#damn how many more interludes

[kithtaehyung]

u suck !! (m) (3tan special) | myg

3tanoween special: u suck !! pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)  series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball |  stay |  sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: jimin’s cul-de-sac is filled to the brim with autumn leaves, trick-or-treaters, and halloween spirits. but the scariest part of the night? yoongi himself. and the way he looks downright sinful in his costume. note: BOO!! :))) happy halloween and i love you all so so much. if you haven't read three tangerines or the rest of the series yet, i highly recommend diving into that first! this would make a whole lot more sense lol note 2: this is gonna be heavily unedited bc i literally started it on tues🥹 and consider this a pocket universe/side story for now until i mention anything otherwise :)) warnings: [explicit warnings under the cut] language, house party, alcohol/drug mentions, vampires are present but there’s a different type of sucking going on HEYO!!, tight spaces, yoongiiiiii🥺🥺🥺, one (1) uncomfy hug, jimin is a warning, yoongi is a bigger warning, kissing is a staple warning atp, yoongi in black leather and chains ahahahahah, tension, angst bc it’s me🤪, you have to be quiet :)), but it’s so hard :))), yoongi hands🥴, so many doll mentions, cus this reader is a barbie!!!, this yoongi is out of control and i’m not stopping him 🤷, ermmmmmm yoongi’s voice🧍‍♀️this is all i can say🧍‍♀️, ...VMIN??? drop date: oct. 28th, 2023, 12:17am est  word count: 11.5k🫣

explicit warnings: choking, head/hair tugging, min yoongi king of consent wbk, fingering, breath play, oral (m rec), ass play, chains lmfaooo, tears, face fucking, back shots, cum swallowing, breast play, protective sex, …public sex🫣, nasty dirty talk, he’s rude and we love it and he knows that we love it😩

—

—

“Oh, did you get the cookies?” 

“Yeah, they’re already in the back,” you huff out as you rush around the car. After getting in and catching your purse strap on your very pink heel, you explain while slipping it free, “And don’t worry, I made un-iced ones for you.” 

Your brother sighs in relief, as if you’ve never done that for him before. “Thank god.” As he backs out of the driveway, he gives your costume another glance. “That damn movie. I feel like I’m gonna see three hundred of y’all tonight.” 

“Barbie was great and you know it.” 

“Whatever. Aren’t you gonna be cold later?” 

“I got this.” 

Steering the wheel, he sighs, “Okay.. You’re gonna regret that.” 

“Yeah, probably.” 

Fixing your tee and smoothing out your skirt, you make a mental note that he didn’t comment the usual things about your costume this time. Whether it’s because you grilled him about the Dalo incident or not, you’re pleasantly surprised. 

The only thing he complained about was that couldn’t dress how he wanted in peace. 

“You still could’ve been Ken, you know,” you think out loud. “All you had to do was throw fur over that jersey.” 

“Nah, the coat I got is expensive as fuck.” 

“So is the jersey?”

“I have two of these.”

“…I will never understand you.”

The drive to Jimin’s isn’t too far, and the streets are already occupied with people in various characters. When you pass by a Ghostface costume with pink heels and a sign that says ‘This Barbie has a knife!,’ both you and your brother give it an approving laugh. 

If the atmosphere in the neighborhood was buzzing, it’s Jimin’s cul-de-sac that bursts with the biggest Halloween charm. 

Every yard around the semi-circle is chock full of decorations, from the ghoulish to the whimsical. Orange and purple lights scale whole houses, trees are covered in ghosts, and inflatable spiders and kittens rest on every surface you can see. Glee spreads throughout the whole setting as trick-or-treaters of all ages stop along the sidewalks, gawking at the views and running up to doors to procure sweets. 

It’s magical. 

But you can’t enjoy it at the moment because your brother has to park way down the main street. Which means you’re subjected to his teasing as you make the trek in enormous heels. 

Ugh. 

At least he’s carrying everything. 

“Damn, look at that house,” you point, adjusting your purse and almost teetering over.  

“That’s a shit ton of cobwebs.” 

“The lights are so nice, though.” 

“Uh huh.” 

After forever, you finally get to Jimin’s house, going through the open garage and already greeting the yells and hugs upon arrival. Some people are dressed up and some are in their regular clothes, but everyone seems chipper. 

And it’s even louder inside the house. All of you have to practically yell to hear each other. 

“Hey! You made it!” 

Damn, Jimin looks good as a vampire. 

As your brother says hi, you try super hard to not stare at his silver hair, avoiding his bare chest under that ruffled white shirt entirely. “Hey, Chim! You’re all decked out, holy shit.” 

“Ah, thank you! We both are. The lady at the Halloween place gave us a discount.”

“For what?” 

“Uhh, being cute? What else?” 

Adorable. If he went with Taehyung to get costumes, you wonder how extravagant your best friend looks. 

When you laugh, Jimin stops to look at you with his jaw dropped. “Wow, look at you, Barbie!” Turning to your brother, he teases, “You let this happen?” 

“I will throw you against the wall right now, fang boy,” he responds with no hesitation, which pulls a high cackle.

“No fighting tonight, please,” you drone, smiling while giving the handsome vampire a side hug. “Everything looks so good!” 

“Yeah? Spent all day decorating.” 

“Well, it shows.” Noting how Jimin always has great cologne, you take the trays from your brother while asking, “Where do you want these?” 

“Ah, in the kitchen! Here,” he offers, sliding them onto his puffy sleeves. “Follow me. You can see what we have.” 

His cloak brushes both your legs as you’re led into the big area, and your eyes feast on the assortment of themed desserts and drinks. 

Whoa. There’s even a bubbling pot of red punch? Jimin really has gone all out this year. 

Maybe Tae has something to do with this uptick in ambition. 

“Yoongi! You, too?” 

Huh? Him, too? 

“Yeah, it’s fucking hot.” 

Hot? What could possibly be—

Oh. 

Fucking.

Hell. 

It’s your fault for assuming it was Tae that Jimin went to the store with. It’s your fault for not even entertaining the possibility that Yoongi would dress up. 

And it’s all your fault for not being able to process what’s happening because even your own brother teases you when you cannot form words. 

You can’t help it. There’s literally no way. 

Because seeing this man up close, decked out head to toe in shiny black leather and hair properly tousled as if he just had wicked sex? 

How the fuck are you supposed to react! 

“I think you broke a wire in there somewhere,” Jimin comments through puffs of giggles, finally snapping you out of your inappropriately timed trance. “Ah, there she is!” 

Recover. Holy shit, you gotta recover.

“I just—” You gesture to the demon with your hands. “I didn’t think you’d ever dress up.” 

And Yoongi has the audacity to respond with, 

“Why?” 

“I mean. I thought you were..” Flailing for anything, you blurt, “I dunno, boring?” 

Amusement shoots out of both your brother and Jimin, carving a sickly upward curve into Yoongi’s face. When he looks away to poke his cheek, you know something’s coming.

But when he glances back and drags his eyes from your feet to your awaiting face, you're completely unprepared when he drawls, 

“And you dressed basic for what?” 

Disbelief slams your jaw straight into the ground, your little audience bent back with laughs so loud that some people around your group glance over. 

Oh, you wanna launch yourself at him so fucking bad. Wipe that stupid, smug taunt off his face. 

But there are other ways to come out victorious. And you can’t exactly do anything with your sibling so close. 

“Alright. Okay,” you hum, nodding and thinking of a thousand ways to incite revenge in private. “I’ll remember that.” 

“Won’t help you, doll.” 

Shit, did he really just call you that out loud?

Ignore it, ignore it, ignore it he’s just saying that in the open because you’re a Barbie. “Whatever, Neo.” 

Yoongi quickly smiles in confusion. “Neo? I’m a vampire!” 

“Oh, yeah, cus you suck.” 

Your brother and Jimin are full on titillated now. While one blows out air, the other plants a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder while creasing over from glee. 

And you spot your friends arriving, which turns into perfect timing for you to slowly retreat with a middle finger and a lip bite. “Bye, suckas!” 

Your brother can only shake his head before turning to grab a cup, and you barely—just barely—catch the fiendish spark in Yoongi’s eyes as he bites his grin right back. 

You can’t believe you got through that whole interaction so smoothly. 

Because every time you’ve caught peeks of Yoongi since then, your body’s reaction is downright visceral. Borderline feral.

And it reaches its peak when you get a text from the devil himself.  

Yoongi [10:02pm]: Fuck 

Shit, you can’t do this. 

If you start texting now, too? There’s no way you’re gonna be able to resist him. 

But the two drinks in your system are very smooth talkers, and you’re convinced immediately. 

You [10:02pm]: what🥺 

“Let’s go!” Yuri yells, dragging you along. 

“Where’re we going?” 

“Garage. Table’s about to be open.” 

From the backyard, it takes a minute for you all to weave through the people inside to get to the designated card game area. So you don’t get to read Yoongi’s text until you’re waiting for a table to clear. 

Yoongi [10:04pm]: You know exactly what 

You [10:04pm]: 🤪🖕

Yoongi [10:04pm]: I better not find you alone 

Fuck, you want that. Frankly, there’s literally nothing you want more right now. 

It’s been way too long since you’ve seen each other, and even more since you’ve gotten to do anything that leaves you breathless. 

So being this deprived and witnessing him in that costume? Yoongi’s the vampire but you’re the one that wants to suck the soul out of him. 

You [10:07pm]: maybe i want that 

It’s official. You can’t hold back your replies tonight even if you try. 

Between drinking and a haze of thoughts solely connected to him, you find yourself getting more and more needy. 

Yoongi [10:07pm]: You don’t 

You [10:08pm]: but shyyy 

You [10:08pm]: whyyy* 

This is bad. 

Why can’t he be super annoying instead—

Yoongi [10:10pm]: 🤷‍♂️ 

Well. 

You [10:10pm]: 😐 

Yoongi [10:10pm]: Lmaooo 

Taehyung chuckles next to you, and you immediately lock your phone while giving him a slight nudge. “Shut up…” 

“I will once you stop sexting.” 

“We are not!” 

“Uh huh. And I’m not wearing a suit.” 

Scoffing, you give him a once-over, wondering why everyone except for Yoongi decided to forego a goddamn shirt today. “What are you supposed to even be?” 

“A model.” 

He’s full of shit. “You just wanted to wear this outfit, huh.” 

“Yup.” 

Small huffs leave you both as you wait just a bit longer, and you let the night air and music lift your spirits until you get another text. 

Yoongi [10:13pm]: You look great, doll 

Why does he have to say all the right things?

You truly don’t know how you ended up here. To be able to receive compliments like this from him of all people? It’s a wonder this whole thing isn’t just one big dream. 

Fueled by the excitement and comfort only October can bring, you lean into this conversation and type a genuine reply. 

You [10:13pm]: so do you baby 

You [10:13pm]: i better not find you alone either 

Wait. 

Have you ever been that bold? 

Seems like tonight is making you a bit scary, too. 

Yoongi [10:14pm]: 👀 

And rude. 

You [10:14pm]: 😛😛😛

“Get off your phone, babe! Enjoy the night!” 

“Sorry, sorry,” you whisper, belatedly dropping your device in your purse and following everyone to scraping chairs and rustling clothes. 

The air feels even chillier at the table, and you’re thankful for the warm metal seat this time when your bare skin makes contact. Peering out of the garage, you can see that the night is still active as ever with more and more people walking around. 

Maybe poker and cool autumn weather will quell the heat swirling in your core. 

Nope. 

Even your card game can’t distract you from what happened. You still have the whole thing running through your mind, replaying Yoongi’s expressions and feeling more and more want build between your legs. 

Under a skirt that's completely the wrong length for how it feels outside.

But you try your best to focus on having fun with all of them, especially since Dom and Tae keep eyeing each other and smirking at you whenever you try to ask what’s up. 

“You know what’s up.” 

“Dom!” 

“Don’t act like we can’t see it.” 

Hiding your smile with a cup, you break, “What!” 

“Babe, you are thinking hard about something,” Dominique points out as she swishes her long white locks—a perfect Storm on your left. As she lays out cards, another comment flies out, “And I don’t like that smile you got going on.” 

“Yeah, what’s that all about!” Yuri joins in, and you pout at her high pigtails while she stares at her hand, chucking her cards in the center. 

Then Reia folds, too, her pretty nails extending the sleeves of her ninja getup so well. “Probably thinking about her boyfriend.” 

“He’s not my—”

Four pairs of eyes instantly give you a look to just give it up already, and you flounder as they all tease you in various ways. 

“Is he coming?” 

“Yeah, are we finally gonna meet him?”

“Yeah, babe,” Tae repeats, resting his smug cheek on a palm. “Are we gonna meet him?” 

Glaring, you respond to the pair of cards in your hand. “Not yet,” you answer honestly. “Call.” 

It’s you against Taehyung, and Dom flips another card in the center. 

“Hold on,” he stops. Turning to you, he bets, “If I win, we get a name.” 

What? 

Gawking, you try to send him every single signal in the universe telling him to take that back. The chills you get compound with the dropping temperatures, and you suddenly can’t move your fingers.

Even Dom is shocked trying to play fair. “Hey, we don’t have to force them.” 

But Yuri and Reia are already all for it, siding with Tae and getting excited for the face-off. 

Shit, shit, shit. Your cards are good, but you never fucking know with your opponent. Someone even more mysterious than Min Yoongi. 

Fuck it. “Fine,” you blurt, watching Tae’s eyes fully enlarge in surprise. 

Oh, shit, did he not expect you to call his bluff? 

Fuck, what if his hand is better! 

Sweating while frozen all over, you wait for Dom to flip the final card. 

Damn, damn, damn. You can just make up a name, right? You can just brush it off with a pseud and call it a night. 

But you know they’d be able to tell you’re lying. So you have to win this, you have to win…

That last card may have just saved your ass.

You and Taehyung give each other a look, and you can’t tell if he wants to beat you or is sad that he thinks he did. Either way, he looks stricken.

“Straight,” he claims, laying down his cards while Yuri and Reia cheer. 

And you breathe, checking your hand one more time before regarding him again. 

With a flourish, you reveal your cards with a boisterous, “Full house, bitches!” 

Loud groans mix with Dom’s close-call hiss of an exhale, and all the slaps on the table get the attention of everyone in the garage. 

And outside of it. 

While you’re raking in everyone’s chips, you glance over to see Jimin and Yoongi looking in from the sidewalk, some of their friends also wondering what the hell happened. 

At this, you get so shy that you don’t even acknowledge them, instead turning right back to the table and sitting down with your winnings. 

When Dom gives you a look, she asks, “You good?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you stumble, rubbing the cold from your arms. “Let’s keep going.” 

After another shuffle and deal of cards, you finally gain the courage to look out into the driveway. 

Only to see them talking amongst their group again. 

This is agonizing. 

Why the fuck did Yoongi have to dress up? It’s doing things to your insides that you never would’ve guessed, and watching him be all casual while looking like sin incarnate isn’t helping. 

Maybe it’s the way his hair is still so ruffled, or the way his shoulders stand so broad—which never fails to destroy you.

Or maybe it’s the way some people give him the biggest heart eyes and others rope him into pictures, knowing that you’re the one that he just texted. 

Your next hand is quick to be tossed on the table, which gives you a chance to glance again. 

Of course, the thought that some people here are probably ones Yoongi’s been with before awakens darker parts of you. 

Like that girl that just caressed his arm. 

But they aren’t as powerful as before, because you’ve been reassured a thousand times over. 

He’s not like that anymore. 

But as he’s pulled in for a picture with some other Barbie’s, you’re promptly reminded that he’s still not outwardly taken, either. 

Which coaxes another, sadder side of you to come out of hiding, casting a shadow over a fun Halloween night. 

How much longer can you take being the one in the dark? 

Screw waiting to find Yoongi alone.

You’d rather be standing together. 

Activities bustle about the house while the neighborhood is very much still alive.

Some kids do brave Jimin’s scary yard and, thanks to his foresight, anyone who’s near the open doorway simply tells them to grab as much candy as they want from huge plastic cauldrons—while hiding any drinkware they might be holding. 

The only reason you know any of this is because you found yourself near his front door with your friends, and two tiny witches walk up to the porch with full buckets. 

You and Tae are the ones to greet them, with him beaming a hi and you following up with a question,  

“What’s your favorite candy?”

“Chocolate!”

“I like gummi bears.”

Ah, that might be a no-go for the second one.

Leaning forward, you rummage through one of the plastic bins. “Ooh, I know we have plenty of chocolate, but.. I don’t know if we have gummi bears out here. Tae, can you check inside?”

“Yeah! One sec.”

As he leaves, you keep searching while Reia asks them another question,

“Can we know what spells you ladies are learning?” 

One of them doesn’t respond, but the other in a frilly dress fires out an answer, 

“I’m learning how to turn boys into cats!” 

Excellent. Wide-eyed, you wholeheartedly support their decision. “That’s the best spell to learn. Can I see?” 

“Yeah!” 

Just as timing has it, Taehyung is far gone. 

But a wonderful replacement shows up in Jimin and Yoongi as they're spotted walking across the yard, and you quickly call them over. It seems they’re joined at the hip tonight. 

“What’s up!”

“Come here real quick!”

When they oblige, you check with the parents on the sidewalk and see if you’re taking too long. 

When they give you a thumbs-up, you turn back to the kids, “Alright, let’s see it!”

“Okay!”

Yoongi gives you a look, and you grin. “She’s learning a new spell.” 

As soon as the girl waves her wand, she shouts, “Turn into a cat!” 

Straightforward. Succinct. Admirable.

Jimin immediately lets out a gasp and holds paw hands in front of his face, which makes the little witch giggle like hell. 

But what Yoongi does makes everyone react, and your jaw unhinges while something wildly potent rushes through your stomach. 

The man puts fingers on his head in the shape of cat ears—something you didn’t even know he knew how to do—and in the plainest voice, lets out a low, 

“Meow.” 

Oh. God.

Not only does Jimin burst at the seams, but you, your friends, the little girl, and her quiet companion all start laughing. 

And Yoongi’s wide grin at the child almost brings tears to your eyes. 

“That’s not a cat!” she corrects while smiling, and he’s immediately affronted. 

“Yes, huh!” 

“No!” 

“Look! I have ears!” 

“No! You sound like a human!” 

“You need to keep practicing that spell then!” 

Delighted, the little girls burst into laughter again. 

Who is this man? You feel like you know more about him than you ever hoped to, and yet… Yoongi’s still a mystery. 

One beautiful, scary, amazing mystery that you will never get tired of discovering piece by piece. 

When your thoughts dissipate, you notice that he’s now aiming expectant eyes your way, and your heart beats extra extra loud. 

But quickly, you understand. Raising your arms above your head, you do the same ear-shape with your fingers, beaming when he looks satisfied and feeling full when the little ones try it, too. 

“We’re all cats now!” you exclaim, and they shout in agreement before running down the sidewalk to continue their adventure. 

You have no idea what just happened. Zero clue. 

But what you do know? 

You’re not letting that go. There’s no way Yoongi’s escaping that interaction and you’re gonna hang it over his silly old head forever. 

“I didn’t find gummi bears but we have fruit snacks—oh, they left?”

Swiveling, you regard Tae with shock. “Wait, you really looked that whole time?”

“Ah.. Yeah. Felt bad cus, umm. All the gummies in there are definitely not for kids.”

“Oh, it’s okay.” Chuckling, you give the other two boys a grateful look. “I think they left pretty happy anyway.” 

There’s one other thing you know for sure. 

Seeing how Yoongi can be with children? 

Any sanity you had left to give has been absolutely, positively vanquished.

Jimin’s whole cul-de-sac seems to always throw parties that people love to stay at. 

An hour later, it’s still packed around the semi-circle of houses, and even you are delightfully buzzed and joining in some of the action. 

But even though the alcohol is helping, you are still freezing. 

Of course, there’s no way you’re letting your brother get another told-you-so in his bucket, so you endure the cold as you watch him and Shiv challenge Yoongi and Jungkook in beer pong. 

To no one’s surprise, the youngest one has also chosen to not wear anything under his white suit. With clattering teeth, you refuse to believe he’s not shivering under that thing, too.

“Y’all took so long to win that one,” your brother shit talks early. “You ready?” 

Kook’s brows pinch as he whines. “I thought he was good at this!” 

“I am!” 

As Yoongi fires off excuses to an unconvinced Jeon, you and a couple people laugh at their spat. But it’s when he claims that he’s just rusty that your sibling interjects, 

“Oh, bullshit, Yoong’s lying! I do all the work when we duo!” 

Ah. There they go. Eyes and mouths adorably creased to hell, “The fuck you don’t!” 

“Oh, yeah? You don’t do shit!” 

“Me? What the fuck happened last time!” 

Gosh, there’s a lot of bodies walking through the backyard right now. You have to shift around as they pass your area, and what the fuck did someone brush your ass? 

You jut your head sideways to see if anyone looks guilty, but the whole crowd just keeps moving. 

Well. It wasn’t a blatant slap or anything. You definitely would’ve thrown hands if that was the case. 

Their argument comes back into focus as you shiver. 

“When?”

“At Hobi’s?”

“Okay, wait, that doesn’t count.” 

“It does—!” 

