to enjoy it any longer before he collapses next to you.

"Fuck, please let me tie you up again," he breathes while you recover from the euphoric sensation he brought you by twitching and seeing white. You're panting when his hand falls on your stomach.

"Please... I'll be nicer if you let me. Hm?"

[chocominnie]

One Last Time 02  —  Pjm. (M)

⇢ pairing: Jimin X Reader

⇢ Genre: Idol!Jimin, Exbf!Jimin, model!reader, sad au, fluff, tons of smut, angst

⇢ Synopsis: Your idol ex boyfriend Jimin cheated on you. You two have been broken up for a while now and the media has been keeping track of you and him. You’re trying to get over him, but the things that happen inbetween makes you re-think the entire breakup, and so does Jimin…

⇢ Song : xxxxx

⇢ Previous : 00   01

⇢ Word Count : 

⇢ Warnings: dominant jimin, makeout sessions, this is honestly a sad angsty au, cheating, pregnancy, unprotected and protected sex, a bunch of sex, no really a LOT of sexual themes too, I know I’m forgetting some but sorry in advance!

⇢ Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken

⇢ Authors note: This is my mini series for the summer! Get your tissues, things to take your anger out on, and sit back and watch the drama unfold. Shall we begin?

Your eyes shoot open, chest heaving heavily as you let out a blood curdling scream. Not this again. The same dream over and over again each night. It leaves you sleepless. The time on the clock on your nightstand reads 3:04 am. Just only four hours ago is when you fell asleep. But a full night’s sleep hasn’t happened for a year so why would it matter anyways.

Once you catch your breath you unplug your phone from the charger and read some of the notifications. From your window, the night-time critters sing their songs along with the persistant owl that’s somewhere around the apartment complex. You’d only noticed him, the owl, just a few months ago when your cat started meowing with his hoots. 

A missed call from your uncle. 

Immediately you unlock your phone and dial the number. Bringing your index finger to your mouth you gently nip on it waiting for it to answer, The rings are agonizing to you. If something has happened you only wish and pray it wasn’t as bad as you think. He’s the only parental figure left in your life.

‘‘ Princess! Hello I was just calling to speak to you earlier. But I realized you are five hours ahead of me and you had probably went to sleep.’‘

His soothing voice calms your emotions making you let out a tiny breath of air. Thank god.

‘’Hey Charlie.” You sigh. Looking towards your left, you spot Clara purring quietly next to you. You can’t help but to smile while bringing a hand over to rub her head with your thumb.  She’s so small under the shining moonlight from your window.

Her white coat shines brightly amongst her, making you remember the first night you had brought her home. All she did was sleep, and it worried you because you had no prior expierence caring for anything, let alone a small animal. Clara only drank kitten milk and slept back then. Occasionally being awake enough to nip at your fingers whenever you pet or touched her.

Now she’s a bit bigger and walks around the apartment like she owns the place. Quite the little attitude she has, but its too damn cute for you to scold her whenever she does something wrong. 

“ Yes I did fall asleep from after a gathering at someone’s house.’’ You continue on, bringing your knees to your chest after opening the curtain of your window fully.

The moons brightness illuminates the entire room, but not so bright for you to complain though. ‘’ Oh- was it Jimin’s? Tell him I said hell-’’

You bite your lip hard at his name. He doesn’t know and you wont even dare to let him know. Knowing him, your uncle would have a fit and oppose to come back to Seoul to ‘set the record straight.’ to Jimin. That’s the last thing you want to do, cause trouble.

‘‘ It was his brother’s house warming party.” You say, lowering your tone in your voice. You look at the nightstand for a couple of seconds just before opening the top drawer of the wooden, polished piece. Your hands shakily pull out a picture of you two together.

It was taken at  Marne-la-Vallée, France right infront of Cinderella’s castle. That was the day that you and Jimin had to went to Disneyland in Paris, France. You cant help but to think, with the picture in hand, that it was one of the best nights ever. It was also the same night your virginity was taken.

‘‘ Oh.. I know that tone. Are you two arguing at the moment.”

You shrug, “ I mean you could say that.’’

No you cant.

‘‘ Alright alright I won’t talk more of him. Let’s change the subject.” He chuckles deeply into the phone.

‘‘ How’s Europe? Anything new happening on base?”

‘‘ Same old Same old. It’s been what? 2 years since I’ve left Seoul? The food is different over here. They don’t have kimchi pancakes sadly.”

You can only imagine the frowny face he makes at you whenever he doesn’t approve or like something. It always turns out to be funny.

You giggle into the phone shaking your head slightly, “ Of course. You are in Europe Charlie. Where are you getting food from anyway if you are on base?’’

‘‘ I can go off base to a certain mileage when I am off duty. I just have to report back in time. But you do know that you can always come live on base with me...’ He trails off.

Oh boy. Here he goes. He’s always talking about moving you on base with him. Hell, he’s been talking about it since before he had to go to be based in Europe. By then you were twenty years old and old enough to live by yourself. Growing up in Daegu, Korea since you were six, you felt as if Korea was home to you and you definately weren’t ready to leave yet.

Especially, after losing your parents here. Around eight years old, your aunt and mother were on the way to pick up your father from the airport. With your mom and dad also being military and based in Korea with your dad’s bestfriend, your uncle Charlie, your father had been called to take military leave to go and be based in Korea for the National Guard.

On the way back from the airport, a drunk driver had struck the car knocking them off the road and colliding head first into the railing of the bridge. All bodies were reported dead upon collision, including your aunt. Charlie didn’t take the news well at all, and so did you. Only eight years old and still a bit new to a foreign country. It was devistating for you and Charlie. Charlie did what was right and stepped up to be your legal guardian while taking some time off from the military. Till this day, he treats you like his sacred little daughter and you can’t ask for anyone better than him.

 “You are old enough to live on your own and housing is avail-”

You jump at his voice on the line again, being too spaced out from the tragic memory. Before he can go on any longer you cut him off. ‘‘ Im fine with the apartment you left me. Im paying the bills on time and taking good care of it.”

‘‘ Alright fine. But that option is always available you hear me? I will always be ready for you to come with me.’’

‘‘ Okay Charlie” You groan.

‘‘ Alright.. sweetie it’s getting late on this side and it’s already 3 am on your side. Get some sleep okay? Don’t you have a model shoot thingy or something? You have those a lot.’‘

‘‘ Yes i actually do in a couple of hours. It’s been a while since I’ve did a shoot. Please eat and sleep well. Don’t injure yourself.’‘

‘‘ I promise. You promise to do the same right?’‘ He says, rustling movements are in the background.

‘‘ Yes I promise. Good night sleep tight..’‘ You smile as you wait for him to finish the rest.

He chuckles one last time on the other end, ‘‘I’ll always love you, goodnight‘’

Beep Beep Beep

You in a racy light pink lingerie with white duvets and sheets is the concept of your comeback. It’s supposed to symbolize the “Night After’’. Camera’s click and directors yell and praise you in your subtle yet damaging moves and facial expressions. You want.. no need for this comeback to be successful. Not only did your manager schedule this, but she is making sure that they release this same very day.

Nobody in this company’s industry has ever did this before. But you, you are sort of the special one. The special foreigner as they say. It’s not like you don’t like it but you don’t like that they label you as that. Stylists, employee’s hell even anybody who works there treat you as a princess. It’s not bad, but it’s just weird.

‘‘ One last one. Give me a sexy yet innocent look mama.’‘ Elliot, the director says, smiling wide at you.

You slip a finger into your mouth and do a little pout with your lips.

Elliot busts out into a roar of happiness with his hands clapping furiously. ‘‘That’s it mama yes! That’s just what we needed!’‘

Adjusting his microphone earpiece, he turns around to greet and thank everyone, ‘‘ Alright everybody this concludes our shooting! You all worked so hard today. Make it home safe, eat well.’‘

Finally. You sigh out in relief and close your eyes. It’s been a long day. Almost 6 hours of shooting. Three Videos, and five swap outfits for each session of shooting for the ‘’ Night After’’.  As everyone heads out and starts cleaning up you bow your head slightly and thank them.

A stylist brings you a satin robe to cover yourself in. You thank her and put it on just before getting up from the bed and walking towards wardrobe. Once you are done putting on your clothes, your manager leads you straight out the exit. Outside awaits the car that drives you everywhere. Literally everywhere.

‘‘ Tomorrow somebody has put in a special request for you to appear as the main lead girl in their music video. It’s short notice and I told them I would have to bump some things around and notify you. But they are paying us and you good money to be in it.’‘

Money? Sounds like a plan.

‘‘ It’s fine. Who am I shooting for?’‘ You say, fluffing your hair just a little while inspecting yourself in the rear view mirror.

Your makeup is still intact with no ruins and the contacts they had given you suited you very well. A hazel with a slight bit of teal. Suddenly the car moves off into the busy streets of Seoul. You can’t help but to notice every couple that walks along the sidewalks. They seem so happy, glad to be around each other.

On the floor of the car lies your little mini backpack filled with all of your items and belongings. Picking it up, you begin to dig through it looking for some hand lotion to soothe your semi-dry hands. Once you find it you gently start to squeeze the tube.

‘‘ Kim Namjoon.’‘

You freeze. Namjoon? The same Namjoon from the group? Joonie? It’s been well… a year since you’ve seen him in person. Hell since you’ve seen all of Bangtan Sonyeondan together. Except for lastnight when Hoseok and.. that guy showed up.

You sigh already knowing the answer from the question you are about to ask.

‘‘ From…?’‘ You ask then put the lotion back in your bag. Slowly you rub your hands together to moisturize.

Your manager quickly flips through the daily planner, ‘‘ Bangtan Sonyeodan but this is for one of his mixtape songs.’‘

Thank goodness.

‘‘ That’s fine. What time will the car be arriving tomorrow?’‘

‘‘ 8 am on the dot. You need to be there by 8:30. I’ll be tending to one of my other models tomorrow so you will be alone. I can send som-’‘

‘‘ No no it’s truly okay. I know how to manage things myself. Besides, I learn from you.’‘ You reassure her with one of your winning smiles, laying your head on her shoulder.

‘‘ Aigoo what am I going to do with you?’‘

The day ends very well. The movies you’ve been watching have kept you occupied. But not occupied enough for you to keep crying at all the sad parts in the chick flicks. Breakups, someone had died, someone had even just spilled something onto the floor and that was enough to send you into tears.Only because when the main lead boy rushed to help clean it up, it reminded you of Jimin last-night helping Isabel.

‘’What is going on with myself.’’ You blow your nose into a tissue for what seemed like the thousandth time today. Clara lets out one of her meows beside you then goes back to grooming herself.

You place her onto your lap and begin to run your fingers through her fur over and over again. Such a soothing effect to you as you stare into space sulking in your thoughts.

Why is it that you weren’t enough for him? Why is it that every single little thing reminds you of him? You gave him your all and he gave you his but what happened? Where did you go wrong? Cooked, cleaned, satisfied his needs. You guys had even started to plan out what you wanted out of a family. When you wanted a baby and what you would name it. It was fun. The whole relationship was fun. Right until that scandal.

Ding.. Ding.. Ding.. DI-

You unlock your phone immediately to stop that annoying dinging noise. Not surprisingly it’s a text from Jeon Jungkook.

Kookie : Im coming over I’ll be there in exactly 3 minutes.

Kookie: Don’t think about leaving either.

Kookie: Im bringing someone with me.

Kookie: We need to have a serious talk babycheeks.

You roll your eyes at the nickname he’s given you. No matter how many times you tell him you want him to change it, he declines. There’s no point in asking anymore.

Why would he want to talk anyways and who is the person he’s bringing. Eh.. it might just be Ryan they seem to do everything together as a team.

As soon as you step foot out of your bed the sound the door clicking makes your head shoot up. How in the living hell does he know the password to your house? Rage takes over you. That’s something that you hate. When people invade your personal space. In this case, personal home.

‘‘ Jeon fucking Jungkook!’‘ You scream, abruptly stomping your feet all the way to and out your bedroom door. Suddenly you stop at the sight of the two faces staring back at you.

Jungkook’s expression holds a concerned yet upset face while the other just stands there calm and cool. But you on the other hand are way besides that level.

Your eyes must be filled with rage and the expression on your face is no good. How dare he disrespect you like that? Bringing him into your home, knowing the bad blood between you two. Oh, they both have something coming towards them. You begin to walk to them again making each step make the floor shake.

‘‘ Get out. Both of you. One you invade my personal private home..’‘

You grab both boys by their collars, making sure to grip the one on the right’s harder than usual. ‘‘ Two, you fucking invite him over here.’‘ You drag each of them towards the exit. Which is going good until Jungkook rips your hands away from his shirt and takes you over his shoulder.

