#i have all the kind tags people leave me saved up on my phone

[saessenach]

are you ok with people posting your art on twitter if they link you? saw someone i follow post the george bertha art (@ mirixmoya) and i wanted to make sure you knew. if you did already just ignore this message!

Oh hi anon!! Thanks for letting me know ❤️ I hadn't known bc I'm not on twitter, but I asked a friend to look - as long as they left a link to my blog, I don't mind!

I'd like people to tell me if they do repost my stuff, but I'm just happy they gave credit 🙏

[n0thingbutlov3]

need you now

in which a impulsive voicemail leads to some secrets being spilled.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader. warnings/tags: angst (sorry i’m incapable of being nice lol) hurt/comfort tho!! lil bit of fluff too because i AM capable of being nice, alcohol consumption as a coping mechanism (i’m literally just a girl…) spencer and reader are broken up :( but they’re still sooo in love and it’s soo obvious so it’s fine!! (also it kind of gets fixed at the end-ish. you’ll see *evil smirk*) reader cries a lot (real) spencer is a cutie (as always) spencer and reader sleep together…no like literally, not in a funny business way, some swearing, no use of y/n!!! wc: 3k a/n: hihihi!! so this is my first fan fiction i’ve wrote and completed ever (gulp) it’s also my first time publishing one (gulp) my writing could definitely be better and so could my grammar tbh but i HOPE if you choose to read you’ll enjoy…feedback is always appreciated (plsplspls) also like requests?? if anyone’s into that—id love to write more but inspo is difficult sometimes. if there’s any spelling mistakes im sorry, eye am very tired!! it’s 5am *eye twitching* okay i’m going to sleep, gootbye IF U SAW ME EDITING THIS 5 TIMES NO U DIDNT (i’m bad at tumblr ok..)

“Hi. This is Doctor Spencer Reid. I’m not available right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can…”

His tinny voice cut off to make way for the signature beep of the beginning of a voicemail recording.

You could hang up now—you should hang up now, save yourself some dignity and go drown your sorrows in alcohol like a normal person instead of calling your ex-boyfriend.

You should, but your mouth was opening before your finger could reach the hang-up button, and…and it was a losing battle from the moment you clicked on Spencer’s icon.

“Uh—hi, it’s…it’s me.” You huffed out a sad laugh.

“So, um, I…I tried calling, but you didn’t answer so…” The static buzz of silence hummed through your ear, just inches from where you held your phone with a shaky grip. “maybe you’re on a case or out with friends, or someone else—“ You let the implication hang in the air—the thought of Spencer potentially being in a relationship bringing a lump to your throat.

You swallowed it down.

“I just…I just had an unbelievably shitty day, Spence.” You sniffed, wiping the moisture that had escaped from your eye with your sweater sleeve. “I know you’ve never read A Series of Unfortunate Events but I think I’d give those kids a run for their money.” You tried to laugh but it came out as more of a sob.

You inhaled shakily, trying to collect yourself and remember why on earth you thought it would be a good idea to call Spencer when you’d been broken up for months. Hell, you hadn’t heard from him at all since you had parted ways—except from the odd text about returning each others’ things. It was obvious he had moved on, and here you were, filling up his voicemail with blubbering messages and making references to adolescent books.

“God, sorry about this.” You breathed out a watery chuckle. “I just…didn’t want to be alone, I guess. But that’s-um-not your problem anymore, so I’m—I’m sorry. Have a nice night.” Your voice cracked and you hung up before you could start weeping down the line. You didn’t need to look even more pathetic.

You pulled your phone away from your ear, looking down at his contact photo through blurred vision. He was smiling—not the tight, closed lip smile he gave other people, but a full, bright smile that had his dimples showing. One of your hands was wrapped loosely around his neck and the other was holding your phone just far enough away to capture both of your smiles. Your head was rested on top of his shoulder, tilted just slightly to the left so your temple was brushing against his.

It felt like looking at a vintage photograph—you knew those people and their happiness existed at some point in time, but it wasn’t tangible; you couldn’t verify it was real.

When you were with Spencer, you never doubted how real it was. All you had to was look at him across the room and he’d flash you a smile identical to the one in that photo and you’d just…know.

It felt like forever ago now that you’d been on the receiving end of that grin and it killed you. So much so that before you could consider the repercussions, you were trudging through to your kitchen and grabbing the bottle of whiskey that sat unopened in your cabinet. It had been a present—from Rossi, actually. When Spencer had first introduced you to the team, the older man had given it to you as something of a welcome gift. Of course, he couldn’t have known you weren’t much of a drinker, and since you wanted to make a good impression (and because you were sure it had cost more than all the alcohol you had consumed in your life combined) you accepted it—deciding to save it for a rainy day.

You think this qualified.

You grabbed the bottle, a glass, and padded back through to your living room, slumping onto your couch. You filled your glass up a little less than halfway before gulping it down, enjoying the burn in your throat—it was better than the constant thickness.

You poured yourself another glass before turning on the TV. You weren’t sure what was playing—it didn’t really matter anyway, your vision was already being obscured by tears again.

You thought the pounding was in your head at first—serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Only, it wasn’t, because moments later the pounding subsided and instead, your apartment door was opening, casting your pitch-black living room in a yellow glow which temporarily blinded you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your mind hazy—again, serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Someone was calling your name, but there was too much sensory input for you to make out who.

You certainly hoped it wasn’t a paramedic—maybe your neighbour had heard you sobbing for the last four hours and decided you needed a wellness check. Then there were hands on your face, and that had you flicking your eyes open, because you recognised those hands—impossibly soft, with a callus on his trigger finger being the only thing to mar them. Spencer.

“Spencer?” You slurred.

He sighed in exasperation (or relief) and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Are you alright? You weren’t answering your phone, I thought…” He trailed off, worry evident in his voice.

You sat up then, trying to compose yourself even though the room was spinning. Fucking whiskey. You rubbed your eyes haphazardly, blinking until you could finally see.

You should’ve stayed bleary-eyed. Because nothing could prepare you for the way your breath hitched when you finally saw him. After months of not seeing each other, Spencer was here, sitting on your couch, and he was looking at you like you were something fragile, and—God, you needed another drink. You turned away from him, reaching for the neck of the bottle as you spoke.

“I’m fine.”

Before you could lift it up, Spencer gently pried your hand away from the bottle with his own, and then slid it across the coffee table with his other.

“You’re drunk. No more of that, please.” His tone wasn’t unkind, but he left no room to argue. You probably would’ve objected anyway, if it weren’t for the way he kept his hand clasped around yours, rubbing soothing circles into your pulse point almost absentmindedly.

You glanced up to him—to stop yourself from staring at your hand in his and how natural it felt, more than anything—but that proved to be a mistake too, because he looked just as beautiful as thirty seconds prior and it felt just as natural for him to be sitting next to you on your sofa, but it wasn’t natural anymore.

“How did you get in?”

“My key.”

“Oh.”

Right. The key that he still had because you refused to meet up with him to let him return it. He tried for weeks to contact you, but you ignored him, because getting the key back meant things were finally over. You supposed he could return it now—maybe that’s why he came in the first place.

“Why did you come?” You asked, your voice impossibly small.

“You called.” He replied—as though he was talking about something as simple as the weather. You call and I come.

You searched in his eyes for any sign of a lie, but of course, there was none. He was being completely genuine—as always. You were the awful ex-girlfriend who left concerning voicemails on his phone and had him travelling to your apartment in the middle of the night only for him to look completely okay with the situation—like there was nothing he’d rather be doing than making sure you were safe.

You couldn’t help the way tears sprung to your eyes or your lip began to tremble as you lolled your head back onto the couch, pulling your gaze away from his.

“Angel, what’s wrong?”

You liked to consider yourself to be a strong person. You had been through things in your life that were objectively worse than your breakup with Spencer, but something about the gentleness of his tone and the way he had let one of his many (past) petnames for you slip had your throat tightening and you ducked your head into your one hand—the other still seized by Spencer’s—to try and muffle a sob.

“Hey,” He trailed his hand that was wrapped around yours up your arm, all the way to your shoulder blade before lightly guiding you towards him. You don’t have enough energy in you to fight his magnetic pull, so you shuffle over until you can bury your head into his shirt. You inhale his scent; vanilla, neroli, and so him it makes you ache.

Stopping your tears is futile—you’d know, they’d barely ceased all night—so you just let them fall, seeping into Spencer’s tie as he rubs one hand softly up and down your back, the other cradling the crown of your head.

His breathing is quiet and slow—the exact opposite of yours—and you try to imitate it—forcing air into your lungs. When your sobbing has turned to shaky breathing and the occasional sniffle, he speaks up.

“Do you want to talk?”

Talk about what? About what had happened today—what had led you to calling him? Talk about how for the last few months, he had been the only person you had wanted to call?

“No.” You hated how pitiful you sounded.

“Okay.”

Spencer didn’t say anything else for a minute—your synchronised breathing being the only thing to stop the room from falling into dead silence.

“You need to rehydrate.” He murmured, smoothing down your hair.

You hummed into him, in no hurry to unwrap yourself from his body. You probably wouldn’t get to be this close to him again, after all.

He moved both of his hands to your biceps, pulling you back slightly so you could look at him. He knitted his brows together in a silent plea which had you rolling your eyes petulantly, your lashes still damp from tears.

“Fine.” You peeled yourself off of him, pushing yourself into a standing position. Horrible mistake. You were still incredibly drunk, turns out, and everything was spinning a little bit and come to think of it, you were also nauseous and—

“Careful, lovely.” Spencer placed his hand firmly on the small of your back, keeping you upright.

and—actually, you were fine now.

He stood too, moving his hand just slightly over to your waist so he could guide you to the kitchen. When he knew you could stand upright—even if you were relying mostly on the counter behind you—he grabbed a glass from your cabinet, moving around effortlessly to pour you some water. The sight was so domestic you almost wanted to cry again. Maybe in some alternate timeline, where you and him could’ve worked, this would be an every day thing—minus the drunk sobbing part, of course.

He handed you the glass of water, watching as you took a few sips. He raised an eyebrow, nodding his head slowly.

“Whole thing, please.”

You let out an exasperated (affectionate) sigh and gulped the rest of it down, setting it on the counter behind you.

“Happy?”

“Very.”

You smirked, trailing your gaze down his body. He was still in his work clothes which, at the very least, meant he wasn’t on a date before he came here. He always changed before dates—well, for you, anyway. You wondered if he had been on any dates since the breakup—you certainly hadn’t. It had been long enough now that it wouldn’t be weird for you to start seeing other people—but you didn’t want to. You weren’t sure you’d ever want to, to be completely honest.

The more you thought about it, the more the whole thing seemed stupid. You didn’t want anyone else, you wanted Spencer. You had tried to get over him but if tonight was any indication—it clearly wasn’t working. You can’t even remember why you broke up in the first place—it all seemed so insignificant now. No amount of pain you had ever experienced in your relationship had come close to that of living without him.

You met his eyes once more and it was like he could see the question brewing. He tried to stop you, calling your name in a quiet warning, but you ignored him.

“Why did we break up?”

He frowned, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth with his tongue in that maddening way he did.

“I—you know why—“

“No, but I don’t! I know things were difficult sometimes but that doesn’t mean it didn’t work. It worked—we worked.” Your eyes were stinging again.

Spencer pressed his index and middle finger into his eye, furrowing his brows.

“I know, I know we worked, angel—but you were sad all the time, remember? I was gone so often and it wasn’t good for you.” His true emotions were indecipherable but his tone was soft, and you wished you could be as calm about this as him. Did he just not care as much as you did?

“But It’s—It’s worse now—“ You choked out, tears falling freely now. “I was sad when you were gone, but you always came back—you don’t come back anymore.”

Spencer removed his hand from his face, flexing it at his side like he was uncertain what to do with himself before taking a stride towards you. He brought a hand to your face, wiping the tears from under your eyes delicately—like you were made of porcelain.

“Listen, sweetheart—alcohol affects your ability to regulate your emotions and I know right now it might feel worse but that doesn’t mean it always—“

“Spencer, stop! It’s not the fucking alcohol, I miss you! I miss you all of the time! Even—even when I’m having a good day—I still want you—and especially when I—when I have a bad day—“ You choked out through heaving breaths.

“Breathe.” He urges, cupping your cheek. And you’re so, so angry, and sad, and tired that you have no choice but to shut up and listen to him. When you’ve adequately calmed down, he moves his hand to your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I don’t think we should talk about this tonight but I—“ You open your mouth to protest.

“I promise we can talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober—if you still want to.”

Your lip trembles of its own volition and you frown.

“Of course I want to.”

“Okay,”

“Okay.”

He gives your eyes a final wipe before he’s—rather unexpectedly—pulling you into a hug. You all but melt into him, your head finding its home in his sternum and your arms wrapping around his middle. He tilts his head down, kissing the top of your head—and you’re certain you can’t let this go again. You will chain him down before Spencer leaves this apartment again.

Everything is wordless from there—mostly because you’re so, so exhausted that even talking seems like too difficult a task. Spencer helps you find something more comfortable to change into and you pull out an old t-shirt of his and a pair of plaid pyjama pants you had kept here for him. I guess your keeping them ‘just in case you needed them in the future’ had come in handy, after all.

As you washed your face, Spencer snuck through to the kitchen, refilling your water and grabbing two aspirin in a not-so-subtle attempt to help the inevitable hangover you were going to have in the morning.

You caught him placing them on your bedside table and mock gasped.

“Trying to drug me in my sleep so you can make a run for it in the night?”

He grinned lazily—exhaustion creeping up on him as well.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You smiled, flopping yourself onto your bed rather ungraciously. Spencer looked at you like you were something fascinating before biting his lip, clearly deep in thought.

“What?” You let out a self-effacing little chuckle.

“I was just…wondering…if you’d like me to sleep on the couch?”

You probably should’ve been more careful in your facial expressions considering you were still broken up but your thoughts about that offer were obvious.

“No, stay.” Stay in your bed, in your apartment—stay anywhere that was close to you.

Maybe you were coming on a little too strong.

“Unless you want to, I mean—“

“No, no—I’ll stay.” Forever, preferably.

He walked around to the other side of your bed—as he had done so many times before—and sat down, pulling the covers over his legs. You mirrored his movements before flicking your bedside lamp out, turning to face him.

You were a little thankful you were so out of it, because this had the potential to be very awkward otherwise. Spencer shuffled down so that he was at eye level with you, turning to face you as well.

You just stared for a moment, committing him to memory. The moonlight had a way of highlighting all the high points of his face, and the twinkle in his eyes, and—God, you were so glad the moon existed and that Spencer was in your bed that you couldn’t help but giggle.

“What?” Spencer laughed along with you, even though he had no idea what was so funny.

“Nothing. You’re pretty.”

“You’re drunk. Go to sleep.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Why?”

“Scared you’ll be gone when I wake up—like I made it all up.”

Spencer’s smile faded then, and he looked at you with something that seemed so much like the one thing you had been willing yourself to stop doing the whole time that you’d been broken up, that it almost took your breath away.

“I won’t. I promised, didn’t I?”

You nodded.

“So there’s nothing to worry about. Now get some sleep, lovely.”

You smiled, feeling Spencer’s hand inching towards yours. He intertwined them and gave yours a squeeze.

“Just in case you make a run for it in the night.”

You chuckled, your eyelids fluttering shut. Yeah, you could make it work.

part two!

[fillinforlater]

On her jeans (Part 3 of 3)

Male Reader x Kim Minji, Hanni Pham, Danielle Marsh

Length: 4606 words

Tags: Daddy kink, anal galore, blowjob, face fuck, blindfolded, 4some, pearly gates, spitting, spanking, cursing, humiliation, missionary anal, analpie, ass eating, rimming

TW: kinda rough, pure, stupid smut, ass eating, eating cum out of ass

-Part 1- -Part 2- -Part 3-

(A/N: the most likely final part of the On her series. This fic is very mindless lmao. Important announcement at the end.)

“Yes, Daddy, that feels so good!”

Hanni’s enthusiasm is almost limitless. No matter how often you’ve ordered her to your office or your apartment or some secluded bed and breakfast, she never let you down. No, the only thing ‘down’ is the momentum of her hips whenever she rides you on the couch, her beautiful ass turned towards you. She loves to make it wiggle when your cock fills her cunt.

You take delight in such a sight and give her the good-girl-spanks she deserves. Hanni craves them as much as she craves your eyes, seeing nothing but love in hers. There is nothing stopping her from leaving, you never demanded the same things from her then you did from Minji. But where Minji lacks endless love and desire for you, Hanni fills these gaps and then some. 

“Oh my God, Daddy, you-you’re gonna make me cum again!” Hanni’s throat is sore from her moans and screams (and the rough face fuck you gave her earlier). “I-I can’t hold it!”

“Why would you hold it?” you ask her and pull her back against your bare chest. “Ruin yourself all over me, you slut.”

You give her thrusts, quick, not too strong and that is all she needs. Her effort was remarkable but in the end she wants you to fuck her over the edge. Hanni’s pussy convulses around your cock, tries to milk it and you are about to give in when your cell phone rings. 