Your brother’s unannounced shot drills into the cup right in front of Yoongi’s crotch, and everyone around the table stops on a dime. 

“Can we play now?” he asks, tilting his head. “It won’t take long.” 

Shiv adjusts the red cap on his head, and it’s hilarious seeing him so serious in a full pokemon trainer costume. Especially when he shrugs at your opponents while they pin him with annoyance. 

If you weren’t freezing, you would’ve laughed a little more. Your arms are fully caging you in at this point, and it’s hard to even rub your legs together. 

More people walk through the area, and you have to shuffle backwards again to make room as they pass by. 

“You look so good, Barbie!” one of the girls praises, and you compliment her matching aesthetic just as genuinely.

Your brother was right yet again. 

There are plenty of pink and white outfits walking around. 

Unfortunately, this combo that you decided on pulls eyes the whole night, all of which you are choosing to ignore. 

There’s only one person you dressed up for today. Everyone else can take a damn hike. 

Maybe this is why you’ve gravitated towards your brother and his friends instead of wandering more. Taehyung and the girls went back to playing cards, but you wanted to watch this game despite going solo. 

Oh, well. There’s a whole group of you watching and you’re getting a little warmth from body heat now. 

“Course it won’t take long.” Yoongi rubs a wrist, and you puff out air when he gives Shiv flack. “Not with him on your team.” 

“Hey!” 

The game commences, and everyone’s missing cups by the slightest mistakes. But one by one, they get set aside as shots finally start falling for Shiv and your brother, and pretty soon they’re down to the last one while Yoongi and Jungkook have a bunch. 

Frankly, you don’t exactly remember how it all went down. Because all you can think about is how attractive Yoongi looks when he competes.

And watching him dip soaking fingers in water cups isn’t helping your mental in the slightest.

Fucking hell, you didn’t think this through. The price of finally getting to be around him? You can’t do much else except watch.  

And your self-control has never been tested so egregiously in your life. 

“Any last words?” your brother asks, his partner rolling an airy ball in his fingers. 

And Yoongi takes a deliberate sip of his liquor before responding with a drone, “Yeah, hurry up.” 

Smiling, you feel pity for the vampire. Because he’s about to lose whether Shiv makes this or not—which he in fact sinks with no issue. 

Your brother only shrugs as people yell around the table, and you taunt Yoongi with your eyes as he turns to poke his cheek, fishing out the shot with long fingers. 

Still a goddamn menace. 

“I thought you were good at basketball,” Jungkook complains in a huff, roping his attention. 

“I am.” 

“So do something!” 

“Am I holding a basketball?” 

Jeon groans, but Yoongi quickly eyes Shiv with all the confidence in the world as he switches his attitude with a resigned, 

“Fine.” 

And he makes a quick dagger shot, too. 

All of you react as mister basketball holds lazy arms out, and your sibling calms the crowd down with swipes. “Fluke! Nah, hey, that was a fluke!” 

“Don’t listen to him.” 

“Okay then, do it again, bitch.” Immediately, your brother hits a fast one into the same last cup, and people erupt again while Yoongi and Jungkook regard the solo with dread. 

Your laugh seems to reach both their ears, because they both look at you with different faces, 

“Whose side are you on!” 

“You got something to say?” 

“I’m not on anyone’s side,” you clarify with a smile. “You all suck.” 

While Yoongi cocks a brow, your sibling calls you out with a knowing laugh, “You wanna shoot for them?” 

“No, I’ll make it.” 

He chortles again, and you get the strangest look from his best friend—someone that doesn’t know you’ve had plenty of experience doing this with your brother when you were both bored at home. 

Is that pride? Curiosity? An intriguing mix of both? 

Whatever it is, you feel wings flutter about your stomach and fight to keep your emotions internalized.

“Just lose already,” your sibling taunts. “Then we can do that thing Jimin’s talking so much shit about.” 

“The haunted house?” 

“Yeah, that.” 

After both guys fail to make a comeback, you watch your brother and Shiv gloat as much as they possibly can. 

And you’re about to move forward when another group of people blocks your way, damn near tripping as you step back. 

While you’re waiting, a guy spots you and throws his arms up in recognition. “Hey! What’s up, how’ve you been!” 

Huh. 

Who is this man? Are you supposed to know him? 

“Hi!” you call back, deciding to stay polite more than anything else. 

Truly, you kinda feel bad because you have no idea who this is oh he’s going in for a hug. Okay. Strange but that’s whatever okay whoa it’s a full hug. Ah, he’s really squeezing you. Alright. Interesting. 

As he lets go, you try to make small talk and ask how he’s doing. Because you feel terrible for not… remembering him...

He’s already walking away. 

And you feel the most uncomfortable you’ve felt in months. 

Umm.

What the fuck was that? Did he know you or not? 

…Did he just want a hug to feel your tits?

Motherfucker.

Your eyes find Yoongi as soon as you feel an ick, now exceedingly cold both inside and out. All this time, you’ve avoided all the stares and only smiled while politely leaving others behind. 

So to feel that disrespected just because you were considerate makes you want to hurl.  

But when Yoongi moves to strip off his coat, you freeze for another reason. 

Because he’s watching that dude leave. 

Looking pissed. 

Something deep inside of you rumbles to life, and you can’t explain what it feels like wait what’s he doing now? Why’s he walking right towards you why is he—

He’s not—

What is he doing?

He’s not gonna—not in—not in front of everyone, right? Not in front of your brother, right? 

Right?

…This is bold as fuck. 

Your denial is so substantial that you don’t even move when he gets close, handing you incredibly warm material and looking murderous in a black tee and pants. 

“Here,” he offers, voice hardened gravel. “Put it on, doll.” 

Damn. No subtlety this time?

You don’t even wanna know what your brother could possibly look like right now. All you feel are several eyes watching your every move, including some that aren’t particularly friendly. 

But you whisper out a quiet thank you before he shakes his head. 

“I should’ve done this sooner.”

“You didn’t know.” 

“Doesn’t matter.”

When you take one look at his expression, you drop any other sentences you were gonna say. 

Yoongi is actually furious.  

Your stomach churns up a flurry of emotions as he turns, nodding to your brother that’s looking over with Shiv. 

Ah, fuck. Did all of them see that, too? 

They don’t need to do anything drastic. You’re fine if just.. feeling a little violated. 

Okay maybe you’d look the other way if they avenged you.  

“Y’all good over there?”

“Yeah.” 

Oh. Your brother didn’t see a thing. 

That’s probably best for everyone involved. 

“Let’s go then!” he yells, finishing his drink while Shiv puts all the cups back in place.

And Yoongi stays next to you, not caring if people give him looks. “Come on,” he mutters. “Just stay with us.” 

“Okay.” 

No other words are spoken as you walk out the backyard. 

But when Jimin pops up with Taehyung and your friends, Yoongi pulls him aside while you ask how the poker games went. 

The usual comments spring up immediately. Yuri complains about Taehyung being too good, and Dom and Reia quickly tell her she needs to work on her face. 

Laughing the edge off, you see your brother checking his phone. 

And just like the shadowed expression Jimin now has on his face, the hand your sibling smoothes over his head doesn’t seem like a good sign.

The haunted house was amazing, and it was a wonder you got through it in your shoes. 

But you need a break after all that screaming. And you already spent a lot of time saying goodbye to your friends before they left. 

So instead of joining Taehyung and his group in conversation, you keep to your own thoughts, sipping on punch while watching balloons cross kitchen tiles. 

Ironically, you need anything to get through the loneliness. 

Even more people latched onto Yoongi earlier. Which you should’ve seen coming after his whole ensemble was revealed. 

But he had to keep them entertained because he isn’t taken. Not officially; not to them. There couldn’t be hints of him being cuffed, especially when your brother could see him at any moment. 

Did you feel jealous? Upset? 

To your pleasant surprise, not really. 

Because unlike New Years, there’s been more history between the both of you that can never be repeated anywhere else. Ties that have woven between your bones and connections that you have no plans to sever. 

You cherish them. And you’d like to think that he does, too. 

All the flirting just sucked to see up close, though. 

A sudden tap on your shoulder makes you jump. 

“Fuck, sorry. You okay?”

As you see your brother and not another stranger, relief floods your system. And you hate how jumpy you are. 

So you lie a bit. “Yeah, why?” 

Hmm. He looks… out of sorts. You’re halfway into questioning the bend in his brows when he quickly asks, 

“You good to go home with your friends?” 

Wait, huh? That’s new. “Oh. They left but Tae’s here. You okay?” 

“Something came up at work so I’m heading back.” 

“The fuck? On Halloween?” 

He shakes his head before running a hand over his chin. “Yeah, I dunno. But if you don’t wanna leave just have him bring you back.” 

Damn. He’s not even concerned about you staying? What the hell is going on? 

And thinking about things… do you wanna stay anyway?

Looking out into the house, you do a quick sweep before deciding that you’re gonna tough this night out. Taehyung’s still here, and you can hang with his circle. 

You’re staying. Wishing for the best, you let him go. “K. Hope it’s all good.” 

“Nah, it’s fine. I just have to clean up someon's mess.” Your sibling squeezes your shoulder in a final goodbye before stepping away. Pointing to the ground, he warns, “No one better try shit with you.” 

“Go,” you usher with finality. “Text me when you’re home.” 

“K.”  

He heads out, and you’re left with your cup that you forgot you even had. 

Staring into it, you somewhat wish you heard a familiar laugh in your ears. Throwing yourself back to that New Years night when Yoongi hung back in the kitchen just to talk. 

Maybe he’s still preoccupied. Even after you gave him back his coat, ignoring his look of confusion.

After another half hour of feeling alone, with no vampire man in sight, you admit you're a little defeated. 

Maybe you should have left, too. 

Your purse buzzes, and you slowly fish out your phone while not looking at anything in particular.

But when you focus on your screen, your heart squeezes in double time. 

Yoongi [12:43am]: Where are you?

Feeling a mix of emotions—relief, confusion, anything in between—you text back. 

You [12:43am]: kitchen. but i was about to leave..

Yoongi [12:44am]: Don’t

Yoongi [12:44am]: Gimme a sec 

This is it. 

This is why you stayed. 

Because one thing Yoongi has always proven to you is that he will make time. Whether it takes him a day, three months, or two hours. 

Yoongi [12:50am]: Come up, doll

And you will wait forever. 

However long it takes.

You [12:51am]: ok

It’s a short trip up the stairs from near the kitchen, and you wonder what’s gonna greet you when you get to the second level.

Are people up there? Is he just telling you to come so he could be near you? Or is this a clandestine meeting where he steals you from the night like the fiend he’s dressed as? 

All of these thoughts wander about your head like specters. 

But as soon as you reach the top, all you see is Yoongi, glancing up from his phone before stowing it in a coat pocket. 

So unfair.

In the obnoxiously red and orange lighting, he looks even more devastating, standing like he’s been haunting your dreams for years. 

And you hate how small your voice is when you greet him with a measly, “Hi..” 

Very much unlike yours, Yoongi’s energy is loud. Powerful. He takes his time, consuming you with his gaze and making you feel so, so shy in heels that are somehow still on. 

“Come here.” 

“You sure?” 

He hesitates. 

And with a heavy heart, you wonder if he has the same question. 

But he walks toward you instead, and you feel vulnerable. Nervous. 

What’s he doing? What are either of you doing?

There’s a lot of people here still, and it’s not like they don’t know you. And they clearly know Yoongi quite fucking well.

God. You hate this uncertain, murky feeling. Because it could be solved so simply, so quickly. 

But nothing in life is ever quite that easy for you, nor for him. So the paranoia lingers and lingers. 

However. 

When this man leads you away from the stairs, your fear spins into thrill, your nervousness taking on a new meaning. 

“Yoongi…?” 

With a shuffle of leather, you’re positioned right in a corner, breath catching because holy shit anyone could come up at any moment. 

Why is Yoongi not nearly as concerned as you feel? Is he not jittery with nerves? 

Judging by his lowered lids and unbothered line of lips, no, he is not. 

As he looks around, warmth from his coat slowly swallows you on both sides. His hair cascades forward; his breath can be heard in the space between.

And you really do feel like he steals you away—from the night, the party, the world.

“Now what,” you whisper in pure nervousness. “Gonna bite me? Drink me? Suck me… Dry…”

His lips ghost along your neck, and you grant him all the access you have when he murmurs, 

“Is that what you want?”

Your check for understanding is a sigh, “Want…hmm?”

“Me to suck you dry.”

You know what he means. And you’re already fighting for air as your exhale shakes. “Yes,” you admit. “Lemme do it, too.” 

His dark hum rumbles your core. “Uh uh,” he rejects, one arm separating you from the rest of the room. “Only good girls can do that.”

That’s unfair. Fuck, that is really unfair.

You pant before gripping his coat in your fingers. “I’ll be good.” 

“You’ll be what?” he asks, licking a small stripe along your throat and making you flinch. 

“Fuck.” Your breath is harsh now. Very, very harsh. “A good girl.”

“Good.” 

You feel the slightest nick of teeth as he lunges into your neck, and you have to clamp your lips shut to keep from mewling out loud. 

Holy fuck, you’re already so wet.

There’s no way Yoongi can suck you dry at this point. Certainly not with the limited amount of time you have.

And the motherfucker knows it, his laugh pulsating down your spine. “So sensitive.”

“Yoongi—”

Again, he attacks, sucking hard once before running his tongue along the sting. 

Thoroughly overwhelmed, you dissolve into mush. Your legs buckle under the pleasure, sparks of desire firing along your limbs as your ankles work double to keep you upright. “Baby...”

“You taste so fucking good.” 

More. You need more and you need it now. “I wanna—”

Without warning, his lips finally find yours, arms fully encasing you in leather as he slams both hands on the wall. 

“Yoo—”

And your heart leaps into the kiss while your fingers zip right to his face, tugging him in until your noses smush. 

For someone with a million concerns before, you’re devouring him without any shits given and it’s magnetic. Electric. Magic. Sparks zip down your skin, pebbling your nipples and sending your toes in curls. 

Hints of whisky and smoke pepper your tongue, and you know your breath proved similar if just a bit more reserved.

But you can tell something’s off.

He’s holding back.

Why? Why are his hands still firmly on the wall? Why is he keeping his distance even though you’re standing right here?

If you’ve been fiending to touch him the whole night, he had to be feeling the same way.

So what’s with the sudden hesitation?

Your body thrums with need, yearning for those large palms to roam and venture across every inch. Aching for him to erase that stupid hug from earlier in a way only he can. 

“Baby,” you whisper. “Please.” 

“Please what.” 

“I need you.” 

“I’m right here.” 

“No, I”—you grip one of his wrists—“Please touch me.” 

“In here?” He pauses, pinning you with concern. “You sure?” 

Swallowing, you take in the music and conversations downstairs, hearing laughs and other exclamations. 

Were they always that loud?

“I’m doing this for your own good, doll.” 

Heart stuttering hard, you question, “Why?” 

Yoongi only lets out a huff. “Cus…” Leaned in fully, his hot breath fans your face, all of his dark syllables drenching you in hellfire, 

“If I touch you, I’m not gonna stop.” 

“Fuck,” you rush out, breathing so hard your chest billows out. “I want that.”

“You don’t.”

Fuck yes, you do. You aren’t letting another chance pass by. You’re feasting on him whether it’s for two seconds or one thousand, and he’s gonna do the same to you. 

Because as much as he’s holding back, you can tell he wants nothing but to tear you apart. A monster in the red lights strung around the game room.

And you’ll let him.

Consequences be damned. 

“I do,” you finally admit with a whoosh. “I don’t give a shit right now, Yoongi, just do it—”

Any other words are snatched from your mouth as you’re pinned against the wall, your reward in the form of rough skin and thick leather sliding all along your sides. 

Immediately, the coil in your belly rumbles to life, tightening click by thrilling click as you tug him in even closer.

Between kisses, you grit out how stupidly attractive he looks, and his chuckles are so dark that you feel them shake your core.

“Thought I was boring.”

Another groan into his mouth. “You know I didn’t mean that.”

“Say sorry then.”

It’s your turn to giggle, “And if I don’t?”

Fingers ghost along your throat before they squeeze in warning. “Try it.”

Attempting a whine, you press your shoulders back into the wall, fingers still clinging to his dark shirt. “I kinda… I kinda want to.” 

“I know you do.” He shoves one of your legs away with a strong thigh, pushing his weight forward and accusing, “Wanna be a brat so bad, huh.”

Desire is doing wonders for your confidence. You’re not gone, but you’re influenced enough to let your thoughts flow. 

All you needed was the last hit of this man’s magnetism. “Wanna be a lot of things for you..” 

Amusement rumbles out like thunder. “Like what.”

Giggling, you admit, “I didn’t dress like this for nothing.”

“I know.” He kisses you in a way that has you swooning. “I could get used to this.” 

“This wouldn’t get old?” 

“Fuck no.” His hands move straight to your ass. “Not if it’s you.”

Confused, you pout in a whine. “You said it was basic.”

“It is.” He goes right for your neck for another feast. “And it’s fuckin’ hot.” 

He then nips your skin in earnest, tugging his name out of your throat and causing you to claw into his hair.

“That guy just wanted to feel me,” you suddenly sigh, hating how you’re still thinking about it even now. 

“I know.” Yoongi stops before watching your eyes. With a finger on your chin, he checks, “You okay?”

“Just make me forget it.”

He keeps his gaze on you for a moment more, forehead pressing against yours before he vows, “You will. He won’t.” 

And your lips are fully captured before you can respond. 

You missed this. You missed this so fucking bad and you’re pretty sure you’re saying everything out loud but you don’t mind. Yoongi deserves to hear it and you are gonna live this out to the fullest.

If he doesn’t hear you, he certainly feels you. In the way you rake at his hair, tug at his chest, sling your arms around his beautiful neck.

But your frantic actions are stopped when he growls,

“Fuck, you shouldn’t’ve come up here.” 

“Wait, why—”

“Cus now I’m—Fuck it, come on.”

Before your mind catches up, your body is being rushed into the nearest door: a guest room that’s surprisingly not occupied. 

“Yoongi, what—” 

He holds a finger on his lips before peeking through the door, and he shuts it with a click when he seems convinced. 

And you’re even more alone with the demon of your dreams—now shrouded in bright white from the string lights in this space.

You have no choice but to submit to his hands, stomach flipping as he seizes your lips with newfound energy. When you respond in kind, he backs you up until your legs hit the guest bed, setting off another alarm in your fizzing brain.

“Baby, you sure?”

“I won’t do much.” Yoongi lowers you down, steadying himself on an elbow. “Do you trust me?” 

“Yes.” His gaze is steady on yours. “Nervous, though.” 

Because it’s true. Even if your brother isn’t in the house, there’s a high possibility one of his friends walks through that door. One of Yoongi’s friends, even. 

“We don’t have to, doll.” 

And if you’re honest… 

The thrill of it is enticing.

“We can.” 

“I got us,” he assures with a kiss, now grinning like mad. “Lemme live this out just once.” 

A bit shy, you bite your lip to combat your nerves. And the million butterflies raging in your ribcage. “And what would that be.” 

“Not telling.” 

Of course. “You suck.” 

Puffs of mirth leave his mouth before he consumes you, and you feel unbelievably scandalous and loving every second. 

Because you saw Yoongi leave the door unlocked. There’s no recovering if someone opens it without you both hearing them, because the closet is opposite from the bed. You will absolutely not get there in time. 

Be it the holiday itself, or the fact that Yoongi’s positively enjoying himself, you feel more enthralled by the danger than you’ve ever been. 

And the fluttering in your chest triples when he lifts your tee. “Baby—!”

“Chill, love,” he laughs, a glint in his eye as he kisses your bra. “Never done this before?” 

“No, but—fuck.” 

Your soft moan stems from him slipping your bra down, licking at your chest and groaning at your scent. 

“God, you’re so perfect.” 

Fervently disagreeing, you reply so lightly, “Not at all.” 

“You are.” Another kiss to your lips before he moves down to your throat, squeezing one of your breasts with purpose. His weight feels heavenly on your torso, which you label the most ironic given how sinful he looks. “Couldn’t fucking wait to get you alone.” 

Fucking hell, do you feel the same. Truthfully, you didn’t think you’d even get the chance. As you arch into his chest, your bare skin heats under his mountain of dark clothes. “Wanted to be with you all night…” 

“Same.” The next kiss proves deep, and he slides a hand under your head to claim as much of you as he can. His lips leave yours with a pop before he grips you with conviction. “Fuck, you should’ve been.” 

Oh. 

You know why he’s holding you so hard. 

And it touches the deepest, softest parts of your soul. 

Gently holding his taut wrist, you whisper, “It’s okay, baby.” 

His eyes stay closed, blocking you from hearing anything that he could be thinking. 

But it’s your turn to lift his chin with a finger, and you reassure him with everything you have, 

“Nothing happened. Don’t worry, okay?” 

Yoongi still doesn’t answer, which makes you sad. One dude shouldn’t ruin both of your moods hours after the fact. He can eat shit and Yoongi deserves to be the one enjoying a perfect night. 

So you vow to make that reality. 

“Besides,” you continue, waiting until he finally looks at you. When he does, you slyly smooth both hands over your breasts, pushing them together right in front of his face. “These are yours, right?”