You’ve had enough of him and his invasive ways. Pounding on his back with your fists, you make sure to scream into his ear. “ Put me the fuck down Jeon Jungko-”

You hiss at the stinging sensation on your ass. Did he just? Jimin stands there awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. You make sure to make eye contact with him and roll your eyes. Something that always had and will piss him off.

‘‘ Hush. I told you all of us needed to have a deep talk about you.’‘

Jungkook plops your frail body onto one side of the couch in which he sits next to you. He motions for Jimin to come sit across from the both of you but you aren’t having it.

‘‘ Don’t you do it.” You glare at him. Jungkook sighs harshly only to pluck your forehead two times. You whine and rub it with your index and middle finger.

Jungkook shakes his head in disapproval, ‘‘ When are you ever going to learn? Jimin sit down now.”

‘‘ Truthfully.. I feel as though I shouldn’t be here so-”

“ Good. Get out you are unwanted.” You snap back causing him to give you one of his long stares with no facial expression at all.

Jungkook glares at you just before getting up to throw his hands in the air full of disappointment. “ Enough! “

Yelling. Something else you don’t like to hear being done at yourself. You finally sit still and quite avoiding any eye contact with the both of them.

He sits back down and clears his throat. Jungkook gives Jimin a look before continuing on.

‘‘ I gathered us here to talk about you..”

‘‘ Why. Im fine. How many times do I have to say it. Im fine im fine im fine im fucking fine!’‘ You exclaim, getting more mad by the second. When will people accept this?

‘‘ Baby.. ’‘

Your eyes shoot up to him and his soft voice. You didn’t want to but you did because his voice to you is like candy that melts into your mouth.

‘‘ Don’t call me that. You have a girlfriend at-least be loyal to her rather than what you did to me.’‘

‘‘ Fuck is anybody going to just sit here and listen? Can we at-least get to the source of the problem? Huh?’‘ Jungkook leans back into the couch clearly pissed by your attitude.

Jimin’s the first to speak and holds a firm eye contact with you, almost daring you to break away from it.

‘‘ Fine. Im just going to cut straight to it then. Why are you so jealous? You aren’t okay at all. I seen the way you looked at us yesterday. You wanted to break down so bad but you didn’t. It looks like you’ve been dropping weight day by day why aren’t you eating well?’’

You’re taken a-back by his jealous comment. Although you are you just cannot admit it. You are jealous. You do want him back. You cant bear to see him with another girl but you. But the fact that Jimin is concerned makes you really hope. Just hope that there is something left of you still in his heart.

‘‘ Jealous? Jealous tuh.” You scoff, leaning into Jungkook’s arms where you rest his head on your chest. You only do this just to see Jimin’s reaction and by the look on his face he doesn’t enjoy that move one bit.

‘‘ Yes jealous. I mean why else would you put almond extra-

‘‘ Woah. No need to go there. We established that it was a so called accident lastnight.” Jungkook does finger quotes into the air and looks down at you.

You lift your head up and furrow your eyebrows in annoyance, “ So called? So you really believe that I did it on purpose. Wow Jungkook. Escort yourself out.’’

He sighs, wrapping his arms around you securly in hopes of you settling down a  little, “ Honestly it’s not like that. I wasn’t there to see you bake them nor was I watching her eat it. Im just saying that you knew Jimin was coming and obviously his girlfriend was going to come too. It’s a little sketchy is all.”

There’s no fixing what he said. Him adding onto his explanation just made things sound worse than what he’s trying to say. You don’t have time to be ganged up on, nor like it at all. It’s best if they both just leave, to not turn nothing into something.

‘‘ Get out. Now. Before I call and tell Ryan what you said and then she’ll definitely deal with you.’‘ You say, removing yourself from off of him and onto the other side of the couch with your legs crossed.

Mad isn’t even the word to describe yourself right now. You’re just a mixture of all emotions.

Jungkook now looks of sorriness written all over his face. You bite your lip and shake your head while pointing towards the door. He sighs heavily and takes one last look at you while removing himself from the couch. You watch him slip on his coat and shoes.

Jimin gets up from his spot on the couch, ‘‘ I’ll be leav-”

‘‘ Sit down we aren’t done talking.” 

He looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed, sitting back down slowly.

Jungkook keeps his head down as he wraps his blue scarf around his neck. Poor baby, but he shouldn’t of said it. “Please better yourself and talk it out with each-other. Im leaving.”

‘‘ Make it home safely.. Kookie.” You sigh once the door closes behind him. Now you’re here. Face to face with Park Jimin.

The same Jimin who cheated on you. The same Jimin you haven’t seen in a while. You take a few moments to take in his appearance. He seems to have re-gained his muscles that are peaking through his black, longsleeve shirt. His thighs are still thick, just like his luscious lips. Of course he changed his hair color to black. But who knows, he might change it again.

‘‘ You’ve been doing well?’‘ You say, voice low but enough for him to hear. You drop your eyes to your lap instead of keeping intact with his.

‘‘ Yes. But you have not. Im disappointed in you. Why are you doing this to yourself? Don’t do this because of me.”

‘‘ Jimin you don’t know the feeling. You don’t know how it feels to be left wondering why you weren’t good enough for someone. Why they had cheated on you. You don’t understand at all and wont ever.’‘ Your voice cracks on the last sentence and you an feel the lump in your throat become sore.

He bites his lip unsure of what to say next. Those words had hit him good inside. ‘‘ Im sorry. I truly am. But you know the reason why we had to end it. I fucked up bad and the media was making the scandal bigger and messier day by day. It was better to just call it off.’‘

One by one your tears start to drop. You nose begins it’s running trip but you sniffle it back up.

‘‘ You could of denied it. You know you could of made a statement and denied it. But you felt something for her didn’t you? Didn’t you?’‘ You semi-yell, sobs already starting to take it’s way over.

He bites his lip once again and ruffles his fingers through his hair, “ Baby..’’

You wipe your tears with your hands making your face even more puffy from the crying. “ I am jealous. I am I admit it Jimin. But do you know i have been suffering for one year and two months? I can’t sleep at night because im so used to your touch at night. I look at every couple in Seoul and think to myself, Dang they seem so happy. What’s their secret?’’

Jimin sits up, making eye contact with you with tears welling up into his eyes. It hurt’s you more than yourself to see him crying. It always has.

‘‘ Please don’t do that. Don’t do this to yourself. Please get help from someone to try and move on. Please. I don’t like to see or hear you make yourself suffer.’ He begs, getting up from his seat and coming towards you.

Jimin sits next to you, hesitantly opening his arms up to you. Would it be wrong to embrace him? He’s being too sincere, but thats what you want right? You decide to just do it, and lean into him only for him to pull you in closer into his chest.You just lay there crying and sobbing while he runs his fingers through your hair. You shouldn’t be doing this. He has a girlfriend. But it feels so right.

‘‘ What does she have that I don’t? Why couldn’t you love me the same way you love her “  You cry into his chest, soaking his shirt with your tears. 

You’d been waiting for this moment to just let it out. Let everything out.

‘’ Please don’t make this harder than what it is right now. Just try and forget me and move on. Please.” Hypocritcal. How does he expect you to get over him when he’s the one whos holding you so tight right now. Soon enough his sniffles join yours in harmony.

You raise your head up and look him deep into the eyes while you wipe away his tears, “ Don’t cry Jimin. I’m the one supposed to be crying over you. Don’t cry.’’

He takes your hand away from his face and wraps his fist ontop of yours, “Please promise me you will move on okay?’’

You shake your head no, “ I can’t make that promise.”

He doesn’t say anything. He gently cradles you in his arms and lifts you up. You don’t think to where he is going. You just close your eyes and grab onto his shirt firmly not wanting to let go.

Soon enough you feel the cold sheets over your bed. He covers you in the duvet and leans down to your forehead.  A kiss. Your fist is still locked onto his shirt in which he tries to pry it away but you don’t want to let him go. He sighs and raises his arms up as he takes off the shirt revealing an extra plain white wife beater under it. Taking your other hand, he wraps your hand into another fist onto the shirt to where both of your hands are holding onto it.

‘‘ Please better yourself for me baby. Sleep and eat well. “

Is all he says before turning off the lights and walking out your bedroom door.  You can hear him putting on and zipping up his heavy coat but you just don’t make a sound.

The apartment door clicks and beeps letting you know he’s already gone.

[fific7]

Ticket to Ride - Part 1

Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: Inspired by The Beatles song of the same name. This takes place in my S1 Punisher AU with Arrogant!Billy in attendance. Billy gets a taste of his own medicine.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, including oral, between consenting adults* in some chapters. Drinking and swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My photo edit)

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

𝕀 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕀'𝕞 𝕘𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕤𝕒𝕕, 𝕀 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕚𝕥'𝕤 𝕥𝕠𝕕𝕒𝕪, 𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕙

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥'𝕤 𝕕𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕕 𝕚𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕨𝕒𝕪

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You were grabbing armfuls of clothes out of the wardrobe and dumping them into the three massive suitcases you’d laid open on the floor. If any of your friends had seen you at that point, they’d have said you looked like a woman possessed.

Finally, the wardrobe was empty of your clothes, and you moved on to the chest of drawers and then the bathroom. The contents were shovelled into a couple of large backpacks, as were various other bits and bobs from bedside table drawers and shelving units. In a surprisingly short space of time, you’d packed up everything that belonged to you in this damned apartment.

That left you just two very quick things to do, and you could then somehow get all this luggage downstairs into the lobby and get the hell out of Dodge.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The receptionist at the airport hotel you were booking into looked at the amount of luggage you had with you, and studied your face again carefully. No doubt she was wondering if you were a celebrity. Obviously deciding that there was an outside chance that you were but she just hadn’t recognised you, you were given an upgrade on the room without even asking for one.

Plopping down onto the bed once you’d got into your room, you rummaged around in one of the backpacks until you found your laptop, connecting it to the hotel WiFi. Opening one of the major airlines’ websites, you began scrolling through the destinations offered from JFK.

So many to choose from!

Now to plan your getaway.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy Russo got back home really late. He was going to be in trouble, no doubt about it... he hadn’t even texted because he hadn’t wanted to face any questions about what he was doing and when he’d be home.

Opening the apartment door, he was surprised to find it in darkness. Oh... had she gone to bed already? That wasn’t a good sign. He switched on the lights and immediately noticed a sheet of paper and a photo frame lying prominently on the kitchen island.

Walking over, he didn’t even have to pick up the note to read it. There was only one word, printed large.

“Goodbye.”

His stomach knotted and then he looked at the photo frame lying next to it. The photo was the one which was usually on the bedside table, a favourite of his.... she was sitting on a bar stool and he was behind her, his arms right around her. Both laughing into the lens as the photo was taken.

The photo was still in the frame, but it was torn in two.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Finally, by the next morning you’d decided on London. You’d never been, and quite honestly wanted to lose yourself in another big city. Flight booked, an AirBnB apartment booked for two weeks and you didn’t need a visa, so you were all set.

Now just one more thing to do. You opened up the box containing your new mobile phone and fitted the SIM card into it. After about twenty minutes of entering contact details and various apps onto it, you took your original phone and called Karen.

Her bored voice answered so you knew she was already at work, but she perked up when she heard your voice.

“Hi honey! How’re things? Wanna meet up for lunch today? I’m bored and I need a good gossip.”

You were a freelance copy writer and so you were your own boss. There were one or two assignments you were currently working on, but you could work from anywhere you could get a WiFi connection, so that wasn’t a problem.

“Uhhh, sadly not darling, I’m flying to London this afternoon.” You could hear her intake of breath, then she squealed, “Oh you lucky woman, how’d you manage to land an assignment like that?”

You gave a bitter little laugh, “I’ve left Billy.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy had sat on his sofa for a long time after he’d seen the note and photo. At first he’d just had to sit down, overwhelmed, as he had the most horrible feeling that his world was crashing down around his ears.

She was the one person who made him feel safe and loved. But he knew only too well that he’d been walking the line recently what with the situation at Anvil and having to keep Madani sweet. He hadn’t actually crossed the line, but he’d had to make sure she thought that he would, and soon at that. Would he have crossed it? He’d need to get back to himself on that question.

Of course he’d mentioned none of this to his girl. But obviously - somehow - he mustn’t have done a very good job at being discreet because she’d guessed something was up. And left him.

He’d poured himself a large whisky and downed it in one, before going over to the window and looking out forlornly at the city lights. Then he called Frank.

When he heard the gruff growl on the other end of the line, he said, “She’s left me, Frankie,” and realised how hoarse his voice sounded.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

“What?!” screeched Karen. You hadn’t divulged your recent secret fears to her, hoping against hope that you were wrong when you’d started noticing little things over the past few weeks. But now you gave her a full rundown of it all.

More and more claims of ‘working late’ and ‘being very busy at work’.