“Fuck,” you curse and pick it up while dropping a powerless Hanni to the carpet floor. “Who is this?”

“Yo, have you turned on the TV?” the person on the other end, some former manager of a group you were interested in, asks. “Today are the MAMA awards.”

“And? They’ve been the same for basically forever. And you know I don’t have any control over—”

“Oh no, another group has won.” You can hear the smirk on his lips. “I bet you’ve heard the song and the group—some of them are under your wings, I assume?”

For a moment you are confused, then it dawns on you brightly. “You could say that,” you respond calmly and look at one of those who are under your wings—though under your cock fits better. “Let me be honest, I did not think that they would make it this far.”

“Their success is unheard of, they must have paid you really well,” he continues knowingly. The kind of business you do is in a paradoxical state of infamously known and also a dark secret in the industry. It’s a tightly knit conspiracy where every wrong step, every wrong turn can cost you basically everything. 

“Maybe they have to offer me something new, a MAMA win does not come around very often.”

#

“Congratulations on your win. I bet this is part of every trainee's dream” Sent by you

“Thank you, Daddy~ It definitely is, but I’m certain we couldn’t have done it without you “ Sent by Hanni

You smirk and scroll through your gallery. There is a picture you’ve saved, a picture of something you want. Some people screenshot what they want from social media apps or shopping sites—you will do the same right now, though your picture does not include a product one can buy. 

“I found this picture of you and one of your friends. She is very attractive.” Sent by you

“I know, Danielle ist so damn pretty <3” Sent by Hanni

“Her prettiness equals probably two MAMA awards…” Sent by you

That should do it. Hanni is probably stunned right now. If Danielle is next to her, she probably looks at her—your terrible influence deeply rooted in Hanni’s mind—and she will see what you see: another object for your desire, another girl you can train to make your personal fuck doll, another idol sold by her bandmate. Unlike Minji, Hanni might actually like the idea. 

You wait patiently as she ponders, typing, then deleting message after message until she settles for a simple text that makes this unhinged, lustful being inside you lose any and all control.

“Daddy deserves his reward as soon as possible. We need just 20 to 30 minutes~” Sent by Hanni

With a victorious sigh, you throw away your smartphone. It audibly cracks on the floor, but you don’t give a fuck. Phones can be bought again, but what you will get, no one can buy. These next twenty minutes will feel like hours and every second beyond that will make you lose your mind. Atleast, that is what you would have to assume if it weren’t for someone suddenly sneaking into your apartment. 

Timid, quiet steps. The person is not wearing shoes. You hear the door fall shut, gently and suddenly, she stands in your doorframe. As if your life was a script, written by a higher being which, for some reason, likes your story to be filled with as much sexual fulfillment as possible, Minji has decided to come visit you. 

“Hello, Daddy,” she coos, catching your gaze with the way she presses her frame against the door frame. Her two piece outfit with all its white frays perfectly merges with said door frame, the warm light making it look like she could disappear in your walls. “I’m sorry for not announcing myself, but may I come in?”

“That depends,” you say, trying to act not-too-happy about her convenient timing. “It’s nice to see you barefooted and in this pretty outfit—but you need to approach the right way.”

“Of course, Daddy.”

Minji gets on her knees. She begins to crawl over your wooden floor and seeing her eager eyes has you riled up. Instead of waiting for her to unbuckle your belt, you open it on your own and let your pants drop when her face reaches your crotch. Minji moans gently and presses her face against the massive bulge in your boxers. She’s not really teasing you. It’s more of a ceremony, because Minji quickly proceeds to pull down your boxers with nothing but her teeth.

“Daddy, it’s so big and beautiful,” Minji says in all honesty, her idol persona washed away by her own horniness. “May I service you with my mouth?”

“Stick out your tongue,” you order and Minji follows. You slap your tip on the exposed wet muscle and watch her faintly smile at how excited you seem. “Looks really good, how could I say no?”

No warning and just a moment later, you are buried to the hilt in Minji’s throat. She gags violently, her head tilted backwards and her wide eyes quickly release a torrent of tears. You don’t comment on it, watch on with a cold, resting bitch face and begin to fuck her face roughly. It’s hard thrust after hard thrust; not too fast though, because you want to see the submission steadily grow in her eyes.

“Fucking good, so much better since you started taking my cock like a premium whore,” you hiss and reach for the sides of her head. She locks eyes with you and through a sea of tears, you can see that she is happy. Still happy. “But it won’t be enough. I need more, another hole, and I’m not talking about your pussy. I know that you are dripping from there, but I’m going to split you open somewhere else.”

You pull out and watch Minji try to catch her breath, shocked, weak; she gets no time to recover however. You grab her hair and slide back into her not-awaiting, but slave-like throat. She takes your pounding even as it forcefully removes her faint mascara and leaves her a drooling mess. It’s Minji’s masterclass in deepthroats—a fitting end, because you will fuck something else today.

After many harsh thrusts, too many to count, but enough to have Minji at your complete mercy, you pull out. She bends over, tries to keep her composure and breathe, but you won’t allow this. She has to look at you and understand what you desire. You slap her face and spit at it. “Don’t avoid me, look at me!” you shout and Minji is tiny. A kneeling tiny bitch who follows your commands. “I will fuck your ass, do you understand?”

“Yes, Master,” Minji cries and puts her forehead to the floor. “Tha-Thank you for the award, Ma-Master. Please, a-abuse my ass.”

Not that it tugs at your heartstrings or anything—but instead of just fucking her in this state of complete devastation, you help her up, to her feet and cup her cheek firmly… almost gently. Minji still sobs, barely able to look up at you.

“You are here to thank me with your ass? That is actually adorable and very thoughtful of you.”

“I-I thought, because Master hasn’t fucked me th-there yet, and because he probably did with Hanni already, I—”

“Oh, I understand, but Minji—” You lean down to her ear and whisper, while your hand travels down her bare midriff into the dress and finds her folds, soaked in arousal. “—we are already past the Master stage. And you underestimate my greed, my desire for more, infinitely more. Don’t worry about that though. Get on the couch and show me your cute little asshole.”

“O-okay. Thank you, Daddy.”

As Minji lays down and wiggles off the bottom part of her dress, you get a bottle of water-like lube from a drawer in the living room table. These bottles are always nearby because situations like this have occurred quite a few times in your life. More than you can count, enough to make you the biggest villain for every girl group fan.

When you pour the lube on your cock, you inspect Minji and her cute posture. She is on her back, legs spread and in the air, while her fingers keep her butt cheeks apart. Her ring twitches and it twitches more when you rub lube all over it. Minji mewls, and mewls some more when you push a finger past the first tightness to lube the inside as well.

“You are a bit stiff, you need to loosen up or else it will hurt.”

“Isn’t it supposed to hurt?” Minji asks in all honesty. “I’m okay with Daddy hurting me, as long as he feels good.”

You have to hold back or else you would’ve laughed at her innocent expression and the confused fear in her orbs. You align your cock with her ass, not to immediately force yourself inside that hot, tight hole, but to teach Minji how to take you well.

“If you relax, Minji, I promise it will feel good. Weird at first, probably too big, but the more you loosen up and let your asshole become a source for pleasure, it will feel great.”

“Hanni probably already knows this,” Minji mumbles in shame. You quickly reach for her jaw and put a chaste kiss on her lips.

“To be honest, I haven’t even fucked her ass before, so stop worrying. Take deep breaths and stay re-laxed.” With those final words, you wait for Minji to follow your instructions—breathe in; breathe out—before you push your cock into her brown hole.

“Oh Daddy, fuck,” Minji groans, right into your face and you love how her hands start to hold onto your back, your arms as you push more cock into her. “You are so, so big!”

“There is still more, but you are doing a great job, Minji,” you respond calmly, lifting up her ass a bit to penetrate her deeper. “Soon, you’ll love this more than anything.”

“Daddy!” Your cock is fully inside her and Minji seems to go crazy, her head thrown back into the couch, her mouth releasing loud moans rapidly. Her anal cavity squeezes you tightly, tries to wring you and it’s insanely impressive. She takes you fully on the first go and slowly catches herself. “I-it feels weird but soooo—”

“Good, right? I can feel you relax, so I will start to fuck you for real now. Congratulations, you’re not a butt virgin anymore!”

Minji weakly laughs and then gasps when you drag your cock mostly out of her ass just to push it back in, deep, to the fucking hilt. You watch as her eyes open wide, then narrow, then close, all in the rhythm of your pumps. Her cunt drips more juice too, she cannot deny the pleasure.

“Daddy, why, why do you feel so good?” Minji screams. “Why, your cock—you made me your butt slut!”

“You’re a natural at this, most of your kind quickly become addicted.”

“Make me addicted, Daddy! Please, use this hole and make me—”

You reach underneath her frayed top and pinch a hard nipple, while your teeth go for her lower lip. You can feel her insides combust, her ass clenching around your cock, her pussy convulsing around nothing, yet it is enough to make her cum. Minji is orgasming from just her ass, but she tries to hide it. 

“There is nothing to be embarrassed about,” you laugh and begin to fuck Minji harder, her ankles in your firm hands. “Cum with your ass and be mine forever. You cannot escape anyways, so why would you want to? Don’t run from the pleasure, because I won’t stop fucking you until—”

Suddenly, you hear a key in the lock of your front door and someone whispering. Then quiet steps. Minji grows tense but you just smile at her, reassure her that there is nothing to be scared off. “Oh, you know these two, don’t worry~” 

“Huh?”

You look up and spot the first girl, Hanni, who smirks when she sees you. She puts a finger to her luscious lips and winks. You get her idea and press your palm on Minji’s mouth to keep her quiet while you slowly thrust into her tight ass. The young girl is visibly shocked that you just continue, but her shock grows even more when she spots the second girl.

“Unnie, this is weird. How long do I have to wear this blindfold?”

“Just a little bit longer~ We are almost there, just a few more steps.”

Hanni guides the blind Danielle, a beautiful, skinny girl dressed in what you assume is a stage or award show outfit. Either way you love how exposed her midriff and collarbone are. Danielle’s skin is flawless and her face looks even better than in pictures or videos.

The two get closer. Hanni is now behind the taller girl and guides her by holding her hips. The two seem familiar with this kind of intimacy. You quietly pull out of Minji’s butt and luckily, she stays quiet in this tense situation. 

“Dani, we have arrived,” Hanni giggles and wraps her hands around her friends’ tiny waist. “I have a present for you, but you have to get on your knees and guess what it is~”

“Unnie, if it’s your pussy again—we already did that! And if you want to fuck, you can just ask!”

You raise an eyebrow at Hanni who is clearly nervous and sweating. She got caught fucking with a second member of her group without your permission. You can’t really blame her. You can’t wait to stick your cock into that tight body and fuck Danielle’s mouth with your fingers. But for now, you let Hanni finish her game.

“This time,” she continues and kisses Danielle’s shoulder. “It’s something different. I have found the biggest, most beautiful cock because I know you would want to suck one of those someday.”

Danielle’s pale skin starts to burn with a deep red. All of her blood seems to go to her face. She starts to lose focus and whimpers a bit, especially because Hanni becomes more touchy, hands on her chest, her tummy, her ass.

“H-how did you know, Unnie?”

“You are really, really bad at hiding your dildo’s, Dani. I found like four of them. One still had your saliva around it~”

Danielle puts both hands to her face and lowers it in shame. Everyone in the room can still feel the glow of her blush through her fingers. You stroke your cock once, amused at the situation, but also tired of waiting. Hanni notices and continues her plan quickly.

“Look, Dani, I’ll show you how to do it.” Hanni lowers herself in between your legs. For the first time, you check out her outfit. Odd, you remember it from some performances a few months ago—does it really matter when she immediately goes to suck you, throat you even? “Oh my, it tastes so good! I wonder why that is?”

You point to Minji’s still exposed asshole and Hanni smirks knowingly. Poor Minji did not dare to move a single inch this entire time but now with Hanni’s loud gagging filling the room, she can stop being quiet and move her hands to cover up.

“U-unnie, are you really sucking it?” Danielle asks the obvious, still in disbelief. “Is it a real one, like, are you sucking a boy?”

Hanni pops you free from her perfect lips and makes sure to taste all of the lube and Minji’s ass from your manhood with her tongue. She cleans you passionately, from sac to tip until you finally give her a bit of precum. 

“Dani, he is a man, a Daddy. Trust me, he is very good looking and his cock is even better~” Hanni’s voice is so lewd, it feels cursed with her adorable visuals. You relish in her compliments and brush her black strands back behind her ear. “Kneel next to me and I show you.”

Danielle kneels down, her small frame taking the spot in between your legs next to Hanni. She is still confused though. “But Unnie, how can you show me if I’m not allowed to remove the blindfold?”

Hanni rolls her eyes and without warning, grabs Danielle’s face and pulls her into a kiss. The younger girl flails in surprise, finds hold on your thigh, but somehow she can’t hold onto it for long. Maybe the thought of a stranger really seeing her like this makes her lose grip on the situation—a good thing in your book.

“Ha-Hanni-unnie!” Danielle shrieks when their lips disconnect. “Why, why did that taste so good?” 

“If you want more, you need to suck and clean his cock like I did. Here, open your pretty mouth and be a good girl for Daddy~”

“You say weird stuff—ugh, hng!”

You groan softly when Hanni not-so-softly pushes Danielle’s face down your cock. A new, sensational throat engulfs you. Of course you expected violent gags and tears coming from behind the blindfold, how could you not. Hanni is literally forcing Danielle to deepthroat you for the first time. Her dildo training seems to have paid off however: Danielle is a lot more composed, measured even and makes sure to keep her teeth off of you. 

Soon, she finds her own pace and bops up and down your shaft, using her tongue from time to time without yet knowing where it actually feels good for you. It’s hard for her to learn when she can’t read your facial expression, so she just guesses and sucks and bops her head. It makes it all the more impressive how she can keep up with you and do a better job than Minji did on her first try.

“Hanni-unnie,” Danielle immediately shouts after getting her mouth off of your dick. “That was very mean of you, like, what the—”

You interrupt the young, angry girl by giving her blindfold a tug and watching it fall off of her dazzling, still flushed features. You smirk down at her as she watches up in awe, her eyes inspecting you like you did to her earlier.

“Oh, he-hello, sir,” Danielle says and tries to be formal while your cock is still on her lips. “I’m sorry we just walked into here and… about this.” She points at your hard shaft which you take in your hand and poke against her soft cheek.

“Don’t worry about it, you beautiful thing. In fact, I should be sorry about this right here.” You point next to you, where Minji tries to cover up her pussy. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“You, you had sex with Minji-unnie? Like, i-in her vagina?”

“Oh Dani,” Hanni coos and puts a hand into Danielle’s red top. “You don’t know how good a real cock feels in your pussy. Way better than a dildo.”

“Stop being so lewd, Unnie!”

“But you two are wrong,” you interrupt them and look at Minji, who valiantly fights through her embarrassment. There is nothing to be embarrassed about though; she did great taking your cock in her ass. “We had anal sex just now, and I think I speak for us both when I say that it was awesome.”

Hanni pouts at the thought of not yet having you in her ass while Danielle is both struck by horror and thrill when she cross-eyes your cock and then switches to look at Minji’s butt, which you uncover for her.

“Minji-unnie, was it really that good?” Danielle asks with wide open eyes.

“Yeah, how was it?” Hanni adds and involuntarily adds pressure for the leader to answer.

“I-it was… the best.”

A moment of silence and awkwardness for Minji until Danielle jumps up and pulls down her black skirt. Another unexpected turn, she seems to be ready to go asap. “Sir, can you—would you have sex with my butt too?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” you try to play it cool and reach for the bottle of lube. “Turn around, we need to get you ready.”

“Here, let me help you, Daddy.” Hanni gets a hold of Dani’s ass as soon as she spins around and spreads the cheeks apart. Dani gasps at first, but then giggles when she finds her Unnie to be already naked. She starts to kiss Hanni’s skin while you put the nozzle to her beautiful, clean ring and push lube inside. Danielle shudders while Hanni looks on with jealousy. It will be her turn soon enough though. 

“You have a gorgeous body, Dani,” you compliment her before grabbing her waist and pulling her onto you. “You are so light, I think I need to try a new position with you. Are you down for that?”

“Sir, I—if it’s not too crazy, I think I can do it. But remember, this is my first time.”

“You have to be relaxed, Dani,” Minji suddenly adds and stands next to her, not covering her private parts anymore. “If you are tense, it’s going to hurt—when you are loose however, Daddy can fuck you so good, it will feel like heaven.”

“O-okay then, I think I’m ready.”

You nod and lay down on the couch, Danielle on top of you. She rests her back on your strong chest and your hard cock searches for her tight asshole. Luckily, Hanni is there to help align your tip with it (not before sucking it of course). Dani takes deep breaths instinctively and with your primal instinct to fuck, your cockhead disappears in her ass.

“Oh fuck, that looks so hot!” Hanni coos.

“Stop staring, please,” Danielle whimpers and you feel her incredible texture convulse around your aroused phallus. No, she definitely gets turned on by this, so you’ll make it even better.