Like a switch abruptly flipped, Yoongi’s whole demeanor changes on a dime. 

Hungry eyes rake over your chest before he plants a kiss on your fingers before anything else. “What else is mine.” 

Your cunt quakes at the question, making you drag one of his hands down to the side of your ass. “This,” you whisper, biting back glee as he grabs right at it. 

His mouth hovers over yours now, voice so low it sounds more like distant thunder, “What else, doll.” 

And whatever made you so bold washes away in an instant. Because you know what you wanna say but it’s the hardest one to let fly. 

Of course, Yoongi knows this. It’s the only reason he’s being so cheeky about it now. “That it?” he asks with a lilt. “You sure?” 

Gnawing your lip, you shake your head, garnering more and more courage to tell him one last answer. 

“Don’t be shy,” he orders through a wicked grin. “Tell me.” 

Just say it. All you have to do is whip it out of your mouth and you can get on with it—

A bunch of voices start getting louder and louder from outside the door, and Yoongi reacts before you can process what to do. 

Tee shoved back on and skirt rumpled to hell, you’re quickly rushed to the closet, thankful that Jimin’s house is fucking enormous and gives every bedroom double-doored enclosures for clothes. 

Conversation gets even closer. Someone is definitely coming in holy shit shit shit. 

Adrenaline courses through your veins as you settle on a sidewall, and the fact that there’s enough room for you to stand sideways is enough to distract your harrowing thoughts. 

But Yoongi shuts the doors with practiced ease, dousing the space in darkness with only small strips of light to illuminate. 

So fucking unfair. 

Just him peeking through the crack in the doors makes you suffer, chains dangling from his chest and the mischievous glint in his eyes giving you pain. 

Why does his side profile have to be so perfect? Why is this bad boy adjacent version of him enough to send you into orbit? 

Suddenly, two voices burst into the room. 

And you recognize both of them. 

“—like you said, right?” 

“I know, but…” 

It’s Tae. 

And Jimin. 

“Then hey,” you hear your friend say with hope. “It’s okay.” 

The coincidence of those words in that room does not get past you. 

“You really think so?” 

There’s a bit of silence before Taehyung responds, but you suddenly get distracted by someone much, much closer. 

Because Yoongi’s slowly roaming a finger along the hem of your skirt, hooking it in and slowly tugging you forward what the fuck!

When your wide eyes meet his, you can tell he’s thoroughly enjoying this. And you have to clamp your mouth shut when he casually starts feeling over your shirt.  

What the fuck is he doing! 

This man is going to be the end of you. 

“So yes. Let’s go back down, yeah?” 

“Okay… Just give me a moment.” 

Delirium. You’re approaching delirium as Yoongi now watches you suffer, and you buckle when he travels under your tee—up, and up, and impishly ducking his thumb under your bra. 

And you almost can’t deal with the feeling. 

Because your senses are upped to the highest setting, body on full alert and having to keep quiet when at his mercy. 

You feel legitimately wild, mad, drunk off Yoongi’s presence alone. There are literally people on the other side of thin wood and he’s driving you up every closet wall in the house. 

Out of your mind, you aim for his neck when you launch your own silent ambush. 

And it’s his turn to suffer when you grab at his chains, because you tug him enough to get access to his neck as soon as you hear your friend again. 

“Even this room looks nice and it's unused. Seriously, you did a good job.” 

“Most of it was your idea.” 

“Me? I only suggested it because I knew you could do it.” 

Yoongi’s breath puffs over your shoulder, and he buries his head in your tee while you lick and suck him with a vengeance. His hands grapple your hips, taking no time in circling back over your ass. 

“Thanks. Okay, I’m ready.” 

“Finally. It was getting boring in here.” 

A laugh tinkers out before Jimin hums in confusion. 

“Weird. Thought I told people to not touch this bed.” 

“You just sat on it.” 

“I didn’t sit on that side.” 

Taehyung responds right as you grope Yoongi’s crotch, and his body locks so hard you flinch at his grip.  

“It’s probably nothing. The bed’s still made.” 

“Yeah, you’re right.” 

Mercifully, the guest door opens again before shutting, and you’re left in the weighty silence and faint bass of music coming from downstairs. 

Adrenaline still at its peak. 

“You’re gonna pay for that.” 

“Says you,” you pant, mewling when his lips latch onto your neck for the umpteenth time. “What do we do now?” 

After another suck, Yoongi lifts his head. “With what?” 

“This,” you clarify, gesturing to the closet space. “We have to leave, right?” 

“Do you want to?” 

You pause. 

If you leave now, you can sneak out of the room and no one will ever know you spent seven minutes in heaven with Min Yoongi. 

But if you stay… 

“Not really,” you whisper in admittance. “You?”

“Fuck no.” 

Your giggles end up in his mouth when he claims you, and you grab at his chains in earnest, tugging him closer before raking impatient fingers through his ruffled locks. 

And you’re already fine with this situation. Making out with this man in a closet? Who would’ve thought you would have this opportunity in the history of ever? 

So when you feel wandering fingers between your legs, your reaction comes out a high mewl. “Wait—What are you—”

“Careful, doll,” Yoongi quells. “Gotta keep that mouth shut, yeah?” 

You nod before realizing he probably can’t see, so you whisper an affirmative before slamming your lips shut. 

Because one touch of his fingers on your covered slit has you already losing it. 

A manicured hand slaps over your mouth as you widen your legs, gripping his coat with the other as he surrounds you mentally and physically. All you can think about is the way he’s calmly shifting your panties, expertly sliding over your cunt and chuckling right in your ear. 

“You’ve been this wet this whole time?” 

Gasping, you hum out a yes, and Yoongi laughs the scariest you've ever heard him,

“Nah, we’re fucking in here.” 

Holy fuck, what? 

“Baby,” you plead in his ear, wanting him in every way possible but knowing you don’t have a condom. “We can’t.” 

“Why not?” 

“We don’t have—”

“Yeah, we do.” When he senses your confusion, he peeks out the closet door before... leaving. 

What the fuck! What is he doing why is he going for a casual stroll with a boner right now? 

Oh, he’s back already. But you’re still holding your heart with a goddamn fist. 

When Yoongi holds one up, he laughs. “I actually didn’t know if he had some up here, by the way.” 

“Sure you didn’t.” 

He smirks before pocketing the package, grabbing your face and kissing all the lingering fright from your features. His tongue slides all along yours before he sucks, and his teeth drag over your plush when he lets go. “You down?” 

Drunk off his continuously great make-out sessions, you slur out, “Hmm?” 

“We don’t have to.” 

Your smile is automatic. Knowing Yoongi’s still asking even though he was dead set on it makes giving him the go-ahead even easier. 

But you both hear another smatter of activity in the game room outside. And it seems like people are starting to use the pool table. 

Fuck. 

Do you really go for it? 

You’re gonna have to be silent as the grave if you do, because this will be the most sordid position you can be found in. 

…Fuck it. Screw it. It’s Halloween and you’re dancing with the devil. 

“Yes we do,” you scoff. “But if you break my heels we’re gonna fight.” 

His quiet bout of laughs makes you melt, and his fingers feel positively intoxicating when they find your cunt again. 

Your shoulders hit the wall with a soft bump as you arch, back to sewing your mouth closed and smushing your head in his clothes. His name slips out on your breaths, and his growls make you quiver with more and more impatience, 

“So fucking wet.” 

Fuck. 

“Gonna take this dick so well.” 

Nope. You can’t wait anymore. You don’t care who the fuck is out there, you’re folding and folding fast. 

“Please, baby,” you pant. “I need you. Now.” 

Yoongi obliges immediately, spinning you around and pinning your front against the wall. 

Well, you think he’s on the same page. 

Until he clamps a hand over your mouth before fingering you from behind holy fuck you might come any moment now. 

Your hands slide into fists on the wall as you moan in his fingers, shoving your ass back to glean as much delicious friction as you can. 

“There you go,” Yoongi praises. “Just like that.” 

You’re gonna come. You’re already gonna come and he’s hitting every fucking spot to speed up the process. It’s almost unbelievable how quickly he can launch you off the edge, but you suspect this time has something to do with the thrill of your whole situation. 

You feel bad. 

And it feels fantastic. 

“Babe,” you whisper, turning your head. “I’m already close.” 

When you clasp a hand around his wrist, he finally finally finally grants you into heaven’s gates. You feel him let up, and you wait with tiny shakes as he rips the condom pack open with ease. The clink of his belt tickles your ears just right, and you quickly think about other dark things. 

After a moment and more clothes shuffling, you feel his hands slide along your hiked up skirt before gripping your ass, never failing to worship your body and making you feel fucking pretty. 

When he leans forward, his warm shirt and chilly chains on your bare skin alone push you even further. “Hands over that mouth, doll,” he rasps in your ear. “Can’t be loud for me this time.” 

“Mmhmm.”

“Good girl.” 

As soon as you do what you’re told, you regret not pressing down harder. 

Because Yoongi plunges into you so smoothly that your moan almost flows right out of your fingers. 

Holy shit you really were that wet. But he's still so big. So, so big, and filling you too well fuck are you being too loud because it feels so fucking—

“Thought you were just gonna dip without saying bye?”

Oh, fuck.

Yoongi did not wait until he was inside of you to say that.

“Think you’d just show up looking cute and talk some shit, huh.”

Damn it. He did. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he’s a demon and you have nowhere to run now. 

Delightfully frightened, you shake your head in denial. Repeatedly and full of terror.

“Show me up then.”

He stops all his movements, and you’re left to your own devices. Stranded on his dick with only the wall and your heels to support you.

Oh, he’s a killer. 

And he’s all yours.

Thrusting back, you start slow, groaning into your hand at how large he is. It’s a wonder you can even move, and your jaw unhinges when you feel his dick hit a certain spot just right.

Again, and again, you fuck him as deep as you can take, slamming your ass into his pelvis and finding pride in the divots he’s sinking into your cheeks.

Yoongi’s still unhelpful, but you can tell he’s breaking. His grip is getting harder, his minuscule groans lower and more forced. Even the tiniest curse makes you preen, and you throw a look over your shoulder to hear him better.

Which is the worst best thing to do. 

“Fuck, doll.”

With quickness, he rams himself into you, a sweaty hand clasping right over yours just as you yelp.

“We aren’t finished with that,” he promises through gritted teeth, and he takes over before you can process what that means. 

And his pace is relentless, pumping into you so well that every thrust catapults you across space and time. 

You’re outright panting now, feeling him deep in your guts and the strong lines of his forearm pressed into your chest. 

“Breathe in for me.”

And you do, feeling his hand close around your throat while fingers lodge themselves inside your mouth. 

Fuck! 

Your eyes roll so far back you can probably see him if you had light, and you’re mercifully let go before you need to gasp for oxygen. 

“Again.”

When you obey, Yoongi chokes you again, and you’re finding it euphoric as he clasps your column even harder. Every time he does, you clench around his cock, and a warm feeling washes over you every time he lets go. 

“How’s that feel, baby girl,” he asks, humming in approval when you drag a reply out,

“So good.” 

“Good.” He kisses your sweaty cheek before easily admitting, “I like it, too.”

Stilling, you turn as far as you can to regard him, asking in the tiniest voice, “You do?”

He darts his eyes to your lips before nodding. “You can try it next time.”

You smile, not knowing why you feel shy in this position of all things. But maybe you’re just happy that he said that. Because he didn’t need to admit something so intimate in the moment. 

“We’ll do whatever you want,” you vow in a murmur, closing your eyes when he captures your lips.

After sliding a tender hand down your cheek, he whispers, “Turn around.”

You immediately do, untwisting your back and relieving the tension in your neck. When you slowly move to face Yoongi again, he steadies you the whole way. 

And as soon as you’re settled, he kisses you so hard you fall back against the wall again. 

Hands come up to shove your tee upward and unhook your bra, and he gropes at your chest before ducking to take a nipple in his hot mouth.

Surging with pulses, you bury your face to muffle your moans, squeezing your eyes shut from pure ecstasy.

How the fuck are you doing this? With him? If you travelled back in time to tell yourself that this was gonna happen at a party someday, you would’ve been told to piss off. 

“Love these tits,” Yoongi grits. “Fuck.”

“I didn’t wanna wear a bra.”

He immediately chuckles. Darkness and sin brushing your chest. “I would’ve left.” 

You hum in mirth, knowing exactly what he means by that. As much as you wanted to tease him, you know that decision would’ve immediately gotten him in trouble. 

And definitely other people, too.

But the more he keeps licking and sucking, the more you feel it coming. Release. The inferno. It’s on the horizon and you’re just awaiting the crash of relentless deluge.

“There you go,” he rumbles. “You gonna come?”

You pant out before nodding, every muscle thrumming like hell. 

And he orders low in your ear, yanking your orgasm right out of your very center,

“Then come for me, doll.”

Your body wracks with jolts, stabs of lightning hitting every limb and locking them at hard angles. A rush of pleasure surges through, filling the closet with a heady scent that makes Yoongi groan pride into your neck.

“Uh huh,” he praises. “Still wanna talk shit?”

And you do. Tears leak from your eyes as you nod, orgasm riding farther than ever, waves unending and your mental shore nowhere in sight. 

“Course you do.” Yoongi claims your mouth. “Fuckin’ love it.”

Still, you feel pulled, lost to the universe that’s him and him alone, and you want to reciprocate the same pleasure that he’s providing. 

“Baby, I’m still—”

“Fuck—”

You don’t know what comes over your brain, or your body, or whatever else runs on autopilot. But you use the rest of your strength to shove him back, pushing him until he hits the other wall of the closet.

“D—”

You rush out a question before lowering yourself, “Did you come?”

“No, but—”

“Take it off.”

Stunned, Yoongi rushed to unsheath the wrapper, rubbing himself before you take control. 

Nothing will stop you at this point. Anyone could come in and you’d still be pleasuring Yoongi until he breaks. 

Because you want this. He’s earned this. 

Your knees hit the ground right as you take him in your mouth, tasting the strange mix of salt and latex but knowing it won’t be for long. 

This is what you’ve been wanting to do since he gave you his goddamn coat, and your imagination has been so vastly outdone by reality that you feel like none of it’s truly happening. 

When you flick your eyes upward, you get another thing you’ve been yearning for. 

Yoongi is fighting for his life. 

You can barely see that his eyes are squeezed tight, and you catch a tiny glimpse of his mouth agape before he bites it shut. When you suck in hard, his whole body flinches, and for the first time that night, he’s the one with a hand over his mouth. 

And you feel so fucking elated that you welcome the hot strings of cum painting your mouth, groaning around him and giggling when his essence slips right down your throat. 

He’s promising dark and wonderful things above your head, and you feel him grip your chin as soon as you pop off of his dick.

“Open that mouth.”

You show him, hoping he can tell in the dim light that there’s no drop left on your tongue.

“Goddamn.”

You’re tugged up before your mouth is smothered by his, and you teeter on your heels for balance as he whips you back against a solid surface.

It looks like he wants to say something. 

But nothing comes out as he clenches a fist next to your head. 

As you both calm, only your breaths fill the closet, your scents of passion clinging onto coats and jackets, all of which you could’ve worn in place of the one he gave you. 

But Yoongi did something so bold tonight that it was only natural for you to want to take the same risk. 

As he kisses you slow, you respond in kind, rolling your lips with his and enjoying coming down from this high with him every time. 

Shouts and yells from the game outside pierce into the closet, but both of you exist in your own little world. With you tracing the lines of his shirt and him gently straightening your clothes. 

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“For what, doll,” he asks in return. 

“Making me yours.” When you slightly pull on his jacket, you hope he gets what you mean. “Even if no one else knows.” 

His tiny peck on your cheek is genuine and, if you aren’t mistaken, a little prideful. “They’re going to, doll,” he vows into your skin. “I told you, you're gonna get tired of me.” 

"Lies," you sigh in peace. “So I get Halloween pictures with you next time, too?” 

Yoongi freezes, standing straight before fishing out his phone. 

And you fuss up a quiet storm before he lets you fix yourself, smiling at his camera as he squishes his sweaty, satisfied as fuck face right next to yours. 

If anyone ever comes across those pictures on his phone, you will never ever tell them the context. They'll never know why your makeup looks like that, or why his hair is even more haphazard, or why you both look way too happy to be in a closet.

Even if they frightened you to death. 

Some time later—and after a stressful time sneaking out with a smug Yoongi in tow—you find yourself downstairs and heading out the door with Taehyung. 

After he asks where you were, you simply tell him the truth: you were with Yoongi. And end it at that. 

With one look at your neck, he hums in amusement.

And you immediately slap a hand over it in shock, embarrassed to hell when he laughs.

But you let Tae tease you all the way home, knowing that you also caught a small glimpse of his life with Jimin. Not that you’ll tell him that until months from now. 

When your phone buzzes, you immediately check what awaits you. 

And you dissolve into mush yet again.

Yoongi [2:45am]: Text me when you’re home 

You [2:45am]: but im not going to your place :((  

What is home, if not where you feel the most at peace? Where you feel like you can be yourself and not worry about sneaking around? Where you know someone will protect you and be that person you can go to without any questions asked? 

Yoongi [2:47am]: Next Halloween you will be 

It’s definitely with Yoongi. 

Right now, you know your home is with him. 

Smiling, you type another text, full of contentment and looking towards the day all of this can be lived the way you both want. 

You [2:47am]: turn into a cat 

Yoongi [2:47am]: 😒

Taehyung looks at you when you laugh, and his grin grows when he can tell you’re genuinely happy. 

And when Yoongi actually sends you a selfie matching the ear gesture he did earlier, you feel the endearing prick of hot tears in your eyes. 

Yoongi [2:49am]: 1 Attachment 

He has a distinct matching mark on his neck.

And you are one thousand percent sure he took the picture knowing it's visible.

Yoongi [2:50am]: Meow :)

Happy Halloween indeed. 

—

—

—

end :)

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🍊ahhh what do we think !!🍊| join the taglist!

a/n: thank you all for reading! i know this is super super late to post but i wanted it to be decent for y'all before letting it free. if you did enjoy, please interact however you can! even a like is okay at this point, but all tags, reblogs, comments, messages, and submissions in the feedback box are super appreciated.

a/n 2: to any men reading this series, let me tell you.. that hug situation happened to me and some people i know and it suuuucks :(( ladies - and guys, anyone really - if you've had that happen to you i am sending you the biggest genuine hugs and a 3tan yoongi to make it better. and if it hasn't happened to you, then good.

++feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

[fayes-fics]

Moments: 'Twas The Nights Before Christmas...

Moments Masterpost

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: It’s Christmas, and once again, the Bridgerton clan are gathering at Aubrey Hall to celebrate together. However, all Benedict can think about is conceiving a fifth child... if only he and his wife can get a moment of privacy.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, semi-public sex, vaginal sex, breeding kink. Fluff & humour, thwarted intimacy, kids being kids, Viscounts being Viscounts.

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s Note: Sorry this is about 2 weeks late, but here is the latest festive one-shot for Moments. It is set 6 years after the main story/their marriage and is based on an idea from the lovely @colettebronte (Request: Benedict and Reader want some adult alone time but keep getting interrupted/foiled because of holidays, family, and SO MANY KIDS), who also beta read an early version. I hope you all enjoy <3

23rd December, 11:04pm

“Was your evening agreeable, Mrs Bridgerton?” His voice is silky as he trails hot kisses down your throat.

“You know it was,” you reply, hand sinking into his lush hair, directing his lips where you want them as he smirks knowingly against your skin. He always enjoys it when you lead him, pushing into his warm body, clad only in a white ruffled shirt and trousers.

This is you finding a moment of intimacy with your husband as you get ready for bed in your guest room in Aubrey Hall. It’s two days before Christmas, and the entire Bridgerton clan have gathered at the family’s country seat to celebrate the holiday, a large house now packed with many children. You and Benedict are here with your brood of four.

Just as your fingers toy with the buttons on his shirt and his land on the bow of your gown…

“Mummy, I cannot sleep,” a little voice cuts in from across the room.

You twist around to see your youngest, two-year-old Thomas, standing in the doorway, his little fist clinging to the door handle at head height. 

“One moment, lovely,” you call, watching him nod drowsily and toddle back into the adjoining nursery. 

You bury your forehead into Benedict’s shoulder, knowing the possible romantic interlude is lost but unwilling to admit it out loud.

“Why do you have to be so damn handsome?” you grouse.

You feel his quiet laugh quaking his body as much as you hear it. “Thank you, my love. But that seems a non sequitur to this particular dilemma?”

“Quite the contrary,” you counter, raising your head. “We would not have these offspring interrupting us if I could resist you,” you sigh, shooting him a mock pout.

He breaks into a full belly laugh that creases his whole face. “How about I deal with the children I am responsible for, and you get some well-deserved rest, hmm?” he suggests chivalrously, nuzzling your cheek.

“You know, such wonderous things make me open to persuasion about more children, Mr Bridgerton,” you jest lightheartedly, swatting his bicep playfully.

His responding chuckle is rich. “Why do you think I do it, Mrs Bridgerton?” he hums, his lips grazing your temple, his flirtatious tone causing that flutter low in your belly. He has been quite enthused by the idea of a fifth child for a while now.