Alcohol on his breath after he’d been on these ‘working late’ evenings.

A distinct smell of CK’s Eternity from a jumper he’d left crumpled up in a corner on the bedroom floor when he’d been out extra late one evening.

The final straw? You almost laughed when you thought about it, as it was such a cliché. A smear of dark red lipstick on the inside collar on one of his otherwise pristine white shirts. And another unmistakable whiff of Eternity.

You’d never be able to wear that damn perfume again.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Frankie had been suitably sympathetic to start with, but had then begun to berate Billy for being ‘a stupid asshole’ once he’d explained what he’d been up to with Madani. “I didn’t sleep with her!” Billy grumbled, “....just messin’ around. You know we need to know what she knows.”

“Yeah, but women ain’t stupid, Russo! Were you goin’ home reeking of booze and another woman’s perfume?” Billy said nothing at first, just grunted but then said, “Maybe. Yeah.. probably.” “See!” said Frank, “...you’re a stupid asshole!” “I mean, she didn’t even challenge me on it!” Frank started laughing, “So that makes it her fault, huh!? You’re a piece of work, Russo.” “No, no.... I just meant, aren’t you supposed to have arguments about that kinda stuff first? She just up and left me!”

“I don’t blame her,” said Frank, “...and you know she’s not the type to take any BS from you, Bill. She probably thought it wasn’t worth her time listenin’ to you tryna give excuses for the inexcusable.”

Billy was reminded by this that one of Frank’s pet peeves was infidelity. “But I didn’t cheat!” said Billy forcefully. “Whaddya do, kiss her?” “Yeah.” “Feel her up a bit?” “Mmhuh.” “That’s cheatin’ in my book, Russo.” Billy realised he was hanging his head in shame, and quickly looked up and out of the window again.

“I dunno what to do, Frankie.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d given Karen your new number and told her on pain of death not to pass it on to anyone, even Frank and especially not to Billy. She’d assured you she wouldn’t, and neither would she tell them where you were headed.

She’d been fuming at Billy, and you wouldn’t like to be in his shoes the next time she happened to meet up with him. Her rage had been quite spectacular and she was really, really pissed that Billy hadn’t even tried to contact you. You didn’t say anything to her, but secretly you wondered if he’d actually spent the night with his side piece on this occasion and hadn’t even seen your note yet. Jealousy and anger began to take over and you stood up abruptly, determined that thoughts of that douchebag weren’t going to invade your brain.

You took the SIM card out of the phone, shut it down and tucked it away in one of your bags. Gathering all your stuff together, you began to get ready to leave the room..

Can’t wait to get on that plane, you thought.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Frankie rang Billy back a couple of hours later. “Micro tracked her phone,” he said without preamble. “Where is she? At Karen’s?” Billy asked anxiously. There was a pause, then, “Nah, Bill. She’s at JFK. And her phone’s switched off now.”

Billy, standing next to the window again, yelled, “Fuck!” before leaning his head against the cold glass. “Can Micro find out which flight’s she’s booked on, Frankie?” “He can try, but it’ll involve some hacking so it might take a little longer.” He paused again, before continuing, “And avoid Karen. She’s out for your blood.”

Billy sighed, “She’s spoken to her?” “Yeah, course she has, Bill. She knows more than she’s tellin’ me of course, but I’m not even gonna try askin’ her. Waste of time.” “It’s okay, I get it, Frankie. I wouldn’t ask you to. But if she does say anythin’.....” “I’ll let you know,” Frank finished the sentence for him and hung up.

Billy looked out of the window and then up into the sky. She wanted to get away from him so badly, she’d got a plane ticket and was about to fly.

He just prayed he’d be able to find her before she took off.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane @omgrachwrites @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @ourloveisforthelovely @swthxrry @odetostep

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

London

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Chapter Eight: Family Dinner (Pranks/Dad Jokes)

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AO3

Bruce Wayne was not an emotional man. In fact, his emotional capability had once been compared to that of a teaspoon. He had emotions, obviously, but he didn’t express them. Or rather, he wasn’t sure how to express them. But staring down at the photo album in front of him, it was almost painful having no way to express his emotions. It was the most thoughtful gift he had ever received, and it was one that he would treasure forever. He didn’t have baby pictures of his other children. Dick’s were lost at some point while he was still with Haley’s Circus. Jason’s were lost when he had to live on the street. Tim...well, there were a few pictures of Tim. But they were all highly staged school pictures. And those didn’t start until kindergarten. And Damian….Talia wasn’t ever the type to be sentimental. Which meant there were no baby pictures of him either. But Marinette...her entire life had been catalogued. From sonograms, to her first Christmas and the first competition she won. Everything was laid out in order. Bruce turns back to the start of the book, prepared to close it, when an envelope catches his eye. He wasn’t focused on it when he first opened the book. He glances at Marinette and quirks an eyebrow. She frowns.

“Oh, that. Um, it’s the letter that Bridgette wrote to you. I haven’t actually read it, Maman said she hasn’t either. Your name was on the front and apparently she felt awkward opening a letter not addressed to her even with the situation and-” She stops talking, taking a deep breath before smiling. “Sorry. But, you can read it, if you want. I thought you might want to have it.”

“Thank you, Marinette.” He says, smiling slightly. He tries not to laugh when her face lights up seeing him smile. Note, try and show emotions more around Marinette, he thinks. Sitting back on his chair, he opens the envelope and stares down at the letter he should’ve received fourteen years ago.

Dear Bruce…

---

Marinette lets out a sigh of relief as Mr. Wayne sits to read the letter. Tugging Adrien over to her brothers and plopping down on the loveseat, she smiles.

“So Marinette, I noticed the last time you were here you had a sketchbook. Do you draw a lot?” Dick asks, eyeing the lack of space between her and Adrien. Marinette resists the urge to glare at her brother. Was he seriously plotting some way to get her and Adrien away from each other right now? After Mr. Wayne had invited him? Seriously?

“Well, kinda.” She answers, pulling out her mini sketchbook from her purse. “I actually design clothes. So I draw, but it’s mostly clothes. Sometimes I’ll sketch architecture or flowers or something for inspiration but..” She trails off, tentatively passing her sketchbook to Dick. She watches, bouncing her leg as the awkward silence stretches on while Dick looks at the sketchbook with Tim and Jason glancing over his shoulders. And Cass standing behind the couch was also looking at the sketches. Trying not to feel awkward the longer the silence stretches, Marinette jumps as Tim starts choking on his coffee. He jumps towards her and she yelps, leaping off the loveseat and to the side in order to avoid him.

“What the hell Replacement?” Jason huffs. Tim ignores him, staring at her with wide eyes.

“Holy shit, it’s you.” He says.

“Language, Master Tim. Dinner is ready.” Alfred says, popping out of nowhere.

“What do you mean it’s me?” Marinette asks, taking her sketchbook back and stuffing it back into her purse.

“You’re MDC!” Tim practically yells, waving his (not empty) coffee cup around, barely missing dumping it on her head.

“Um, yes?” She says, confused at his level of excitement.

“How are you not freaking out about this?” Tim asks, turning to Dick and Jason who were trying to get him to follow them to the dining room. Key word being trying.

“Am I supposed to?” Dick asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Richard Grayson! As a fellow Jagged Stone fan you cannot tell me that you don’t recognize the name of his personal designer!” Tim yells. Dick’s eyes widen in realization, turning to Marinette with a shocked smile.

“Wait, that’s you? Marinette, that’s amazing! I knew your sketches were good, but wow. That’s just- wow!” Dick says, his entire face filled with pride. Marinette laughs awkwardly, her face heating up with all the attention. It was….a lot. But also nice.

“Yeah. I mean, I haven’t done an entire tour wardrobe yet, but I’m proud of the pieces that I have done.” She says.

“Terribly sorry, but it might be nice if we moved our conversations to the dining room.” Alfred says, a twinge of amusement clear on his face. Marinette glances over at Mr. Wayne who was still frozen, clutching the letter from her birth mother. She looks at Alfred and raises an eyebrow. He simply shakes his head and motions for her to go on. Sighing, she nods and follows her brothers (and Adrien, who was suddenly in an intense conversation with Tim about Jagged Stone) to the dining room. As they walk into the dining room, Marinette darts around Dick to snag the seat on the other side of Adrien. Tim sitting on one side of Adrien was fine. Adrien stuck between Tim and Dick? Not fine. She gives Dick a look, and he just smiles innocently before walking around and taking the seat across from Adrien. Should’ve seen that one coming. Once everyone is seated (besides Mr. Wayne, who had sent Alfred back in and instructed everyone to start without him) the conversations taper off, leaving the dining room in an awkward silence.

“Marinette, I have a very serious question for you.” Dick says, his smile telling her that the chances of it actually being a ‘very serious’ question are slim to none.

“Okay, sure.”

“Where do fruits go on vacation?” He asks, a wide grin stretching across his face. “Pear-is!” Marinette just blinks at him. That was almost as bad as-

“Oh my god! That was amazing!” Adrien cheers, laughing so hard he has to set his fork down. Oh god. There’s two of them.

“Really?” Dick asks, his face bright. Oh dear god please no.

“Oh yeah. That joke was pun-derful.” Adrien replies with a snort. Please god. Make it stop.

“I’m glad you think so. Everyone else seems a bit pun-sive.” Dick replies. That’s it. She’d willingly give Hawkmoth her Miraculous if it meant she could leave this dinner and the awful jokes happening. She’d even listen to her Papa’s jokes for an entire hour. As long as she could leave this cursed dinner. The sudden blaring from both her phone and Adrien’s makes her jump, and her eyes widen. Okay, no. She didn’t say the thing about the Miraculous out loud, so she doesn’t actually have to give it up, right? No, it’s fine. Taking it back won’t lead to anything crazy, right?

“Uh, I’m gonna run to the bathroom.” Marinette says, jumping up, frowning at Adrien as he jumps up with her.

“Me too!” He says. Marinette frowns. Way to make it obvious, Kitty.

“I’m fine, I can go to the bathroom by myself.” She insists, rushing off to the bathroom before Adrien can argue. She’d figure something out.

---

Dick raises an eyebrow at Adrien’s shocked face.

“Did you need to go to the bathroom? We have more than one bathroom.” He says, worried that maybe the kid’s shocked face wasn’t because of Marinette’s hasty departure and instead because he really needed the bathroom.

“Oh. Um. No, I’m fine. Apparently.” He mutters the last word, dropping down into his seat and staring at his plate. Dick could see the boy’s hands twitching towards his phone like he wanted to check it, but was afraid of being rude. He was about to tell him that it was okay to check his phone when a blue circle of light appeared over the table. An arm covered in red spandex with black spots sticks out of the light (portal) and grabs Adrien by the front of his shirt. Before anyone can stop the arm, Adrien is through the portal. Gone. Well shit.

“Where are Adrien and Marinette?” Bruce asks, walking into the room and frowning at the empty chairs. Well shit!

Next

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @imarivers8

[wistfulcynic]

The Outlaw Killian Jones (and the legend Emma Swan)

SUMMARY: Emma Swan is a schoolteacher, respectable and respected in the small town of Haven, Wyoming. She does her job and minds her business, but she has a secret. One that brings meaning to her dull life and excitement to her restless soul. One that she knows could end at any moment. 

Killian Jones is a man with a powerful enemy and nothing to lose. He’s prepared to sacrifice every bit of that nothing for the sake of his revenge. 

Or, at least, he was. 

-

I am THRILLED to be here, kicking off the @cshistfic​ Historical Fics event! I’ve always loved reading romances set in the past and Westerns are a long-time favourite. Given how deeply entrenched the Western genre is in American culture, it’s funny to think about how a) most of it was made up for dime novels and, later, radio and television shows and movies, and b) the actual historical period that we call the Old West only lasted roughly thirty years—from the post-Civil War westward expansion under the Homestead Act to around the turn of the 20th century. This fic is set right around the end of that time—late 1890s to early 1900s—in the waning moments of the open range and the “lawless” frontier and the start of the modern era with its trains and barbed wire and cars and world wars. I’ve tried to capture a bit of that sense of transition in the story, mostly with the way it ends. 

Huge thanks to @shireness-says​​ for coming up with and running this event, and to @thisonesatellite​​ for Just Being Her. 

Words: 4.9k Rating: T Tags: Western AU, historical, outlaw Killian, schoolteacher Emma, all the historical detail, I did so much research for this 

on AO3

-

The Outlaw Killian Jones (and the legend Emma Swan): 

The hour was late, afternoon edging into evening in the town of Haven, Wyoming. ‘Town’ as a designation flattered it, this tiny settlement tucked back against craggy and striated formations of rock and nestled amongst ragged brush, being, as it was, scarcely more than a handful of rough-hewn cabins, a church, a general store, a blacksmith and livery stable, a saloon with its attendant whorehouse, and a school. 