“Hanni, keep staring,” you order. “Oh, and make your mouth useful on my ass. See it as punishment for having sex with Dani without my permission.”

“Yes, Daddy, I’m sorry Daddy.”

“Sir, isn’t this too lewd?” Dani asks while you begin to rock her thin body up and down your cock like it’s a fleshlight. 

“Minji, how about you lick Danielle’s pussy. Make yourself familiar with it.”

“Yes, Daddy, she tastes really sweet and is quite… wet.” Minji smiles and you get what she means. Her mouth is promptly on Dani’s clit and now the two are moaning in unison. Your thrusts into Dani’s ass become harder.

“Oh dang, so much in my a-a—, I mean butt,” she whispers and you look at her face. “Sir, you are one lewd bast— person. Making young girls do this stuff. Aren’t you a bit too old for us?”

“Maybe that is why they call me Daddy,” you respond, the humor lost because your expression remains stern even through the pleasure. “Don’t hold back, curse as much as you want. This is no tv show or live stage. Get used to this cock, because I won’t stop after this one time.”

“I won’t either, you fucking bastard.”

Your lips meet in a haze, then you decide to give it your all. You fuck Dani hard, force more and more curse words out of her good-girl-mouth. Her cunt is forced against Minji’s eager lips, while you make sure Hanni is covered in your musk—though she kinda seems to enjoy serving your ass. Even after all this, she might still be the best baby girl out of this trio.

“Yes, fuck, yes, you fill my tiny ass so good! Fuck me with your big fat cock, give me that cock, open me so wide until I—”

“You horny bitch.” You yank down her top to reveal tiny tits, jiggling a little at your every thrust. Her skin is glowing, she is in complete heat. Danielle is a nymph with a tight ass and a pussy so wet, she can save someone from dehydration. You want to test your theory, if her orgasm is as explosive as you want it to be.

“My Lord, I’m so going to fucking cum, I will cum! Make me squirt, make me fucking, ahh!”

Like a fountain, Danielle’s juices paint Minji’s face, cover her hair and even Hanni below. She also doesn’t stop, not with your endless thrust into her ass. She is like an infinite source, eventually filling Minji’s mouth and marking Hanni as a dirty, rimming whore covered in girl cum.

“That was so good, Sir—”

“We are not yet done!” You squeeze Dani to your chest so she cannot escape and start to violate her ass some more, to the point your entire cock stretches her in all directions. For some reason, you feel like you could breed this hole for two eternities, but for now, one massive load has to be enough. 

With your final, deepest of thrusts, you force all of your seed into Danielle’s tight ass-pussy, fill it up and make sure she is tight enough to keep it inside for now. Pulling out is hard but rewarding, and hearing, feeling her pant on top of you is heavenly. 

“It’s so deep in me, fuck,” she moans and you bite her cheek. 

“Push it out of your slutty hole, you naughty bitch. 

“Hanni, Minji! Get ready for your daily load!”

The two girls are under our spell, not questioning anything you say and stick out their tongue underneath Danielle’s butthole. You pull back her heels to give them more space and with an blissful, erotic expression, Dani lets her ass be gaped. Your creamy white cum oozes out of her and Minji and Hanni greedily eat it all up, even getting their tongues into the completely overstimulated girl and cleaning her butthole.

“Shit, this is so lewd,” Dani whimpers and you put a hand around her throat.

“After I fuck Hanni’s ass in a rough Doggy, my heel on her face because I know she loves that, you will eat my cum out of her ass too. And don’t lie; I know you will like it.”

Danielle grins, licking her lips in excitement. “You are such a nasty bastard, Daddy.”

(A/N2: here is the very short version, I'll release a longer announcement later this week probably. I have decided to quit for a while, maybe forever but that is still in the stars. I can still write and I kinda like it, but this endless cycle of horniness and unhinged smut is killing me. I also need to focus on life/studies. More on that later this week. Love you all, peace out.)

[miserycanary]

WHAT YOU'RE MEANT TO DO ᡣ𐭩

pairing: alpha!Simon 'Ghost' Riley & workcaholic omega fem!reader

synopsis: you've lived your whole life without any problems due to the status of being beta, and you liked it that way. It doesn't interfere with your work, and suddenly you're informed you're an omega? That can't be.

tags: small arguments, smut like.. actually, dumbification, slight size kink, belly bulge, hair pulling, praise, degradation, breeding kink??, daddy kink, slight overstimulation if you squint, spit kink if you live in delusions

You had a routine you religiously followed. The day starts with waking up at 4, never having trouble getting up because you always look forward to work. You leave the apartment you share with your boyfriend at 5:15— maybe later than that when Simon feels clingy and asks you to stay for that day. You’ll indulge for 5 minutes before pressing a kiss on his chapped lips, promising you’ll come home early for him which seems to satisfy him. 

Now you knew something was wrong when you woke up, exhausted, and all your bones weighed like a ton. Thinking back to last night, the clock displayed 10:15 when you finally resigned to bed, even unable to satisfy Simon (which he understood), opting to cuddle with you and nosing around your neck.

Your groan woke up Simon, his muscled figure making the bed creak as he followed your figure almost dragging itself to the bathroom. “Sweetheart?” he calls out, worry evident in his voice. “I’m fine, baby. Just feeling a little under the weather. Nothing some meds won’t fix,” the reassurance slips off your tongue easily despite all the alarms in your mind begging you to rest. 

Your breathing got labored as your body tried to function. Your lover seems to have taken your word for it and went back to sleep, making you crack a smile.

Finally, you managed to get ready.. at 5:40. On the way, you could feel stares pointing at you. Did you smell? ‘Did I shower? I.. forgot. No, no... I did..’ you think to yourself, putting your things down on the table and letting your legs rest. “What kind of fucking sickness is this?” mumbling to yourself. Your eyebrows furrow, cursing at the world and complaining about the medicine not taking effect. 

Time seemed to go fast but unbearably slow. It seemed like you could only recognize snippets throughout the day. Next thing you know, you hear your boyfriend’s worrying voice coming from your phone. Since when did you call? Nevermind. You hung up. Your mind flashes forward and the bright shine of your laptop looks back. For quite some time, you don’t recall moving, just looking dazed. ‘Water. I need water’ You finally snap back to reality, standing up. The world suddenly swirled and you found yourself on the floor. 

‘Oh, shit. I-I need to get up... Fuck, my legs won’t move'

Tears swelled in your eyes, feeling helpless as people started to crowd you. Amid the commotion, a thundering voice booms out, calling for you. “Y/N!” Suddenly, all you could feel was the cool feeling of your boyfriend’s skin on yours. His scent fills your senses. God, you could live off this. “Babe.. why are you here?” you look at him, sighing in relief when you feel his palm pressed against your cheek. “You called me, slurring your words.” His voice was so deep and rough, you thought. Involuntarily, you squeezed your legs when you felt something gush in between. Your period? No, no.. too early. Unaware, everyone seemed to catch up to what’s wrong with you. Everyone rushed to distance themselves from you when Simon held you protectively, hiding you away from everyone and glaring at those who seemed to look at you like prey ready to be devoured. 

Before you lost consciousness, all you could think of was you forgot to save your document. Then the next thing you wake up to is your apartment’s ceiling and the clattering from your kitchen with heavy footsteps. You could only assume it’s your boyfriend trying to cook. “Ghost..?” you call out, voice hoarse. In an instant, he was by your side with water in hand. “Hi, baby,” he starts, pushing the glass near your lips. You whine when you can’t even move to take a sip, and he melts at that. With gentleness, he tangles his fingers in your hair and pulls your head back, tilting the glass. “Open,” he commanded, which your body seemed to obey, your mouth opening and letting the cold water relieve your parched throat. As some droplets escape and cascade down your cleavage, you moan as it momentarily relives the heat your skin radiates. 

“Love...” your boyfriend starts with the tone you know he uses when it’s about something that will upset you. “You’re required by the doctor to stay home for 2 weeks,” he continues, which finally tips you off. “No! I-I have a project due in 5 days, okay? I just need some paracetamol.” Insisting, you move to get up but you feel your boyfriend’s palm on your waist pinning you down. “No, bunny. You’re staying.” You glare at him in return. A part of you was aware that he was doing this for your sake, but you were too stubborn to let him. “Ghost, stop. I’m not in the mood for any lovey shits, okay? Just let me be,” you snap. Usually, when you get this pissed, he lets you be and just rushes by your side when you inevitably pass out due to over-exhaustion. This time, he doesn’t. 

His stare was firm and commanding unlike the usual. Your Simon was soft, always there to clean up your mess. He never forces you to rest nor to listen to him— even if it is for the better. “Bunny, it’s not normal sickness, okay?” he still calmly explains, brushing the stray hair away from your face but you only slap his hand away, still frustrated. Seeing that you’re getting an attitude, he sighs and kisses your temple. “Do you know what your secondary gender is?” At his question, you stare at him like he asked you if you know the sky is blue. “Fucking hell, Ghost. Of course! I told you this the moment we met. I’m a beta, okay? Can you let me go now?” you hissed, attempting to raise his heavy hand of your hand yet he persisted and pressed harder. “No, princess,” he looks away in contemplation. “I rushed you to the doctor earlier, and… your testing was a mistake. You’re a freshly developed omega and it was advised you.. naturally let your heat happen.” 

There were a few beats of silence before you cackled, tears forming in your eyes. “Yeah, right, babe. As if. Can you just fucking let me go?” The news of you being an omega sounded fake— because it is, you scoff. “I’m not joking,” he mumbles with a new profound authority. After realizing he was serious, everything came crashing down on you. This couldn’t be. You loved being a beta. It doesn’t interfere with your life. You can’t be an omega. You can’t! No, it’s fake. This was a joke! Heats?? You?? No, no. That’s not true– 

“Y/N! Breathe!” Simon’s voice snapped you out of your haze, looking down to see your nails pressed so hard on his skin that’s letting out droplets of blood. Sobs were robbed out of your body, refusing to accept the change in you, yelling at your boyfriend to let you go. His figure immediately wrapped itself around you, pressing your face on his chest and nuzzling your head. “Calm down, bunny. It’s fine... Just calm down,” he soothes, putting his hand under your shirt to rub circles on your burning skin, and trying to get your breathing to match his. His shirt was drenched with tears but he didn’t mind. He muttered endless praises in your ear about how brave you are, and how you’ll be fine because he’s there. Ghost is there for you.

“I’m here, sweetheart” he cooed, pressing a kiss on your ear and laying the both of you down on the bed. He covered you entirely with his figure, protecting you from the world. With a final hiccup, you lose yourself to sleep and exhaustion, settling down and letting yourself be vulnerable with him with his pheromones blanketing your senses as if he’s the only thing there.

Waking up with a gasp, a layer of sweat covered your whole body when your attention was suddenly redirected to the wet spot below you that seemed to seep into the bedsheets. Hot panic took you over and you suddenly felt ashamed. Did you pee yourself out of nervousness? Clamouring, you stumble as you try to wipe the spot away, whimpering when another sudden gush dripped down your legs which woke Simon.

“Sweetheart? What’s up with ‘ya?”

You cry, rushing to his side and throwing yourself at him while apologizing profusely. “I-I’m sorry! Baby, I’m sorry... Please forgive me. I didn’t know!”

“Calm down, calm down.. tell me what’s happening,” his voice immediately calmed you down, your hands still clenching tight on his shirt and sticking your face in his scent gland. In an instant, the strong smell of whiskey, ground, and cigar invaded your nose but you welcomed it. The aroma calms down your nerves and allows you to talk without tumbling over your words. “I-I.. peed,” you mumble in shame that surprised your lover, but it seems the situation clicked in his head and he only responded with a chuckle. 

“No, baby... You didn’t pee,” he sighs, grabbing your waist and sitting you sideways on his lap, while he scoots backward to lean on the headboard. “It’s something omega releases in substitution to lube,” he starts his hand slowly peeling away your shorts, revealing your soaked panties. “This is slick,” his finger swipes along the covered lips of your pussy, a string sticking to his pad. He brings his soaked fingers near you when the smell suddenly hit him. You smell like cherry-fucking-pie.

‘Fuck, she smells so sweet. No, I need to be patient. It’s her first heat’ he thinks while he watches your eyes observe with fascination. He nosed around your scent gland taking in your pheromones that sent blood rushing to his dick. His hand pulls your panties to the side to directly flick on your clit, pressing his thumb down and circling. You whimper, holding onto his shirt as your legs instinctively close. Everything was heightened. It felt like you’d come any minute just from your clit getting pressed down.

“Spread them.” As if your body was possessed, your thighs separate, allowing Simon to completely slip off your underwear and press a single digit inside of you. The reaction was instant. Your back arches and your toes curl in pleasure, red chipped nails digging into his bicep, but he was too immersed in watching your pretty cunt take what he gives you to even care. “Good girl,” he praises, pressing his lips against your ear. Tilting your head to the side, you attempt on taking cover on his bicep, but Ghost only grabs your face, tilting it back. 

“Daddy needs to hear you, princess”

Your moans got higher as he added another finger and pumped them, borderline abusing your cunt. But you needed this. How else will you take your alpha’s massive cock? Looking down on you, he melts as babbles and whines were the only things you could muster. Your body writhes in pleasure, eyes rolling back in pleasure. “S-Simon! I’m... a-ah!.. close!” Feeling your release climbing, your pussy clenches around his digits while urging him to go faster; just a little more push to your climax. A scandalized gasp was ripped out of you when he suddenly stopped completely. “No, how do you ask to cum properly?” his voice grumbles, squishing your cheeks while your face is soaked with tears. “I wanna cum, Simon. Please please please–” he cuts you off, tightening his hold on your face and pressing his thumb hard on your clit. “No, not Simon.”

With that, you finally realized the key to your release. “Daddy, please. I wanna cum, please. P-put your fingers in again. Daddy, please” you whine, a hand releasing his bicep to place itself on his nape, pulling him down so you can messily press a kiss. Satisfied, he plunged 3 fingers in, forcing your cunt to take it. “There we go. Was that so hard, princess? Was it hard being polite to daddy?” he teases, pressing down on your sweet spot. His tongue licks around your mouth, sucking on the wet appendage and letting his saliva trickle down into yours.

You felt so tight around his digits, and the thought of how you’ll feel around him made his cock ache. The hard-on pressing against your lower back which lifted as the coil inside of you snapped. He watches with adoration as you soak his fingers and the bedsheets, a sense of accomplishment bubbling up inside his chest, making precum dribble out of his tip and stain his sweatpants. “Good girl,” the praise slips off his tongue absentmindedly as he sneaks a hand behind you, untying his pants and pulling it down just enough for his cock to spring free.

Still high from pleasure, he manhandles your body to the position he wants. Pushing your body forward so your face is planted on the sheets with your hips resting on two-stacked pillows. Amid pleasure, you got brought back when overstimulation ran through your nerves, feeling Ghost’s cock fill you up, inch by inch. You didn’t even realize when he had taken his bottoms off. The only thought running through your head was him, his smell, his overpowering pheromones, and his cock. God, his cock was driving you crazy.

“Babygirl, you need to loosen up,” he orders, slithering a hand under you to swirl around your clit. “No!.. oh! s-sensitive!” you whine, sobbing onto the pillow. “I don’t care, sweetie. You had your fill, now daddy needs his. Won’t you be a good girl and help me? I promise I’ll reward you,” he mutters, his chest pressing on your back. Driven with the need to be good for him, you let your cunt relax to take him in.

Slowly rutting his hips, he tries to thrust more of his cock inside of you. “Slowly, baby. Breathe for me. There we go. Perfect,” he groans, pressing his forehead on your nape when he finally felt himself completely buried inside your hot, wet cunt. “Such a perfect pussy. You want to make me proud, don’t ya?” You only whine in response, then a loud moan ripped out of you when you felt a subtle bulge on your stomach which got pressed down onto the pillow under the weight Ghost was putting down you. “Fuck, you’re so small, aren’t ya? Such a perfect cocksleeve. What a behaved slut for me.” Without a warning, he snaps his hips, thrusting in and out of you without mercy; like a carnal animal with the intent to just breed. God, this is heaven. This is where he’s supposed to be. With you, inside of you.

“I’m gonna fill you up so good, ma” he moans, your voice matching his. “Ah-ah-ah! Fast! Too fa— oh! Too fast,” you sobbed yet it felt so good. Every sense of yours was drowning with the thought of your mate, of Simon. You were so lost in pleasure, hands sprawled out on the sheets and gripping, trying to crawl away from the overwhelming pleasure. Ghost only clicks his tongue, putting his hands on your waist and pulling you back, filling you to the brim again.

“Daddy was too lenient on you huh? Maybe I need to keep you here. You won’t ever need to use that pretty head of yours, worrying about nothing, sweetie. I’ll do everything for you, okay? Your alpha will do everything for you.” You feel him pull back with the tip catching on your rim. As if given a break, you take a breath but suddenly everything was knocked out of you when he bottomed out with one thrust.