“Mummyyyyyy,” Thomas reappears at the door, his tone more whiney this time.

“You get Daddy this time, Thomas,” Benedict responds over your shoulder, releasing his hold on you, walking over to the doorway and hauling his infant son into his arms. “I hope I prove an acceptable substitute; Mummy needs to rest. Now, how about a Christmassy bedtime story…?” 

Before he disappears into the nursery, Benedict shoots you a devoted but heated look that makes you want to strip him bare.

—

24th December, 7:14am

“Good morning, beautiful,” Benedict breathes into your ear as you awaken. 

Last you remember, when you stirred in the early hours, you were alone in the bed. You had padded to the nursery and clutched your chest at the sight of Benedict, and the little ones all curled up on a mass of pillows and blankets on the fireplace rug, just visible in the ember glow, an open book in his hand. After a few beats of staring at the adorable pile of sleeping Bridgertons, you closed the door quietly and snuck back to bed. He must have awoken at some subsequent point and joined you.

“Good morning,” your reply is scratchy from sleep, burrowing back into your husband's embrace, reluctant to throw off the covers just yet.

“I think I would like to persuade you this morning…” his opening gambit as his hand slides down over your thin silk nightgown, rucking the hem up your thighs.

“To do what?” you obfuscate, an unseen smile toying on your lips. You know precisely what he refers to, but you want to see how he will broach it.

“I do believe you may be amenable to more children, my love,” he rumbles into the nape of your neck, dropping a kiss there as his warm fingertips swirl on your thigh.

“Am I?” you feign ignorance, that smile growing wider, a flush spreading through your being at how your husband can be when babymaking is on the cards. “But this is not a family wedding, and that is your usual milieu,” you tease, flipping over to capture a brief, chaste kiss.

“A family gathering is close enough,” he counters over your lips, then swallows your noise of bemused derision with a passionate kiss that has you arching up and pulling him on top of you as your tongues tangle.

“IS IT CHRISTMAS?!?” 

Amelia barges through the nursery door, a ball of enthusiasm and jumping excitement.

“I thought I locked that blasted door...” Benedict grumbles tacitly over your cupid's bow as you giggle.

“Not today, Amelia, that is tomorrow,” you respond placatingly, turning your head to look at her and stroking your husband’s arm as he sighs deeply into your neck, knowing your intimate moment is gone.

Your tiny entertainer climbs onto the bed as your husband rolls away defeated, a triumphant look on her face as she claims a prime spot among her favourite audience, her parents. 

Isobel then appears in the nursery doorway holding Thomas’ hand. “It is only fair we get to join too,” she appeals.

“Fine, yes, come join us, my sweet,” Benedict calls genially if a touch reluctant.

“I brought the story, Daddy,” Isobel adds as all three settle between you, handing over the book he had been reading the previous night. “I thought you and Mummy could read the rest to us; we do so need to know how it ends, do we not…?”

Amelia and Thomas nod along, enthused, and you have the creeping suspicion your children have somehow conspired to get their way. Especially when eldest James wanders in and casually perches at the end of the bed, a lopsided smirk identical to Benedict’s as he pointedly gestures for you both to begin reading.

“I do believe we may have been hoodwinked by our children,” you sidebar quietly to your husband as he opens the book to locate where he had left off.

“I suspect so,” he responds sotto voce, but there is such contentment in his tone as he surveys the gaggle of children filling your bed—you just know he could not be any happier about it.

—

24th December, 9:57pm

You are taking some fresh air on the terrace after another busy family day, rounded off with a convivial dinner when strong arms wrap around your middle.

“The children are in bed, sleeping this time. Should we resume our plans?” he rumbles as he pulls you back into his solid frame.

You scoff bemused. “Here on the terrace? Where any of the family could wander out?” 

“You didn't seem to mind all those years ago when you were pregnant with Isobel,” he points out, both of your eyes cutting off to the pillar where, indeed, you had taken your husband into your mouth right there after the family Christmas dinner.

“You cannot hold me responsible for my behaviour when I am pregnant; you know how I get,” you shoot back, lacing your fingers with his hand at your waist and swaying gently.

“Oh, I think it simply delightful. Why do you think I want you pregnant again, my love? Hmmm? We could take a walk somewhere. Perhaps the woods?” His voice is low and skitters over your collarbone pitched at that cadence he knows always makes you weak.

“‘Tis late December and close to freezing,” you point out feebly, your reticence ebbing as his warm lips land on your shoulder, right by the neckline of your dress.

“I will keep you warm,” he vows, sucking your skin insistently, a damp heat that invariably ignites a flame in your gut.

“You are so very persuasive, husband,” you mutter, pushing your bottom back against the nascent swelling in his britches and guiding one of his hands from your waist up to your mouth, kissing his knuckles.

“I do so enjoy persuading you,” he purrs before opening his mouth wider and gently grazing the edge of his teeth over your flesh, your arm reaching up to wrap around his neck, grinding back against him insistently now and sucking his fingertips into your mouth.

“Benedict! I was wonde….” the Viscount’s voice rings out.

Anthony bustles onto the terrace but stops short at the sight of you both in an ardent cinch. You immediately slide away from your husband but know it’s too late, both of your clothing slightly dishevelled and a bloom on the top of your collarbone from your husband’s zealous attentions, your saliva glistening on Benedict's fingers.

“Sorry…”Anthony stumbles, his cheeks heating at the obvious interruption.

“I apologise, my lord,” you lower your head, embarrassed.

“Perhaps it would be wise to keep your… amorous activities… to more private spaces,” he chastises gently, recovering. 

“Was that not you and Kate I saw against the stable wall yesterday?” Benedict challenges, wrapping his arm around your waist, defiantly pulling you back into him, his tone full of sibling goading.

Anthony flushes claret red. “Well… I…” You can feel Benedict smirking as his older brother flounders. “That is no matter. But I wish to discuss something with you if you do not mind,” he finishes pointedly with a brusque nod, firmly changing the topic.

Sensing there is something Anthony would like to broach now, you twist your head to whisper to Benedict. “It sounds as if it would be best you do as your brother wishes, my love. We will resume later, I promise,” you pledge, your voice intentionally laden.

“I do believe you are right, as ever,” he concurs reticently, squeezing your waist. “I shall see you anon,” his whisper thrillingly auspicious.

—

25th December, 2:17am

“Do you think the Viscount will mind?” You murmur, your lips on his ear as you rise and fall. Pressing yourself into him as much as possible.

“That we are fucking in his dining room in the dead of night?” Benedict checks, his hands banded around your waist, encouraging your movements. The moonlight streams through the large windows, throwing everything into sharp relief, the room bathed in streaks of light and shadow. 

You giggle and gently teeth the shell of his ear, slightly breathy with exertion. “Yes.” 

“Yes, I think he will mind,” he chuckles, splaying his large hand wide, hooking his thumb onto your clit even as his fingers crest your hips. It makes you groan loudly, your hardened nipples dragging against his chest, adding to the sensation as you ride his cock. “But I say this is apt payback for his interruption earlier. So make all the noise you want, darling.”

“He can watch for all I care,” you stutter, leaning away from him and grasping the large, sturdy banquet table behind your back, using it as leverage to fuck him harder.

Benedict groans at the idea you would fuck him even with an audience. His eyes are on your face as you look down, watching his solid cock disappear inside you by the pale glow of the room. It’s a sight you always enjoy, feeling him push you open inside as you sink. 

“Do you like what you see?” He murmurs his voice buttery, his thumb on your clit circling more insistently now.

You tear your eyes away from the hypnotic sight and raise your head to meet his hooded, amorous gaze. “Always,” you affirm. 

It’s a daring thing to do in the early hours of Christmas Day while the rest of the gathered Bridgerton clan sleeps. But after two days of thwarted intimacy, this was almost inevitable.  

You had retired as Anthony detained Benedict in his study discussing business matters. However, you awoke thirsty sometime after midnight and came downstairs for a drink. Benedict had followed soon after and found you—sipping a glass of water and staring out across the moonlit grounds. 

One kiss led to another and another, and then you were both peeling off nightwear. The look on his face as you pushed him into a dining chair and straddled his lap was priceless. And now here you are. Riding him with your feet hooked onto the crossbar of the chair gives you the leverage you need to go so hard that the sturdy chair squeaks in objection.

He utters words of encouragement as you tighten your arms around him and sit back upright, wanting to feel all his skin against yours.

“What shall we call this child?” he murmurs. “Perhaps Joy as it is Christmas?” 

“We cannot conceive a child here!” you protest huskily, even as an excited quiver wracks your frame, so very needy after so many denied attempts at intimacy since you arrived. 

“Oh yes, we bloody can,” he growls and surges his hips upwards, his cock grazing so deep you go limp at the sensation of being plundered so thoroughly.

“What if it is a boy?” you gasp as he takes over, his grip on your hips vicelike as he lifts you and then pulls you back down into his lap in forceful strokes.

“Noel, of course,” he chimes, jubilant, not missing a beat with his movements.

You just nod weakly, too drunk on the sensations coursing in your body to disagree. His mouth is back on that same spot he bothered earlier, no doubt leaving a dark mark you already know he won't care for you to conceal. He loves it when you bear his love bites, even in front of his family. 

“Unhook your feet,” he mumbles, and as you do so, he stands up, still buried inside you and lays your back upon the table.

Then it's a blur of swallowed moans and dewy skin as he fucks you hard, your nails scraping down his back as his hands band under your shoulders, tugging your whole being down onto his cock relentlessly, the table now squeaking louder than the chair had.

You babble a litany of encouraging words into his hair and hold on tight, your heels digging into his rear, skating the edge of that enthralling abyss that is so addictive. 

“Come for me, my love,” he pleads, those fingers back between your bodies, catching your clit. And then you are away, breaking and tumbling over the edge, trying desperately to muffle your ecstatic cries, face buried in his neck as your whole body spasms and bliss radiates out from where you clench hard around his cock. 

His movements become erratic, and his grasp on you so tight before he growls and freezes, a groan wracking his body, his seed spilling deep inside as you still float away, writhing under him as he pins you down.

And, a few minutes later, after re-dressing, you both creep back upstairs to your room, giggling and wrapped in each other's arms, grateful it seems no one has stirred (yes, not even a mouse) on this magical night before Christmas.  

Some Moments are indeed best uninterrupted.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Sunset Serenity (Fluff)

Rise!Leonardo x reader

A/N: My first ROTTMNT x reader!💚 It’s a short one, but I thought it was a cute idea to start out with. I have so many ROTTMNT ideas, and hopefully I’ll get to write on the soon❤️💙💜🧡

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

Warnings: None💙 (other than my horrid spelling)

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

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the forest. The turtles, along with you, decided to take a break and enjoy a peaceful evening by the river. The four turtles and you found yourselves perched on the edge of the riverbank. The gentle murmur of the water and the fading sounds of the world around you created a serene atmosphere.

As you sat next to Leo, you couldn't help but be captivated by the beauty of the setting sun. The sky transformed into a canvas of warm hues - a breathtaking masterpiece that mirrored the colors in Leo's eyes. Those god damn eyes, that you had found yourself staring at more times than you’d like to admit.

"So, how will everyone rate my forest idea?" Donatello asked, breaking the peaceful silence, resting on the sun bed and sipping on a cool drink that had emerged from his battle shell. “Great? Fantastic? Absolutely genius?”

"It’s awesome!”, Mikey chimed in with a grin. “But I gotta say, this sunset makes this day so much more awesome!”

“It really does”, Raph said, his eyes fixed on the horizon, resting on his shell with a content smile.

Leonardo nodded in agreement before he turned to you, a soft smile on his face. "And how about you? How's your day been?"

You returned his smile, appreciating the concern in his tone. "It's been great, Leo. A bit hectic, but moments like these make it all worth it", you said, remembering the absolute chaos that had been the four brothers finding a good place to set up camp in the forest.

Leo hummed at that answer, his eyes lingering on you for a moment, before he turned back towards the sunset.

The turtles settled into a comfortable quiet, each lost in their thoughts as the sun continued its descent. The river reflected the changing colors, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over you.

The sun had finally dipped below the horizon, leaving behind a canvas of stars above your heads. The turtles and you stood up, stretching after the peaceful interlude, getting ready to head back towards the campsite. But you lingered for a moment, looking at the stars above you in awe.

Leonardo noticed this and stayed with you, watching as his brothers left, their laughter slowly disappearing between the trees, as the night settled around you like a comfortable blanket. Leo stood and looked at you for a moment, taking in your beautiful features. Your hair, your skin, your eyes, your nose, your lips. Leo could not deny the feelings that had blossomed between the two of you. Ever since the Kraang invasion, something had shifted between you and him. Your friendship had grown stronger in a way that he had never tried before. Lingering eyes and need to be near each other. And now, as he stood alone with you under the stars, he felt bravery wash over him. After the things he had been through, what he was about to do felt easy yet extremely terrifying.

In the soft moonlight, he took your hand, his touch gentle yet firm. You looked from the stars to his eyes, finding the same sparks in them as you had done in the sky.

"Thank you for being here with me", Leo whispered, his eyes locked onto yours and his thumb softly stroked your hand.

You smiled, feeling the unspoken emotions between you, just like you had done so many times these past few months. "Anytime, Leo. I wouldn't want to share this moment with anyone else".

In that quiet, intimate space, surrounded by the soft sounds of the river, Leonardo leaned in. The distance between you disappeared, and your lips met in a tender kiss. It was a moment frozen in time, a culmination of unspoken feelings and shared dreams.

As you pulled away, Leonardo's gaze held yours, a genuine smile still plastered all over his face. "I don't know what the future holds, but I do know that I want you in it".

You smiled at the slider, your hand holding onto his neck. “Good thing that I aren’t going anywhere, Leon”, you said, pulling him in for another sweet kiss under the stars.

[keyaho]

III. An Interlude To Love

summary: nashae and leati have dinner for valentine's day. rose divider by: firefly graphics

Nashae adjusted the collar of her strapless, off the shoulder, pink knee length dress. The slit up the right leg added an element of sex appeal while her minimal gold jewelry, lay flush against her oiled brown skin. She had done style her hair herself, settling on a half up-half down style with large barrel curls. It was cliche to wear pink on Valentine’s Day, but it was her first being spent with someone. She wanted to go all out if she could. However, Leati had other plans. Bouncing between hotels, she was surprised to see three dozen bouquets of red roses in her hotel room when she arrived. That was last night and he left a note of apology for not being able to pick her up from the airport again. 

Tonight had her nervous. The whole time she was getting ready she had been on the phone with her sister, Trinity, and Bianca. Mercedes was busy, but she was being caught up in the group chat. None of them knew she was going out with Leati and she made sure not to give too many details about her date. She just wanted to make sure she looked good. So at the last minute, she switched to a red satin slip dress, the cleavage was a tad low, and her gold jewelry looked better. She swapped out her gold pumps for a pair of black strappy stilettos. 

Nashae walked to her hotel windows and looked out at the city of Aspen, Colorado. There were tons of places they could have gone to have some privacy, but Leati had suggested the northern state and she agreed after some convincing. They wouldn’t be able to walk around, but it would be unexpected of them to be in the city, so stepping out for a private dinner would be easy. And because of the more prestigious parts of the city, they would take a walk together. 

“Bitch, let me see how you look!” 

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard Trinity’s voice over the speakers. She had forgotten they were still on the line. Once she was back in the bathroom, she picked up her phone and flipped the camera around so her body was seen in the large mirror. 

“Well I’ll be damn,’ Jey snorted. “You look aight, sis.”  

“Why are you on the phone,’ Nashae scrunched up her face, ‘girls only!” 

There was a collective shout for him to but out. He joked but ended his line. Left with Trinity and Takecia, Jey’s wife. 

“The red looks so much better!” 

Takecia agreed, but arched her brow slowly. “Girl, who are you going out with?” 

Nashae bit her bottom lip on that question and turned her attention to her earrings. 

“These hoops are good right?” 

“No she didn’t.” Trinity hummed. 

“Bitchhhhh…..” 

“Manu is in town,’ she lied. 

There was some old chemistry between the two after a few weeks together filming for a show. They were close friends after she filmed in New Zealand. They both bonded over their respective Polynesian heritages. 

“On Valentines Day?” 

Nashae shrugged. “I don’t have anything else to do and shouldn’t yall bet getting some?” 

“Aht aht aht,’ Trinity laughed, “not to much on us okay. Seriously, you look good. Have fun.” 

Nashae talked with them until she got into her car. As soon as she hung up the phone, it rang again. This time it was Leati, who she had been wanting to talk to all day.

“You found some time to call me,’ she teased. 

“I wanted to come pick you up, but I like the anticipation when it comes to seeing you sometimes.” 

There was a beat of silence before Leati softly laughed. 

“I like when you get speechless.” 

“I-I’m not, speechless,’ she smiled while speaking. 

“I know I’ve been a bit busier, but I’m going to always make time for you when I can.” 

“You’re a busy man who’s in high demand. I can mange.” 

“It’s not something I want you to get used to. But we can talk about it later,’ he replies. 

She hears shuffling on the end of the line and furrows her brows. The car eventually comes to a stop and the call ends. Before she could make a sound of protest, her door is opened. A hand extends for her and she takes it. A surprise sound slips from her lips as she’s pulled into Leati’s arms. His smile infections that she mirrors the expression. 

“Hey, pretty girl.” 

“Hey,’ she says breathlessly. Her nerves were in over drive. 

With his arm around her waist, he used his other hand to tip her head back, the street lights bouncing off her lips and the shimmering gloss was too enticing to ignore. Leati dipped his head down and pressed his lips to her gently. He barely touched her and she let out a small whine of annoyance. He flicked her nose and took a huge step back to she could see her. The red made her look sexy, while the softness of her hair drew him in to her pouted lips. He tucked his hands into his pockets as he took her in. 

“What?” Nashae looked down at herself. “Does it look bad?” 

“I planned to keep my hands to myself tonight.”

Leati kissed her again and found himself lost in the taste of her lips. 

“You look…perfect.” 

Nashae felt her cheeks getting hot at his words. She was on cloud 9 and their date hand even started yet. Something about his presence made her feel..giddy. 

“You clean up really well too.” 

He wore all black, his signature color apparently, with a gray dinner jacket. He even had a little black pocket square. 

“Just well?” 

Nashae shrugged. “You haven’t actually kissed me so…”

Leati looked down and the woman before him. Her hip jutted out to the side and she folded her arms over her chest. It pushed up her cleavage and his eyes dropped right to the swell of her breast. He hasn't done much touching with her and his hands itched to feel her. The last time he dared to, she hopped up from the bed, a nervous and scrambling mess.

He had to take it slow. 

“I did kiss you,’ he replied. 

“No, that was….it wasn’t a real kiss.” 

Leati kissed his teeth but he caved. “I’m sorry, c’mere…”

He reached for her and she gladly stepped into his arms. His lips found hers quickly, her bottom lip was sucked seductively into his mouth. A sound of surprise fell from her lips and he took that as the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. 

She whimpered and pushed at his chest to get some air. 

“Happy Valentine's Day, pretty girl.” 

The place they were having dinner was jam packed with couples celebrating the holiday. Leati told her where their private area was and had a hostess waiting to escort her. She passed by tables keeping her eyes ahead so as to not draw too much attention. There were a few murmurs, some camera flashes, but nothing she couldn’t handle alone. Her hostess was extremely sweet as well and when she asked nicely for a photo, Nashae couldn’t say no. 

Their area was draped in black curtains that prevented anyone from seeing inside. As she stepped through her mouth fell open at the sight before her. The floor was covered in rose petals, there was a large bouquet of long stem red roses on the table, there were tea candles lit and a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket on ice. 

Leati came from the other side with another bouquet of roses in his hands and a fluffy brown teddy bear in the other. 

“You went all out tonight,’ she sighed, taking it all in with appreciation. 

“This is only the beginning,’ he replied, ‘I plan to wine and dine you as much as possible.”

He said it so matter-of-factually. As if she should already know what he planned to do. 

“Careful,’ she walked over to him, ‘you’ll spoil me.” 

“What’s wrong with that?” 

“I’ll get used to it.” Nashae waved her hand, dismissing the thoughts she had. 

Leati could see something was amiss with her. He tipped her head up with a finger beneath her chin. “What’s that about?” 

“Nothing,’ 

“Don’t lie to me, baby,’ he replied softly. 

“We can talk about it later, please,’ she added when he arched his brow. 

He kissed her then nodded. She took the roses from them and brought them to her nose to smell. She was about to sit down when Leati came up behind her. He placed the bear on the table and held out a black velvet box with the other hand. 

“What’s this?” 

“Open it and see.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. 

Handing him the roses, she grabbed the box from his hand. Opening the velvet case she just as quickly shut it closed, a giggle falling out of her lips. 

“This is so silly,’ she looked over her shoulder at his grin. 

Snapping the box back open and pulled the black leather bracelet woven to resemble the teuila flower. Her family home had a garden of them. The ends were dipped in gold and fit together like a regular bracelet for security and hold. She knew the exact collection it was from and the thought of him remembering so trivial about dating culture growing up in their culture. It was the Polynesian kids way of asking someone to be their girlfriend. Her brother’s wives all had them and her sister even had one. It was like wearing their Letterman jacket, but something more permanent. 