The store and the smithy did the town’s most active business; unsurprisingly, seeing as they were the only examples of either within the radius of a good fifty miles. The residents—those who lived within the town’s scant limits—were certainly insufficient in their numbers to support either one, but the owners of those ranches that lay outside the town, they and their ranch hands, their wives, and their daughters, frequented both with pleasing regularity. 

The general store doubled, as such establishments generally did, as a post office, in which capacity it served as the sole tenuous link between this stark western land and the fashionable cities of the east. The Sears and Roebuck catalogue and that of Montgomery Ward, both prominently displayed beside the till, were tattered and well-thumbed, and the monthly mail delivery never came without piles of brown-wrapped parcels containing the latest in fashion and technology from the wider world—hints at the wonders promised by the new century. 

Very little of this prosperity touched the actual residents of Haven. The lives they lived were hard ones, scratched from unforgiving soil, but they were good folk, honest and hard-working. They lived simply and piously and for the most part happily. They tended their gardens and their livestock, read their Bibles, loved their children, and whenever possible sent those children to school. 

The Haven school, a single room with two windows, one on either side, and a disproportionate bell-tower on the roof—both this tower and the bell it contained were gifts from a local rancher, who considered them a better use of his money than blackboards or books—was located well away from the town’s main street. It had no fireplace, only a tiny, smoky, potbellied stove, and in the warmer months no breeze blew through the unglazed windows. The pupils sat on simple benches and copied their lessons onto slates that sold at the general store for rather more than their parents could comfortably afford; lessons their teacher laid out for them on a thickly-whitewashed wall with a piece of charcoal, the dust of which stained her fingers and her clothing, and embedded itself beneath her nails so deeply there were times she felt she’d never be free of it. 

This teacher’s name, the one she used, was Miss Emma Swan. A solitary and self-contained woman of about twenty-six, far too pretty for a schoolteacher most said, and if pressed these same would likely agree that teaching was not what folks might refer to as her calling. Though none could deny that she did her best and was kind to the children—a thing not always guaranteed from schoolmarms—she exuded such a restless air, an impatience with the tedium of her job and the pace of life in Haven which she did not trouble to conceal, that it was a subject of great curiosity amongst the residents why she continued to stay there. 

“I have my reasons,” she would say, whenever anyone dared to broach the subject, “and those reasons are my own.” There it was and there it would remain as far as Emma was concerned, and as the townsfolk knew her to be a courteous woman but one who never minced her words when riled, they declined to press the issue. 

By the time Miss Emma Swan had finished up in the schoolroom on this particular late afternoon, the floor swept and the board cleaned and lessons all prepared for the following day, the sun was already slipping behind the craggy rocks at her back and casting upon the town a peculiar sort of distended twilight—shrouded in shadows beneath a glaring blue sky. As she made her way the short distance between the schoolhouse and her own cabin—or rather, the schoolteacher’s cabin, perhaps the most compelling perk of her job—a brisk breeze ruffled the hem of her skirt and the few flyaway hairs that had escaped her tidy Gibson bun. The night would likely be another chilly one, and Emma wondered absently if she had enough wood left to leave the fire high for an extra hour or two or if she should resign herself now to another cold, dark evening spent alone. 

The cabin where she lived, she and sixty years of schoolteachers before her, was small and rough like most in Haven and comprised only two rooms: a small bedroom to the rear and a larger space at the front used equally for sitting, cooking, and dining. In this front room was both a fireplace and stove, the latter surprisingly modern and another gift from a different rancher, to the previous teacher. Near this stove sat a small wooden table and two matching chairs; a soft and generous armchair had pride of place before the fire. 

The bedroom was by far Emma’s preferred room. The walls in it were painted, in a pale and soothing blue, and on one of them a charming watercolour of forget-me-nots was hung. There was a white wardrobe with a mirrored door, a washstand and a vanity table, and a large bed with a sturdy iron frame. The curtains on the single window were of dotted swiss that Emma had sewn herself, and in the morning when she opened them she was greeted by the colours of the dawn. 

Emma removed her buttoned boots the moment she was through the door; they pinched her toes and she disliked wearing them indoors. She replaced them with a well-worn pair of carpet slippers then headed for the bedroom, there to change out of her school clothes and into the more comfortable, loose wrap dress she preferred at home. When she entered the room she had already undone most of the buttons on her high-collared blouse and so made straight for the wardrobe, without so much as a glance at the bed. 

The mirror on the wardrobe door as it swung open flashed the brief reflection of a face, just as Emma heard the sound of a chair leg scrape against the bare wood floor. She gasped and spun around, eyes wide and one hand pressed against her chest. 

There could be no question that the man currently in occupation of her vanity chair, sprawled in it with an air as casual as it was deceptive, was one who had followed quite a different path of life than that afforded to the residents of Haven. His untidy hair and the thick scruff on his jaw might not be especially remarkable out in this still-wild corner of Wyoming, but the narrow cut of his coat and the embroidery on the waistcoat beneath it, the silver chain of his pocket-watch and the ostentatious knot of his tie marked him as a man who knew his way around a gambling table for both good or ill and could likely acquit himself equally well in both scenarios. A man who dealt with the hardships of life by shooting rather than working his way out of them—as the gleaming six-shooter currently pointed straight at Emma would most certainly attest. 

Emma forced herself to breathe, slow and steady. Her heart was pounding. The man greeted her with a brusque nod, and cocked the hammer on his revolver. 

“Don’t let me interrupt you, love,” he drawled, in an accent that suited this town less even than his clothes or his gun. “By all means, keep going.” 

Emma swallowed hard and with trembling fingers undid the remainder of her buttons. Her blouse hung open to reveal the hooks of the corset underneath. 

The man gave his gun a menacing wave. “All the way now, there’s a good lass.” 

She shrugged off the blouse and let it fall to the floor. 

“And the skirt.” 

She unhooked her grey wool skirt and released it to pool around her ankles. 

His voice rasped. “Take down your hair.” 

Emma shivered.

Three pins and two combs held her hair in place. She removed them, dropped them into the pile of clothing at her feet; the bun tumbled down and over her shoulder. 

“Shake your head.” 

She did, vigorously. The bun unraveled further and strands of silky blonde fell across her face. 

He swallowed audibly. “Now the rest.” 

Emma hesitated, fingers hovering over the hooks on her corset. She wore nothing beneath it but a combination made of thin cotton lawn.

The man raised his gun and growled, “All of it.” 

She tossed her head back, jutted her chin out high in defiance. Her belly churned with a dark thrill of anticipation as she unhooked the corset and flung it away. He chuckled, low and rough. Emma fumbled with the buttons on her combination as he uncocked his gun and set it aside, then undid the belt designed to hold it. His eyes locked with hers as he stood, pale blue and profoundly tired, eyes that had seen far too much. 

She finished with the buttons but left the combination on, parted to reveal a thin strip of pale skin. Her heart thundered as he approached, her breaths short and heaving. He swaggered up and stopped in front of her, close enough that she could smell the dust and sweat on him, so close she had to tilt her head again to see his face. His hand slipped beneath her shift to curl around her waist, fingers rough on her soft skin. 

“I—” Emma gasped as he pulled her closer, flush against him. His voice was a rumbling growl in her ear.

“You what, love?” 

“I was expecting you yesterday!” she snapped, and then she kissed him. 

-

“Gold is dead.” 

Emma’s head shot up from where it had been resting on the bare and hairy chest of Killian Jones. The most notorious outlaw in three states, or so the Wanted posters would have folks believe. Train robber, bank robber, high-stakes gambler—but only the trains and banks and gambling dens controlled by one particular man. A man in whose side Killian Jones had been an exceptionally troublesome thorn for near to six years. A man whose wife Jones stood accused of murdering. A man who was, it seemed, now dead himself. 

Emma stared down at his face, at the sharp definition of his cheekbones and lines of strain around his eyes. Such heavy burdens he’d been carrying for as long as she’d known him, but now, despite the exhaustion writ plain on his face he seemed lighter. Relieved, in some intangible way. 

“He is?” she gasped. 

“Aye.” Killian nodded, grimly satisfied. “Shot him right through the place where his heart should be. That’s why I was late.” 

“Oh, Killian.” It wouldn’t do to feel happy about a murder, even that of a wicked man, but Emma found that she too was grimly satisfied. “You did it.” 

“Aye, it’s done. And now I have a price on my head so high I’d turn myself in if I could, and special team of bounty hunters hired by Gold’s son to bring me to him, dead or alive.” 

“Oh.” Her fingers flexed on his chest and his tightened where they curled around her hip. “What—what will you do?” 

“Leave the country.” He spoke as though the answer were obvious, and Emma supposed it was. “I’ve no choice.” 

“Will you go back to England?” 

“No. There’s nothing left for me there.” He paused and his hand slid up her back to tangle absently in her hair. “I was thinking South America. Argentina.” 

“Argentina?” 

“Aye. Land’s selling down there for cheap and I’ve enough saved to buy myself a ranch. I’ve never tried ranching before so it’ll probably be an utter failure, but the idea’s crawled into my head and made itself a nest there, so I think that’s what I’ll do.” 

Emma slipped from his arms and out of bed. She could feel his eyes on her as she took her house dress from the wardrobe and wrapped it around herself, as she tied it at her waist with jerky movements. 

“You must be hungry,” she said. 

“I could eat.” 

“Stew?” 

“Perfect.” 

In the front room Emma piled wood on the embers in her stove and coaxed a fire to life beneath the pot of stew she’d left on the hob. She swept the ashes from the fireplace, arranged the logs and the kindling, then struck a flint to light it. She could hear Killian in the bedroom washing and dressing in the spare clothes she kept on hand for him, and by the time she sensed his presence behind her the larger logs were catching nicely and the hearty aroma of stew had begun to waft in from the stove. 

“Shouldn’t be too long before it’s ready,” she told him without turning around. “There’s cornbread too. It’s a few days old, but—” 

“Emma.” 

“—it should still be good if you dunk it in the stew.” 

“Emma, love.” Killian’s voice was soft, full of the tenderness he showed only to her. “Talk to me.” 

“About what?” 

It wasn’t as though she hadn’t known this day would come, this one or another very like it. She understood the dangers of the life he lived, out on the edges of society, pursued by an influential man with a terrible grudge, and she’d done all she could to make her peace with it. Killian could have died any number of times in the three years of their acquaintance; she had always been aware that every time she bid him farewell might be the last. 

And now she knew for certain that it would be. Nothing had changed. 

She heard him pull out one of the dining chairs and sit down in it, and though she kept her back to him she he knew he would be leaning his elbow on the table and running a hand over his face. She could picture the gesture in her mind’s eye with perfect clarity, so often had she seen him do it before, and her heart hurt because she knew he only did this when he was deeply troubled. 

“Emma, you know—you know why I spent so long trying to kill Gold,” he said roughly. 

“For Milah.” Her voice hardly broke on the name. “To avenge her.” 

“Yes. That bastard hunted her like an animal, shot her right in front of me then framed me for the crime, and all because she couldn’t bear to spend another moment as his wife. He took her life rather than allow her to live it free from him, because he couldn’t countenance her finding happiness with another man. And I swore to her as she lay dying that I would make him pay for that.” 

“Because you love her.” 

“I did.” In the silence of the cabin, she could hear the rasp of his scruff against his palm. “I did.” 

Emma had been watching the fire, now dancing merrily in the hearth, and it took a beat or two for his words to register. When they did her heart gave a shuddering thump and she spun round to gape at him. “Did?” she repeated. 

Killian’s lip quirked and humour flared briefly in his eyes before they became solemn again, and heartrendingly soft. “It’s a funny thing, revenge,” he remarked. “It begins as a simple quest for justice but so easily descends into obsession—almost before a man knows what’s come over him, it’s all he’s got left to live for. That’s how it was for me, for years. Until…” 

He trailed off and Emma found she was holding her breath. “Until?” she prompted.

He looked up at her. “Until I met you.” 

She inhaled sharply as their eyes met, his own warm and such a brilliant blue, full of an emotion to which she didn’t dare give a name. “I kept after Gold because of my vow to Milah, yes, but also because I had to, because it was him or me. His life or mine. When that bullet pierced his chest and I saw him fall, I realised that it wasn’t about Milah for me anymore and it hadn’t been, not for a long time. I was fighting for my life, my right to have it and to live it in peace. That’s all I want, just peace and a simple life. And you.” 

“Me?” gasped Emma, blankly and ungrammatically, as she attempted to grasp what he was saying. 

Amusement coloured the tenderness on his face, alongside a hint of exasperation. “Don’t you know, Emma?” he asked with a shake of his head. “Why do you think I kept coming back here?”