“F-fuck, you feel amazing. You just need to be good to me, okay? You just need to be a good mama for our children, stay at home, and let me use your pretty pussy when daddy needs to relieve stress” Pinning your waist down, it was like he actually sees you as a personal cocksleeve, using your body for his own release.

Thrusting faster, Ghost’s moans start to pitch higher, his hand tangling itself in your locks to pull your face from the pillow. Locking lips, he moans louder while pressing down on the bulge in your stomach, helping him get closer from the fact you’re so small— so easily to manhandle and to use freely. Maybe he should actually just keep you here. You won’t need to work. No need to stress that pretty head of yours over trivial stuff. He just needs you to stay with him.

The thought of you being swollen with his baby and staying inside the apartment waiting for him was the final thing that sent him to the edge. His tip spurting out cum filled you up to no end, kissing the entrance of your womb as he buried himself as deep as possible. Your hands scramble to hold onto something, afraid to get lost in the pleasure; scared of being a slave to the mind-numbing pleasure. You dig your nails on his thigh, sobbing and moaning in pleasure as his release triggered another of yours. Feeling so full, Ghost finally stopped cumming and lets you go. His spent body collapsing alongside you in exhaustion. Silence ensued between you guys, basking in each other’s presence. After a while, he got up to grab a towel to clean you up, knowing you’d be insatiable once your omega instincts completely settled.

Feeling his lips kiss your temple, his rough yet sultry deep voice (or maybe that’s just your love for him talking) telling you to relax made you purr. As you watch him take care of you, scrubbing down both yours and his spent off your body got you thinking. Maybe this is where you’re supposed to be. Doing nothing but behaving for your lover, keeping Ghost happy.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: AHHHH!! It's my first full-length fanfic which happens to be my very first explicit and descriptive smut. Please be gentle with the criticisms!! Also, do you guys want a König version? Please comment if yes.

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

⟢ taglist is open!! Comment if you want to be tagged in the next posts.

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

[wickedscribbles]

if i get too loud you can shut my mouth: ch. 1

Masterlist Ch. 2 Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x Logan Howlett/Wolverine

Rating: Explicit

Tags: descriptions of violence, excessive swearing, fourth wall breaks, yearning, bridgerton season 3 spoilers, sexual tension

Word Count: 2.4K

If you like what I write and can afford to do so, please consider buying me a coffee! It would be much appreciated.

It feels like it took them ten years to get here.

In reality, it was a little less than half a year, but still – fuck.

Wade might not be two hundred years old, enduring some endless drag of time like Logan has, but he knows that every day spent orbiting one another and pretending like things weren’t boiling with unspoken tension was agonizing. Seeing Logan in those fucking flannels was agonizing. Watching him doze off on the couch. Catching the way his face softened when he smiled, ruffling Mary Puppins’ ears.

It was all such a pain in the ass.

(Thankfully, not literally, this time. Al would kill him if he brought another fight into the apartment. Even if she couldn’t see bloodstains all over the carpet, she’d sure as hell know when she stepped on one.) And Wade understood – really he did. He could see through Logan’s prickly act the second he met him in that bar. Even with what they’d been through to save the current timeline they now both resided in, Logan felt some deep-rooted urge to distance himself from people. He didn’t want to hurt anyone else. Didn’t think he had it in him to lose anyone he got close to again. That kind of cycle was hard to break.

They saw one another at the occasional get-together, now held at Al and Peter’s place. With Wade throwing himself back into mercenary work and the money getting better, that meant things inevitably getting more dangerous, so now he bunked in a one bedroom with the only girl in his life willing to put her tongue down his throat every hour of the day. That girl also sometimes threw up after eating her kibble too fast in the morning, but hey. We all have our problems.

But if Wade ever tried to hang around when the night was winding down – or if he extended an invitation to just Logan – things got sketchy. He’d always mutter some excuse about work – the old man was getting his hands dirty as a mechanic, apparently, but Wade had his resources and heard more than a few stories about the Wolverine cropping up as the months passed.

And Wade can feel it. That pulling away, that distance. Whether it’s there because Logan actually feels any sort of sense of connection between them, or because he can’t stand Wade and wants him to leave him the fuck alone, Wade can’t really tell. When he’s not in a fight, Logan’s so fucking quiet. Keeps to himself so much.

He tries not to push. The whole thing with Vanessa went south again, fast. Because he either pushes too hard, or not enough, and fuck if he can ever find a solid in between.

Spring slides into summer, sweltering.

Wish we could just walk around in a g-string when it’s fuck me degrees out here, right?

Wade sends the text to Logan one insufferable July afternoon, crouched in an abandoned warehouse. He never expects a reply. The man doesn’t exactly give off “knows how to text” energy. But hours later, his phone vibrates.

You’re nasty

Wade grins. “Exactly, big guy.”

A stupid, eager part of him can’t help but hope a little harder, after that. He could’ve just ignored the text entirely. But this was something.

He digs in his heels, thinking of anything and everything to hound the man about throughout his day.

You ever think about what these goonies are jerking it to before you cut their heads off?

Stupid shit, totally off the top of his head.

Still hotter than absolute shit, is this why you only go out in the suit at night? Think I can feel my balls boiling

Sometimes he’d get an answer, sometimes not. Either way, it was typically a short response. (Thank fuck he didn’t text like a boomer – Logan was hot, but that might have been the end for Wade’s boner regardless.)

Puppins says she misses you :(

(Don’t tell her but you’re nicer to cuddle with)

Nothing to that one. Alone in his apartment, he sighs. Mary Puppins groans her sympathy and snuggles closer into his chest.

—---------

A little over a month later, there’s an urgent knock on the door.

More like a banging.

Cops is Wade’s first half-awake thought as he slings himself out of bed, already gripping the first gun he can get to. He stashes it in the pocket of his fuzzy ducky-patterned bathrobe, getting to the peephole.

Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.

This is somehow worse than cops.

Wade unlocks the door and Logan pours himself in, dominating the frame and almost stumbling to get inside. His eyes are wild, skin glistening with sweat. He still wearing that stupid fucking flannel, light brown and dark blue, the sleeves pushed up to the elbow like he’s personally asking Wade to fuck him.

He huffs out a few heavy breaths, blinking at the hush of Wade’s apartment like he isn’t quite understanding it.

“Hey, princess,” Wade offers up to break the silence. “You, uh, coming over for the weekly rewatch of Bridgerton? I mean, I already skipped to the good parts, but we can always –

Logan’s hand closes over his windpipe so fast that the rest of the sentence vanishes in a wheeze. Pleasure blooms somewhere in the back of Wade’s brain, and he’s almost certain that he’s hard as he’s backed up against the refrigerator. Puppins only raises her head from the dog bed to look between them, her tail wagging frantically.

“What the fuck,” Logan grits out. “You called me.”

He sort of had. After a few ignored texts, Wade’s thumb had fumbled the CALL button. There’d been a mild rush of panic before the usual tossing and turning that led him to sleep. To be honest, he didn’t even think Logan would catch that. And he definitely didn’t think that it would lead to a pissed off Wolverine storming his living space at 2 a.m.

“Sure did,” he says cheerfully, once the fingers around his throat loosen somewhat. Wade holds up his hands, trying to look innocent. “Butterfingers. My mistake, peanut.”

A maelstrom of emotions flit over Logan’s face in an instant. He drops Wade, his expression settling on something that the other man can’t read. At last he shakes his head, sighing, and turns back to the door.

“Sorry,” he says. “Sorry, then, I’ll just…”

Dude looks like a fucking kicked puppy. A tired kicked puppy that’s lived longer than most people would care to.

“Aww, c’mon,” Wade urges.

It’s hard to look sexy with a face like his, but he splays himself back against the fridge, bathrobe falling back a little to reveal what’s definitely still hard in those boxer shorts.

“When’s the last time we really hung out, huh? Mano a mano? Not since the potential end of the world – we really could watch Bridgerton, you know.”

Wade doesn’t miss the quickest flick of Logan’s eyes down to his crotch. Ohoho. Gotcha, bub.

“I don’t even know what the hell that is,” Logan growls, folding his arms.

His body language says arghhh no I’m so grumpy, don’t touch me, but his eyes are telling Wade everything he needs to know. They’re kind of nice, when he isn’t glaring at something. You know what he’s got? He’s got the deep brown eyes of a Golden Retriever.

And Wade wants to pet that puppy.

“Puppy play? Before we’ve even kissed? Girl you nasty,” Wade says out of nowhere, turning to an obscure corner of his apartment.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

Wade clears his throat, pushing his chest forward somewhat.

“Anyway. Puppins loves a good period romance but we can put on whatever, if you want to stay.”

Please stay.

“What do you normally watch when you’re lurking in your apartment after a long day at the shop?”

He delivers the end of that sentence with a light Southern twang. Logan doesn’t seem to appreciate it, but he relaxes ever so slightly. Swallows. Fuck. Wade can smell the work on him too, the grease and sweat of a long day. Gasoline. There’s a smudge right under Logan’s left eye, and he really, really wants to close the distance and touch the mark. Not knowing if doing so would temporarily lose him a couple of fingers, Wade stays where he is.

“...Home Improvement,” Logan says finally.

“Jesus Christ, you would,” Wade scoffs out. “I mean that as a compliment, sweetheart – if you looked me in the eye and told me you watched Dance Moms I would keel over, regeneration or no.”

It’s clear that Logan has no fucking clue what Dance Moms is either, and maybe that’s for the best. He shuffles from foot to foot, still seeming to be stuck between wanting to stay or go.

“It’s late. I should probably –”

“Wait,” Wade interrupts. “Wait. Can I just – ask something?”

Logan gives him a little shrug, like I think you’re going to anyway, so go for it.

He hesitates, biting at a thumbnail. There’s blood underneath it, and probably not his own. With a grimace, Wade lowers it again.

“What are we doing? With the texting and the avoiding and the –?” He moves his hands around in gentle circles. Logan doesn’t quite meet his eye, but Wade isn’t finished yet. “Y’know, you save the timeline with a guy, get niiiice and cozy in the back of a Honda Odyssey –”

Logan turns a shade of pink that they both know can’t be contributed to anger. “Listen, pal – when you’re fighting sometimes that just happens –”

“Oh, okay, buddy,” Wade continues, grinning. “I know it does, believe me, I’ve been as hard as vibranium for many a fight. But I’ve never curled up next to the guy who’s trying to kill me afterward and woken up with their lips on my forehead.”

It’s all true. After truly destroying his variant’s Honda Odyssey, Wade and Logan had finally exhausted themselves into a state of sleep. And even though he’d found himself restrained by a truly impressive seatbelt arrangement, he’d come to with the heat of the other man’s body pressed fully against his own.

Holding his breath, not daring to move a muscle, Wade had peeked out of one eye to confirm it. Yes, that was the Wolverine acting as his little spoon. Minutes or perhaps hours passed before Logan shifted in his sleep, his bottom lip pressed sloppily against the top of Wade’s head. His breath was warm there. Something about the comfort of that lulled him back to sleep.

Of course, he hadn’t dared breathe a word of that. They had important shit to do and a runtime of only two hours and seven minutes.

Oh, Wade fucking adores putting that look on Logan’s face. Even better with the tinge of pink to match. How many people can say that they’ve made the Wolverine blush? Well, how many living people?

“Shut up,” Logan splutters.

“No can do, princess,” Wade says, grinning wide. “I think we both know the truth when we hear it. Even if it’s hard. Not that that’s the only thing that’s hard around h –”

This time, Wade sees Logan coming and ducks. The door of his refrigerator crumples inward with a metallic sound, things tumbling around inside as they fall.

“Fuck, I just got that, you animal!” Wade complains as he watches the LED screen on the side of the thing crackle and die. He fumbles for the gun in his robe, unsure of whether or not he’ll need it. “Do you know how much a smart fridge costs?!”

Logan’s still coming after him, claws unextended but his face a storm. “Why do you need a TV on your fucking fridge?!”

“To watch Colin and Penelope make sweet, beautiful love after three seasons of sexual tension!”

He weighs up his options. If Logan wants to make this a fight, he can’t start with the gun. Better to have some sort of melee option so the rest of the building doesn’t panic – his tableside lamp is looking like the best way to go right now, even if it was a steal at the local thrift place and gives the whole place a beautiful ambiance.

But shit, he forgot that Logan is lightning fast as well as strong. The whole fucking package. One wrist caught in another iron tight grasp, then the other, and he finds himself being dragged to the nearest wall. Pinned there.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, Logan’s face close enough to lean in and touch. That smear of grease on his cheek. The crow’s feet around his eyes. His mouth. Fuck.

“We can’t,” Logan says, his voice softer than Wade’s ever heard it.

“You’re gonna say that to me while pinning me to the fucking wall? I–”

“Listen to me, jackass,” Logan cuts him off.

Fuck, he’s so warm. He’s like a radiator. If Wade could only lean in. He’s begging at this point.

“I don’t – it’s not that I haven’t thought about –”

“My succulent body meat?” Wade suggests.

“Shut the fuck up.” He sighs, exasperated. (Wade’s dick feels that way too. How much exposition can an author shove into one fanfiction before two characters actually fuck each other, Jesus Christ?) “I’ve thought about this. But you’ve got people, and you’ve already risked your life and mine to keep ‘em safe. I don’t wanna mess that up again.”

“A noble thought,” Wade concedes. “However, if anything does threaten my oh-so-treasured loved ones, you know I’ll be right there to kick that threat’s ass, right? And that being so horny for you twenty-four/seven is severely impacting my quality of life? The vet’s saying he might have to put me down.”

The tiniest smile tugs at the corner of Logan’s mouth. He ducks his head as he does, something shy and young about it. Something hot blooms in the bottom of Wade’s stomach, and for once, it’s not the ache of sex and need. It’s the major fucking crush he has on this man. Although, at this point, he is also so hard it hurts.

Logan’s eyes flit down again, noticing that particular fact when it jumps against his thigh.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Wade.”

“Not Jesus Christ, my friend. Marvel Jesus.”

“Yeah, no one ever said that but you.”

Logan leans in and kisses him like he’s wanted to do it just as long as Wade has.

[magicshopaholic]

Fever Dream (Taehyung x OC)

Summary: Dressed in vintage Chanel, your and Taehyung's messy past comes back to haunt you.

Pairing: Taehyung x OC (feat. Jungkook)

Genre: Some fluff, angst

Word count: 9.1 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, if that

A/N: Here is the next installment of unedited fic series. Takes place a little over a month after A Day in the Life.

Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @margopinkerton, @faearchives, @whoisbts, @purpleseoul7, @kflixnet (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)

Listen to: "free fallin'" by john mayer

taehyung masterlist| main masterlist

Dilara [11:40] Hey babe. Reached?

Tae [11:40] Just about. Wow, it’s been really long since I’ve been to one of these. Forgot how chaotic it is.

Dilara [11:41] Tell me about it. Everyone’s impossibly good-looking.

Tae [11:42] Really? Did you just walk by a mirror or something?

Dilara [11:42] Save some of that charm for tonight, pretty boy.

Tae [11:43] See you in a few, pretty girl.

Dilara slips into the ladies’ room facing the mirror over the basins and exhaling. The flight and drive were long enough, but she seems to be the only person showing signs of it. It helps to have Taehyung nearby, though, even if actual time together seems limited.

She needs to be back out there, though, letting the crew know and get started on whatever PR they have planned. Fluffing out her curly hair and noting how the curls seem to have set nicely for once, she rummages in her bag for a last minute spritz of perfume and swipe of lipstick.

As she searches, one of the stalls behind her opens and she hears the sound of another sigh. It’s gratifying, she reflects, to not be the only one feeling overwhelmed. 

“It’s quite a crowd outside.”

Dilara chuckles, finally locating the tiny travel-size bottle of Zara’s Nude Bouquet and taking off the cap. “Tell me about it,” she mutters, straightening up and spraying it on her neck and the inside of her wrists. “Felt like I needed to escape.”

The other girl laughs lightly, and Dilara glances at her in the mirror. Her long black hair falls down her shoulders but she looks familiar - Dilara immediately thinks of Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend and the image sticks.

“I get that,” she agrees, and her voice is soft, almost musical. “Wow, that’s a nice scent. Where is it from?”

“Oh, it’s Zara.” Without thinking anything of it, Dilara offers it to her. “Want to try?”

The girl straightens up as well and turns to her - it’s not Charles’s girlfriend - and gasps mildly. “It’s such a coincidence - I think I packed my cosmetics in the wrong bag and they all reached my hotel. You really don’t mind?”

Dilara shakes her head wordlessly. Impossibly good-looking. But she can’t look away.

Jennie smiles gratefully and takes the slim bottle, spraying it in the same spots Dilara did and returning it. “Thank you. It’s been a long flight.”

“And a long drive from the airport.”

“I know.” She pauses. “You look kind of familiar, by the way. I’m picturing a Polaroid… I feel like we’ve met?”

“Oh, uh…” Dilara shakes her head, turning back to this basin to wash her hands, barely able to feel the cool water. “No. We haven’t.”

“Oh. I’m Jennie. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Dilara.”