She took it out of the box and handed it to him along with her right wrist. 

“I need to get you one.” 

Nashae gushed over the bracelet and Leati watched her in amusement. The genuine smile on her face was because of him and he had every intent to keep it on her face. Tonight was going to be about setting the boundaries of their relationship.

He hoped by the end of the night, the smile on her face was wider and brighter. 

Once they were seated, their first course was brought out. Leati preset the menu so their would be minimal interruptions. Nashae looked down at the tray of raw oysters and shrimp. She was a huge sea food lover and this particular restaurant had some of the freshest seafood in the city. R&B slow jams played over the small speaker and she swayed a little in her chair while sipping from her champagne glass. 

“What do you want from me,’ he asked abruptly. “I mean, this relationship, what are your thoughts?” 

“We both grew up in a culture where I should be asking you that.” 

Polynesian men were dominate by nature. They were leaders, taught to lead, and expected to. In every aspect they exuded leadership and to some it might come across as too controlling. As fiercely independent as she was, she wanted take a step back and just feel normal. 

“In that case, tell me what you want and I’ll do it my way.” 

The courses changed and she was served a plate of butter chicken over rice and a plate of naan was in front of them. The change in cuisine had her wondering if these were some of his favorites. The way he dove into his plate confirmed it. What did she want?

“Um, this year is about to get busy for me. I’m about to release new music, some videos, I have five shows planned, with full production teams and dancers and costumes. I want you to be a part of that journey, supporting me and making us a priority in your life like I plan to.” Before he could reply, she leaned back in her chair. “I want to feel normal in this relationship and I know the level of privacy might be too much to ask for.” 

“The privacy isn’t going to be hard. What I want more specifically to know is, are you telling me you’re submissive?” 

Goosebumps spread over her arms at his words and she inhaled and exhaled softly. He already knew the answer. He understood what could have led to her staying a virgin for so long.

“Because if you are, then you don’t have to worry about anything with me. Our levels of wealth are different, sure, but I know that doesn’t matter much to you. You appreciate when people do things for you genuinely. But I’m going to admit, I plan on spoiling you rotten. Our relationship is going to be hard because of our work, but any and every time I can spend time with you I plan on it.” 

“I want our worlds to mesh,’ she replies, linking her fingers together then closing them in a fist. “We have mutual friends who understand my world, thats a huge blessing, and I think they would help us, especially when you’re on the road.” 

“I want you to be comfortable more than anything.” 

Another course was brought in and the shared slice of chocolate cake was drizzled in a bourbon smelling caramel. Writing in chocolate around the rim was ‘so…are you my girlfriend now’. 

“Yes.” 

She pointed to the plate and he laughed. 

He picked up his glass and brought it his lips before speaking.

“Getting to know you, all of you, is going to be the highlight of my life.”

♫♫♫♫♫♫

Two weeks had passed since becoming official and though they considered themselves official back in January, it had more meaning now that they vocalized it. It was difficult with their drastically different work schedules, hiding their meet ups, and scheduling time to talk, but they managed to make it work. Once she was done with her studio time, she planned to fly to Florida where he was. Leati didn’t have much time off, but she would get to see him before his red eye flight to the next city. She had told him she could wait until Friday, but he was adamant about seeing her, as he always was. Who was she to deny him?

“You have that whole notebook,’ Gerrie said while watching Nashae fiddle with the sound board. “The songs are recorded, we need to pick tonight to get the dancers ready, the venue is selected, sound guys are ready.” 

“I know, I just want this roll out to be perfect.” 

“What are you thinking? I need something to send your dance captain so she can at least start practice.” 

“Schoolin Life is definitely on the list. I want this to start out as a party, something to get everyone moving.” 

Gerrie’s fingers flew across her phone, sending message after message to the awaiting team. Nashae knew after this week with Leati, she would be focused on the first leg of this year long project. 

“Add, Run the World and Diva.” 

“Woah, woah, woah, those two are easily singles!” 

Nashae looked down at the pages of song titles, each of them all recorded and mastered by production, but never before have they been heard and she wanted to pull out all the stops for this. She planned on going ghost, no one knew, for a few years just to spend that time with her family. 

“I know, but I want this project to tell a story. Oh! Slide Independent Woman in there as well.” 

“We need a ballad or something,’ Gerrie says, ‘this is such a fast paced show.” 

“A cover of I’m Every Woman,’ Nashae looked to Gerrie who was staring at her. “Acapella, me and a guitar?” 

“We both know you just threw that in there, but we will keep it. One more.” 

“No, I want this show super up beat and fun,’ she replies after flipping through her notebook. “Send that list over, get them started.” 

“What is the next stage of songs, because they need to flow, Nashae.” 

Nasahe wouldn’t admit she was distracted. Leati was texting her and she was….distracted. 

“A distraction baby,’ she hums, and Gerrie knows what’s about to happen. 

Turning to a blank page, Nashae scribbles down lines of lyrics, while her other hand turns on the sound board and mic. It’s not often she creates and produces from scratch alone, because she likes collaborating, but when the music hit her, she had to get it out then. Gerrie left her alone, taking the list of songs so the team could get started. The show was at the end of March and the music had to be out before then to get some play. However, the team knew Nasahe didn’t care about that. She made the music for her fans. They all knew her fans would wait for her. Curling up in the swivel chair, she pulls the infamous hoodie around her and zips it up. 

“I’m writing,’ she sighs into the phone as she picks up Leati’s call. 

“About me?” 

She giggled on her end of the line. “I’ll let you hear it and you can tell me.” 

♫♫♫♫♫♫

“Bitch! This is a banger!” 

She called Mercedes and Bianca this time, sending them the song before her producer team could get their hands on it and clean it up. 

“Is it?” 

Bianca could be seen bouncing around her living room. She always put the face time calls on her phone. 

“Release this shit,’ Mercedes added. “Like, yesterday. Has Trin heard it?” 

“I sent it to her and Takecia, they are on a double date so I know I will get an ear full when they are done.” 

Shutting down the sound board, she steps into the hallway leading towards her living area. She always worked out of her home, but she was ready to leave it for Leati’s. Her bag was already packed and since there was a large enough studio to rehearse in, she planned to fly her team out in two days to get started on rehearsals for her show. 

“All praise aside,’ Bianca bounces back into the frame after forcing Montez to dance with her, ‘who is it about? We heard about that date with…Manu.” 

She said that like she didn’t believe Nashae went on a date with Manu. 

“Someone, that y'all will meet in a few days,’ she admits. 

Her and Leati talked extensively the night of their date. As much as they needed to be private, they needed the help of their friends to do so. Keeping the secret from too many people would lead them to slipping up. She wanted her relationship with Leati to be just that, her relationship. 

“Oh really? Because if this song is anything, it’s about a man.” 

Coming out to their friends meant they could all hang out together and she didn’t have to act like Leati was a stranger. She didn’t have to pretend that he was a friend of a friend. She could kiss him when she wanted to, touch him, be on him. 

“Yeah, we have a dinner planned, you all will get to meet him.” 

Convincing Leati to have this dinner was the easy part. Even making sure everyone was invited was easy. Telling them should be easy, and she knew they would be supportive, but she was on edge. Leati was going to be by her side, yet, Nashae’s hands would get clammy and sweaty at the thought of telling anyone about them. 

“Mmmh, anyway,’ Bianca mused. “When are you releasing this?” 

“Tonight.” 

True to her word, she planned to drop the song. However, she was waiting on one more opinion. At the airport, Nashae boarded her private plane just as his call came through again. She was always anticipating his number flashing across her screen. 

“Hey Leati,’ she greets. 

“Yes,’ he says. 

“What?” 

“I’ll be whatever distraction you want me to be.” 

“You like the song?” 

“Being able to hear my girls music before everyone else? Especially knowing it’s about me? Of course I like the song.” 

“Perfect,’ she pulls out her laptop and opens twitter. 

In a single tweet she drops a lyric video of Distraction and posts it to her millions of followers. She logs out, shuts down her computer, and returns her attention to Leati. She doesn’t hear it but on his end, his twitter notification goes off, right when he opens it, he sees her post. 

“Were you waiting for me?” He asks. 

“Yeah. If you didn’t like it I wouldn’t have posted it.” 

It was a brand new song with a different sound. This whole era of music was going to be a new sound for her. It was going to be a reflection of her life.

[perotovar]

into the beat of the night (interlude) "shake"

pairing: frankie morales/oc!river price (they/them) rating: E (18+) chapter warnings: swearing, this is honestly just pwp, fingering, squirting, multiple orgasms (referenced), overstimulation, frankie being a god damn menace, sub!river this time, takes place sometime after ch6 but could realistically be read as standalone as long as you know they're together. if i missed anything else lmk! word count: 1.3k dividers by @saradika-graphics beta: @scenaaario

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series summary: frankie thought he had himself figured out by now. he liked both men and women, had dated both in the past. but when someone that challenges what he thinks that means comes into his life, in an unlikely place, he truly learns who he is, and more importantly, who he loves.

series masterlist

Frankie’s often thought about how lucky he is: his honorable discharge, whatever got him out of Colombia mostly intact, and Marisol’s presence when he wasn’t sure he had anything to keep going for.

But he thinks walking into that goth club might be slowly making its way up the list for him.

“F-Frankie,” River panted, looking pleadingly up at him with big, wet eyes. “Please,” they whined. They dug their blunt nails into his shoulder with one hand, and gripped around his wrist with the other. “I’m–”

“Shh…” Frankie smirks, speeding up the pace of his fingers. “I’ve only got a few more minutes before I gotta leave for work, okay? We still need at least two more.”

River groaned, swollen lips parted as they watched those thick fingers of his appearing and disappearing inside of them. They had been at it since Frankie’s alarm clock went off early that morning. He woke up in a determined mood, and River lost count of how many orgasms Frankie had given them. Their head lolled back against Frankie’s arm, long hair draped over the only thing keeping them upright. River’s legs trembled, one foot dangling off the dining room table, and the other planted against the surface of the table. 

Frankie watched their eyes glaze over and the blush on their cheeks deepen in color. They were close, he could tell. “You gonna be good and give me another one?” He grinned, removing the two fingers inside them, a satisfying squelch hitting his ears. River moaned weakly at the emptiness, their chest heaving before they gulped and nodded as they looked up at his face. He pressed the pads of those two fingers against their clit and rubbed in tight little circles. “C’mon, baby,” he grumbled against their neck before sucking lightly at the tattooed flesh.

River whined pathetically, their thighs shaking even harder around his arm. The hand that was around his wrist moved to brace themselves on the table. Their fingernails dug into the table as they scratched against the wood. “F-fuck,” they moaned, biting their lip. Blood thundered in their ears in time with their rapid heartbeat. “I-inside, please.”

“Only because you asked so nicely,” Frankie smirked, his bear paw of a hand covering them entirely as he swirled around their clit a few more times. His middle finger teasingly moved from their clit down to their opening at an agonizingly slow pace, making River groan in frustration. He chuckled darkly, slipping the tip of his finger inside them until it was as deep as it could go. River’s whole body went taut briefly before relaxing, their hips meeting the rhythm his hand was making in a gentle wave. “Mmm, very good,” he hummed, kissing up their neck until his lips latched onto their earlobe to nibble lovingly.

The surface of the table between River’s legs was soaked. They’d built up a little puddle as Frankie pulled orgasm after orgasm out of them, and it was about to get even worse. Their eyes shot open as the feeling low in their tummy felt… different. “Frankie,” they whimpered, looking at him with those big eyes again. “I’m– It’s not–”

Frankie looked at their face with mock worry, slipping his ring finger in alongside the middle one. “What is it, sweet thing?” He grinned, picking up the pace of his fingers again. Their pussy was loud, wet squelching sounds filling the air around them. He pressed the pad of his thumb against their clit and rubbed hard. River’s eyes rolled back and they moaned out into the apartment, unable to speak.

“Can’t even say anything, can you?” He pouted, his tone saccharine. The arm holding them up moved slightly so he could tangle his fingers into their long hair, the tips running over the back of their neck teasingly. He gripped onto their sweaty hair and forced them to look him in the eye. “You gonna come? Look at me when you do.”

River’s entire body shuddered as they nodded obediently, biting their lip.

“Good,” Frankie grumbled lowly, watching their face closely. It didn’t take much longer after that for their face to twist in pleasure and for their hips to halt all movement as they came hard. River’s body shook like a leaf as wetness covered Frankie’s entire hand. “Mmm, that’s it,” he hummed comfortingly, the hand on the back of their head cradling their neck. River’s hips rolled with the waves of their orgasm, making them whine pathetically. “Shh…” Frankie kissed their forehead, keeping his curved nose buried in their hair. They wrapped their shaking arms around Frankie’s torso as the last few aftershocks wracked through their body.

“C-can’t go again,” they panted, face buried in the fabric of his t-shirt. 

“‘S okay, baby, I know,” he smiled, kissing the top of their head. He slid his fingers out of them, one final gush of slick landing in the little puddle on the table. Frankie’s hand gripped River’s hip and pulled their body towards his own so he could hold them for a few moments. They stayed wrapped in each other’s arms for a little while until River came down and could breathe evenly again. “Was a big one, huh?” 

River hummed in satisfaction and nodded against his chest. Their hair was messy and sticking to every part of their sweaty body. 

“You want some water?” 

River squeezed their arms around Frankie’s soft middle before saying, “Yes, please,” in a quiet voice.

“You’re gonna have to let go of me for that, Río,” Frankie grinned.

River pouted before reluctantly detaching from him. He looked over their flushed face and relaxed body, smiling to himself. He leaned over and pressed his lips to theirs in a gentle kiss, but it slowly built to something deeper. River hummed into his mouth and cupped his cheeks with their hands. Frankie parted and pressed his forehead to theirs. “Be right back,” he whispered, eyes never leaving their face until he stepped into the kitchen next to them. 

“Wait, don’t you have work?” River asked from the table, pointedly sitting next to the little puddle they created. “And could you grab some paper towels?” They added quietly, a blush creeping up their neck.

“I can be a few minutes late,” Frankie said as he came into the dining room, a glass of water in one hand and a roll of paper towels in the other. He handed them the glass first and set the paper towels next to them on the table. He made a little growly sound deep in his chest at the sight, but forced himself not to act on it. He couldn’t be that late. 

“I’ll take care of it,” River smiled shyly, taking a big gulp of water. 

“You better,” Frankie smirked, hands laying on their thighs as he stepped between their legs again. “Want you to take a shower while I’m gone, okay? And do one of those weird face masks you like so much. Since I can’t be here to take care of you properly,” he frowned, kissing their cheek. 

“Yes, sir,” River rolled their eyes and pinched his hip. They took another drink of their water and set the empty glass behind them on the table. “You better go.”

Frankie sighed and nodded, giving them one final, proper kiss before he stepped back. He reached the door and grabbed his keys from the little dish on the table. When he looked back, River was leaning on their elbows on the table, one leg gracefully draped over the other. Their tattooed skin was shiny with sweat still and they were perfectly content with staying naked right on his dining room table. A shiver traveled down Frankie’s spine at the sight of them.

River waved their hand at him and giggled mischievously. “Go!”

Frankie shut the door behind him with a smile on his face, and a tightness in his jeans he hoped would be gone by the time he got to work.

[mimisempai]

Proud of you

Summary

Crowley must attend a gala evening in his honor and struggles with the bow tie on his tuxedo... but an angel comes to the rescue.

Notes

Yes, they could have pulled off a minor miracle, but...

INEFFABLE ADVENT CALENDER

On Ao3

Rating G -  763 words

"A tuxedo! I have to wear a damn tuxedo!"

Aziraphale watched in amusement as Crowley paced their room, dressed in said tuxedo. He paused every now and then to try to tie his bowtie and, annoyed that he couldn't, resumed his irritated walk.

"My dear, it's for a good cause," Aziraphale told him gently.

It was a fundraiser for the planetarium and Crowley had been invited as the guest of honor because attendance at the planetarium had increased exponentially since he'd started working there. 

Aziraphale wouldn't have wanted the demon to miss that night for anything in the world, because he was proud of Crowley, and he deserved the recognition.

Crowley sighed and replied, "I know... it's just that these kinds of events are absolutely not my style. People are always so uptight at these things."

Aziraphale rose and came up behind the demon, saying quietly, "But I'll be there with you."

The demon nodded and replied, "You're the only appealing thing about this evening, Angel." and then he sighed, “But I still can't knot the bloody tie."

Suddenly, two hands came to rest on his shoulders and slid forward, grasping both ends of the bow tie as Aziraphale's voice whispered in his ear, "For someone with so much style, I'm surprised a bow tie resists you, listen, I'll show you how it's done."

As Crowley looked up at the mirror, he had not anticipated the effect the sight of Aziraphale's fingers tying the bow tie around his neck would have on him.

The angel's fingers had always fascinated him, especially when they moved as precisely as they did now. He couldn't take his eyes off them as they finished the knot.

Aziraphale asked in his ear, "Do you understand now? ".

Crowley met his gaze in the mirror and, with his eyes in his, tugged at the end of the knot to untie it and said, a playful smile on his lips, "I'm afraid not, I didn't see all the steps, you'll have to show me again, Angel."

Aziraphale, obviously not fooled, started the knot again and Crowley became aware not only of Aziraphale's fingers on him, but of the warmth emanating from her body pressed against his and the breath in his hair. He leaned back a little more against Aziraphale, noticing that he had finished tying the knot again and was looking at him in the mirror, raising an eyebrow.

His eyes locked with his, Crowley tugged at the knot and murmured, "Again.

Aziraphale leaned over and whispered in his ear, "I see we're having trouble concentrating, Anthony J. Crowley?"

Crowley chuckled softly and the angel continued, "I think we need to get on with the practical work." 

He placed his hands on Crowley's, raised them to his neck and this time used Crowley's hands to tie the knot. When he was done, he immediately turned Crowley over and tightened the knot one last time, positioning it perfectly.

He lifted his head and planted a light kiss on Crowley's lips, then as he stepped back, his expression changed from playful to tender. Laying his hand on Crowley's cheek, Aziraphale said softly, "While this interlude is quite delightful, I don't want us to be late for your evening. I'm so proud of you, my dear."

Hearing those words from Aziraphale's mouth always had an incredible effect on Crowley, and even now he found it hard to believe.

As if Aziraphale had followed his train of thought, he slipped his hand under Crowley's chin and said softly, but firmly, with his eyes in his, "I'm not lying, I'm really proud of you."

Then, to back up his words, he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against the demon's once more. As they parted after a lingering kiss, he whispered in Crowley's ear, "But as soon as this evening is over, I'm willing to show you how to tie a perfect bow tie as many times as you want."

Crowley chuckled softly and replied with a flirtatious gleam in his eyes, "When the evening is over, angel, I intend not to wear a bow tie again for a long time. I like it better on you. "

Then he added, now with a cheeky twinkle in his eye, "Even if it's tartan."

Aziraphale retorted in an offended tone, "Hey! Tartan is stylish!"

Crowley, laughing and much more relaxed now, took Aziraphale's hand in his and brought it to his lips before planting a gentle kiss on it.

After all, the evening wouldn't be so boring if he had his angel with him.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : (After season 2) 

Part 1 Story 1-99

Part 2 Story 100-?

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

[writingcold]

Hello!  Welcome to Chapter 6 of CD&FE.  

Pairing: Jake X Female Reader 

Summary: This is an AU that starts with the release of GVF’s first EP, Black Smoke Rising, and follows along life paths over the course of twenty plus years.  So…  It’s just messy.  Fortunately, it’s also kind of a shorty as far as length goes.     

Content warnings: Uncomfortable moments in adult relationships, but smut free.  

Word Count: approx. 4.4K 

I am so thankful for @edgingthedarkness and @takenbythemadness.  But you all better know that by now, but I’ve said it with every damn posting how brilliant they are. 

CD&FE, Part 6.1: Her POV 

      To say that I had gotten comfortable in my relationship with Frankie was an understatement.  I felt like we were flourishing.  I began to slowly migrate from my office into our home, working one and two days a week away from the office.  No one died.  No projects failed.  Fancy that.  I was able to distance myself and yet still get the job done.  Life was good.  I couldn’t lie about that.

      I had gotten a call from my friend Maurice Flanders from Chicago who owned several galleries.  I had been handling his accounts for years, but he reached out on this one in particular as it would be a rushed job.  He had a show fall through, but found an up and coming artist that had agreed to a limited run on short notice.  Of course, I’d never leave him in a bind and agreed to step in right away to handle the advertising for the event, and all of the main graphic needs for the opening night.  I didn’t think of the person until well after I had hung up and a few days had gone by.  The featured artist would be Clara.  His Clara.

       Echoes of times and interludes with Jake haunted me from time to time.  Stray thoughts lingered longer than they should have.  Bits and fragments of dreams would wash a tide across me when I felt weak.  Always at my fringe, I could feel Jake’s presence.  I could be dicing up vegetables for dinner, or have a song coming on across my feed, or hell, sitting and talking with friends, and all of the emotions of loss of him would come roaring back only to stop short and fizzle out.  I supposed that was because it ended how it did.  This lingering uncertainty of ‘maybe’.  I felt like a corner of me longed for him still.  