She offered a weak smile and an abashed shrug. “My cornbread?” she ventured, and he laughed. 

“I don’t know how to tell you this, darling, but your cornbread is dry. Try again.” 

Emma elected to ignore this ungentlemanly slur on her culinary skills. “Well… I suppose the town is quite secluded, good for hiding out,” she observed.  

“It is that. But that isn’t the reason, love.” 

“Isn’t it?”

“You know it isn’t.” Killian stood and moved towards her, slowly as if she were a baby faun he was apt to startle, or possibly a sleeping mountain lion. “It’s you, Emma Swan,” he said softly. “You are what I will always come back for. You are the reason my soul is hale and unconsumed by hatred. Because it wasn’t revenge I was after, in the end. It was the future I wanted with you.” 

Tears clogged Emma’s throat and pressed insistently behind her eyes. “Killian,” she choked, “I—”

“Shh.” He closed what small distance remained between them and folded her in an embrace to which she clung tightly, face pressed against his shoulder so the soft flannel of his shirt might absorb her tears. “Emma, I know I have next to nothing to offer you.” Killian stroked her hair soothingly as he spoke. “A tenuous existence in an unfamiliar country, backbreaking work that likely won’t pay off, a struggle for everything we have. I shouldn’t ask this of you. I should have the decency to walk away and let you find happiness with a better man than me.” She could hear tears in his voice now, and when she looked up she saw them glistening in his eyes. “But I won’t,” he continued gruffly. “I can’t, because I am a selfish bastard and I love you. I love you so much, Emma.” His voice broke. “So much. And if you could see your way clear to coming to Argentina with me, I would spend every day I have left on this earth working to make you happy.” 

A rush of joy filled Emma Swan then, joy such as she had never known before. Her tears fell freely and unheeded as she tightened her hold on the man she loved and pressed her forehead to his own. In that stance they remained for some considerable time, until Emma became aware that the silence had drawn out far too long and she must speak. There were words he needed to hear from her, crucial words, and yet Miss Emma Swan, despite being quite a competent schoolteacher in all respects including her vocabulary, had always found words failed her when in the grip of strong emotion. 

“Did I ever tell you I grew up on a ranch?” she blurted, then shook her head. That wasn’t what she’d wished to say.

Killian’s brow wrinkled. “You’ve mentioned it.” 

“My daddy’s place out near Casper,” Emma pressed on. “A thousand acres of cattle, mostly, and some horses.” 

“It sounds nice.” 

“It was.” She snuffled and shifted until her head was resting on his shoulder and she felt cradled in his arms. This wasn’t the speech she’d planned but now she found herself determined to give it. “I was his only child, his only family after my mama died, and he reared me all my life to take over from him,” she continued. “But then when I was nineteen he got married again, and had a son. And suddenly ranching was ‘no job for a woman,’ or so he said, and I should look into teaching instead. Or better still get married and become some man’s pretty possession. Preferably the son of a neighbouring rancher, ‘for the future of our family’s land and legacy’.” She paused, remembering, and rubbed her cheek against his shirt. “I told him to go fuck himself.” 

Killian’s laugh rumbled through the both of them. “That’s my tough lass,” he said, with a pride in his voice that warmed her, and made her desperate. 

“But you do know what I’m saying, don’t you Killian?” she persisted. “You hear what I’m telling you?” 

“What I hear is that in addition to being beautiful and brilliant and tough as old boots, you also know how to run a ranch. Which would be bloody useful I must admit, as I haven’t got the first faint clue where to start. Is that what you wanted me to understand?” 

She nodded in relief. “That’s it.”

He brushed the hair back from her face with fingers gentle as the wing of a butterfly. “And is that... all you have to say?”

She felt caught in his eyes, and like to drown in them. “There may be one more thing.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. It’s that I—I—” Emma drew a steadying breath. “I love you too, Killian, and of course I’ll go to Argentina with you.” A smile broke across his face, that rare and brilliant smile of his that set her heart to soaring and broke the dam that held her words in check. “I’d go anywhere with you,” she declared, laughing as he squeezed her tight. “To the moon. To hell itself, and then back out again.” 

“Let’s hope that won’t be necessary.” 

He leaned down to her and she swayed up to him and their lips met in a kiss that sang of love and of hope and of a most solemn promise, if something of a dramatic one. He dipped her back and kissed her until she was dizzy and overcome with laughter, and then swung her up again and into a dance. 

Emma put her head on his shoulder and leaned into him as they danced to music they alone could hear, all around the cabin with the aroma of stew in the air and hope for the future in their hearts. 

-

The disappearance of Miss Emma Swan, schoolteacher and respected resident, shook the town of Haven, Wyoming as nothing had before. Even the escape and subsequent stampede down Main Street of Mr Murchison’s pigs had caused less consternation, since, as the residents all agreed, for that at least there was an explanation. A rusty gate hinge, investigation later revealed, had been the culprit behind the Spectacular Pig Hullabaloo of 1893, whereas Miss Swan had simply vanished, with no explanation given or obvious method of egress. She owned no horse and had not boarded the stage; no one matching her description had been observed at the train station in Casper or anywhere else that a woman alone on foot might reasonably have been expected to turn up. She had taken nothing with her save some clothes and a few books and left nothing behind but a brief letter hastily scrawled on a scrap of paper—her resignation from her position as schoolteacher effective immediately, and a recommendation for her replacement. 

Haven residents were thoroughly baffled, and for many months afterwards the Fantastical Vanishing of Miss Emma Swan was the number one topic of conversation amongst them. Theories were dismantled nearly as quickly as they had been constructed, replaced by newer and ever more fanciful speculations, and each resident had his or her own pet notion as to how and why the trick was done. Rarely had they felt so stimulated or enjoyed themselves so thoroughly, however time, as it inevitably does, soon began quite noticeably to pass, and the town’s attention moved on to other happenings. For although new events in such a quiet place may never again be as deliciously sensational as the mystery of the vanished schoolmarm, they do possess the not insignificant advantage of being new.  

And thus Emma Swan passed into Haven legend. 

Some years later, on the eve of her wedding, Miss Mary Margaret Blanchard—soon to be Mrs David Nolan—sat at the very table where Miss Swan’s letter had been left and composed a letter of her own, to an old friend she’d first met at the State Normal School of Colorado. In her letter Miss Blanchard informed her friend of the imminent blessed day and thanked her for the recommendation that had not only brought Miss Blanchard many years of enjoyable work as schoolteacher to Haven’s children but also led, in that roundabout way life sometimes takes, to her current state of blissful happiness. 

This letter travelled by mail coach from the Haven general store—where Miss Blanchard posted it to the care of a P.O. Box in San Francisco—to the main post office in Casper. From there it went via train to Cheyenne, where it was loaded onto the mail car of the Union Pacific Railway and thence made its journey to the west coast. In San Francisco its fortunes underwent a curious change, for it was redirected by a clerk there, in accordance with instructions, and placed back on the Union Pacific, headed this time for Denver. From Denver it voyaged onwards to Kansas City, then Chicago, and finally to New York, where it abandoned train travel forever in favour of a steam ship bound for Buenos Aires. 

Upon arrival at port it was placed in the charge of a courier who carried it along with a scant handful of others over the rough roads of the Argentinian coast to Puerto Santa Cruz and then inland, where it finally, many months after its departure, came to rest at a tiny, dusty outpost in southern Patagonia. And it was from this inauspicious locale that the letter was collected, at long last, by its intended recipient—a woman none of the residents of Haven nor indeed the erstwhile Miss Blanchard herself would be likely to recognise as Emma Swan. 

The clothes she wore were utilitarian in design and plain in colour, liberally coated in fine brown dust. Her pale hair hung loose and wavy down her back, and her face beneath her wide-brimmed hat was tanned and marked around the eyes with the fine lines characteristic of those who spend a good deal of time squinting into bright sunlight. But these were superficial changes. The woman who collected the well-travelled letter and rode with it back to her ranch, who sat at the table in her kitchen and read it with a wide smile and sincere pleasure at the news from her friend—this woman was happy, as Emma Swan had surely never been. It was a happiness born of deep contentment and the satisfaction of a life lived on one’s own terms. And it was the happiness of a woman who is loved. 

Emma was reading the letter a fourth time when the sound of boots on the porch alerted her to Killian’s arrival; she looked up just as he came through the door with a smile on her lips the like of which neither Mrs Nolan nor any other in Haven could ever imagine her smiling. 

Killian hung his hat on a hook and met its brilliance with a smile of his own. “What are you thinking about, love, that has you so radiant?” he inquired. 

“A letter from Mary Margaret.” Emma indicated the sheet of paper in her hand. “She’s getting married. Is married now, I suppose.” 

“To a fellow worthy of her, I hope?” 

“A rancher, but not one of the arrogant ones,” Emma replied. “I think he is. Worthy of her, I mean. I think they’ll be happy.” 

“That’s good news indeed.” 

“It is.” She set the letter aside and went over to him, tucked her head beneath his chin as he enfolded her in his arms. “But that’s not why I’m radiant, as you say.” 

“I say it only because it’s true, darling.” 

“It’s because I’m happy,” said Emma softly. She nuzzled her nose against his neck; he smelled of sweat and dust and horses. “For Mary Margaret, of course, but also for me. It struck me just now, reading her letter, how happy I am. I’m so happy, Killian.” 

His arms around her tightened and she felt him stroke her hair, and when he spoke his voice was gruff. “No regrets then, about abandoning everything you’ve ever known to live out your days on the lam with me?” 

“Nope.” Emma pulled back just enough to look up at him, to caress his cheek with her fingertips and press her forehead to his. “No regrets at all.” 

-

Historical Note: Emma in this fic is based loosely on a woman named Etta Place. Very little is known about her, but she is thought to have been romantically involved with Harry Longabaugh, a.k.a. the Sundance Kid, and to have accompanied him and Butch Cassidy to South America. However, verifiable details about her are scarce—even her real name is uncertain—and only one photograph of her remains. Some believe she may have been a prostitute but in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid the writer chose to make her a teacher instead, and honestly I have always found that such a compelling tale. A “proper” schoolteacher having a secret affair with an outlaw, then running away with him to another continent? The romance, am I right? 

And thus the inspiration for this story. 

-

@ohmightydevviepuu​ @thisonesatellite​ @katie-dub​ @kmomof4​ @killianjones-twopointoh​ @mariakov81​ @stahlop​ @optomisticgirl​ @spartanguard​ @shireness-says​ @snowbellewells​ 

[ohtobeleah]

i know you just updated in production so this can be a simple little concept id you want but what if at some point y/n has to do this big stunt and she kinda messes up and hurts her self and sebastian is just at her side and holding her in a heart beat. and he’s all worried and becomes all protective PLEASE😫 WHAT IF HE LETS A CUTE LITTLE ‘baby’ SLIP OR SOMETHING OMG IM GOING INTO HEART FAILURE JUST THINKING ABOUT IT❤️‍🔥 you’re doing so amazing with this series i love it and you!!

In Production Series The Interview Series

“Shit—“ you hissed under your breath, eyes zoning out for a second, vision fuzzy and blurred before you blinked it rapidly back to normal—stumbling slightly as you tried your best to keep the run through rolling, Sebastian knew he’d got you. He knew he threw a punch too close and smacked you right in the nose—he just didn’t know how hard he’d actually gotten you until his eyes were locking onto the blood that rushed from your nose down over your mouth and dripped violently down your chin, soaking into your shirt.

“Jesus, I really got you huh?” Sebastian paused, his hands coming to cup your face gently as he evaluated the injury, your nose already starting to swell, throbbing up into your sinus and down under your eyes. Sebastians thumb rubbing softly against your cheek. Eyes taking in the sight of his accidentally handy work. His heart breaking.

“M’fine, just need to wash this off.” You mumbled under Sebastians gentle touch. “S’not like i haven’t accidentally made contact with you 87,000 times before.” You shrugged off the injury, taking it like a champ, your head spinning.

“Think it might be broken.” Sebastian teased, knowing full well it wasn’t, just a bloody nose.

“If anything just deviated.” You shot back. “I’ll be fine.” Sebastian didn’t let your head go, the weight of the world falling into his palms as you sighed and closed your eyes. Blood dripping from your nose to your chin. “I should probably go wash my face.”

“You sure you’re okay?” It was the genuine concern that had you melting into a puddle. “Looks kinda messed.”

“Don’t punch me then and we won’t have a problem will we?” Your voice was softer then it usually was, you were just tired, having an off day. Your ex had stopped by unannounced and it’d thrown you off real bad. You head was clouded and dazed, even before you’d gotten caught in the way of Sebastians fist. “It’s not your fault, my dumbass didn’t move fast enough.” Sebastian could sense there was more to your pout. Your energy was off, the positivity and chaotic sense of self he bounced off somewhat depleted. You’d been off all day.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on?” You just shook your head, slowly Sebastian let his hands fall from your cheeks, telling you go so you could clean off and get checked out. His eyes didn’t leave your silhouette until you were out of sight. 