“That’s a pretty name. Where is it -” A phone ringing interrupts her and she winces, apologetically checking her phone. “Sorry, I have to go. Maybe I’ll see you later tonight.”

Dilara forces half a smile. “Maybe.” 

Jennie gives her a small wave and leaves. For a moment, nothing happens. Dilara fluffs out her hair and checks her phone out of habit before frowning, realising she can’t remember if she washed her hands. The water feels cooler now and she squeezes out some of the floral-smelling lotion next to soap, rubbing it over her hands.

It’s time to head out. The impossibly good-looking people aren’t going anywhere and Dilara is technically working. As she reaches the door, her phone buzzes.

Tae [11:50] Can you tell me where you are? I need to talk to you.

—

It seems likely to be a huge event. The marquee spans what looks like half an acre at least, under which two dozen tables with designer chairs and sparkly, minimalist place settings are spread out. Flex boards are strategically placed with who are probably the most famous Korean celebrities in attendance, the low stage is a shiny black and the few non-Korean guests stick out, although not in an unpleasant way. The guest list and event decor is no surprise - it is a Samsung event after all.

Dilara spots Taehyung walking past a camera with Jimin, only the latter waving. He looks… distracted, despite the smooth and impassive expression. They stop under the shade where he takes off his sunglasses, frowning slightly in the afternoon sun. Her gaze falls lower, to the band of his trousers to his hand in his pockets, and the shape tells her they are balled into fists.

Dodging one of the impossibly good-looking people, this one a vaguely familiar person - probably an actress - Dilara stops some ways away from Taehyung and Jimin, directly opposite them. It won’t take long now, for his eyes are darting around anyway, until they find hers and his forehead clears. 

Dilara holds his gaze for a moment before turning around and beginning to walk. She isn’t exactly sure where to; most of the signs are written in Korean with the English translations in smaller font. 

But she continues without stopping, her pace mild and stance casual, her arms folded across her chest. Somewhere along the way, her peripheral vision catches Taehyung on the opposite side of the path, one hand still in his pocket as he saunters with grace.

They turn together, coincidentally, down a path to a huge trailer. The gigantic Big Hit logo, combined with the confidence with which Taehyung strides in, tells her exactly whose it is. Few staff members scatter as he pushes open the door and stands aside to let her in, not speaking until it’s closed and they’re alone.

Taehyung opens his mouth to speak but pauses, as though changing tacks at the last second. “Hi,” he says, a hint of a smile spreading across his features.

It’s been three weeks since they’ve seen each other, she recalls only now. “Hey,” she replies, although it comes across as a bit of a sigh.

He steps towards her, a bit hesitant, before placing one arm around her waist and gently bringing her to him and hugging her. He kisses her on the cheek. “Missed you,” he whispers, his lips on her hair.

Dilara’s hands go around him automatically, but it’s hard to focus. Or there’s too much focus - she can’t tell. It takes her a moment, but she nods into his shoulder, closing her eyes and trying to enjoy the first whiffs of his Sauvage, always the best ones.

“Missed you, too,” she murmurs. Her hands tighten around his t-shirt, momentarily clutching them tight before she forces herself to step away.

Taehyung touches her cheek, allowing himself another fond gesture before dropping his hand to his side. He glances at the floor and for a brief fraction of a second, a pit of fury takes form in her stomach. 

It disappears almost instantly, though. Taehyung swallows and looks up. “Look, I have to tell you something. When we reached and got out of the car, there was a short briefing and one of the producers mentioned that -“

“Jennie is here.”

Taehyung’s face goes slack. “Wait, you knew? How? Did Calvin Klein tell you or was it like a - how do you say it? A memo?”

“Calvin Klein is not going to send anyone a memo of Jennie’s travel plans. No, I - I ran into her in the ladies’ room,” she answers. He doesn’t respond immediately and Dilara bites her lip; she feels like she should say more.

“You… ran into her?” Taehyung’s voice is almost hushed. “Like, you saw her or -“

“I stood next to her. We talked about how long our flights were and then she borrowed my perfume.”

Dilara can’t blame Taehyung for looking slightly incredulous. It sounds like a fever dream when she says it out loud. Wildly, it occurs to her that for the next few hours at least, she and Jennie Kim will smell the same.

Evidently, he decides not to probe. “Are you okay?” he asks softly.

“Mhm.”

“Because… I swear, I had no idea she would be here.”

“I know.”

“If I did, I would’ve told you as soon as I -“

“I know. I believe you.”

His eyes flicker and the relief is unmissable. “Good,” he murmurs. 

Dilara looks away, anywhere; the look in his eyes, of anxiety, worry, guilt - it’s a rabbit hole she doesn’t want to go down right now. There’s no place in her mind right now, or in her heart, for anything more than the effort to not make this a big deal. 

“I should go,” she says after a moment. “I need to meet my team and then they have me selecting a dress or something for tonight.” She moves to leave.

His response is immediate. “Lara, are you -”

“I am,” she interrupts, not turning around but stopping in her tracks. “Look, it’s…” It’s weird. It feels like the understatement of the year, or it should be, but she truthfully can’t think of what else it is. “It’s fine,” she says finally, looking back at him briefly. He looks concerned and it’s not what she wants to see. “You’re… all in the same industry. And we’ve moved on.”

Taehyung nods slowly. “Okay. Will, uh… will we see each other before the event?”

Dilara shrugs. “Depends. You’ll probably have to get ready here,” she guesses, and his shoulders falling tell her she’s correct. “Tonight. Later.” Before he can respond, she leaves.

—

Jungkook [13:30] Okay wait. What about these? [picture] [picture] [picture] [picture] [picture]

Dilara [13:31] Um I dunno. The second looks fine.

Jungkook [13:31] Really? It’s not too extra?

Dilara [13:32] Facial piercings are the definition of extra.

Jungkook [13:32] Well that’s why I want a subtle eyebrow piercing. It can’t just be about the tattoos all the time.

Dilara [13:33] Fine, so second.

Jungkook [13:34] Reallyyyyy? I kinda liked the third.

Dilara [13:34] Then go with the third. It’s your face, not mine. Well, yours and Big Hit’s. Are they really okay with their chocolate boy going emo punk right after tour?

Jungkook [13:35] Fuck them. It’s my choice. So third? Actually what do you think about the fourth? With the sapphire stud?

Dilara sighs and lowers her phone. Jungkook’s indecisiveness, while sometimes endearing, is not something she can appreciate right now. It had taken all her will and ability to compartmentalise to get through her video segment a little while ago: Off Track: Get Ready with Dilara Komyshan! 

She still has hours to get ready; the filming made no sense. Neither does the layout of the ground, in her opinion, for there are people arriving from three different entry points. It seems stupid and not very well thought out at all, and Dilara just knows it will cause confusion once the event actually begins.

Taking a sip of the canned grapefruit drink she’d picked up from one of the tables, she winces. It’s sugary sweet and, she suspects, not even real fruit. But there were no other options and she was thirsty. Looking around to check if the coast is clear, she tosses it into a nearby bin. Her phone buzzes again and she closes her eyes. 

Damn it, Jungkook. Just get the damn piercing.

Jungkook [13:38] Still there? I was thinking, maybe you were right about the second. Oxidised silver is kind of classic and really makes the whole thing stand out. What do you think?

Dilara [13:40] You know, I really don’t think I’m the best person to advise you here. When I was in school, I had a thing for guys with lip piercings, so what do I know?

Just as she navigates away from WhatsApp, she hears a rustle and whips around.

“Sorry!” A young man, carrying a laptop, two clipboards and a cup of coffee stumbles into her little alcove away from the main event. He says something else in Korean before looking up and noticing her, and his eyes flash in recognition. “Dilara Komyshan!” he blurts out, his face slightly red.

“Uh, yes -” She darts forward to catch his cup as it slips out of his hand, no doubt saving it from spilling all over his clean white trousers.

“Oh, thank you,” he breathes, panting slightly. “It’s been a crazy day and I’ve fucked up - oh, God, I think I’m going to get fired today!” He dumps his belongings onto a table between them and shakes his head, apparently inviting himself to her solitary rendezvous.

If Dilara had to guess, he sounds Canadian. Not knowing if she’s meant to respond, she nods in what she hopes is a sympathetic way, hoping he’s busy enough to leave soon. To her surprise, he leans back against a tree on the other side of the table and fishes around in his pocket, retrieving a pack of cigarettes.

Dilara’s fingers twitch unexpectedly. “Mind if I bump one?”

He raises his eyebrows. “You smoke?”

Shit. “It’s been a crazy day for me, too,” she confesses. “Maybe we can keep each other’s fuck-ups between us?”

He half-chuckles and offers the pack to her. “Dan,” he says, handing her a lighter as well.

“Dilara.” She lights her cig and takes a drag, returning the lighter. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

The nicotine feels a bit stifling on a sunny afternoon, but there’s something mildly comforting about it, too. The only downside of it, she realises, is that it’s opened the door for this Dan individual to take her quip to heart and begin baring his soul to her.

“It’s ridiculous, honestly,” he vents passionately, “because they really shouldn’t give access to things to one person, you know? Not when that person doesn’t understand responsibility or - or commitment to a team, and quits a week before an event. Who does that? Right? I mean - you of all people would understand,” he declares, pointing to her suddenly. “You’re in Red Bull - wouldn’t you commit to your team until the very end?”

Dilara stares, unsure how she’s expected to answer, for Christian Horner would probably tear up her contract and eat the pieces if Max Verstappen demanded it.

“I - sure. Yeah.”

“Exactly.” He shakes his head, his face still red. “It’s just really overwhelming. There’s a lot to do and we’re one guy short and… God, I don’t even want to get into what happened earlier today.” 

He pauses, as though waiting for her to ask. Dilara, looking straight ahead, doesn’t take the bait, silently taking another drag. Next to her, Dan is almost bouncing on the balls of his feet, seeming more flustered than ever.

“Someone accidentally wiped out the version history of our seating chart after making changes to it - bam, it’s out there.” He says the whole thing very quickly and exhales shakily. “And it could… technically be considered my fault - and only technically - because I was the last one to use it but if you really think about it, it’s - it’s really poor planning because - I mean, Google Sheets? In this day and age? And the only person who knew it by heart and - and who was in charge of it -  quit last week. With no warning. And now we’re having to wing it, which brings me back to the whole teamwork thing, so you tell me, you know. Who is really at fault…”

Dilara presses her fingers to her temple, wishing he would leave, for this isn’t worth the clandestine cigarette. He continues venting and she tries to tune him out.

“You’re table six, though, right?” His somewhat frantic voice interrupts her thoughts.

“Uh… I’m not sure. I wasn’t told what table I’d be at,” she mutters, glancing at him to see him peering into his laptop screen. The brightness is at full blast and she can see a Google Sheet open, the first two cells labelled “이름/Name” and “테이블/Table” with numerous names written similarly in Korean and English, and all the table numbers in Arabic numerals. She recognises some names: Kim Namjoon stands out, as does Jang Wonyoung, Sydney Sweeney, Jennie Kim…

“Oh, God - it’s frozen!”

Dan hammers at the refresh button but the cursor turns into a blue circle and he makes a choking sound between a cry and a groan. At that moment, his phone rings and he visibly gulps at the screen. “I have to - I have to take this,” he stutters to no one in particular, answering it and backing away, raising a hand to Dilara in apology before disappearing.

Dilara raises her eyebrows and mimics his movement, privately glad for a moment of peace. She can’t listen to his complaints about the event any longer. It seemed like an excruciatingly boring event from the beginning and she’s already rather preoccupied, thinking of all the practice on the SIM she could have squeezed in this weekend if it weren’t for this stupid event.

The laptop screen is unrelentingly bright; blinking a bit, she taps the key to lower it. Frowning, she moves the mouse to see it working perfectly. Rolling her eyes, she leans to the side to look for Dan.

“Mate, your screen is responding again,” she says, but there’s no answer. In fact, she can’t even hear him anymore. 

Maybe he jumped, Taehyung would say, seriously and without expression, maintaining it even when others would chuckle.

She scrolls absently to search for his name. Cha Eunwoo, Alia Bhatt, Jeon Jungkook… she spots her own name, a brief moment of relief to see she will have at least one familiar face at her table. Then, a little while later, Kim Taehyung.

He had looked so… concerned for her today. Anxious. All the casual confidence he’d retained for the rest of the world had fallen away to reveal the moments of vulnerability he reserved for her. She can’t recall at this moment how it usually makes her feel, for today, she couldn’t turn away fast enough.

Dan returns a minute later, just as Dilara is leaving.

“Thanks for the cig,” she says, giving him a small wave.

“You’re welcome. Oh - it’s working again!” He lets out a low whistle, running his finger across the mousepad. “Thank God. Well - it was really nice to meet you. Big fan.”

“You, too. Good luck with your seating chart.”

—

It’s late afternoon when the guests begin assembling by the grounds, everyone poised to make an entrance on the “pink carpet”, a peach-coloured path curving towards the marquee. The sky is a melange of grey and pink and orange, a very light breeze giving the event the vibe of an upscale wine-tasting.

Taehyung, dressed in an off-white linen suit with his hair left loose and freshly washed so it may “go where the wind pleases” (his stylist’s words, not his), speaks into a mic as he answers the interviewer’s questions, glancing occasionally into the camera as he does.

“And will you be hoping to meet any friends here tonight?” the interviewer asks chirpily.

“Of course - I’ve already seen many people I know here, so I’m sure we’ll all have a good time tonight.” He smiles after this perfunctory, scripted answer, before giving her a nod of acknowledgement and making way for the next celebrity behind him. 

It had been the company’s idea to have them make separate entrances, given Seokjin and Yoongi were not attending, so as to not make the group look smaller. As he heads inside, waving at some of the cameras and some lucky fans who’ve managed to get access to the outer areas of the grounds, he takes the opportunity to let his eyes roam around the crowd and the guests, hoping to spot Dilara.

They haven’t seen each other since their fleeting moment earlier today. He had managed to maneuver a way out of one of their filmings to head back to the hotel, hoping they would cross paths before she had to get ready. While she had left him a short message saying she would try, evidently the timings hadn’t worked out and they’d missed each other.

At least, Taehyung hopes it was the timings. He can’t exactly blame Dilara for being a little on edge today, possibly a little distant, but the only solution he can come up with is to be with her, be there for her, maybe show her however he can that she doesn’t need to be on edge at all.

She hasn’t arrived yet, though; a little disappointed, Taehyung turns his attention to the artfully adorned tables, realising he has no idea which one to sit at.

“Check the name cards.” Jimin sidles up next to him and points at the thick cards in little tents at every seat, anywhere between six and ten at each table.

“Found mine,” says Namjoon, who’d entered a minute before Taehyung, holding up a card at a table right in the front. “Hobi’s is here, too.”

“Hang on, are we all not together?” Taehyung asks nobody in particular, frowning.

From behind him, another idol shakes his head, overhearing the question. “Nah, doesn’t look like it,” says Chan, peering at the name cards as well. “They probably don’t want to draw attention to idol groups, I guess?”

People are starting to take their seat, having to check name cards everywhere. A few people who look like they are event management have scurried over, helping guests, the whole thing becoming slightly chaotic.

Taehyung finds himself hoping that he and Dilara might be at the same table, if it’s indeed at random. He begins searching for both their names, but Jimin gets there first.

“Found Dilara,” he mouths, catching Taehyung’s eye meaningfully. “Oh, and Jungkook is at this table, too,” he adds in a regular volume.

“Anyone else?” Taehyung asks hopefully, trying not to be too disappointed when Jimin shakes his head. He counts it lucky that Dilara still has Jungkook, at least one familiar face at an event that’s mostly strangers to her.

Jungkook isn’t here yet either; he’d be recording a demo with Yoongi in the hotel room despite the latter not attending the event, and would probably reach just in time for it to start.

“Oh, wait - Jimin!” Taehyung calls, holding up a card. “Here’s yours.”

“Oh, great. Who else is here… dude, so are you!” Almost diametrically opposite the circular table, Jimin holds up a card with Taehyung’s name. “Awesome!” 

Taehyung grins and they high-five at waist-level before taking their seats, Jimin continuing to scan the other cards. “I don’t know who this is… oh, this is the actress from Snowdrop, right? I think it is… and - oh.” Jimin looks up at Taehyung, and it’s an expression Taehyung immediately takes note of.

“What?”

“Do you know who else is at this table?” he asks in a hushed voice, leaning over and glancing at the entrance surreptitiously. 

Taehyung knows before Jimin subtly turns the card towards him, with the name of a guest to be seated directly between both of them. Jennie Kim, the card reads, equally calligraphic in Hangul and English.

There’s an announcement of some kind, a muffled voice asking guests to take their seats quickly. Taehyung turns towards the entrance, his heart somewhere near his stomach and jerking uncomfortably, hoping to see Dilara and wondering if he can signal to her to meet him… his eyes dart around, a bit frantic. It takes him a moment to realise another familiar face is making its way… in his direction.

“Taehyung hyung.” Jungkook strides over and taps his shoulder, motioning for him to get up, stepping away from the table. Taehyung meets Jimin’s eyes briefly, who raises his eyebrows and shrugs.