     We were two weeks from the event when Maurice called me personally to check in and to invite me down - after all, it had been ages since we had been together in person.  I knew there would be many current clients in attendance.  It would be smart for me to be there.  Frank was willing to take the weekend trip, so it was a go.  Although, part of me was hesitant.  Would Jake be there?  How was I going to handle seeing him - in person after all this time?

     We flew down a few days early to take in the museums and the jazz and blues scene of the city.  Frank kept his distance when I needed to work, but he was more than happy to entertain himself.  The opening was Saturday night and we were ready to go.  It wasn’t like we had to be glamorous, but to say my man looked hot as sin would not be lying.  He held me close as we approached the gallery.  My stomach did a little flop as I realized that I was looking right at Clara when we walked in before the actual opening.  Maurice was lovely, wrapping me up and welcoming us in.  

     I silently sloshed through emotions whilst keeping my professional appearance while weaving through the introduction to Clara.  She gushed over our work - impressed that it was all completed on such a short timeline but so beautifully.  She walked me and Frankie around showing us some of her more recent works.  All of my internal organs were twisting with fury as I caught glimpses of love and Jake and their time together.  I held tight to Frank’s hand, but all the while, my brain was conjuring venom towards the very unaware Clara.  

     My eyes were darting around when the doors officially opened.  He was nowhere to be found.  I picked out Jake’s parents right away.  They were fawning over Clara, but their son was completely absent.  I could see the glint of frustration in the woman’s eyes as they were talking.  I dug myself deeper into the gallery.  It wasn’t like any of that scene was my business.  

     I spent the better part of two hours connecting with clients and meeting potential new ones.  Frank was my stalwart spirit, smiling and looking incredibly handsome.  He seemed totally relaxed in his easy self that just seemed to draw people in instantly.  Our last forty minutes was spent with Maurice in a cozy corner going over new contacts that he wanted to share for our valiant effort and success together.  

     As we started to say our goodbyes, I took note that Jake still was not in attendance.  My heart squeezed a bit.  I’m unsure if it was because he was not in attendance, or if there was a personal issue that was lingering behind the pretty woman’s smile.  A small portrait towards the front caught my eyes and held it as we meandered towards the door.  It was Jake, but his face was down, the brim of a hat covering most of his features.  I felt removed.  I had no right feeling this way, but my whole focus seemed to be parked on a man that I had not physically seen in six years.  Six.  And he still commanded my thoughts like we had just parted the day before.

     The rest of summer rolled through quietly.  Frank had been gone a few weeks due to conferences, to which I took advantage to catch up with friends.  Patrick and Sidney took most of that time, but I so enjoyed our time together.  In October, I found myself in Paris, accompanying Frank for one of his academic conferences.  While he was buried in work, I was gracing the balcony of a beautiful little room, sipping coffee and soaking in the ancient city around me.  Our evenings were our own.  We walked everywhere until we couldn’t walk any more.  We laughed over food and cried over art.  I wanted more time.  Always more time, but life was calling us back.

     By December, I had somehow discovered that the bulk of my work week was spent in my pjs in my home office.  And I didn’t feel bad about it.  Christmas brought around news I didn’t expect.

     “You’re procreating?”  I asked, unable to hide the shrill note in my tone.

     Patrick and Sid were sitting with huge smiles before me.  “Aunt Y/n has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”  Pat said finally, letting me fully digest the moment.

     It was unreal to think that my oldest friend was going to be a father.  But they were happy.  Beyond it, actually.   The babies would arrive in the summer - fraternal twins no less.  I was secretly planning on buying every obnoxiously loud, bright, annoying toy possible to fill their lives with such joy.  Pat deserved a little more chaos in his life, right?

     Spring arrived with a definite bang.  We seemed to go from ice and wind and ten foot high drifts of snow to green overnight.  I had come home from a client dinner party to find the apartment quiet.  I went to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water, discovering that Frankie was out on the deck.  The faint glow of a cigarette rested between his fingers, while a glass was nestled into the palm of his other hand.  It was an odd sight.  Frank didn’t smoke unless his mind was troubled.

     I walked out onto the deck and wrapped my arms around his waist.  He was quick to crush the smoke, but I had seen it was not just the one he had imbibed in.  He had been outside for quite some time.

     “How was your meeting?”  he asked as he turned to welcome me proper.

     “Good.  I would say we landed another solid client.”  I allowed myself to be wrapped up in his dense frame and scent.  There was an air of removal that I did not understand.  “Something must have happened, huh?  Tough day?”

     He hummed as he let me go.  “Actually, something that I wasn’t expecting came up.”

     I frowned when he paused.  His whole aura seemed shifted.  He was holding back.  I frowned all the more as he lit another cigarette and leaned away from me.  My gut blazed with a stab of anxiety.  I was left wishing I would’ve poured something harder than the water.

     “I’ve been invited to teach in Paris,”  he said, his voice void of what made him sound like himself.  It was weird.  

     I could see that he was happy about it, but he wasn’t allowing himself to be.  I must’ve flashed an expression that he didn’t like.  He turned away from me, with his face turned to the sky.  “Are you not happy about this?”

     “I am actually really fucking happy about it,”  he muttered, his voice full of an edge.

     “But-”

     He let out a long stream of smoke after lighting up another cigarette.  “I’ve been out here for hours trying to guess how you would answer my question if I asked you to come with me.  However, I think I already have my answer.”

     “That’s not fair,”  I whispered.

     “Would you go?”

     It was like I was going a hundred miles an hour and someone just threw my ass into park without the benefit of hitting the breaks.  My insides felt like they were liquefying as he seemed to fight himself from looking at me.  I knew what he was asking.  I had heard this question in a different, unspoken form before.  And the answer was the same.

     “Frank,”  I hiccuped.  

     “It’s all right.  I get it,”  he said, voice hushed.  “I need some time out here.  Alone.  Please.”

     My jaw softened as I felt all those liquid guts swirl just under my skin.  I felt like I was going to throw up as I pushed my way back into the apartment.  My legs were declaring a mutiny as I tried to climb the stairs.  I found myself melting onto the fourth step.  I was in a ball while the man I had made a life with for the better part of six years was hurt outside.  

      I went to bed alone and I woke up alone.  Frank was not in the apartment when I padded down the stairs.  The knot that had strangled my innards the night before was limp from bleeding out.  I was too tired to search for a note.  I was sure eventually, we’d discuss the situation.  I wanted to say I’d go with him.  I wanted to say that I would be able to leave my work behind.  But in truth - I just couldn’t.  

      I sat curled on the couch, waiting for him to come home.  I saw a text from Pat, but I couldn’t find it in me to pay attention beyond who it was from.  The parallel was not lost on me as I looked around my home - our home.  It was true that I was slowly creating distance from my work, but by street blocks only.  To completely leave it behind?  Wasn’t that what he was silently asking of me?  

      It wasn’t until early evening that Frank returned.  He looked hollow as he set his keys down on the table.  I felt gutted as he sat down next to me.  I threaded my fingers into his, but made no move closer to him.  It was like a division was already between us.  It hurt to breathe the same air, let alone be in the same space.

      “I can’t say ‘no’ to this, Y/n,”  he said quietly.  “I refuse to be that guy to tell you to quit your job.  I just don’t know where that leaves us.”

      I tucked my chin to my chest.  All the love, all the life was slipping away like a threadbare scarf.  I hated this.  It wasn’t supposed to be this way.  And yet, I couldn’t force my mouth to wrap around the words that I needed to speak.

      “Distance doesn’t work for me,”  he whispered.  “I’m a jealous man, if I was being honest.”

      “And if I’m not ready-”  My words dried up in my throat, crackling like brittle paper.

      “I’m not ready, either,”  he replied, tightening his hold on my hand.  “Could you leave your company behind?  Honest.  As honest as you can be.”

      No matter how much I wanted to say ‘yes, I can leave’, I just knew it was wrong.  I looked at him as my eyes filled and spilled across my cheeks.  I shook my head ‘no’ as my throat refused to function through the emotions.

      “Didn’t think so,”  he whispered.

      I fell into him as I couldn’t hold back my tears.  He made no move to hide his own.  We mourned together.  We found comfort in each other’s touch.  It was like we knew it was the end.  

CD&FE, part 6.2: Jake’s POV

     “It’s been coming for a while, Jake,”  Clara said, after I finally got her to sit down at the dining room table.

      “Really?  I thought everything was just fine,”  I said, not trying to hide the bitterness from my tone.

      She puffed out her cheeks with a hard breath.  “Come on.  Surely you don’t think everything has been all right?”

      “Enlighten me.”

      I was mad.  I was mad more at myself.  She did not seem to really want to answer.  But that was Clara.  I wanted to know.  I wanted honesty.  She wanted to hide from conflict.  If she wanted out, I was not going to stop her, however I needed to know what the hell I did wrong.

     “Chicago wasn’t my only show you missed,”  she said quietly.  She shook her head.  “No.  I shouldn’t say it that way.  It was my choice to be on tour with you.  I loved traveling with you.”

      “But.”

      She squirmed in her seat.  I did not like making her feel uncomfortable, but I felt like I could at least understand.  “I turned down two galleries this past year because they conflicted with the tour.  I turned down working with others last year because they conflicted with the tour.  When Chicago came around, and I saw it fit between shows, I thought maybe you would see my passion was as strong as yours.  Perhaps it would be a way for you to see that I was as good-”

      “Fuck,”  I whispered against the anger that flooded my system.  “You can’t put that on me.  Just because you chose not to take an opportunity…?”

      Clara slapped the table and jumped from her chair.  I followed her as she fled to the bedroom.  This was her pattern.  Run.  Run from any kind of conflict and let it fester until it was a hundred more times hurtful as it became a torrent flooding out of her.

      “Talk to me!  How can you think I felt your work was ‘not good’?  I’m just as excited as you are that this is getting somewhere for you,”  I said, fighting to keep my tone from hitting a harsh line.  

      “Really?  Could’ve fooled me,”  she grumbled, coming to a stop.  “I have followed you around this planet with you for years, Jake.  On tour, you take no notice of how I struggle to keep up.  I need more time in these spaces.  I need more time to create.  But it’s like you have blinders on and it’s always only about the tour.  Only about your work and never about anyone else.”

      “It’s kind of what I do.  My job.  I can’t apologize for working to keep us to the level that we are.  Many people depend on me, on us, to live on.  It’s more than just about me.  If I don’t do a good job, if we aren’t out there, families are affected.”

      She rolled her eyes.  “And you don’t really think about the effects on your own family.”

      “We’re all working our asses off-”

      “I wasn’t talking about your brothers, Jake!  Me!  Your family that you won’t marry?”

      I stopped moving.  Clara threw her hands up out of frustration and proceeded to stomp back into the bedroom.  A tiny fraction of me did not want to pursue the argument.  It whispered to let it go.  Let her go.  

      “That can’t be it,”  I found myself saying out loud.  She scoffed as I walked into the bedroom after her.  

      “What - a commitment?  I’m fucking human, Jake.”

      I felt my brows pinch as I watched her wrestle her bags from the bed only to grab another empty suitcase and fling it open.  “I-”

      “I want it.  I have wanted all of this.  All of you.  Don’t you see that?”

      The corners of my mouth turned down.  She was throwing her clothes into the case without consideration.  It was then I realized that her ring was gone.  That little whisper was rising in volume, but still not sharp enough for me to listen.

      “What I see is someone who doesn’t trust me enough to let me go on tour without her,”  I said, unable to really recognize the flatness of my own voice.

      The laugh that slithered from her mouth made me cringe.  “Trust?  Fuck yeah, I don’t trust you.  I see how others are out there.  Leaving their wives at home so they can fuck anyone that comes across their plate!  Fuck that.”

       “That’s not me,”  I whispered.  “You’d know that if you gave me the chance.”

       She started to say something but stopped.  She dropped the clothes from her hands and took a step back.  “Still doesn’t change the fact that you do not want to marry me.”

       I nodded.  She was right.  I may have at one point thought that marriage in my profession was impossible, but that wasn’t totally it.  I believed if I made a commitment, I didn’t need anyone else’s approval, a little paper, or any other archaic belief to say that I am with someone.  That voice had gone from a whisper, to nearly a full voice, was now shouting at me.  

      “I’m sorry you thought you had to live around me,”  I said, retreating back to the doorway.  “That was never the case.”

��     “It was always the case, whether you realized it or not.  I was given a schedule and felt like I had to live by it.  I put myself in that schedule where I could.”

      “That was your lack of faith in me, Clara.  That’s not something I can fix.”

      I walked away, allowing her to finish collecting her things.  So much of this house was her.  So much of the life within it was her.  Was I sad about it?  Yeah.  It hurt like a fucking punch to my chest.  But it was done.  

     I poured myself a whiskey and wandered out to the patio with my phone in hand.  I called Josh, only to be sent to voicemail.  Dick.  I called Mom, but then forgot the folks were on a flight home.  My brain was formulating plans.  I listened to the rambling playing of the neighbor kids and the distant practice of someone on a piano.  I must’ve been out there no more than an hour before I heard Clara behind me.

      “I called an Uber.  I’ll stay with my friends for a few weeks to figure this out.”  

      Her voice was void of warmth.  There was nothing to figure out.  It was just done.  

      “I leave on Monday,”  I replied, looking up at her.  “I’ll be gone for two weeks.  If you want, you can clear out while I’m gone.”

      “Wow,”  she sighed.  “I say done and you mean it.  Kinda cold, Jake.”

      I shook my head.  “I cannot be with someone who has no faith in me, and cannot trust me.  I will not be with someone who thinks so little of my commitment.  You shouldn’t want to be with me if I make you live by my schedule.  Or think that I am holding you from what you love.  Those are some pretty big stopping points.”

      She sighed.  “I suppose you are right.”

      I heard her leave, but did not watch.  I reached for my phone and began an attempt to text my twin, but he was strangely radio silent.  I realized in the silence, that I had not gone to actually see Clara’s showing postings.  For that I was a real prick.  I opened up the socials and got to her professional page.  She looked happy in the first picture - she stood in the middle of the small gallery with her works all around her.  I scrolled through the pictures slowly, taking in each shot of the paintings I knew well.  Each one seemed to look different under the lighting, but they were all here.  

      I stormed through the first dozen or so before I stopped.  At the edge of the frame was a familiar face.  Y/n was standing with a small group, all wrapped up in her professional armor and disarming smile.  I frowned for a moment.  I started scrolling down and looking at the actual description and noticed a small ‘thank you’ note that included the owner of the gallery, the management team and…  oh hell.  Y/n had personally taken care of all the advertising and graphics within the gallery.  I went back to the picture and stared.  It was like all the hurt, all the guilt was paused.

      I wondered if she knew who Clara was.  I wondered if she was aware of our connection.  Surely she had seen my post about Clara.  Oh… fuck.  Did Clara know?  Surely not.  A knot of anxiety twisted through my chest forcing me to stand up and fly into the house, phone clutched tightly in my palm.  I was spooked.  I was realizing that the last day was beginning to filter through.  The final moments especially - I hadn’t even said goodbye.  Who does that?  

      I decided to give her the space she asked for, going out on the next stretch before reaching back out to her.  When I returned home, it was an empty house.  She had taken all of her things, her artwork, the pieces that she had wanted to be in our shared space.  I texted her that I was back, knowing that the last part was to get the keys.  I made a nice dinner of all her favorites, along with her choice of wine.  I had flowers delivered that reminded me of our time in Rome a few years back.  It wasn’t meant to be romantic, but I’m sure that was what it looked like when I finished getting everything ready.

      She smiled when I invited her inside.  Her eyes latched onto the table and started to shake her head with excuses to leave.

      “Just come and talk with me.”

      I took her purse and set it to the side as she reluctantly walked past me.  “Jake, I’m not sure if this is a good idea.”

      “Just talk,”  I promised, waving her towards the table.  

      I poured a glass of wine while she sat down.  I took a drink of my beer before pulling serving dishes out of the warming oven.  I plated up and joined her.

     “I know I’m springing this on you, but,”  I started, setting down her food before her, “I just thought it would make this a little easier.”

      “Thank you,”  she said quietly.  “It looks delicious.”

      We picked at our food, and it was silent.  It was not what I was hoping for in the slightest, but it was a start.

      “Have you been staying with Grace and Tucker?”  I asked, hoping to break the ice.

      “I haven’t left Nashville, if that’s what you’re searching for, Jake,”  she answered.

      I ate the hard tone and tried to let it go.  Sitting back in my chair, I wiped the corners of my mouth.  “I’m not looking for a fight, Clara.”

      “Then what is all of this?  A grand send off?”

      I rolled my eyes.  “If that’s what you want to call it, fine.  I just want to part as friends.  We were such good friends towards each other - why leave it with all that hurt out there?”

      “Pretty one sided friends, if you ask me.”

      My eyes rolled closed.  I sucked in a long, slow breath.  “I saw the pictures from Chicago - on your socials.  Mom shared a few more as well.  No matter how you think of me, I am proud of you.  It was wrong of me to miss it.”

      She set her glass down and finally made eye contact.  “Why didn’t you want to be there?”

     “Who said I didn’t want to be there? I made every attempt to get there.  I won’t be an ass and blame the weather, but…  I really am sorry I missed it,”  I replied honestly.  “You know how I am when we’re out there.  If I don’t focus on what I’m supposed to be doing-”

      “You were supposed to buy that ticket and be with me.” 

      I frowned.  “And I am upset with myself over it, Clara.”

      “Sure you are.”

      “Of course I am.  It was my mistake, but it showed us that you are to move in this other direction,”  I said, tapping my fingers on the table softly.  “I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to follow me, Clara.  It was never my intent to keep you from your art.”

       She flashed a sad little smile.  “I didn’t mean to make it sound like I didn’t trust you.  I was scared.  I saw what happens out there.  It’s not pretty.”

       “It’s very easy to get caught up,”  I admitted, keeping my voice level.  “It hurt that you wouldn’t allow me to try, at least.  At least prove that I could be faithful to us.  There are more on the road that can be faithful than not.”

       She nodded.  “I’m not sorry for our time together, Jake.”

       “Neither am I,”  I whispered as she touched my hand.

       Closure.  It was not stomping away in anger.  It was not lighting my days on fire just to show her what kind of man I could be.  It was quiet and reverent of our time together.  I hugged her goodbye and it felt good to watch her walk away knowing that she was going to be just fine without me.  What more, I knew I was going to be just fine without her.

So, I’m unsure if I want to break our final part, part 7, into the three postings, with a fourth posting for the epilogue, or to post 7.1 with 7.2, and have 7.3 with the epilogue.  🤔  I’m leaning towards having two more posts after today’s, instead of four. 

I’ve had quite a few new people join the taglist.  However, if you are one of those who do not participate and post, it’s hard to tag you.  I’m sorry.  I’ve tried, but tagging in posts is shoddy as it is, so if you are not getting the notification that I’ve posted, but you’re on the taglist?  It’s just the world that our tumblr is.  I’m trying though - I’m trying to get these tags to work!  Promise

I do have a tag list here, or you can just let me know in a reply to add you. 

@lvnterninthenight @doodle417 @luverleaver @jakesgrapejuice @fictional-duchess @milkgemini @positivegvfthings @songbirds-sweet @gretavanbitches @gardensgatedaisy @babyhoneygvfarchive @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @starcatcherc @loveisonaroll @jakesstarlight @reesetrippingthelight @builtby-gvf @ignite-my-fire @wetkleenex-gvf @gold-mines-melting @starsasone @mysticalstarcatcher @montenegroisr @takenbythemadness @way-to-go-lad @cal-a-bungaa @thewritingbeforesunrise @leftjudgeempathsuitcase @brokenbells11 @imborrowedshesblue @vanfleeter

[lunar1an]

thinking a lot about wildbow's early works (worm, pact) and his more recent moralistic works (ward, pale) and the sheer difference in narrative empathy

in worm and pact you have characters who do fucked up things but it feels like a lot of effort is put into understanding the people behind them and where they're coming from. rachel's dogs maul people but there's a whole Arc of taylor learning to vibe with her and befriend her and of rachel getting what she needs (a place alone with her dogs where she can let other people in at her own pace) and growing as a person. all from the angle of 'this is genuinely good for rachel and helpful'. we want her to succeed because we care about her.

in pact we see how sandra duchamp grew up, how she's just as much a victim of her family as she is someone who perpetuates that harm, and while she's an antagonist the story doesn't spoonfeed it to us--we're allowed to see her human and sympathetic moments and we're allowed to feel bad for her while also wanting her stopped.

it felt. i don't know. like the story in general respected these characters, respected the reader's ability to empathize with those characters while also knowing Murder Bad or whatever.

but then the major worm fandom interpretations shifted. you had reddit and other popular sources going on about how taylor was actually horrible and an unreliable narrator, and how the undersiders were actually ~super fucked up and evil criminals~. pact and twig were spared this for the most part by virtue of being less popular with those crowds.

and i'm not sure if the morality discourse got baked into wildbow's brain by osmosis or if he felt like he wouldn't be appeasing his fandom if he didn't address it or what.

but by ward suddenly that narrative empathy, for the most part, is missing. it becomes conditional -- the protagonist and others do not extend empathy towards others until they Properly Recognize What They've Done Wrong. any improvement, any attempt to do better isn't legitimate unless the Bad Deeds are addressed and atoned for by whatever inconsistent standards the narrative adheres to. what matters isn't riley being in a healthier place and making connections--ward thinks that we should be rooting for riley because she recognizes she messed up and is constantly making up for the atrocities she committed.

i think it's kind of reached its peak in post arc 13 pale though. every time empathy is extended it's near-always accompanied by a patronizing little reminder of "mmmm, well you did Bad Things too".

you aren't allowed to just say "well damn i sympathize with charles", for example, because the narrative constantly reminds you that actually he is Still Doing Bad and therefore you aren't allowed to feel for him. it doesn't help that the story continually one-ups itself on thinking of ways to make charles over the top evil either.

but either way it's just. bleak. in a story purportedly about community building it's shockingly uncaring. you can't just sympathize with a morally grey character or take them As They Are without the story casting judgment and constantly reminding you of their verdict. it's just exhausting and makes any positive message the story tries to send feel hollow

OBLIGATORY NOTE: this essay does not mean "actually all fallen and e88 and etc should be empathized with". what it does mean is that in a moralistic work it becomes telling when ex-nazi rune gets her own interlude and a bunch of pagetime to show how she's 'doing better' while that same courtesy isn't extended to many villains who are traumatized and might have, say, legitimate reasons to not want to be arrested or feel like they have no other option, or legitimate reason to not support the heroes, but oh. they do Crimes so actually none of that matters as long as they're still Doing Crimes.