You were pretty docile the rest of the day, quiet and reserved, reading lines when you usually wouldn’t, icing your nose, keeping to yourself. Sebastian didn’t press, he kept his distance, respecting your need for space. It wasn’t until you hesitated on a high wire jump, landing wrong and twisted, a pained groan escaping as you struggled to breath—the crew rushing to your aid. You’d definitely winded yourself.

“Shit, Y/n you good?” Sebastian rushed from where he was standing with the Wardrobe department, looking over some clothes and specific costumes for Bucky. He’d heard the thud, the groan. “Hey—ba—“ Sebastian stopped himself from finishing that sentence, the pet name too easily passing his lips. Babe? Why the fuck did he even say that? “Y/l/n, you gotta get up, you good?“ you wheezed, sitting up reluctantly, Sebastian helping you, letting you lean into him as he helped you walk off set, Kari sending him a small nod—she just wanted you to go home, rest, she’d noticed the off day you were having hours before you’d taken a fist to the face.

“You know I don’t need a babysitter right?” You huffed, this wasn’t the first and most definitely not the last time Sebastian had walked you to your apartment, his arm around the small of your waist as you draped yours over his shoulders for support. “I’m an I ndependent women—“

“Do you ever stop and hear yourself spout shit? Would you just let me get you settled, you heard what Kari said, take the rest of the day to rest. Sebastian was firm, reaching up above your doorframe to collect your spare key in his hand, avoiding the need for you to fish your keys from your bag. “Also, this is a stupid hiding place—anyone could find that.” You didn’t appreciate being chastised, but deep down you knew where it was coming from. A place of care and worry. Sebastian unlocked your apartment so you could stomp in, marching straight to the couch before you plopped down with a groan, your body tender and not so forgiving.

“You want tea? I’ll make you some tea.” Sebastian sighed, his hands resting on your kitchen counter.

“Can you throw me an ice pack from the freezer, my nose is throbbing.” You let your head hall back softly against on of the resident couch pillows, letting a sigh escape as you felt your body relax. Sebastian walked over the ice pack you’d requested, letting it rest over your nose and eyes. Sebastian couldn’t help but noticed the ring box on the coffee table. Red and obnoxious. His throat caught, like he couldn’t breathe.

“So uh, that yours?” He asked, moving your legs slightly as he sat. Letting tour legs fall back over his lap. You removed the ice pack from your eyes, looking over to the coffee table—a groan encapsulating your entire studio apartment.

“Consider it the reason I’ve been off my groove, fucking Tom stopped by last night, unannounced by the way—“

“I show up unannounced all the time.” Sebastian interrupted.

“You have a key that’s different.” You sighed, placing the ice pack on your nose again, it only slightly muffled your voice. “Anyway, he was drunk, tried to propose, cried and ended up vomiting all over me after I said no, he must’ve left it here.”

“You said no?” Sebastian questioned, watching you ice your nose while his hand absentmindedly ran up and down your shin.

“Why the fuck would I say yes?” You hissed. “God you think I’d just turn around and get hitched to the guy who left me high and dry because I decided to make a career change, no not happening.” Sebastian leaned forward and picked up the ring box, opening it to see the ring inside.

“It’s pretty—“ Sebastian eyed off the ring, it’s not something he could ever see you wearing. If it were him he’d get you something custom, something personal and not just some generic gold Dimond ring. Not that he’d thought about it.

“It’s not my style, you think after five years together he’d know that, but I guess when you just kinda exist in a relationship the little things like that don’t matter right.” It was sad the way you admitted so openly to yourself you’d waisted five years on someone who could barley remember your birthday let alone your type of jewellery preference. It’s partly the reason why you’d grown so fond of Sebastian, even just as a friend—he took an interest in you, he’d held your hair in pub bathrooms and helped you read through scripts. He’d drag you out of bed in the morning when your body ached and you didn’t wanna go to Pre-Prep. He’d pace you in the park on runs and give you his undivided attention, but above all he was kind.

“So, hypothetically, if I uh I asked if I was gonna be stepping on anyone’s toes anytime soon or into the near distance future, what would you say?” Sebastian knew from the minute you walked into Pre-Prep that he was a goner. He hadn’t felt the way he did for you about anyone. Everything he thought he ever knew about being in love he threw out the window the same day you buried your head in the crook of his neck in pure fright. But just being you friend was enough. Not wanting to mess a good thing up. He’d been through heartbreak, he couldn’t stand the idea of you breakout his.

“Hypothetically, I’d say the only toes you’d be stepping on would be mine because you can’t dance for shit.” You teased, the comfort of Sebastians not so hypothetical question allowing you to know where you stood. Somewhat between friends and something more, but it didn’t matter. Labels could wait. Sebastians chuckled to himself, his hand squeezing your shin. “Hey how much do you reckon I could get for that on eBay of something? I’ve got rent to pay?” It had Sebastian in hysterics. His hand coming to clap over his chest as he threw his head back.

“You can’t sell your engagement ring on eBay.”

“It’s not mine!!” You responded through a groan, your side hurting from your rough landing. “I’m not engaged I’m not anything I’m just—“

“Chaotic?” Sebastian raised an eyebrow as he interrupted.

“Exactly, but who doesn’t love a little chaos in their life, right?”

[deancasbigbang]

Title: Wool for the Summer

Author: H.C. Michele

Artist: Diminuel

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/Cassie Robinson

Length: 67000

Warnings: Mentions of past rape/non-con

Tags: AU Modern Setting, Alpha!Dean & Omega!Cas, college student!Cas, Coffeeshop Owner!Dean, Knitting & Crocheting, Castiel wears glasses, scenting, mentions of MPreg, mating cycles - heat/rut, mating bites, mutual pining

Posting Date: October 26, 2021

Summary: Regardless of season, Dean Winchester is a loyal customer of The Bees' Knees' wool works on Etsy. It might or might not be because of the amazing scent he can detect on the pieces. (He also might or might not have bonded with said scent.) Meanwhile, his coffee house has an intriguing new regular who appears to share his same fondness for wool and disregard for the weather, dreams in having a two-digit number of pups, and Dean might or might not be in love with him. Which is a problem, considering his High School girlfriend has just moved into the city and they're trying to give it another chance at a relationship that only ended because Dean wanted a mate and a family and she didn't care much for it.

Excerpt: It was 100 degrees outside and Castiel was \annoyed\. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose where they kept slipping due to the sweat that covered his whole body and regretted for the millionth time his choice in wardrobe for the day — his beloved patchwork cardigan whose yarn weight was so light it hadn't ever presented itself as an inadequate clothing choice for hot days until then, that is, and his usual summer scarf. Yes, it was a thing. He couldn't wait to go home, shower and sit in front of the fan with a tall glass of lemonade. Not for the first time that day he wondered what the hell one of his customers was doing buying a winter cap from him in such weather. It had been in one of the packages he had just shipped off and it wasn't going to one of the colder states up north where he himself had come from, no, it was going just to the other side of this stuffy town. He wondered how different the weather there could be from \his\ part of town. (Maybe he should go check it out just in case the city had an artificial winter retreat he wasn't familiar with.)  Minutes later, Castiel unlocked the door to his tiny studio apartment and let himself in, leaving his shoes at the entrance area. Meg meowed in acknowledgment of his return but didn't move from her spot in one of the nooks in his yarn storage shelves. Castiel eyed the rolls on the floor she had kicked to make space and sighed. He supposed it could be worse; he could always come home to find her so tangled and stressed he had to cut off the threads to set her free and she might even have the audacity to scratch him in the process, for example. As it had happened before. Cats just don't particularly care for the price of yarn or the integrity of human skin, it seemed. Looking around at the life he’d made for himself he couldn’t help but feel proud. He was perfectly content. Happy, even. He would even dare say he was living the dream, except that what he used to dream of was having an alpha husband who adored and cherished him, a big country house and his own square of land to grow his flowers and his vegetables, a few pups running on the backyard, another one on his hip. All of his family using the knitted sweaters he'd made them. A peaceful, idyllic life, of watching sunrises and sunsets with a cup of coffee on the porch and the strong arms of his husband on his back. But this was okay too. \Way more than okay, actually,\ he thought as Meg — who had finally left her usurped spot on the yarn stash — rubbed herself against his legs and lovingly (as he liked to believe) bit his ankles.    

DCBB 2021 Posting Schedule

[iceprincessviviane]

Smell of the sea

Pairing: Yandere!c!Foolish x Fem!SeaNymph!Reader

Type: Romantic (Foolish is yandere), oneshot.

Warnings: Yandere, swearing, injury, threats, possessiveness, silly jokes created by me.

Summary: Foolish is hosting you in his summer house. You spent there almost a month having a great time, but you want to have some space.

My first yandere fic.

She was sitting at comfortable couch in big terrace and admiring view. Sun was kissing her skin and wind blowing away the hot. Specific smell of salt has reached her nose. Sky was light blue without any clouds and silence filled scream of gulls.

Foolish's summer home was like paradise on Smp. Great weather, sea nearbay, peacefuly area and god's companion were making this place like heaven. Y/N reached out for an apple. In front of couch was standing small table with bowl full of a lot of fresh fruits; everything was here.

"Good morning my goddess." After hearing that, she felt a gentle kiss pressed to top of her head. Foolish took a deep breath and sat on couch with wide smile.

He was wearing ancient, light green robe with open torso, his skin was shinning in the sun. In common days like this, he prefered to be in human form, shifting into shark one with grey skin and fines only, when they wanted to swim together. She has never seen him in full divine form, only when he decided to change height.

"Good morning Foolish." She replied and blushed immediately.

"You are awake early today." He said moving his eyes on her.

"Yes... I just couldn't sleep." Y/N sighted slighty.

"What happend?" His was worrying about her after hearing the news.

"Nothing excatly." She shrugged.

Foolish sent her soft smile and grabbed her hand gently. He pressed another kiss, but on her fingers. At the very beginning true god was really careful towards her, treat her like godess, treasure. Y/N started to notice that this week. Of course she met some of the others Smp members, but he was the sweetest. She was a little shy, but after spending with him a lot of time, Y/N get used to his behaviour.

"If you wish, you can go back to the sleep. I don't mind." Foolish said softly locking his green, emerald eyes on her figure.

"I wouldn't fall asleep... I might go into a walk."

"Do you want me to accompany you?" He asked carefuly.

Y/N nodded and smiled to him. They both stood up and Foolish offered her arm, she grabbed it gently, than they left the terrace. Summer home, but in fact Temple of Undying was unbelivable big. It had living parts, sacral places, big outside field, a lot of aesthetic pools filled with fishes, turtles and water lilies. There were also small places filled with grass, trees and flowers. After everything Summer Home was in the desert, reaching the sea. Of course they had Nether portal, very big one outside, but they had visitors hardly ever. Even Foolish admited, that before her hosting, he didn't have a lot of guests, usually spending time alone.

During a walk they remained silence, enjoying each other presence, walking through the buildings and squares. Blooming trees filled whole place with pleasure, flower smell. Y/N relaxed and again felt somnolence coming. Foolish noticed that and lead her to private chambers.

"Get a little bit sleep, I really don't mind." He smiled gently.

"You have right, I shloud probably be awake in afternoon, maybe earlier." She agreed and sighed. Foolish nodded to her, when she entered her chambers.

He walked away, getting lost in his own thoughts. Usually they didn't have plans about spending day or schedule. Most time they were resting, talking or swimming. Y/N liked to listen his stories or plans about new adding new buildings to the Temple.

}*{

Unfortunately, Y/N woke up only for supper and she had a little talk with Foolish, but then she went again to sleep, couldn't tell why this happend. After a quick bath, she crawled on her bed, almost immediately falling deep asleep.

Truly god didn't need a lot of resting or sleep, so Foolish was mostly awake and full of energy during nights. Today was like always. He wandered around, but finally ended up at Y/N chamber's door. Hesitation appeard on his face, he was worried that, because of previous sleeping, she could have light one now. After a few minutes he decided and quietly opened door. His steps were noiseless. Chamber was very big, with main part, bedroom, bathroom, terrace and wardrobe. Today the moon was shinning brightly, showing cleary whole area. Y/N was peacefuly sleeping in big, canopy bed. Silk counerpane was gently covering her figure. Foolish liked to watch her lot. Even when she was thinking, she was alone, he probably was watching her carefuly from distance, especially when she was wandering around in Temple. He just couldn't take his eyes off when Y/N was gracefully walking by the isles, watching trees and flowers completly diffrent than plants in the sea. But when she was sleeping, she looked so innocent and sweet, that he could stare for ages. He stayed in shadows for some minutes, but then got closer and sat at the end of the bed. Gentle smell of the sea salt hit his nose. He took deep, quiet breath, he loved it. There was some time when they cuddle or hugged themselfes, but for him it was always not enough. After all this time spent together, he started to think how keep Y/N around and safe. Although, she didn't mention any plans for leaving, he got cold shiver in his spine each time he thought of parting.