“Yeah?”

Jungkook presses his tongue to his teeth. “Do you know -” He looks around and lowers his voice to a whisper, “- that your ex-girlfriend is here?”

“Yes,” he answers instantly. “And I can do you one better. Do you know where she’s -”

Jungkook interrupts him. “Does Dilara know?”

Taehyung stops abruptly. “Uh, yeah. I told her this morning. Or - I guess she already knew….” He trails off when he finally sees Dilara enter along with the last few guests, finding her table almost instantly. His shoulders relax when she catches his eye; he gives her the most subtle smile he can, knowing there are cameras around that could be capturing his any and every move. To his surprise and relief, she returns his look with a small smile. “Listen -”

“Holy shit,” whispers Jungkook, looking at something over Taehyung’s shoulder. He smiles briefly and gives a small wave before turning back to him. “She’s at your table?” he hisses through gritted teeth.

“Apparently. Look, it’s a coincidence from hell, but can you do me a favour? You and Lara are the same table - can you just tell her -”

“How?”

“How - what?” Taehyung frowns, realising by now that they are one of the few people still standing. “What do you think coincidence means? I didn’t have any part in this - but can you just please tell her that I’m sorry anyway? I’ll still text her, but… please.”

Jungkook, who seems to be regretting his momentary outburst, nods wordlessly before turning around and heading over to his table, sitting only one seat away from Dilara, both of them giving each other extremely perfunctory, polite camera-ready smiles of acknowledgement.

Taehyung tries, once more, to turn around and catch Dilara’s eye but when Jimin hisses his name under his breath, he’s forced to look ahead as the host arrives on stage. There’s some applause and introductory jokes being made; it’s not a lot he can do to avoid it, not when there are cameras around or when the seating arrangement is so awesomely fucked that the moment he turns his head even slightly to his right, he meets Jennie’s eyes.

“Hi,” she says quietly, giving him a formal sort of smile. “How are you?”

For a fleeting moment, he wonders if he can pretend to have not heard her. But even the thought is absurd. “I’m good,” he replies, nodding. “And you?”

She nods in response and the small talk comes to a natural end, at least for now. The event may as well be happening in French for all the focus that Taheyung devotes to it; choosing his moments, he tries to subtly turn his head to look back at Dilara’s table again. At one point, he sees her chatting with the person next to her, the captain of South Korea’s football team. It makes him feel slightly better that she has company; next to the footballer, Jungkook cranes his neck slightly towards them, as though trying to keep up with the conversation.

Somewhere during one of the musical performances, Taehyung feels his phone buzz. He opens it to see the group chat.

Namjoon [18:17] Taehyung. Cut it out.

Taehyung [18:18] What?

Namjoon [18:18] Turning around to look at Dilara. It’s very noticeable.

Taehyung [18:19] Shit. Sorry.  How can you tell, though? Your table is in front of mine.

Hoseok [18:20] Because only Namjoon has figured out a way to turn around and look at something behind him without being obvious about it.

Taehyung [18:20] Sorry. A bit on edge.

Jimin [18:20] Lol. No surprise there.

Taehyung [18:20] Shut up. Can you tell if Dilara is looking? 

Jimin [18:21] She isn’t. Jungkook is, though. Probably hasn’t checked his phone yet.

Seokjin [18:22] What is up with all the texts? I’m trying to take a nap.

Jimin [18:22] Taehyung is sitting next to Jennie while Dilara is at a different table.

Seokjin [18:22] What!

Taehyung [18:23] Not what it sounds like. Jesus. Our assigned seats are next to each other.

Hoseok [18:23] Dilara is going to kill you.

Taehyung [18:24] No, she isn’t. She’s not crazy - she knows this is out of my control.

Yoongi [18:25] Hell of a coincidence to be out of your control.

Seokjin [18:26] No kidding. This is k-drama level coincidental. Next thing you know, the camera pans to your mortal enemy slipping a wad of cash into a waiter’s hand.

Namjoon [18:27] We may be going off topic here. Taehyung - be careful, though. If anyone gets a single shot of you and Jennie sitting together, it’ll start rumours without a doubt again. And you know YG won’t deny them.

Taehyung pauses, for this hasn’t occurred to him. Not that it’s some kind of epiphany - rumours are a daily battle, almost - but today, Dilara has been his sole focus throughout. 

He meant what he said: his girlfriend is a reasonable person who, despite some expected discomfort with the situation, is not the kind of filmy exaggeration they were hinting at. But the fact that this might make its way back to social media again, a year and a half after the world has lost interest, following Dilara wherever in the world she goes… he recalls the lowest points of their relationship, looks of heartbreak and betrayal that still haunt him to this day, and his throat feels momentarily tight.

Taehyung [18:28] I will deny them. You can be sure of that.

“Camera!” 

Jennie’s voice hisses next to him, almost making him jump out of his skin. He slips his phone under his thigh in a swift movement, eyes ahead and immediately bopping his head to the music to avoid whatever rubbish headline the wrong picture could lead to: BTS V insults rookie girl group by checking phone during performance!

“Thanks,” he mutters, seeing her nod from the corner of his eye.

As the night progresses, Taehyung makes his attempts to look back at Dilara more subtle but no less frequent. He succeeds a couple of times, too, once even managing to make eye contact with her. Her expression is unreadable, though, and he begins wondering if this is truly bothering her, how much it is, and how there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.

“Everything okay?”

“Mhm.”

It’s a break in the program, during which a few people are going back and forth to the rest rooms, getting their hair and make-up retouched and doing impromptu spot interviews. Taehyung and the rest of the group have been advised by the staff via text to not leave their seats; as he looks around, it seems as though most people are in a similar boat. 

He turns around to look at Dilara, only to see her seat vacant and - to his surprise - Jungkook staring back at him, brows furrowed. He frowns curiously but the younger member looks away in an instant. Taehyung wonders briefly if he imagined it; raising his eyebrows and shrugging it off, he unlocks his phone.

Taehyung [19:00] Hey, love. I know this night probably isn’t what you had in mind after three weeks apart. It definitely isn’t mine. I promise I’ll make this trip worth it, though. I really missed you.

Biting his lip, he sends the message. He waits for a few seconds for a reply, turning around to check the door. She eventually returns, catching his eye and giving him the same small smile she’d given him at the beginning of the event, as though they were lounging around in his apartment instead. She says something to Jungkook when the anchor begins speaking again, signalling the end of the break.

Lara [19:02] Missed you too

Taehyung stares at the message, not sure what to make out of it. He’s sensing some distance from her; it’s not unexpected and he wishes more than anything that he’d been able to talk to her, just once, before everyone had taken their seats. He turns around briefly again, hoping Jungkook relayed his message to her.

“Shit,” Jennie mutters next to him. Catching his eye momentarily, she tilts her phone under the table towards him. Taehyung’s heart sinks at the picture, taken from a distance, of the two of them watching the stage, their heads tilted in the same angle.

It’s a normal picture, with at least ten other people in the same frame including Jimin; but the incriminating red circle drawn into the picture makes it clear what the focus is. The fact that it’s already on Instagram makes his stomach roll with worry and guilt, and he hopes, desperately hopes, that it won’t affect Dilara after all this time.

“Tabloids will start their thing,” she adds, shaking her head. “The company will be so annoyed. What about Big Hit?”

“I don’t know,” he replies truthfully, after a moment. He hasn’t thought about it; Namjoon mentioned it in caution and here he was, correct as usual. Big Hit would be annoyed; a recycled rumour, micro-expressions getting dissected and heartbroken fans spamming their social media - none of these were desired during an ongoing tour.

Taehyung knows it’s a headache and if not handled properly, could escalate. It could impact concert attendance, merchandise sales, fan-meets… but these are just words right now, swimming in his head in a faint voice that sounds like their manager’s. Bigger than all that, in the forefront of his mind is only Dilara, once again forced to remember the worst period of their relationship.

“I can’t believe this seating,” he mutters. “I thought the bigger the event, the more tuned in they would be to… stuff like this.” He gives her a sideways glance.

But Jennie gives him a small shake of the head. “I doubt it’s on purpose. I heard there was some confusion with the tables anyway… their system was down or something.” 

“Feels irresponsible.” Then he sighs. “No offence.”

She half-chuckles under her breath and locks her phone. “None taken. It’s been over a year, anyway. I don’t think there’s a single person who remembers or cares about our fling anymore.”

It’s almost compulsive now; he turns around again. Dilara’s eyes are fixed on the stage, though, but he takes a moment to watch her anyway, feeling every variation of guilt and anxiety and adoration when he thinks of how her evening might be going.

“Is that Jungkook?” Jennie whispers next to him. “I should say hi later. Oh, I met the girl sitting next to - oh, shit.” She clicks her tongue softly in apparent recognition. “That’s where I know her from - she did the sportswear campaign for Calvin Klein last month. Dilara Komyshan, the race car driver,” she states. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognise her before - I must really need some sleep…”

There is something inexplicably strange about hearing Dilara’s name come out of Jennie’s mouth. He expects Dilara would find it even stranger; he bites his lip and faces the front again.

“… do you know her?”

Taehyung doesn’t respond, but evidently his silence and laser focus on the glass in front of him is enough explanation.

“Oh,” says Jennie softly, and Taehyung’s heart crumbles a little, suddenly horribly, terribly afraid that everything would be ruined again.

The performance on the stage ends and there’s applause. Taehyung claps automatically, without feeling. Next to him, Jennie turns her head slightly towards him.

“I only met her for a minute… but she seems really sweet. And very pretty.” She gives him a small smile. “Lucky guy.”

—

When the event ends and the anchor announces the dinner being hosted in the hotel restaurant, everyone begins heading out of the marquee and back down the carpet. There are some quick interviews and pictures, mostly of celebrities ducking into cars and leaving. Taehyung hopes he can skip the dinner - or at least make an appearance, have half a drink and be done with it. 

Namjoon [19:50]

Group vlive in 20. Yoongi’s room.

He closes his eyes; the last thing he feels like doing is pretending to be chipper for a camera, while staff members stand behind it and cue reactions out of them. But the message is in the group chat, meaning the set-up is probably already done, and any interaction with Dilara will unfortunately have to wait.

Taehyung could yell; it’s bad enough that this weekend threw this unnecessary curveball at them but the constant interruptions are getting on his nerves. The impending rumours, the company’s reaction (fuck the company, he thinks irritably), the faraway tables - anything and everything under the sun to try and distract him from the only thing he cares about. 

He doesn’t want to drop her another text to tell her about his plans; he has to meet Dilara now, actually be face to face, see her, hold her hand and talk to her before he does anything else, even if it’s only for a few seconds. 

Taehyung [19:53] Hey. Where are you?

He waits a minute but she doesn’t respond. Unwilling to wait, he starts to call her when he finally spots her across the room, standing with three other people, all of them listening to a tall Caucasian and vaguely familiar man in a suit. Dilara has a glass of champagne in her hand and is a complete knockout; elegant in a short cream dress, she reduces him to staring for a good few seconds before he remembers where he is.

Almost as though she’s heard him, her eyes flicker a bit and meet his. His heart skips a beat; as he steps forward, she gives him that same small smile and shakes her head infinitesimally. She slips her phone out of her small clutch and turns away to type, a few seconds before his phone buzzes.

Lara [19:55] Have to stay for dinner. Meet you upstairs later. xo

The disappointment starts to settle into his stomach but he steels himself; they’re both working and if she says she’ll see him upstairs, then there’s nothing much else he can do except hope that her nonchalant demeanour isn’t a facade she’s putting up for him.

The vlive is a chaotic one for which Taehyung is glad; he’s preoccupied but there’s enough happening without the focus landing on him. Seokjin and Yoongi, both of whom managed to worm their way out of attending the event, are still at the hotel, the only two in t-shirts and joggers. Taehyung checks his phone constantly, wondering when Dilara will be back, only occasionally smiling and throwing in a comment here and there so he can’t be accused of slacking off.

“Alright, have a good one.” Namjoon waves and heads towards his room on the other side of Yoongi’s. Waving back, Jungkook and Taehyung head towards theirs, a two bedroom suite they’re sharing with Jimin, conveniently to allow for Dilara to stay over.

“What a fuckall night,” mutters Taehyung, kicking off his shoes by the front door and shrugging off his linen jacket. He checks his phone again: no new messages.

“What were you thinking?”

Taehyung opens the mini fridge and takes out a small bottle of whiskey and a cold bottle of water. “About what?” he asks without looking up, mixing himself a drink.

“You know what.” Jungkook says no more until Taehyung finally turns to look at him, frowning. “You were sitting with - with Jennie. All night.” He shakes his head. “Come on - you have to know what that looked like.”

Taehyung scoffs. “I don’t care what social media thinks. They overanalyse everything to death, anyway.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Not them. I’m talking about Dilara.” 

His heart jerks momentarily. “Did she say something?”

“She - she didn’t have to,” he stutters. He looks quite nervous. “I could see her face - she was sitting right next to me.”

Taehyung raises his eyebrows and takes a sip of his drink. “And what did her face look like?” he asks deliberately, for the accusatory note in Jungkook’s voice is now unmistakeable.

“I - well, she looked… not happy,” he answers lamely, rubbing the back of his neck. While Taehyung’s gaze is fixed on him, Jungkook’s keeps flickering away. “She kept looking over at you two and… I mean, it’s obvious, right? Of course she wouldn’t like it.”

“She would also know, though, that it was a coincidence,” he retorts, calm yet unable to keep the bite out of his words. “And that I definitely didn’t know about it - which, by the way, I asked you to tell her. Did you?”

Jungkook hesitates. “Of course, I did. I’m just saying… you could’ve done something. You were talking to Jennie. Out, in the open with, like, no problem.”

“We were in public. What was I supposed to do? Ignore her when she spoke to me? Create a scene and ask to be moved to a different table?” Taehyung scoffs and shakes his head. “Yeah, that would’ve turned out great.”

“That’s not the point. It’s not fair to -”

“How is it not the point? This situation was out of my control. I was texting Dilara the whole time - and she was responding. And she didn’t sound half as pissed off as you do,” he points out. “Why do you even care so much?”

“Because I made her a promise!” Jungkook blurts out, his ears turning red, eyes big and troubled.

“You made her a promise? What - today?”

“No, last year. Before you two got back together,” he says in a smaller voice, and Taehyung’s stomach drops. “I promised her I’d tell her if you ever did anything like that again.”

Taehyung is silent. The drink feels heavy in his hand but he doesn’t move. It feels strange, like a shift in the paradigm of his relationships, as though a glass wall has been lifted and they’re all further away than he thought.

Jungkook seems to have realised the implication of his words. “Not that… I thought you would ever do that again.” He sounds like he’s about to say more but stops abruptly.

It stings. The long days and nights spent atoning for what he’d done, the hopelessness at the end of every day in Europe that he’d probably lost her for good, all stacked against the voices of his friends telling him, convincing him he wasn’t a bad person and that if he tried, if he truly tried and stayed and loved, he would be worthy of a second chance.

As it turns out, they weren’t sure either. Once a cheater, always a cheater. He wonders if Dilara still thinks that, and feels his vision blur momentarily. 

He clears his throat, slowly meeting Jungkook’s eyes. “Anything else?” he asks. “Since you made her a promise?”

“Taehyung hyung…”

But Taehyung continues staring him down, unmoving until Jungkook sighs.

“No,” he says quietly. 

Taehyung nods and finishes the remainder of his drink. Without another word, he places the glass on the table and heads into his room, leaving Jungkook outside.

—

The dinner goes on longer than Dilara would have liked, but the CEO of Tag Heuer, Red Bull’s biggest sponsor, is not a guest she could have avoided face time with. Christian had even taken the trouble to drop her a message (Try to get a picture with Frederic for the PR team), so her options were fairly limited.

Using the spare room key Taehyung had sneaked her during a brief, five second long interaction this afternoon, she enters the suite and goes straight into the room with the door closed. It’s empty at first glance, but the faint scent of nicotine directs her to the balcony.

Taehyung is sitting on the cushioned bench, still in the shirt and trousers he was wearing for the event, looking slightly ruffled and smoking a cigarette. Dilara stops at the doorway and leans against it, stepping out of her heels and closing her eyes against the breeze.

“How was the dinner?” he asks after a few seconds.

“Boring,” she answers. She opens her eyes to see him still looking out of the balcony. “How was your night?”

He simply shrugs. “I’m sorry about the… the tables and the seating,” he says after a moment, finally looking up at her. “I don’t know how that happened.”

Dilara bites her lip. There’s a choice she can make now, and the second option can probably lead to salvaging the remainder of the night. But something about how he’s sitting, some distance away and instantly apologising, makes her go with the first.

“Well… if you can believe it…” She sighs and looks at the ground, suddenly a bit embarrassed to be saying it out loud, “it may not have been… a total coincidence.”

Taehyung frowns slightly at her and when she raises her eyebrows, silently asking him to understand without her having to say it, he scoffs lightly.

“Really?” His voice is soft, but the surprise is clear. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” she mutters. “You’d be surprised how lax the organisers were with information like this. Leaving open laptops around and venting to strangers…” She rolls her eyes.