[theabyssal]

By God I didn't think the demo could get any better than it was before but you very much proved me wrong.

So many things to say lol

Not really spoilers but maybe???

1. firstly mask options are so cool good job! 2.Marcella is adorable and I can't wait to find out more about her.

3. That first interlude nearly had me in tears with how much emotion there was like damn that much guilt was just so saddening.

4. Was really lovely meeting Mr mortician and Sophie is a cutie.

5. I really hate how well you wrote the last bit of dialog because although I want to hate our dear sister somehow I kind of just pity her.. there is just an undertone of bitterness that comes from her that's both sad and makes me want to slap her kind of.

the dialog options were just phenomenal too. Especially right before the end.

I'm honestly just so excited for this. I can't wait to have a Sol POV tho because that's gonna be emotionally taxing to read and I love torturing myself and I look forward to just go from very compassionate Death to emotionally stunted and chaotic. It's gonna be wild! Somehow you made a wonderful demo even greater. Which is a talent in itself. ♥️

Heeey!!

You just highlighted my favorite things about this update!! 🥰🥰

So happy you enjoyed!! 🖤🖤

[cairavende]

Worm Arc 12 thoughts:

Brian needs to watch the Barbie movie holy shit! (I understand the story takes place in 2011 and the movie doesn't exist there)

Just like, fuck get off Taylor's back. She is playing it too safe but also being too aggressive. Moving too fast but also not being aggressive enough! AHHHHHHHH!

Seriously, nearly every time Brian showed up in this arc I was yelling at him. Dude. Just back off.

Skitter fucking just, killing thousands of rats in a few minutes is absolutely terrifying. God I love her.

Hookwolf is a dick. I can't believe everyone else went along with him and gave the Travelers and the Undersiders shitty choices like that. I mean that's not true, I can believe it I'm just mad.

I legit forgot Imp existed until Tattletale mentioned leaving her at the meeting as a spy. I love how the way her power works combined with the writing style means she just disappears for the readers as well.

Loved seeing more of the Travelers and more Noelle. Excited to learn more about her (I don't have great feelings about her long term situation though).

Jack is such a fucking POSER oh my god!

He just. He thinks he's so cool. But he's not. Fucking "this is not an exit" reference and shit.

He is Tobey Maguire Spider-Man from Spider-Man 3. Just thinks he is the coolest shit. Everyone just has to accept it cause he got fancy knife powers.

Tattletale just fucking full confidence fucking with the Nine while standing right in front of them. She clearly knew it was high risk but she took it and she got results, spoiling Jacks plan with Cheri and shit.

That said, AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! MY BABY SOMEBODY HELP MY BABY! AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! (Ok she's not like, my baby, that's Taylor. But she's still my baby.)

LOOK AT MY FUCKING DAUGHTER! FUCKING LOOK AT HER! HOW MANY PEOPLE DID SHE SAVE FROM SHATTERBIRD? HUNDREDS? THOUSANDS? SHE IS AMAZING!

She fucking needs therapy though. Saves more people than anyone else could have and is mad because she didn't do enough. God damn Taylor love yourself!

Danny is fine. Besides, he had warning so any injures are basically his fault. Git gud Danny. (Ok look that's a little unfair, but he messed up pretty bad with raising my daughter so I'm allowed to be a little unfair to him I think.)

And look at my daughter again! She goes and organizes people to help the wounded. Takes charge. Gets a cool butch lady that might never show up again to help. I hope she does show up again though.

AND THEN FUCKING MANNEQUIN! AAAAHHHHHH!!!!!

After he showed up I said "I don't know how the fuck she's gonna do it, but my daughter is gonna kick your ass". And then like a few paragraphs later I read "I have no idea how the fuck I’m going to do it but I’m going to make you regret that." This made me both happy - fun to say something and have Taylor say almost the same thing - and worried - cause when I said I didn't know how she was going to do it I kinda hoped she had a plan.

But then she fucking does it! She kicks his ass. She steals his arm. SHE RIPS HIS HEAD OFF! GOD DAMN! THAT'S MY FUCKING KID!

I do think she should hire the buff burly guy who helped her rip Mannequin's head off. He clearly has motivation and would be loyal. And maybe I want to see him more. For reasons.

But anyway she fucking wrecks Mannequin, makes him look like he lost a fight with a paint store. Just fucking clowned on him. She is so good.

Then the next day Brian comes in and fully focuses on how stupid it was to fight Mannequin, not really praising that she won or asking if she needs medical help. God damn bud!

But I loved how a fuck ton of people were like "Oh shit she beat Mannequin! I want to work for her." She's going to be so fucking famous soon.

Interlude 1 - Jack is a poser again. Sucks to be the Merchants, can't say I'll miss them. Jack trying to sound all clever with his carrot and sticks thing, but most of what he lists for the other Nine is really obvious. And he misses some stuff as well. Poser. I could lead the Nine better than him (not that I would lead the Nine, just that if I did I would be better than Jack).

Interlude 2 - God damn this is a doozy. Shit ton of Cauldron lore. Battery backstory. Assault backstory. I made a "now kith" joke when they fought for the very first time cause I didn't realize who they were yet. It was supposed to be a joke. I did not want them to end up together. They should not be together. Legend should not have allowed Assault to be on Battery's team. He was a bit of a dick for that. So much Cauldron lore though. I can't put it all here.

[intoloopin]

AN INTERLUDE: IN UNITY.

TWS: A rapist and drugs are very briefly mentioned. The boys are fighting. And I believe that's all. characters (starring): Na Seungsoo. Woo Gyujin. word count: 2,457 words. time stamp: January 21th, 2024 (the day Dylan released his mixtape). author's note: not exactly super beated because I am literally dying! But anyways! Transitionary piece to get this plot going! Productivety! Hell yeah! *passes out*

January 21th.

Seungsoo doesn’t miss LOOPiN’s old dorm because he can’t miss it.

So every time he gets close to airing a complain about their current house, he instead makes a point to remember that their former two story apartment came straight out of Jiahang’s pockets, rented with a fraction of one of his many, many trust funds set by his millionaire parents for when he grew up and decided to go to college to study rare plants, or be a nepotistic model, or move to Monaco and do nothing forever. It becomes very easy to cultivate a vendetta against it that way.

But right now what Seungsoo can’t help but miss is having a bigger balcony, one that won’t cramp him when he tries to have a peaceful and quiet meltdown in his own goddamn home. There's a breeze hitting him right on the face while he’s staring at the goddamn sunset but he still feels suffocated. And he’s only sharing space with Taesong’s outside plants, their leaves a depressing shade of sick green, and Haegon’s brand new bike, which he only bought because he wasn't allowed to get a haircut after leaving Sunyoung for the nth time. 

From behind him, Seungsoo hears the sound of the balcony’s door being quietly pushed open, and of a series of steps growing closer. The living room’s light has been turned on and it’s painting his body in yellow light.

“Haruki, look–” Seungsoo breathes, turning on his heels quickly, ready to raise his arms high in rendition.

Who he finds behind him is someone else, tough, someone worse – or maybe not. Haruki hates him now, romanticizes the living Hell out of Dylan now, so he would have certainly been way worse to look in the eyes now than Gyujin.

Gyujin who, with his brand new eyebrow piercing and wet hair from his one hour long shower, greets him with a smile then says, as if he’s queued to deliver a joke, “You wish.”

“Great,” Seungsoo mutters to himself, turning his back to him, getting back at supporting his elbows on the wall. For a second, he marvels at how nasty the fall would be if he jumped to the backyard. “Get out, Gyujin, seriously. I’m not in the mood.”

“Boo-hoo. I didn’t ask.”

With that, he comes close. He sits on the thick wall in the little space the plants give him, both hands holding on the concrete while he bends dangerously backwards, dangling his feet. 

And Gyujin just stays there, barely moving and not talking, only whistling like a goddamn cartoon. In retaliation, Seungsoo frowns harder at the horizon and begins to fidget on his sleeping clothes, fingers anxious to hold onto something.

He never picked up on smoking and he kind of regrets it now, can’t remember the reason why. Maybe because he likes to smell like cologne too much, or because he hates the thought of being unable to kiss someone without it tasting bitter.

It takes a mere minute or so for him to break, because that’s what Seungsoo does best: he can’t hold back an impulse, can’t swallow a single word down. He needs a collar, he’s realized recently, a muzzle, and no one ever gets him one – no one ever gets him.

“That was just so damn childish,” He mutters through his teeth. “Releasing all the songs like that.”

“Oh?” Gyujin tilts his squared chin down. He’s almost looming over Seungsoo, with the way he’s set – taking him from up above, an angle Seungoo’s had a problem being perceived from ever since he was the youngest of his mother’s kids. “And unfollowing Chihoon on Instagram wasn't childish?”

“I don’t like when any of our private business gets exposed, no matter how vague. He knows that.”

“Didn’t you just make it more public now with your little show? Or do you really think no one will connect the two, that the timing isn’t obvious, that you aren’t raising tension?”

Seungsoo suppresses a little scream by pressing his knuckles hard against his lips.

“You didn’t think that far, did you? Tsk, you just never do,” Gyujin lets out a laugh. “So what is it, Seungsoo, really? Why did you do that? What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?!” Seungsoo breathes, straightening up quickly, viciously – he almost hits Gyujin on the forehead with his head by doing so. “What is wrong with you?! Do you really think it’s okay for him to make something like that and release it without checking with us first?! When it’s mostly about the team?! We’re not illiterate! We can understand all his goddamn English!”

“Hm. Little League’s mean, I never said it wasn’t,” Gyujin agrees, but his relaxed posture lets it clear to Seungsoo that he does so only partially, half heartedly, even – always so comfortable with the possibility of a fall, he thinks, eyeing his horrible posture. “It’s a mock song made to piss Haegon off, and it got the job done. He’s justified in everything he chose to do about it. I just don’t get why you’re so offended. Is it because Chihoon didn’t write about you?”

“Are you insane? It’s not about getting a song or not, or Dylan doing things on his own or not, I just don’t–” Seungsoo shakes his head, searching for the right words, any other words but–

“You don’t like remembering we’re not friends,” Gyujin completes – spot on like fucking always. “That he doesn’t feel like he owes us secrecy anymore.”

And to think there would be a time, not even so long ago, where Seungsoo would immediately jump to refute him, banging on his chest and saying with real pride, “We’re all friends! We’re all close!”

But saying it now would just make it sound like a blatant lie; a joke with an awful punchline. So he bites his tongue and goes back to being quiet.

“Na Seungsoo, I need you to listen to what I’ll say to you,” Gyujin tells him, his voice set on a tone deeper than his usual, making the full name ring off his mouth like an intimation. Ungrundly, Seungsoo listens. “You need to start processing the things you do before you do them.”

Seungsoo scoffs, forced and loud, and looks away from his face quickly – runs from the ice underneath his setting jaw.

“We have problems, alright? All great groups do,” Gyujin keeps up, bumping their shoulders together once, then not again; Seungsoo recoils more against the wall and lightly grates his arm all to escape his follow up attempt by a matter of millimeters. “Sometimes things get sour and they spill over, and that’s just how it is. You get around, you know I’m right. No one has it easy. Idolmaker is in the middle of a PR nightmare with all the Hosung freakout, we’ve been seeing it first hand, and you won’t find Gayoung or Jeonghun getting petty in public because it isn’t smart.”

“So what can I actually do, Gyujin, about our situation?” Seungsoo asks him. A spot on his jaw is hurting from how hard he’s clenching it.

Gyujin gives him that awful, awful look of his that always tells him ‘You’re an idiot’. “Seungsoo, please. Dylan’s vent album is not a situation–”

“C’mon, Gyujin, I know it’s not!” Seungsoo says, too close to yelling. “And I know your little speech isn’t really about the goddamn unfollow! It’s you trying to get inside my head and control how I’ll act now that I know the group’s ending!”

The words make Gyujin pause. He almost fully freezes. It’s all the confirmation Seungsoo needs, the mute answer to the question that’s been eating him alive since Christmas.

“You’ve heard the fucking rumors, you– Gyujin, you know! I know you know! The March shareholder’s meeting has been canceled, Minwoo hasn’t sat down to write a real song since October, and Jiahang’s fucking dad called him back to China last month. For what?! He’s backing out, isn’t he?! He’s selling his shares because New Wave is dying. They’re going to debut the girls and just– fate out with us in it!”

Gyujin takes a defeated breath. Finally, he makes his way down the wall. “Sony hyung–”

“Don’t you Sony hyung me, man!” Seungsoo exclaims, angling his head up to fully face Gyujin, round eyes on round eyes. “Look, I know I talk even when I shouldn’t, I know my brain is goddamn slow, that it makes me do stupid shit, but why is everyone keeping things from me now?! I’m a producer too, aren’t I?! I’m a part of LOOPiN just as much as everyone, maybe even more than some people we got! Isolating me is fucked!”

“No one is isolating you, Seungsoo. Things are just complicated when it comes to giving you confidential information,” Gyujin counters, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His voice is again different, hitting at him cutting and terminal. It infuriates Seungsoo more. “And you know why that is. You put yourself in a hard position. Face it: you broke the trust. This is your own doing.”

Seungsoo’s mouth hangs open, stays open. “I broke the– what?! Why?! Because I pushed Jiahang once when he was about to do cocaine off an Inkigayo sink?! Because I took Dylan with me to haunt down a serial rapist?! I don’t regret any of those things, and I never will!”

“Was that all you did, really? Because the way I see it, the way it came across for everyone, was you going all vigilante over the members' private business,” Gyujin stresses. “And what good did any of these things do for anyone? You almost costed Jiahang his eye, Seungsoo. You almost got Chihoon arrested–”

“So now it’s all my fault?! We’re sinking, we’re doomed, and it’s all my fault?! Fuck you! You have no idea how or why– what do you even know about anything, really?!” Seungsoo spits at him, infuriated. “You just fucking got here, and– and you’ve been with us for a year and some fucking weeks, max! And it seems like everyone forgot that, that they all forgot that there was a time without you, but I didn’t! Do you even know what Haegon said, when he came with the idea of unfollowing Dylan?! ‘No matter what we do now Gyujin’s gonna fix it in the morning, so let’s do something dumb and tiny, so he won’t kill us!’ Like you’re in control or something! But news flash, this is New Wave Music, and you’re not in control, no one is! And if someone was, that someone would be me! Minwoo, Jimin, and me!”

“Or maybe not, now!” Seungsoo’s mouth keeps on going. He’s griping at the concrete of the balcony with one hand, pointing one straight at the center of Gyujin’s chest, and just letting a whole torrent out. “Maybe you do deserve trust more than I do! You– You know everything because everyone tells you everything, and you songwrite too, you can still play the tuba, why don’t you just take my fucking place, uh? If I get it all wrong and you do it all right?! Go be an executive producer, go on! Fuck writing all over just Beomseok, end me too! Minwoo likes you better anyway, maybe you can make his slump go away! Jimin fucking likes you better too, he won’t even mind me being gone, you might even get him to stop hiding Nicola from everyone, who knows!”

Seungsoo takes a shaky pause to breathe, his chest rising. He’s sure his face is red, that there’s a line of sweat on his forehead.

Gyujin remains too close and unmoving, his eyes semi close, analyzing.

“And what else?” He asks. He’s still grinning like he knows something Seungsoo doesn’t. “C’mon, go on. Spill it all out. I wanna hear it.”

“You sick–!” Seungsoo grunts, then takes another deep inhale, ends up almost choking on his own spit.

Coughing, he dismangles his grip off Gyujin’s shirt and forces himself to fall silent – they both do. Somewhere down in the street, a million cars honk and make out a disastrous symphony, and it pierces through Seungsoo’s ears like he’s in the middle of traffic. He’s minutes away from developing a killer migraine.

“So this is what comes out of you when you’re scared, yeah?” Gyujin eventually notes, quiet. Seungsoo can almost hear the tiny smile on his face stretching and growing warmer, showing just a flash of front teeth, white like a goddamn grain of salt. “Pretty animalistic reaction, although highly entertaining–”

“I’m not scared,” Sengsoo fires back, even though he is. He knows it deep in his bones, by the lack of good sleep: he’s terrified of blinking too slowly and missing any more warning signs, more sunny days; fearing they’re already all long behind him. He turns his head down. “Just, just– Tired of feeling– Tired.”

And feeling like I don’t belong, is what he thinks but doesn’t say: Like I’m not good at my job. Like no one will ever forgive me. 

He feels one of Gyujin’s warm hands setting over his shoulder, offering it a squeeze. This time Seungsoo leaves it there, allowing it to linger. “Hyung, I can see that. We all can. You’ve been putting on some crazy hours in the studio lately. We appreciate how hard you’re covering for Minwoo hyung. I might not have thanked you for that yet, so–”

“Spare me the prase shower, Woo Gyujin,” Seungsoo grunts, running a hand over his face, onto his hair. “Just tell me to fuck off now so I can go to sleep with at least one argument settled.”

“And make it that much easier for you? Ha, of course not,” Gyujin laughs, amused. “Besides, we’re not fighting, have never fought, and never will. You have nothing to settle with me. But I’ll give you space to gather your courage to face who you really should.”

“Fuck you,” Seungsoo says, just to be the one to get the last words as Gyujin’s walking back and away. It comes off sounding tiny and defeated, a little ashamed.

He doesn’t get that: as soon as Gyujin gets a hand on the door, he calls back, “And in the meantime…”

Seungsoo takes an annoyed peek over his shoulder to glare at him. “What?”

“Follow Dylan back, you fucking drama queen,” Gyujin says, rolling his eyes, grinning like the Devil he pretends he isn't. “And relax, okay? We’ll be fine. We always are.”

And he disappears behind the glass, pulling the curtains inside and turning off the light.

On the tiny balcony only Seungsoo and the never quiet city remain, looking as the sun goes down and down.

[sofasoap]

Happy ever after, please stay for a while

Pairing: Simon “Ghost ” Riley x f!Reader ( OC aka Mini MacTavish )

Summary : interlude to "Love, do not pass me by" . Mini and Emma moving into the new place. Johnny is the best big brother you can have.

Warning: Mature theme , pregnancy. London/UK landmarks described in this fic are just made up by me for plot purposes. English isn’t my first language so expect a lot of mistakes with tenses. Not beta'ed.

A/N : Kind of Continuation/parallel universe of @saltofmercury ’s ““The Favorite MacTavish” , where the reader/OC is Soap’s little sister. PLEASE GO READ HER STORY first to make sense of this story. Thank you for lending me your character!  “masterlist” for more stories to this Mini MacTavish expanded verse.

" Congratulations.. Mrs...?"

"Just Miss. " " Congratulations Miss MacTavish. Now... Let see... Ah. I can see the baby moving around quite a bit here. " She paused. " Would you like to know the gender of the baby? " " Why not. "

" Let me move around a little bit there... hold still little bub.. Ah there we go, looks like you are having a boy!... OH." " What is it? is there something wrong? " " I can just see another leg around the other side... Miss MacTavish, I think you will need to buy extra set of baby gears. You are carrying twins".

After the..unpleasant announcement, you decided you will forget all about Simon, move on with your life, and bring the babies up yourself. You got support. Your family, your friend Emma, you have a career. In the short time Johnny was staying with you, together with Emma, the three of you started to pack up the flat. You need to find a new place to move into before the little treasures comes into the world. Your current place is just a little two bedroom flat with a small living room and kitchen area, which is just not enough space for extra two babies. You are pretty sure the neighbours wouldn't be appreciating sound of screaming babies day and night. Soap surprised you one day when he hurried both you and Emma into the car, drove you out towards the suburb, not too far away from your current flat. Pulling up in front of a detached house with " Sold " sign, you look at him with confusion. "What are we doing here Johnny?"