Night has passed and Y/N woke up before noon. She actually felt better and rested. After making a morning routine and eat light breakfast, she started to search Foolish, well Temple was so big, so Y/N gave up in third pool. In this area, water was surrounded by trees and grass. She took off her sandals and enter the shallowest part of the pool, warm water reached her cubes. Pleased smile crawled at her lips, she closed her eyes and enjoy the silence.

Of course he was watching from the distance, partly covered by big, sandstone column. Today was really hot, he was temped to stay in the water whole day. He was wearing the light robe again, with open torso. Foolish hoped that today he will be able to swim with Y/N or spend time in library, where was pretty cold.

Y/N heard silent footsteps and looked around. Foolish was coming, she sent him soft smile, at least he found her.

"Feeling better today my dear?" He asked and came closer.

"Yes, I think, I needed this long sleep."

Foolish also took his sandals and stepped into a water, it was cold, but in the same time nice.

"I am glad then. I don't want to see any sadness on your beautiful face." His smile widened, then he hugged her tightly and put hands on her waist.

She lean head on his chest, he was warm and smell like sand or desert. Y/N could say, that there she felt safe and with Foolish she felt cherished and somehow... loved? She fast chased away that thought and focused on peace and silent of this moment.

"We can go swimming if you want." His whisper hit softly her ear.

Y/N giggled slighty, moved herself that she could looked at him. "Actually... I thought about maybe visit other members of Smp?"

Foolish looked at her with surprise and cold shiver went down at his spine.

"Oh... I didn't expect that... you want to visit someone specifically?" His tone was a little bit unsure.

"I thought about Philza maybe, we didn't see him a lot? But if you don't want to go, I can go alone, it doesn't take a lot of time." She said and smiled innocently.

Shark god looked deep into her eyes, couldn't decide. For some reasons he didn't want to see Philza today and prefer to stay in summer home with Y/N, but in another side, he just didn't want to let her go alone.

"Well I have to do some stuff here too." He said slowly.

"So I will be in the home before supper." She clapped her hands in joy. Foolish slighty nodded and smiled. Maybe a little trip will be good for her? And he will set up some things...

}*{

Y/N always liked Philza's company, he visited desert several times and she always enjoy his pressence and stories, which he was telling. Similar to other old beings he lived enough long to see and exeperience a lot. This time wasn't diffrent Y/N was invited inside and he got her cup of tea. They sat in the kitchen and talked about common things. Technoblade was on the adventure with Ranboo, so they had peaceful time full of laughs and giggles.

Foolish thought it would be easy, but since Y/N left for visiting Philza he was very distracted. Uninvited thoughts filled his head and strange feeling in his stomach. He tried to build, read and walk, nothing helped. Knowing Phil they would sit and talk but... what if there will be somethin else? Or what if Y/N won't come back? Shark god sighed, being worry about her and being worry that she won't come back have been mixed together. This was one of his biggest fear. Since she have stepped in his life, he didn't wnat to be alone anymore. After a hour more struggling he gave up.

Phil was about to escorted Y/N, till she will reach the desert, but in the end of his yard stood Foolish in more appropriate clothing than ancient robes. He sent them soft smile. Sun was getting down, throwing longer shadows. Phil nodded to him.

"Hi mate."

"Foolish what a surprise!" Y/N said and smiled back to him.

"Well I think, that I needed also longer walk." He said and gave her hand. She grabbed it gently and blushed slighty. Phil glanced at them and smirked.

"Thank you for the visit, I hope we will meet again sooner."

"I think next time you can actually visit us." Y/N said and looked at Foolish.

"Yes, of course. Technoblade and Ranboo ale welcomed too of course." Shark god nodded and smiled proudly.

"See you then, I wish you safe trip back."

They both waved to him and left property value. Foolish squeezed her hand gently and smiled to her, his worries disappered immediately.

"How was the visit?"

"Phil like Phil was telling me stories and gave me couple cups of tea. Technoblade and Ranboo were on adventure, so we were alone."

"Wanna eat something in home or go immediately sleep?" He asked softly.

"Honestly I want to eat something, also I like suppers with you, because we are always talking." She admitted with unsure tone.

"I am glad to hear that." Foolish looked directly into her eyes. "And I am glad that you are back. I am so used to your pressence..."

She reciprocated glance and blushed a little bit more. They spent rest way back in silence. Maybe words wasn't needed there?

}*{

They both sat at the long table in terrace, stars showed up in the sky, moon again was shinning brightly. A lot of dishes were on the table, Foolish held glass full of ambrosia, when Y/N was eating some fruits. They changed clothes, because even at night, there still were hot.

"Maybe in next week we can visit Tommy and Tubbo? Then we shloud definitely meet Kinoko Kingdom, since you have helped them with buildings and of course guest Phil, Technoblade and Ranboo as we promised!" Y/N said with excitement in her voice.

Foolish again felt this starange feeling in the stomach but hid it with soft smile. Since when she wanted to do so much visits and meetings?

"Of course my dear... " He agree little unsure.

"You know... I just think we shloud more meet with Smp members." She stated while was looking at him.

"So I now am not enough?" He asked playfuly, ignoring cold shiver at his spine.

"Well, it's not the case... I am just missing others company a little bit, but I very enjoy your pressence Foolish. Here... is like paradise, you know?" Y/N said and looked down, trying to hide her blushing cheeks.

Demi god smirked and took a small sip. "I am glad, that I am 'enough'. You brought a lot of joy and happiness into this place."

He looked directly at her and took another sip. She looked lovely with red cheeks and shy smile on her lips. Foolish got completly lost in her beauty, that she spotted, that he was looking at her.

"You are staring at me."

"I am not staring my goddess. I am admiring, that is diffrence."

Y/N shook her head with disbelief and tried to focus on her dish, but it was difficult under Foolish'es burning gaze. After eating, they stood under railing, looking at peacefuly ocean. Sounds of small waved crashin the coast was very calm. She slowly put her head on his shoulder, when was watching the horizon. He smiled softly and put hand on her's hip gently.

"Comfortably?" His whisper hit her ear and eyes caught her's. Y/N nodded in response.

"Good." Foolish said with satisfied tone. He waited couple of minutes, then took his chance and tickled her unexpected.

Y/N literally just jumped away from him, then crossed arms. "What was that?!" She asked with betrayed tone.

"I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist." He smirked and get closer, but Y/N kept moving away at his each step. Finally her back touched the railing, Foolish put his hand on it.

"Nowhere to run?"

"Unfortunately..." Y/N whispered slowly.

He leaned in and grabbed by second hand her chin. Their eyes met again, she smiled innocently.

"There is no escape from me my sweetheart."

After this words he pressed their lips together in slow kiss, Y/N put her arms around his neck, Foolish'es hand from railing embraced her waist. There was silence, they get lost in the kiss, clearly waited for this for so long. When they pulled away, their breaths were sharp and heavy.

"I would never want to escape." She whispered softly, causing him to smile.

}*{

After a few days full of love affection, kisses, cuddles and words Foolish wanted to give Y/N special gift. It spent some time to prepare it. This day he woke up first and set up breakfast, wanted to enjoy this moment fully. When everything was ready he put casket on the table and sat, waiting for her impatiently. His robe was decorated by gold and stones, white silk was shinning slighty in sun.

Finally Y/N went through the door, today they ate on big hall full of windows, sunlight was going through them. She was wearing blue like sky dress type robe, her hair was falling softly at her back. Foolish smiled to her and stood up. They hug each other gently.

"How was your sleep love?" He asked softly.

"Pretty good and yours?"

"I was dreaming about you." Foolish admited and kissed her forehead. She giggled and blushed slighty.

"Sweet talker." Y/N said and sat at the table. He followed her steps, then they started to eat. Silence was filled by sounds of cutlery and glasses. Again he was staring at her while drinking ambrosia.

"I have something for you." Foolish finally said and pick up casket.

Y/N rose her left eyebrow with curiosity. What it could be? She appreciated all gifts which he go her, but didn't want to bother with some stupid whims.

"It's sweet of you, but you know that you don't need to spoil me so much? I already live here for free, have everything and don't need to worry about anything." She admitted slowly.

"I want to spoil you a little my goddess. Just a little." He stood up and moved closer to her, then opened the box. Inside were a set of golden jewelry with gems such as: emeralds, rubies, sapphires and diamonds. There were two pair of bracelets, necklace and tiara.

Y/N made big eyes. "I can't take it... it's too much..." She said quietly.

"I will be so happy when you will wear it. I promise." Foolish said softly, taking them out the box.

She sighed, but nodded to him, allowed to help her with it. They took off old one and put new one. "How do I look?" Y/N asked watching her new jewelry.

"Now like mine goddess." Foolish said with satisfied tone and their eyes met. He kissed her cheek and she giggled softly.

"Thank you..." She looked down shyly. "Did you make it?"

"Oh yes... I had some spare gems and you know how I love gold. I just wanted... you know. Give you something. You're making me happy."

"It's beautiful, I love each part of it and I love you." Y/N whispered.

"I love you too my love." Foolish responeded and kissed her lovingly.

}*{

Unfortunately Y/N couldn't visit rest of Smp members this days, because she started to feel bad. She assumed, that she stayed too long on the sun and didn't drink enough. Foolish agreed with that and added, that maybe more swimming or baths could help. Of course she shloudn't go to cold tundra, her state could get worse and that was the last thing they wanted. Y/N spent almost whole days in her chamber or library, because there were cold and quiet.

Foolish closed carefuly door, his love just went to sleep, although early time. Afternoon just passed, but she was too sleepy and drain out of energy already. He didn't say a word, just took her and put her in the bed. Shark god went into his personal chambers and looked at alchemical area. There were still remains of his newest project, he smiled a little, couldn't belive that this could actually work so well.

At the beginning he belived that Y/N is his destiny. She was perfect, she could be a goddess and he wanted to make her one, his goddess actually. It would take time, yes, but it will be worth. They were perfect match, Sea Nymph and Shark God, what a pair and she even fell in love with him... day of their first kiss was the happiest day of his immortal life.

But thing was that Foolish enjoyed their time spent together, alone in the temple, but Y/N was sociable person, she loved meetings, visits, trips and parties. Of course he liked rest of the Smp members... but Y/N was a person, he desired the most. What if someone will involve her in war or conflict? He couldn't let that happen. This land saw enough blood od innocents and fights. Y/N needed to be safe.

Foolish looked at empty alchemist bootles. It took almost a week to saturate gold potion of weakness. Dose was harmless, just caused person which wad wearing the jewelry feel weak and sleepy. That shloud be enough, to make Y/N stay in the temple with him. Of course he couldn't make it last forever, buy for now it have to be enough. Maybe after some time she will lost interest in meetings or visits and understand that Foolish is the only person, she needs. If not... well he knew how to saturate gold with potions effects. And there were two pairs of bracalets and tiara left.