He chuckles again softly. He takes a drag and flicks some ash from the cigarette, looking down, his smile fading before he speaks again. “Why?” he asks.

Dilara hesitates, her heart clenching slightly. “I’m not sure,” she admits. “I guess I just wanted to see…” She pictures the earlier hours of the evening, seeing her boyfriend and his ex-girlfriend sitting next to each other, but doesn’t feel the familiar anger or betrayal anymore. In fact, she struggles to feel anything at all. “I don’t know,” she finishes.

Taehyung nods slowly but says nothing. He finishes his cigarette and takes a deep breath. 

“Are you angry?” she asks.

Still looking out, he pokes his tongue into his cheek. “I don’t think I can be,” he says carefully.

Dilara swallows. “I suppose that’s true,” she agrees, a little defensively.

“How did I do, though?”

“What do you mean?”

Taehyung turns to her, finally. “I mean… I’m guessing it was some kind of a test.” He shrugs. “How did I do? Did I pass?”

Dilara holds his gaze, realising with a slightly pang that it’s the first time they’ve spoken this long since this morning. “With flying colours,” she says softly.

If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. There’s a flicker in his eyes, probably of relief, before he looks away. Dilara knows with certainty, though, in this moment, that he really did pass whatever subconscious evaluation she had been putting him through. 

Every single interaction she had spotted between him and Jennie, every quiet bit of small talk, artfully ignoring cameras, looking beautifully bored at an event that was far too long for everyone - it all came to a head in her mind. Dilara remembers exes she cares about, those she hates and those she is indifferent to. Today, despite Jennie being sat next to him and remaining truly and impossibly good-looking, Taehyung treated her like he would have anyone else in her place.

“Maybe I should’ve told you,” she muses, only half-intending to say it out loud.

“Wouldn’t have been much of a test if you had.” He tilts his head at her and tries to force a small smile, and she wonders if he seems sad. 

“It wasn’t meant to be… a test like that. You don’t know what it’s like,” she adds in a smaller voice, feeling defensive again. “I was caught off guard and… it was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

He nods. “I understand.”

Dilara bites her lip. “I trust you,” she murmurs.

Taehyung says nothing at first; she knows how her words probably sound. “Thanks,” he says finally, very quietly, before looking back ahead. “You may want to let Jungkook know that, though.”

Dilara frowns at this unexpected segue. She wonders briefly if it’s a joke she isn’t getting. “Why would I let Jungkook know?” she starts to ask, but Taehyung beats her to it.

“I know I’m not really in a position to ask you anything, but can I anyway?” He waits for Dilara, still confused, to nod. “You have every right to be angry with me,” he says, “but if you are… can you please talk to me about it?”

She frowns; somewhere, her heart begins to race as she senses her control on the situation slipping. “I didn’t say anything to Jungkook,” she clarifies. “Not about this.”

Taehyung stares at her and her heart slows a bit as he registers her words, internalising them. He finally looks away and Dilara takes it to mean he believes her.

“Why would you even think that?” she asks. “Wait - did he say something to you?”

But Taehyung simply shakes his head and stands up. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” He stops next to her on his way inside and touches her elbow. “I really am sorry.”

Dilara gazes up at him, even the slightest touch making her skin tingle. But something about the way he’s standing before her, apologetic almost by default, makes her heart ache. 

“For what?” she asks. “You didn’t do anything.”

He shrugs, not meeting her eyes. “Just… everything. I’m sorry.”

Dilara is sure she’s lost count of the number of times he’s said this to her, and it hits her now, during the one time he probably doesn’t need to. 

“I’m going to take a shower and go to bed, okay?” Hesitating for a fraction of a second, he kisses her cheek and brushes past her, going straight into the bathroom.

Dilara stays rooted in the same spot for a few minutes, feeling confused and awful. This hadn’t turned out at all the way she had hoped. She had been on her way here, feeling unexpectedly light and almost proud that she’d found a way to get a nagging question out of her head. But something has gone wrong, or fallen out of place, and she’s searching for it blind.

Opting to give him some space, she trudges out to the living room. Curling up on the sofa, still in her dress and make-up, she closes her eyes and wishes the night would end. She’s polishing off a bottle of water from the mini fridge a few minutes later to avoid a hangover when the other bedroom opens.

“Hey.” Jungkook, in track pants and nothing else, looks surprised to see her. “Just came to get my charger.”

Dilara, with her mouth full of water, gives him a tilt of her chin in response, barely looking up. The tiredness of the day has caught up with her, along with the emotional toll, and she rests her head against the side of the sofa and exhales. Taehyung is out of the shower by now, for the sound of the water running stopped nearly ten minutes ago, but Dilara isn’t sure she should go inside yet. There’s a bit of misplaced guilt in her, anger at the guilt, annoyance at the anger, and a craving for a cigarette she hasn’t felt in a long while.

“Everything okay?”

She jumps slightly, having almost forgotten Jungkook was here. She hums listlessly in response, seeing him shuffle towards his room from the corner of her eye.

“Are you sure?”

“Did you say something to Taehyung?” 

Jungkook pauses, but doesn’t look altogether surprised at her question. He glances at the floor and bites his lip. “I didn’t mean to… be so harsh, I guess. But I thought someone should say something.”

“About what?” she asks immediately, sitting up. “And what do you mean by someone? You mean someone other than me?”

“No! I just… I thought you looked kind of pissed off - which would make sense,” he adds quickly.

“Jungkook -” Dilara starts, then sighs and shakes her head, not sure where to begin. She can’t fathom what he might have said to Taehyung, but it’s becoming clear now that it’s most likely the cause for his distant demeanour.

“Look, I wouldn’t have said anything, but I felt like I had to,” explains Junkook, his voice low. “I promised you I would.”

“What are you talking about?” Dilara frowns, bewildered. He doesn’t answer, his shoulders falling slightly. A moment later, it comes back to her: a hotel room, a video game, and Jungkook learning the word insurance. “Right.” She sighs. “Jungkook… this is not what I meant. You don’t have to get involved in our - in our stuff. Okay? And you definitely don’t have to speak for me.”

He bites his lip and nods. “I was going to talk to him tomorrow anyway,” he mutters. 

It does little to make Dilara feel better. He’s still not meeting her eyes, but Dilara wishes he would, because he needs to understand this. She waits until he looks up at her, hesitant and abashed.

“He’s your friend,” she reminds him. “He’s your friend.”

Jungkook’s eyes shutter over. He pokes his tongue into his cheek, suddenly reminiscent of Taehyung, and looks away.

Dilara sighs, regretting her choice of words immediately. “That’s not what I -” But she can’t get into this right now. Shaking her head, she goes back into her bedroom and shuts the door behind her.

The room is dark but the moonlight from the closed balcony is light enough. Taehyung is in bed; Dilara scrutinises his face from where she’s standing, unable to tell if he’s really asleep or simply pretending. She heads into the bathroom and unzips her dress, stepping out of the pool of fabric and leaving it there on the ground. She picks up a faded t-shirt hanging on one of the hooks in the bathroom and slips it on, wrapping the comforting cotton around herself for a moment and inhaling it, before taking off her make-up and brushing her teeth.

Once she’s done, Dilara goes over to the empty side of the bed, pausing at the edge. If he’s angry, he’s forgiven her. She knows he has, just as she knows he will concede to her every single time when it comes to this issue, no matter his own feelings. It disappoints her a bit, although she doesn’t know what or who exactly she’s disappointed in.

She climbs onto the bed and inside the covers lightly, moving to lie beside him. He’s on his side, facing her, with a hand tucked under his cheek; she shifts to mirror him. Even in his sleep, he is so handsome that it takes her breath away. The moonlight softens his features slightly; Dilara touches his cheek with the tips of her fingers, somewhat glad he’s asleep, for she doesn’t know what she would say if he was awake.

It’s too tiring to think about it, though; the long flight she took to get here to Incheon feels like ages ago. She tilts her head up slightly and kisses his nose softly, waiting to see if he’ll wake up. When he doesn’t, she lowers her hand and turns around, closing her eyes and hoping for sleep to end this night. 

A few moments later, his arm comes around her waist and pulls her close. 

—

Thank you for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)

[fiveraccoonsinatrenchcoat]

Really Very Pretty

Eddie Munson x f!reader

Description: Eddie's best friend gets a bit too drunk and starts to run her mouth when he has to go save her.

Warnings: alcohol (reader is drunk through this whole thing), language.

Word Count: 1953

Read Part Two Here!

My Masterlist!

Eddie should have known better. He should have been able to clock it from a mile away, but you had insisted that you were going to have a good time.

He knew you well enough to know that this party was going to end badly.

He didn't even know which friend of a friend's birthday it actually was. He'd dropped you off in front of a house he'd never taken you to before, and thank god he saw Robin standing on the porch, because he was almost ready to lock the van doors and take you right back home. You were clearly anxious about the outing, but you had continuously brushed it off, citing nothing more than excitement as the reason for your shaky hands. Eddie had practically begged you to let him tag along and play guard dog, but he hadn't been invited and, with the exception of Robin and maybe one other, you didn't know any of these people very well. You didn't want to step on any toes by bringing a plus one that you didn't actually have.

Eddie wasn't entirely sure why he was so nervous for you. You were an adult, you could handle yourself. And besides, he had no obligation to keep you safe like that; you two had been friends for a long time, but bodyguard was typically a boyfriend role.

Right?

It was well into the night, nearing three o'clock in the morning, when Eddie's phone finally rang. He had told you to call him so he could pick you up. He trusted you to know better than to try and drive yourself after a few drinks, but he definitely didn't trust the people you were with to get you home either. He scrambled out from under his acoustic guitar to answer the phone.

"Hey! I expected you to call ,like, two hours ago, are you-"

"Eddie, it's me," he heard Robin say from the other end. That was odd. His stomach instantly became heavy with anxiety; was something wrong? Had something happened?

"Robin! Hi," he said, trying to control the slight shake in his voice. "Wasn't expecting your voice. What's up?"

"You need to come get your girlfriend," Robin stated. Eddie instantly felt heat creep up his neck and was very grateful that Robin wasn't able to hear the blush that had settled onto his cheeks.

"Robin. She's not my girlfriend. You know that."

"Yeah, whatever. Just come get her."

"Did something happen?" Eddie's embarrassment was quickly stubbed out by nervousness.

"Not really," Robin responded, though she didn't sound all that confident in her answer.

"What?" Eddie asked with frustration. He loved Robin, he really did, but she never quite had a way with words. "What does 'not really' mean?"

"She just got, like, way drunker than she wanted to, I think," Robin clarified. "And now she's hiding, and I think she's crying, and I don't know what to do! I know you dropped her off, and-"

"Fuck, alright, I'm on my way," Eddie cut her off. He hooked the phone back to the wall and dashed out to the van.

This kind of thing had happened before. It wasn't like you didn't know your boundaries when it came to this kind of stuff, it was more like you would often choose to ignore them. You'd always been able to hold your liquor (it was kind of impressive sometimes, actually) but your impulsive nature left you prone to having just a few drinks too many. Pair that with how weird you'd been all day leading up to the party, and Eddie cursed himself for leaving you all alone.

By the time Eddie pulled up to the house most of the party goers had left, and only a handful of stragglers remained. He walked in and found Robin quickly.

"She's in the bathroom upstairs," she said to him as he walked up to her. "She didn't do anything too embarrassing, thankfully, but she looked really upset when she ran off."

Eddie nodded to her and started up the staircase, going two steps at a time. Even with all the people who had come and gone all night, the house felt incredibly empty to him. The same cream colored walls and carpet felt ever present in all of these new-construction-suburban-paradise type houses and Eddie didn't like them one bit. Something about the faux sincerity of it all left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he wondered how anyone could find all of this coldness appealing. Maybe he was biased, seeing as he was only welcome in these houses when he was upcharging freshmen at their first high school house parties, but he could almost feel the structure itself silently judging him.

God, he really needed to get you out of here as quickly as possible.

It took a couple of guesses, but he did eventually find the bathroom door. He knocked, though the force of his knuckles against the wood pushed the unlatched door open just enough for him to be able to see you on the floor, with your back leaned against the sink and your knees pulled up close to you chest.

You definitely looked worse for the wear, that was for sure. Robin was right, you had been crying, and it left angry black streaks running down your face from your eye makeup. Eddie walked in carefully and gently shut the door behind before sitting down on the floor next to you. You didn't look up at him, and instead chose to keep your eyes firmly trained on the little springy door stopper attached to the wall.

"I didn't call you," you said with a pout.

"I know," Eddie said. "Robin did. asked me to come get you."

"I didn't call you on purpose," you reiterated. Your voice was gruff and strained. "I don't wanna see you."

That struck Eddie right in his chest, though he knew that it was most likely just the tequila talking. You were very drunk, and come morning, you two would be back to being best friends again.

"Why don't you wanna see me?" Eddie asked with the slightest smirk. Now that he knew you weren't hurt, he was able to find just the tiniest bit of amusement in the situation.

"Because you're mean to me," you grumbled. You burrowed yourself into a somehow even smaller ball and did your best to turn away from him, though you had little success.

"How am I mean to you?" Eddie asked. He definitely wasn't mean to you; he would do literally anything in his power to make you happy.

"Because you're too pretty and you're too nice to me," you said. Eddie was instantly hung up on the fact that you called him pretty. You were drunk, not thinking straight, so you probably didn't actually think he was pretty, Eddie reasoned to himself. He pushed the thought right out of his head and moved on.

"I'm nice to you," he questioned. "And that makes me mean?"

"You're too nice." You turned to look at him through droopy, half shut eyes. They were rimmed with red. "You're not 'friend' nice, you're 'more than a friend' nice, but I know you don't mean it, and it's mean."

There was a sharp bite in your voice and Eddie didn't know how to respond. Did 'more than a friend' nice mean that he was nicer than a friendly acquaintance, or did it mean that he was nice in the way two people who are more than friends would be with one another?

"Do you want me to be 'more than a friend' nice?" Eddie asked without thinking.

"Not if you don't mean it," you responded.

"But what if I did mean it?" All of Eddie's better judgment had been thrown out the window at this point. Maybe he was taking advantage of you inebriation, that you would give him the truth because of it, but in this moment all he could think about was the fact that he had been pining after you for months thinking it would never amount to anything. Now it might be amounting to something and he had, he just had, to know.

"You're making fun of me!" you said. You dropped your face into your arms.

"I'm not, really! I just," Eddie cut himself off with a sigh. You were drunk. Nothing he could say would really get through to you, and even if it were to, you weren't going to remember any of this in the morning. If he thought about it, maybe that was a good thing. "Look, let's just get you home, okay?"

You grumbled some in protest, but didn't try to wriggle out of Eddie's grasp as he led you down the stairs and out to the van. He got you settled in the passenger seat before getting into the driver's side and starting the car. He kept the music turned down low, knowing your head was most likely already pounding, and rolled down the front two windows.

The cool night air whipped through the cabin of the vehicle. You shut your eyes and turned your face towards it. It had been hot, so hot, in that house, and you seemed more than happy to be out in the cold autumn evening. Eddie lived much closer than you did, and he knew your parents would be less than thrilled about you staggering inside at three in the morning, so he elected to bring you back to his place. He could just sleep on the floor.

He helped you out of the car and inside. You struggled to toe off your shoes, though you eventually got them off and tossed them haphazardly against the door with a thud.

Once he got you standing on your own, he quickly realized just how drunk you actually were. You kept your eyes closed as you swayed into his bathroom and Eddie was worried that you'd fall and hit your head on the sink or something; The last thing he needed was to have to take you to the ER. He was already on thin ice with your parents as it was, and getting a call from the hospital in the middle of the night would absolutely cement their dislike for him. You hadn't thrown up or anything (at least, as far as he knew), so that was good, but Eddie knew you had definitely pushed yourself way too hard.

He wondered if you had been roped into some drinking game or something. Your competitive nature and poor impulse control made you much too good at them.

You'd been quiet since Eddie had lifted you up off the bathroom floor, but as you slumped down on top of his sheets, still in your jeans, you spoke up again.

"I'm sorry," you said, eyes closed.

"It's okay," Eddie reassured you. "I'm more than happy to come and save you whenever you need me to."

"And I mean what I said." You were muffled against his pillows, but Eddie still heard you.

"What, about me being mean to you?"

"No." You turned to face him and your big, watery eyes were enough to crush his heart. You sat back up and started to sway a bit. Eddie put a hand on you arm to keep you steady, and realized just how close the two of you were to each other. Your shoulders were turned inwards as you leaned in even closer, though he was sure it couldn't have been on purpose. "About you being pretty. You're really very pretty."

If you hadn't been completely plastered, Eddie would have kissed you right then and there.