" To look at the house." " With a sold sign on it? I thought we are looking for rentals." He smiled, said nothing. Jingling a key, he help you out of the car and head towards the house. It's a beautiful cottage which been looked after. Nice front yard area with a garage/workshop on the side. Emma whistled in awe as she walk through the front door. "Well, this is certainly a nice place, how many bedrooms?"

" Five." " Bit excessive isn't it?? We only need maximum of three, plus how are we going to afford the rent payment? Must cost a bit with the size of it." Johnny dropped the key in your hand. " You and Emma going to move in here. I bought the house. There should be enough space for you two to stay." Two of you just stared at him with wide eyes. HE BOUGHT THIS HOUSE FOR YOU?

" Wait.. what... Did you just say you bought the house? I can't accept this Johnny, Wh.." " You got TWO babies coming soon Mini, I want my niece and nephew have a good environment to grow up in. Plus, It's time for me to set up a base here in London, SAS and SpecGru pays me well enough." You threw yourself onto Johnny and cried. Those damn hormones again. How lucky are you to have a big brother that look out for you, beyond what he needs to do.

He insisted the two of you don't need to pay any rent, just take care of the utility bills will be enough.

" Think of it as being caretakers of my house." he winked at Emma, and dropped into more serious tone. " Also as thank you for taking care of my sister. You been a loyal friend to her."

You look around the nursery. Most of the things are in place now, waiting for the second cot to be delivered. Johnny helped you to assemble most of the stuff before he left for another mission few weeks ago. All you and Emma need to do is slowly unpack rest of the smaller stuff that is still in the boxes. Your mother is also planning to come down a week before your due date. Everything is going smoothly. Standing up, you felt a bit of pain on your upper side of belly. Rubbing it slightly you murmur to the babies to tell them to behave. Taking a step forward, you felt the room starting to spin and vision going blurry.

Last thing you heard before you faint was Emma screaming your name.

Johnny is the best big bro you can ask for.

[amchara]

Chain of Thorns - First Impressions

I finished the book a couple hours ago and needed to take a bit of time to formulate my thoughts. I’m a fast reader and admittedly, this can mean I skim in some places / go over some details so doubtless I’ll pick up on more when I do my reread. 

They got long so underneath the cut… but here are my first impressions of Chain of Thorns: 

I liked it a lot. I didn’t love it. It suffered from many of the same issues that plagued Queen of Air and Darkness and maybe even a bit more in this book. Namely, too big of a cast, too much plot to explore decently but more importantly -  lack of follow-through/consequences for characters’ actions or events in the book. 

Some initial points: 

SOMEONE ELSE SHOULD’VE DIED/BEEN EXILED/BEEN LOST IN ANOTHER REALM. I like the happy endings they got (I have much love for these characters). But it didn’t feel earned. :/ 

Also the pacing throughout much of the book was breakneck, bar a few quiet interludes. Some storylines - Lucie, Jesse and Malcolm’s visit to Cornwall and Matthew and Cordelia’s Paris interlude could’ve used a few more pages to really allow the characters to develop/explore why they were really there before pulling them back in service of the main plot. 

Let’s start off with what I did love: 

My love for Matthew, Cordelia and James’ characters was maintained and possibly even grew during this final book. I just - *BITES FIST* Honestly, I’m pretty damn happy where things ended up when it comes to the interpersonal relationships and dynamics between the three of them.  

I loved that we got Fairstairs in Paris, though I will pout (and almost certainly finish that one fanfic for…) it was so little. Just- James could’ve arrived later on? Not been waiting in their room? *forever mourns the lost opportunity* 

I especially appreciated the brokenness of the three of them as they returned to London. The time it took them to muddle through, process and re-discover their true feelings post-Gracelet revelation and how it shaped the course. But how they all still desperately cared about one another and it never wavered even when they were furious with each other. 

Controversial opinion - though I know Bry will back me up on this - but James and Matthew’s parabatai relationship is the best one out of all the TSC parabatai - yes, even Will and Jem, who were idealised. Matthew and James’ relationship is that perfect mix of love, frustration, co-dependency that you need for a parabatai relationship.  

It rose to new heights in Chain of Thorns, as James was finally able to break down Matthew’s walls and help him begin to heal, not only with his drinking but also his self-loathing. And Matthew finally gets his friend back who has been suppressed emotionally for three years (!!!) and you can just feel the intensity and pull of the relationship between the two of them, for good or bad, throughout the book. The scenes in Edom just killed me.

And Cordelia is - maybe not glue but it’s just - something separate but essential between the three of them. The mirror, perhaps? Reflecting their best selves upon her. And Matthew and James’ unconditional love heals the part of her that feels she has to be useful or heroic to be loved

Look romantic or platonic, you cannot convince me otherwise that they weren’t all meant to be together in some fashion, even if it’s not a classic OT3, but maybe more V-triad? <brb just thinking about a heronfairstairs fic set in the 1910s> 

UGH. I AM EMOTIONAL JUST THINKING ABOUT IT.  It’s a messier, truer to life version of the Jem-Tessa-Will situation (especially if Jem hadn’t become a Silent Brother) and you won’t be able to convince me otherwise. 

Cordelia, she broke my heart with Matthew but I accept it. I knew she was going to end up with James. But I do think- much like Tessa was with Jem, Matthew and Cordelia’s love for each other is a quieter flame than the ones they have for their respective Herondales, and it’s a shame it wasn’t explored more.  

I think the one sticking point for Cordelia and Matthew in terms of romance is Matthew’s drinking. Cordelia has trauma around her father’s drinking and to see it reflected in Matthew (even if he is successful in his sobriety) means there’s that extra hurdle if they were to enter a romantic relationship. Cordelia is pragmatic enough that she knows she does not want the same type of relationship her mother and father had.

James and Cordelia- I did enjoy their ups and downs. I do enjoy them together. I think I am always going to be slightly put out that it didn’t end more tragically. Herondales always win in love- and the way that James’ story and history has been framed and referenced in SO MANY OTHER Shadowhunter books made me think possibly there would be something different this time- that he’d lose one of his loves, either Cordelia or Matthew.

Quick points individually: 

Cordelia - My girl remains the best- she is the best combo of heroine - kind but proud, reckless but also caring and straightforward in her dealings. She can’t abide to be cruel but she can be ruthless (her cutting Tatiana’s throat- dammmmmnnnnn) 

James - *checks* Not feral enough, lol. Yes, we did get many moments… especially post-Paris and ummm, that scene where he and Cordelia consummated their marriage but could’ve used more. Will come back with more coherent thoughts later. 

Matthew… oh my darling Matthew. I’m going to have to come back to him in a separate post, I think. Having just read his arc in this book- I get why Cassie didn’t kill him off or separate him from his friends. There was already so much hopelessness woven into his storyline and a lot of uncertainty if he’s even going to succeed in remaining sober, any tragic ending would’ve felt pointlessly cruel, I think. 

Ultimately, his journey isn’t over but I appreciate the steps he took during this book. At the same time, it feels so strange we ended the book with Matthew’s future still a large question mark. Still time for him to get lost in Faerie!! I ultimately believe he has a promising yet tragic life to lead, and I want to know what it is…

Other things I loved:

The Merry Thieves relationship in Chain of Thorns >>>>>> 

Especially the scenes where they all go to help Matthew get through his first couple days of non-drinking. And of Thomas and Christopher each going to respectively check on James and Matthew. I loved their dynamic during this book, which I think we saw in Chain of Gold but less so in CHain of Iron so was happy to see its return. 

Thomas and Alastair - were perfection. No notes. 

I have to admit I might’ve skimmed over a few of their scenes that were cute but were interludes during other tense moments, when I was dying to know what happened to other characters we had just cut away from… but I am going to savour their interactions on my reread.

Alastair and Cordelia’s sibling relationship also remains amazing. As admitted before, I am a Carstairs family fan and this book definitely helped cement that.

After a few Christopher POVs, I definitely got the sinking feeling he was a goner. And yep- I was correct- as were quite a few others in fandom. He wasn’t one of my favourites but his development in the first half of Chain of Thorns before his death- his expanded interactions with the other Merry Thieves and his growing relationship with Grace were a delight to read and I am sad he didn’t make it. Also, I am such a sucker for an Orpheus and Eurydice callback so I absolutely adored the moment in the laboratory. 

I think I’ll need to reread before I can fully opine on Grace’s arc in Chain of Thorns but my first impressions were favourable. I like that she didn’t get the full redemption arc right away. I appreciated she told Cordelia what had happened with her and James but it was strange we didn’t get that scene but were told it? Hmm, this was something that bothered me a few times- there were some important conversations between characters which should’ve happened ‘on page’ but didn’t. 

Things I was relatively meh about: 

Anna and Ariadne - they were… fine? I absolutely get they are some people’s fav characters but I think out of all of the characters, many of their scenes would’ve been the easiest to cut, and it might’ve made a more cohesive, tightly-plotted story. 

Jesse and Lucie - honestly, I think the plot with Belial overshadowed the consequences of Lucie bringing Jesse back to life. No, he wasn’t just half alive, he WAS DEAD. You did necromancy, Lucie- accept it! I hate that it all seemingly was swept under the rug. :/

And sadly, Jesse as a character in Chain of Thorns was… boring. I’m sad to say it but it’s true! I appreciated him so much more as a sarky ghost.

Lucie’s plotlines… I need to reread but I think it’s a combo of Lucie’s storylines not getting a proper chance to breathe, like- what she and Malcolm were going to do to raise Annabel in Cornwall, or being too tied to what she can do with her ghost powers to help against Belial. She felt more like a plot device in this book than the others, and I disliked that for her. Maybe that will change upon reread but ehh. Wasted potential overall on both Jesse and Lucie. 

Overall plotline with Belial - less interesting this time around? Hmm. Need to pay more attention to it on reread but first views were less than favourable. That being said, I guess he and Tatiana were quite clever with the Watchers and the plotline with the Cornwall Institute.

I enjoyed all of the Lilith-Cordelia interactions though - super fun to watch them spar verbally, and loved that Lilith kept implying that if Cordelia fullfilled her oath as paladin, she could have BOTH Matthew and James. Lilith isn’t shocked by that sorta thing, lol. 

Lastly, the inherent bigotry and cruelty of the Enclave was used more as a plot device to get the adults out of the way for the big showdown and I hated that immensely- especially as all the fuss about Tessa and Lucie and James’ bloodline was again, all resolved by the end of the book. Booo, no lasting consequences. 

This is very long for first impressions but anyway… I’m glad I’ve written it all down. Happy to engage in comments/reblogs but let’s discuss civilly, and of course - tag all your spoilers!    

[ravencromwell]

For the character ask game, Athos Dane: 7, 10, and 20.

7. A quote of them you remember: "No one suffers as beautifully as you." And before everyone starts laughing at my terrible cliche—it is terribly cliched, I would pair it with "My plaything is dead". The no one suffers as beautifully as you comes just after Athos's interlude with Beloc where Beloc tried, and did real damn good for a teenager, to be defiant, but eventually answered Athos's questions about his name etc. without yet having the Soul Seal on. Contrast this to Athos's "Sing for me, Holland" in ACOL, which Holland refuses to do.

Yes, Beloc is undoubtedly fun, but fundamentally, he knows how this game is going to go. The fact that Holland still has defiance, after seven years, seems to just fucking enthrall Athos. He makes Holland fill the blood goblets partially just to fuck with Kell, but also for that flicker of rage and humiliation Kell notices as being so out of character. Fundamentally, he doesn't know when Holland will give him the last scrap of power, and that's what keeps him coming back.

But any love or fascination or what have you is utterly gone once Holland is no longer a spectacle: my plaything, he says, in his own pov while talking to his sister. He feels "annoyance at his servant's incompetence" The one time he mentions Holland by name, it's to tell Kell how he and Holland are fundamentally flawed when compared to Athos.

Everything this man did for seven fucking years around Holland was either about furthering his goals or getting some kind of reaction, be it in his choice of conversation topics or experiment subjects.

Holland has a line that is so fucking sad to me in that context in ACOL where he says he never screamed if he could help it, out of the quixotic hope if Athos didn't get a reaction, he'd just kill him already. There's something so fucking tragic I don't have words for the fact that Holland's refusal to stop being a person, at least in small ways, and even the ways he tried to provoke Athos, were so much of what made him interesting enough to never let fade into the background as a particularly useful pair of hands. Because as we see with essentially sending Beloc out as canon fodder, and again with the dismissive "my plaything" comment after Holland's dead, once there's no longer potential for interesting power dynamics, he's bored moving on. 

10. Describe the character in one sentence.: "Intelligence has never tempered my desire. It merely ensures I take what I wish without consequence."—Athos Dane, to his hypothetical biographer, poor bastard.

20. A weird headcanon:

He may have learned to read on the coast primarily to sniff out magic, but when he arrives at the castle, he finds he quite enjoys books outside of magic. Vortalis was a military histories fan, which Athos "journey of the battle" absolutely fucking devours for the play by play.

Astrid likes the White London version of Caesar: careful, methodical, only moving when the field was to his advantage.

Athos, though, it's the underdogs. The White London Hannibal bringing his elephants in what everyone called folly; the Lord Caradoc/Caratacus resisting a much larger force. Just _immensely his jam.

And once he got started, he wanted more of anything Holland thought might rouse his interest. I don't think the Danes had any _reason to go to Grey London, but I suspect that by God, if the Mareshes Antari could go, they sent Holland there on the semiregular (I will play with the toys, too!) One of the things Grey had neither Red nor White did was a thriving fiction culture. And if you're one Holland Vosijk, who wants to be able to bring back some escapism for yourself, you'd better be prepared to bring back gifts.

Which leads me to: Athos Dane, sometime Shakespeare fan and more often critic.

1. Huge, huge fucking fan of Iago. Iago knows how to properly manipulate some people. (Except of course, as is the problem with so many people, he got squeamish in the end. If he had killed the messengers from Venice when they found him in the alley, he would never have needed to kill his wife and certainly never have been tortured and executed. But Iago pre–Othello Act Five: _spectacular.

2. Huge Richard III fan—likes all the histories, honestly. But that "winter of our discontent" monologue: gets him _every time. Richard, now there's a man who knows how to embrace being hated. (Though that he cares at all about fool's opinion of him just demonstrates he lacked an Astrid. Without that one person for unconditional affection and non-judgment, he could only embrace it so far.

3. Hamlet completely cracks him up in an awful way. Or rather, the ways in which Holland and Hamlet's desire for revenge mirror one another. "You thought you were Hamlet, coming down that hall and did not understand we were not his foolish uncle!"

4. The rest of it: Romeo and Juliet, the comedies, most of the other tragedies, just _trash. Characters too weak to dominate the way they should or unrealistic ("blood never denies blood what they want" he says of the Capulets etc. smiling beatifically at Astrid.

5. Astrid has the copy of Titus Andronicus. Major Queen Tamora fangirl "We shall serve the Arnesians their royals in pie," Athos says, when Astrid sighs over missing their opportunity with Holland.

Athos is very theatrical, has a multitude of ideas for how to stage the Shakespeare sets with magic when they take Arnes, and is very keen to read other plays.

[classpect-crew]

Interlude: Space and Time

As many have said before, Space is often associated with visual art, and Time is associated with music. That said, some forms of each medium can be said to have more influence from the opposite Aspect. Take photography, for example: a visual art that is nonetheless closely associated with Time. If you're a fan of Life is Strange, you may recall Mr. Jefferson citing filmmaker Alfred Hitchcock for the phrase "little pieces of time" to describe film—or, perhaps, photography. Now, I couldn't find a damn thing on the web that attributes a quote like that to Hitchcock, and I'm not going to take the word of a man who says "selfie-expression" as gospel. That said, it's a perfect way to describe Time's association with photography. Time is concerned with moments, distinct spaces in each timeline which can be occupied and then manipulated by a Time player. So, although photography is a visual medium, the principles of Time have a lot more influence.

On the other hand, if you've ever been to a Catholic Mass—one where the whole congregation sings the hymns together with the choir—recall how the music and chanting grew to fill the entire space, how each arpeggiated chord extended from the mouths of the faithful and seemed to echo from every corner. Acoustics is a branch of physics which describes how sound moves through a space. Knowledge of acoustics is vital when designing a space for optimal sound quality, whether it's a church, concert venue, theatre, et cetera. It's important to note that physics and theatre performance—in particular, the stage and setting—are also closely associated with Space. By using principles of acoustics, one can ensure that the right sounds are amplified, sharpened, or sustained through an echo, while filtering out undesired ones. The Time Aspect is also closely related to technology, as well as repetition, so it's not unusual to see Dave modifying samples in his music, or Aradia's association with the music box. Space, on the other hand, is associated with organic sounds and symbols—the croak of a frog, for example, or Jade's ability to encourage her plants to grow by playing music for them.

It's important that one understands both their Aspect and its opposite. Without this deeper knowledge and appreciation, players risk becoming obliterated by the most negative qualities of their Aspect. Equius refused to rise up against authority and take control of his place in the narrative, so he was swallowed up by the Void and became largely irrelevant to the big picture. Gamzee even used his indigo blood to omit key information in Rose's journal, before it made its lengthy journey through space and time. Engaging with Time while failing to appreciate Space means that a Time player will struggle to see the bigger picture, always rushing from moment to moment and judging each without its proper context. They want to be present for everything, to have a hand in shaping fate—much like an overzealous Light player, who feels they might wither without the spotlight, or the self-obsessed Heart player, whose Main Character Syndrome can easily become terminal. (These three Aspects are next to each other in the Aspect Wheel for good reason.) In the end, they'll likely burn themselves out from the effort. Meanwhile, a Space player who neglects Time risks relinquishing their ability to impose their will upon the universe, favoring passive observation and failing to act when they're needed most. Like an overly-cerebral Mind player, paralyzed by choice, or a sullen Void player, unable to break the surface of an ocean of doubt, a Space player who has receded from responsibility will be a whisper beneath the waves. Drowning, after all, is actually a deceptively silent affair.

[leomonae]

Soooo it turns out that if you're playing a do-gooding, self-sacrificing bleeding heart type who's basically contractually obligated by their religion to take on suffering in place of others doing so and also gives a fuck about what happens to the githyanki as a society...

(Massive spoilers ahoy!)

... you kind of inevitably wind up an illithid? Which, okay, fine, cool cool cool, as a healer this is pretty much the only time I've been at all effective in combat except when we're frying undead so that part is pretty awesome and apparently Ilmater is totally cool with all this since I still have my cleric powers, except now my prettyboy vampire boyfriend refuses to kiss me anymore, on the grounds that it won't work with my new mouth :(

The thing is, though, I've been mulling this over for the past fucking day I've been unable to just finish the damn game because of this slow-ass patching process courtesy of GOG, and I think I actually kind of adore this outcome? No, really, I could see this being great for Tav and Astarion's relationship, once he's had enough time to get over the whole... eldritch horror aspect of it all!

Benefit one: Tav's lifespan just became a total non-issue for them! Sure, I don't know and wasn't finding much regarding illithid lifespans, but my Tav was a human before; pretty much anything would be an improvement on that, next to how long a powerful elven vampire could expect to live. And honestly, illithid lifespan isn't even that important in that regard, because they have other options Tav could now actually take. There's no way she'd have ever agreed to becoming a vampire before, but now that the "I prey upon mortals to survive" line has already been crossed? The details of how she's going to handle things ethically hammered out? Why not go full-on vampiric illithid at this point, if that extends their time together? Hells, she could jump straight to illithilich if she wanted!

Benefit two: illithid are sexless. Sexless, but - crucially - with the potential to still be sex-positive, if we take that little interlude with the Emperor which broke my brain so badly the other week at face value. The most obvious implication of the narration was that what the mind flayer gets out of the whole experience is what their partner is putting in: that it's due to their psionic link, or whatever. Sure, there are still questions as to what part the tadpole played in facilitating said connection, but it's not like there aren't any other sources of mind reading or mental sharing that exist in the setting; my Tav is already running around with Detect Thoughts up constantly, I'm sure she can pick up some alternative just fine. The point is, Astarion and all his trauma just got himself a partner who not only wants him to genuinely enjoy having sex with them, but is quite likely literally physically incapable of deriving any carnal pleasure from the experience if he isn't.

Benefit three: illithid are naturally selfish and egotistical and risk-averse enough that my Tav probably just picked up a modicum of concern for her own survival, which I expect will be a massive weight off Astarion's mind after the past few weeks/months of watching her throw herself at wherever the most dangerous enemy on the field happens to be

Benefit four: illithid enjoy sunlight only marginally more than vampires do, which admittedly means that Tav is gonna have to buy a new mace soon, but also means the two of them now prefer complementary habitats and daily schedules

Benefit five: their diets are complementary too! They can split a bandit to avoid food waste!

[edit: benefit six: three times the upper limbs mean three times as many/thrice as good hugs for astarion]

In conclusion spawn Astarion + illithid Tav is clearly the happiest ending of them all, thank you for coming to my TED Talk

(also the going out in public part is pretty much a non-issue too, I tested out one of those cheap mundane disguise kits you can pick up and it worked perfectly fine even if the human female variant I used to be was not skinny and middle-aged with an afro, so I'm sure between Gale Shadowheart and Omeluum we can figure out a way of making me look like myself again in no time)