[bloodpacks-archive]

MCS OF THE RFA (+V AND SAERAN) WARDROBE HEADCANONS

first up is zen’s mc - unless she’s going to see one of his shows, it’s pretty likely that she’s wearing comfortable sweats/joggers and other simple clothing. she does have a habit of stealing his leather jacket, though, but he hardly cares. he’s asked if she wants one of her own multiple times, but she just shakes her head and says she prefers his. but like i said, a lot of her stuff is made for comfort. this is especially good for when she’s lounging around the house reading lines back to him with a cup of coffee in one hand and the script in another. zen happens to love the comfy clothes—mainly because it means she’s always really soft when he comes up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist or over her shoulders. it’s pretty common to have her hair up and out of the way while she works on her emails, but that’s not to say she doesn’t know how to dress up when she needs to.

next is yoosung’s mc - yoosung tends to be pretty out there with his clothing, and his mc is no different. really, the only difference between them is that hers is completely intentional. she loves bright colors and anything that makes her feel entirely like a kid again (y’know, one that doesn’t have a million and one responsibilities?) when they’re walking together, it’s a lot of colors, but they’ve both got these big smiles on their faces too, so they really just seem to make a room a little brighter wherever they go. sometimes she’ll steal clothes from his closet, but he never minds. in fact, he almost encourages it. sometimes he’ll leave out sweatshirts that he thinks she’d look good in on his bed and hope she’ll notice and throw it on. she almost always does, and he gets a little too excited when he notices it missing after she leaves.

jaehee’s mc - she’s like a relaxed jaehee. maybe a little more street wear sometimes, but definitely knows how to keep it professional and look good even while casual. together, they look like a cup of coffee. they are almost always wearing similar color schemes, and honestly, there’s a lot of clothes stealing going on here. eventually, they just end up merging their closet into one (with jaehee’s business wear in a space of it’s own) because let’s be honest—there really is no separation. jaehee wants to be more casual? guess she’s still stealing the mc’s clothes. another fun note, they are always the best dressed at zen’s shows. people can definitely tell that they know someone in the cast just by how they look, so it’s no surprise when they go and talk to zen after his show’s over with a little bouquet to give him.

god we love jumin’s mc - you couldn’t tell by looking at her, but a lot of her stuff is designer. not that she asks, of course, it’s just that jumin will come home with a sweater he thought she’d like and it ended up being 300 dollars. she walks into C&R and, if you didn’t know her face already, it’s now very obvious to you that she’s jumin han’s fiancé. she starts to carry herself similar to the way jumin does—chin held high and a scarily powerful walk—but she always stops to say hello to the workers she knows with a kind smile. jumin loves when she wears her engagement ring and he has a habit of playing with it whenever he holds her hand. there’s also very little clothes stealing here, going to be 100% real. at most, she steals one of his dress shirts that were.... discarded on the floor the night before so she can go make breakfast. but jumin loves it that way. she looks great in everything she wears, and seeing her in his shirt is a fun treat for him.

mmmm saeyoung’s mc - i think saeyoung’s mc is the most.... derivative out of all of them. she wears clothes that she’s had for years even though both she and saeyoung can afford much better, but she likes the boots that she’s worn in for years bc they’re the one’s she’s always had. she doesn’t not care about how she looks, but she definitely likes that she looks a little worn down and like she could get things done if she needed to. saeyoung personally loves the look. he likes that she looks a little hardened and that her makeup is sometimes a little messy. it means so much more to him then when she’s careful with him and wraps her arms around him like it’s all she’s ever known. but all of this isn’t to say that she doesn’t sometimes end up in bed all day wearing something comfortable. most of the time, the comfortable sweatshirt is saeyoung’s, and she probably slept in it the night before. it’s pretty likely that he’ll walk into their bedroom at 5AM and find her passed out in his sweatshirt, the light from her laptop with an email open shining on her face. it’s not a sight that he likes to see—he wishes she’d go to bed at a reasonable time and not follow his actions—but he’s always happy to crawl into bed after her and close her laptop for her.

look at jihyun’s mc <3 - lots of loose, breathy clothing. so much of it. things that are easy to move in are really big for her. she also really likes to just be able to slip something on in the morning and feel put together, but not like she’s confined by her clothing. jihyun happens to love it. he thinks the shirts she wears look really good in pictures, actually. he makes her walk into a body of water one time while taking pictures of her while she’s wearing the first outfit, and even though she’s a little angry at him for getting her completely drenched, he’s right that the pictures do look good. she also just looks. very good at his art exhibitions. people will come up to her and comment on how she looks just like the girl in the painting, and she’ll laugh, shaking her head to tell them it’s only a coincidence. when they’re gone, she’ll throw a wink his way and jihyun will wish to melt into the wooden floors and take her with him. he also just really enjoys how open her clothes tend to be. it’s a stupid thing, but he likes being able to see her skin. it’s his own little way of knowing that she’s okay.

lastly, we have SE saeran’s mc - i think both of them might tend to be a little quiet and reserved. she likes lots of layers and she’s careful in just about everything she does. her jewelry is really dainty and it’s silver most of the time. she maybe has small necklaces that she likes and some rings/earrings, but it’s nothing dramatic. both of them like to stay away from the center of things, anyway. saeran’s really thankful, actually, for how easily she takes in this side of him. they enjoy the quiet together, and there’s a lot of days where they’ll just read next to each other, or maybe she’ll make something sweet for him and they’ll eat whatever treat she made while speaking quietly. he really likes holding her hands, so she always leaves it near him so he can reach for it if he wishes. he almost always does, and he likes to play with her fingers while he works on other things.

this was made in collaboration with @kimjihyun ! please check out her wardrobe headcanons for the rfa themselves! :)

[annie-mit-ie]

Glimpses: Part 14a (Kathryn Hahn x Fem!Reader)

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Part 1 // previous chapter <<< >>> next chapter

Summary: The cast goes out for dinner.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Well hello there again! I was scheduled for work today but my shift got cancelled, so I had some time to go on with the story. Today's story doesn't begin with a gif - but it ends with one. Additionally, I am very anxious for everyone's reaction. Please don't kill me. xxx A.

Tag List: @danvers97 @zafirosreverie @srtamercurio @wanatag @pulledbythestars17 @plantowl @spacehahn @sarahp-stan @agentbrownierso @our-blood-is-our-ink

Playlist! :)

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On set has always been Kathryn’s favorite place to be. Ever since she can think, she wanted to be an actress. It’s overwhelming sometimes, that’s for sure. But watching the movies at the end, after the projects are done, is the most rewarding thing to her. 

It’s Wednesday afternoon, today was a short day because the director scheduled some night shootings at the beginning of the week and promised to give everyone off earlier on Wednesday so the cast could go out for dinner. That’s why Kathryn is sitting in her Trailer with manager Jennifer and assistant Agnes (Ben is already off for the day) as they enjoy a cup of coffee as they chat about the upcoming weeks.

Kathryn is sprawled out on the couch, propping her feet up on Jennifer’s lap who doesn’t mind to have a little less personal space. Jennifer is studying the week’s schedule on her iPad as Kathryn stares at the ceiling. 

“Do you know what you want to wear to dinner today?” Kathryn props her head up to look at Jennifer and tries to find a quick answer.

She hates questions about outfits because usually she just throws on a blazer to whatever shirt she is wearing that day and calls is a day. As if anyone cares what she is wearing. Also, with no social media she wouldn’t notice bad press anyway.

Realizing Kathryn hasn’t thought of it yet, Agnes gets up and walks towards her wardrobe. Kathryn’s eyes follow her.

“Thank you, Aggie, just a black blazer would be great. Did I bring one? I’ll just wear it with the shirt I’m wearing. No fuzz and all.” Kathryn says apologetically. She feels bad for not getting up and arranging her clothes herself, but she is completely exhausted and can’t find the strength to get up just yet.

The three woman chat for a little longer before Kathryn sits down to reapply her makeup and fix her hair. There’s a knock on the door. Once again, Agnes is the one who gets up to open it as Jennifer is on a call with a magazine who wants to interview Kathryn soon.

“Hello! Can I he-“ The redhead nearly falls out of the trailer as she is faced with one of Kathryn’s co stars. The actor smiles at her softly, offering a hand to steady her.

“Is Kathryn here?” He asks in a raspy, low voice and peeks his head into the trailer. Kathryn, who has turned around from where she is seated, makes eye contact with him and offers a slow wave to say hello.

“K! We’re slowly but surely getting ready to leave and I thought I’d give you a heads up and maybe even take you with me already.” Hearing this nickname from anyone but you makes Kathryn feel very uneasy and her whole inside flinches as she realizes that, if she doesn’t speak up about it, he will continue using it. But at the same time: what is she supposed to say? She can’t just call him out for something like that because that could make her seem extremely unfriendly right away.

Realizing an answer is long overdue, she nods and checks herself in the mirror. “Can I get… like 10 more minutes, Jeff? I’ll come find you immediately.”

He shoots her a bright smile “Don’t worry! Let’s make it 15 and I’ll pick you up again.” And with that he leaves the trailer again.

Jennifer, who ended the call just a moment ago, looks up from the tablet to grin at Kathryn. “What a gentleman.” She winks.

“Treating you just the way you deserve to be treated.” Agnes also winks at her and Kathryn wishes she could just slap both of them. Lovingly, obviously.

Jennifer gets her attention back. “So…. Are you gonna go with him?”

“IS IT GONNA BE A DATE?” The younger woman jumps in excitedly.

Kathryn turns around to actually face her two closest people again without a mirror being the transmitting point. “Guys, you know I’ve been spending time with Y/N. That would be extremely unfair to her. I couldn’t.”

Agnes starts nodding as Jennifer takes her attention off the tablet for a moment and fully faces Kathryn. “I know, but let’s face it. She is much younger than you, doesn’t know a thing about the business and she won’t be here for a long long time. And of she would be here then press would go absolutely wild and you know that!”

“But… she makes me happy.” Kathryn won’t let her manager talk for herself and over her feelings like that and smiles as she sees her assistant nod behind Jennifer’s back over the remark.

“Might be, but still. My point stands. As your manager I have to tell you that both could be an extreme distraction, but at least he is here and you don’t have to stay up extremely late to communicate.” Jennifer looks back at her tablet, where she furiously starts typing. “Also. He has a very clean record and seems genuinely nice.”

“Let’s put on the red lipstick you brought, Kathryn! I’ll help you.” Agnes smiles and gets up from where she is seated to step closer to Kathryn, pushing her red hair behind her ears.

As they look at each other in the mirror and Kathryn’s eyes meet hers, she realizes how emotional her boss seems to be over the whole situation. Realizing Agnes is about to make another remark, Kathryn slightly shakes her head as she keeps intense eye contact and reaches for the lipstick to distract herself.

Just a moment later, Jeffrey knocks on the door again.

“There she is!” He exclaims, reaching for Kathryn’s hand who is about to step out of the trailer. “The most beautiful woman on set.”

She blushes and slaps his arm that is intertwined with hers all while jokingly rolling her eyes. “Oh shush.” She laughs.

“Just spilling some facts. Let’s go, I’ll drive. The others left just a moment ago and I offered to bring you.”

It’s a short drive and the two hold a casual conversation about previous projects and the mood is good. He seems to actually be quiet the gentleman as he immediately walks around the car and opens the door for her to get out. It’s just now becomes clear that it wasn’t a smart idea to leave later than the others.

Word must have spread and paparazzi and a handful of fans are building a crowd in front of the restaurant. For aesthetic reasons, the restaurant’s entrance is made out to look like a red carpet - the perfect opportunity to shoot some pictures of the stars.

The whole cast is still outside, waiting for Jeff and Kathryn all while handing out autographs. Paparazzi line up to get the perfect shot of the whole cast. Someone from the restaurant seems to be outside already to organize and manage the situation and give the cast some space. He talks the paparazzi down to take a single picture of all of them together.

Kathryn gets seemingly uneasy. She never really does a lot of big press for her projects and events like the Grammys are so organized that she doesn’t get to experience chaos like this, especially with no security around. Jeffrey turns around to look at her. “Hold on to me, we’ll be inside in a minute.”

She smiles thankfully and intertwines their arms again on their way inside. As they are all stopped for the cast picture, the fans line up with the paparazzi to get some pictures themselves. There is a moment of silence as the hotel manager arranges everyone and clears the chaos. A random girl in the back of the people suddenly jumps up and, thereby, grabs everyone’s attention. “I LOVE YOU, KATHRYN.” She jumps again. “YOU’RE SO BEAUTIFUL, KATHRYN.” She yells, prompting Kathryn to break out into the most beautiful smile, a sight that doesn’t go unnoticed by Jeffrey who smiles back at her, creating a moment that is captured by a fan’s phone.

Dinner itself is calming and everyone has a good time. Kathryn loves to get to know everyone this way and they stay for multiple hours until the sun has long set and it seems like everyone is on their third desert, just to drag out the time.

Slightly intoxicated from all the wine she has had with the female co star next to her, Kathryn smiles at Jeffrey. “Thank you for offering a ride, by the way. I feel like I haven’t said that yet.”

“You are very welcome.” He replies and places his hand on her upper thigh for a moment as the two of them look at each other for a little too long.

“Kathryn! Another glass?” She actress next to Kathryn grabs her attention as the waiter offers to pour another one. Overthinking for a moment, Kathryn ends up declining the glass and asks for a water instead. She doesn’t want to be hungover tomorrow.

As it nears midnight, the cast slowly but surely makes their way back home and Jeff reaches out for Kathryn once again to help her up from the table. Just like before, he offers her a right back home to the hotel that she is staying in over night. They realize they are living on the same floor as they make their way back to her room. 

Kathryn, who’s red lipstick has already worn off from all the food and drinks she’s had, stumbles slightly. Not because she is drunk, but because of how tired she feels. There are no words to describe how glad she is that she doesn’t have to work early the next morning. Her first shoot isn’t until 3pm, so she will definitely be sleeping in.

Jeffrey guides her all the way to her room and watches her as she let’s herself in. He stays in the door frame, leaning against it as his eyes follow her every step. Kathryn takes off her blazer and ruffles through her hair after putting her jewelry on a plate on her table.

In her background, Jeffrey, who is still standing where she left him, clears his throat. “Come and spend the night with me.”