[good-griief]

Time ; Regret

here's part two of "time"! i'm sure you all don't want me to end it here, so even tho i think it'd be a little cruelly funny to leave it up in the air like this, i promise there will be a part three— tho that will be the last part. this part is pretty dialogue-heavy, so i hope you enjoy the 'voices' i gave the characters<33

note sorry to have to post this again but tumblr posted it at the complete wrong time from my schedule and it wasn’t the right draft :( ( some kind of phone to computer mix up idk what happened</3 )

warnings ambiguous relationship/feelings between abby and reader, reference to romance, implications of unrequited love (it's not), she/her reader, lasting effects of torture to reader, morally grey reader, mention of joel's death/torture, ambiguous/story-teller dependent interpretation of major past event between characters

tags @frogtits1 @sawaagyapong @augieee21 @sunkissedbibi @eden-nox

part one part three

link to chapter 2 on ao3

After that, Abby decided against hugging you again, knowing she’d just get emotional. She didn’t know how you’d react to that anymore, so she played her safest bet and explained what happened from a distance, offering to help you work as she did. You didn’t react, but she could tell how upset you were just because you were so quiet. 

When she offered to come over that night, you agreed immediately, and when she came to your house, you opened the door with puffy red eyes and swollen lips. She gave you a somber smile. “Come on.” She opened her arms for you, holding you for a moment before she came inside. “They wouldn’t want you to cry,” she said, trying to say something comforting you might, and it coming out improperly. It made you chuckle at her attempt, making her sigh as she stepped away from you. “I’m still not the best at comforting people,” she said quietly, shutting your door behind her as she entered with a small smile. She reached out, dragging her knuckle beneath your eye to rid of any stray tears. You smiled at the gesture, gaining one from her, too. 

“You’re right, though.” You blinked away your feelings, taking her hand and leading her to your room so you could sit on the bed together. There was a brief, awkward silence. “What… Uh, what happened? How did it get to this?” You asked as you released her hand, playing with your own to distract yourself. 

Abby swallowed, pursing her lips. She had a feeling you’d judge her for what she did, but she wasn't going to lie. “Joel… The way we— I killed him. Tortured him in front of his brother, and killed him in front of that girl; the one he killed everyone to save. She came after us. Went through all of our friends to get to me, and… let me go.” You couldn’t tell how she felt about being left alive, but you were glad she was, placing your hand back on hers for added comfort. “Don’t.” She went to pull her hand away, but you grabbed it with both of yours. “You can be upset with me—“

“I’m not.” You shook your head, holding her hand gently. “I never should’ve given you that lead. I’m sorry.”

“I would’ve found out eventually.” She shook her head. “And I still would’ve done it…” She grimaced. “And this all would’ve happened anyway.”

“There’s no point in blaming yourself,” you sighed. “You just have to—“

“Let go? Yeah… I’ve heard that,” she scoffed, giving your hand a squeeze before she let go. “Couldn’t do it before either.”

“I wasn’t going to say that, Abby.” You shook your head at her. “You just have to accept it. It probably won’t ‘get better,’ and you’ll probably never let go, but you’ll be able to move on with your life, and not feel guilty for that. Then eventually, you’ll start to remember happier things about them, and… you’ll accept it.”

“Is that what you did? Just accept it?” Her lip sneered when she asked the question, but her brows were bent upward with a contradictory emotion. 

“I wanted to go back—“

“Why didn’t you?” She asked quickly, eyes rimming red just as quickly and making you avert your gaze. 

“I couldn’t…” You shrugged, forcing that same flippancy you gave Mel and Nora. “I mean… I left like a fucking coward, Ab,” you laughed at yourself. “Going back? I’d feel like a complete fool. I couldn’t face you guys— I couldn’t even face you guys four years later. The only thing I could do was keep going and try not to fucking die, I don’t know.”

“Everyone wanted you back,” she muttered, now understanding the brief encounter you had months ago. 

“I didn’t think you did.” Abby frowned, the words sounding like you were singling her out. “I thought, I don’t know, even if everyone else wanted me to be there, you wouldn’t after I suggested something so stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid,” she said, chuckling lightly at your tone. 

“It was insensitive.” 

She shrugged. “I didn’t care… I didn’t even think of that, I just—“ She shook her head, sighing. “The first thing I thought when you mentioned it was that you were going to leave… I wanted to make it my choice that we wouldn’t see each other again, so I said something stupid— but if I’d just waited, let you talk, then… I would’ve realized you wanted to go together. Everyone just thought you planned on going alone.” She pursed her lips, looking away. “It was my fault everyone responded like that— don’t say it wasn’t,” she said before you could object. “No one would’ve said anything if I didn’t.”

“I didn’t care that much about what everyone else said. I figured they just thought I was going to leave you all, but… I thought you were telling me to leave for bringing it up in the first place.” You lied back on the bed so Abby wouldn’t see your face. “Even still, when I was alone, fucking terrified, the only thing I could think of was whether or not you guys were okay; how, maybe, it was better that I wasn’t there… It seemed like you guys got even closer when I saw you.”

There was a brief pause as Abby looked down at you. Clearly, you both needed to have this conversation, but it was almost impossible to have with how hard it was to sort out either of your feelings. 

“The first thing I wanted to do when I realized you were gone,” she started slowly, “was go and find you; tell you that I don’t care, and if that’s what you wanted we could go. We could go to Los Angeles, or Santa Barbara, or San Francisco, or wherever the fuck you wanted to go, ‘cause I had no fucking idea what I was going to do without you… And I needed you.” The waver in her voice made you shut your eyes, taking in her words with a crease between your brows and a frown tugging at your lips. “I fucking needed you, and I just wanted to be with you, and I was scared, so I snapped at you thinking— I don’t know what I was thinking… Maybe-maybe if you knew we wouldn’t be together, then you wouldn’t go? Fuck, I just wanted you to stay with me,” she was rambling, words quick and spilling out until she caught herself, “and everyone else. Where you were safe. Where we were all safe. Together. I didn't mean to push you away.”

You had no idea what to say, staring up at the ceiling with a frown as your eyes shone beneath the warm light. You were quiet, voice small as if you knew just how wrong you were now. “I just wanted you happy,” you mumbled, hardly confident in what you used to think to yourself to justify your actions. 

“Without you?” She scoffed at you. “Really?”

You shrugged, now thinking of anything that could back you up. “You had Owen.”

There was a moment of pause before Abby laughed, grabbing your pillow and hitting you with it. “Fuck you.”

“What?!” You laughed, pushing the pillow away and covering your face as she threw it at you. “You… loved him, or whatever,” you waved off, unable to hide the disdain in your voice. 

“That’s what. You never liked us together.” You shrugged. “Why?”

You looked over at her, looking her up and down. “I don’t know.” You moved to sit up, huffing as you did and covering it with an exaggerated sigh. “You were my person.” There was a faint upward pull to her lips at that, but it fell quickly when she replayed the sentence in her head. She was your person, and you had stayed hers. After all those years; years of having your picture in her room or pocket, you had stayed close to her heart, but now she was nothing more than an old friend to you. “What?” You asked when you noticed her expression, reaching out and placing a hand on her thigh. 

She swallowed, looking down at your hand. “Did you— Did you ever…” She stumbled over her words as she stared at your hand on her, eventually looking away. “Think about us? Any of us? I mean, you, Mel, and Nora were so close…”

You waited for her to finish, but that seemed to be the end of her sentence, so you stood. You went to your dresser, hand on your lower stomach as you grimaced but made sure to hide it from Abby. You grabbed an old jewelry box, taking it in unsteady hands and carrying it back to the bed where you set it down. Around your neck, there was a leather necklace you untied and pulled from your shirt, taking the key at the end of it and unlocking the box. 

There was an old tape recorder inside. Headphones and car keys too, and a stack of photos among other trinkets.

Abby looked shocked, looking at you before reaching for the box when you nodded. The car keys, from the first time her dad taught you to drive, were tied to an old coin he’d gifted you. They were on top of an old photo of you and him in his greenhouse. 

Her hands went for the other photos, looking through them and seeing how many there were of her or the two of you. You had more of your friends than you did with them; some of these photos she’d never seen before and making her brows pull together as she smiled somberly. 

“When I was in Washington,” you spoke up quietly, looking at the pictures as Abby went through them. “Leah was on patrol when my group was leaving. I didn’t have many pictures of us together, so she gave me most of those… I guess she just had them with her.”

Abby smiled faintly. “She kept pictures of us with her all the time.” Her smile then fell again. “I thought you guys left immediately?” 

You pursed your lips. “I needed a little extra medical attention before we could leave. She found our hiding spot.” You quickly continued before she could question you. “So I told her about how I lost one of my only pictures of us and my other tape recordings, and she just gave them to me.”

“Of us?” She looked up at you and you nodded. Abby went into her pocket, fingers digging for a wrinkled piece of paper. “I don’t have the recording with me; it's in my room, but… ” she muttered, pulling out the photo and smoothing over the water damaged paper before she handed it to you. “It’s a little ruined.”

“You had this?!” You took it, looking down at the picture and feeling your eyes burn before you moved to hug her, arms squeezing around her shoulders. “You don’t know how bad I felt about losing this, Abby.”

Her hands found your hips, awkwardly pulling you into her before her arms went around your waist to comfort you with how emotional you were getting over one picture. “It’s okay,” she tried to soothe, hand running up and down your back. “I’m glad you lost it. I finally got to keep a picture of us,” she laughed awkwardly, leaning back against your bedframe with you still in her arms. She knew you were trying to hide your face from her, so she let you stay as you were. “I actually thought you just left it behind.”

“What?” You laughed, pulling back to frown at her. She smiled at your laugh, hands still resting on your waist in case you hugged her again. 

“I found it by the fire after you left.” She shrugged. “It was with your MP3.”

“So, what? You laughed again. “You thought I was burning pictures?”

“I don’t know, maybe?” She laughed, releasing you as you sat next to her with an eye roll. 

Usually, you’d lean into her, or rest your head on her shoulder when you sat next to her, but now things were so different that you couldn’t just bounce back into old habits.

Every touch, every word, every glance, it was all based on feeling; some feeling that was brought up by the past before that fleeting feeling passed too, and soon, Abby was starting to realize you’d become complete strangers to one another. You hardly understood each other anymore. You weren’t certain how the other would react, or reciprocate, you didn’t even know what could be said at times. Even if you could reminisce for hours, when it came to talking and being present, there was hardly anything you could do. 

It left Abby forgetting your advice and wishing she could go back to do this all over again; forget about finding Joel first and just find you. Or just go with you to California and spend the years like you did. No matter how much she wanted to go find him. No matter how much she would have regretted it. 

At least you wouldn’t be a stranger to her. 

Though, she had no idea how those years were for you. She didn’t know the hell you’d gone through, or the sleepless nights. No matter how much you told her that night, you didn’t tell her how you made yourself sick with guilt to the point that you had to lock all of your keepsakes away. Especially because you thought you’d lost one. She didn’t know how hard you worked to accept everything that happened, how seeing them after four years caused a rift between you and your squad to the point that they were telling you just to stay in Washington, how her showing up completely threw you off guard. 

But maybe that was for the best. 

Because that night, while she was wide awake, thinking of how she could find a way to know you again, you slept soundly. Sleeping through the night for once as you lied with the picture Abby left with you under your pillow.

The next morning, Abby came to the greenhouse. You smiled when you saw her, setting aside your plants to give her your full attention. 

“Hey.” She smiled. “I’m going on my first patrol—“

“Already?” Your worried tone made her chuckle. “Ab, you’re still recovering.“

“I know, but I need to get back out there. I’ll go crazy if I don’t.” You grimaced, crossing your arms. “I was wondering if you’d go with me? It’s just around the island, so no combat.” You narrowed your eyes, wondering why she’d bring that up. “It’ll be quick,” she continued to try and persuade you. 

“I don’t go on patrols anymore,” you told her, replacing your questioning glare with a sympathetic smile. “Sorry.”

“Oh…” She didn't ask why, just nodded before reaching into her pocket. “Okay, well, I brought this with me to give back to you—“

“No, no, no. Keep it.” You took her photo out of your pocket and handed it over. “I’m sure you’ve realized these go together now. You’ve had them for years. Please.”

The way you spoke to her, so cordially it seemed formal, made her feel uncomfortable in a way she couldn’t describe. She gladly kept the items, thankful you hadn’t, but also wishing you at least seemed to want them. 

“Maybe…” You looked around, all of your morning duties done for now. “Maybe I could go with you just this once,” you suggested upon seeing the look on her face. 

But she didn’t want you to placate her. 

“That’s alright.”

“You sure?” You frowned at the sudden change in tune.

“I’m sure there’s a reason you don’t go anymore.” She gave you a smile and you nodded. 

After that day, you didn’t speak much. Lev would come for lessons, and Abby would have to get him sometimes, but slowly, she just faded into another one of your comrades; people you knew but had no relationship with. People who hardly crossed your mind on a day-to-day basis. 

She overheard you with one you were closer to— one of your new friends. 

“So,” she started, “you know that new girl?” She asked as Abby passed by the greenhouse on her way out to patrol. She planned to get a pouch from you, but paused to eavesdrop. “I heard she’s from Salt Lake.”

You’d hummed. “We grew up together… But I don’t really know her anymore,” you’d admitted quietly, solemn. 

Your friend huffed a laugh. “You’re so dramatic. What’s that supposed to mean, huh?”

You chuckled. “I dunno, just… Ya know, when I did know her, she was the best person I ever met. So gentle… kind. She had a way with animals— people, too. I don’t know, she was always so perfect to me when we were younger. I probably had a little crush on her or something.” Your friend cooed at you. “But as we grew up, we were, just, so close. Her dad just took me in like family after mine was… taken.”  She could hear your voice falter. “But when he was killed, things changed… Remember that tip I gave in Washington? ‘Bout Tommy.” Your friend hummed. “His brother, Joel. He was the one to kill him, and Abby… She beat him to death. In front of his brother… In front of his kid.” 

She could hear the way you struggled to get the words out, biting her inner cheek. She wanted to leave, but she also wanted to know what else you’d say, waiting for you to continue. 

“And I don’t even blame her. It makes me sick, but I don’t blame her ‘cause if I ever found out who destroyed my family?” Your voice darkened. “I’d do so much worse.” 

“No need to justify to me,” your friend huffed, humming in agreement. “I know exactly what you mean.”

There was a pause before you spoke again “And sometimes, I wish I’d been there to see it through. To know that he’s actually dead… Or, even just to be there for her— ‘cause the girl that I knew? She never could’ve done that. I never would’ve let her get to that point; feel that way? Hurt that much but… I left her.” Your friend tried to speak over you, but you stopped her. “So, I can’t help but feel at fault for what happened to our friends. I don’t know anyone who would still want to care about me after what I did. So, I just feel like I don’t know her anymore. I can’t understand her at all.”

Abby thought of talking to you that night, telling you she overheard the conversation, but she couldn’t bring herself to face you knowing how guilty you felt. 

What if seeing her made you feel worse? Talking to her made you feel sick? She’d spent all these years feeling guilty, only to find out you felt the same— and now even more so because you knew how she ended up here. Like this. 

She could say the same thing about you. She thought you were perfect when you were younger, she wanted to protect you as you got older, and she felt like she failed you now. Like it was her fault you felt this way. She could say the exact same things you did, which was why she kept her distance and waited for you to come to her. 

She waited. 

And waited. 

[joemothersfavoritechild]

“across the street” pt. 3

-mike schmidt x fem!reader

-3.2k-ish words

-no trauma au

an: sorry, i had a lot going on my life lol. not sure why this one took so long for me to finish, but here it is in all it’s corny glory. also, if it’s bad pls don’t tell me. idk how to do this lmao

summary: you bump into someone at the mall & go on a date with your hot neighbor

part two is here!

————————————————————————————

Clothes covered your bedroom floor and you continued adding to the pile. Your date was today. In a few hours, more specifically. Nothing seemed right, lunch is more casual than dinner but you don’t want to be too casual. A dress is probably too much, but leggings are not enough. You grumbled to yourself, Mike probably wasn’t worried about his outfit. He’d probably look good in anything, you decided.

You dropped another hanger on your bed, eyeing the growing pile. How could nothing be appropriate? You had a surplus of clothes, probably too many. How could one guy make you nervous to the point where you hated all of your clothes? Was that normal? Even your favorite dress was hideous to you right now.

Fuck this, you thought. If nothing feels right, you were just going to buy something that did. You were a responsible adult with a savings account, one outfit wouldn’t doom your finances. You reorganized your closet, swiftly taking your phone out to search for the nearest mall.

A mall was a good choice, you thought as you pulled into a parking spot. And being a Tuesday, it wouldn’t be packed full of teenagers. You stepped out of your car, locking it behind you, and walked towards the entrance.

As you walked through the doors, you noticed a map on the wall. Perfect, you can find something that’ll work. There are tons of stores, so you begin your shopping spree.

You spend a while browsing, more window shopping than anything. Clothes at the mall were kind of expensive, making you grimace at the price tags around you. Eventually, you found a small shop with decent prices. You settled on a nice shirt that you found, 22.99. Not too bad, and you could wear a pair of jeans that you had at home. As you checked out with the cashier in front of you, you glanced at the time on your phone. You glanced out of the shop, reading the sign that points to the food court.

You took the bag from the cashier, telling her to have a good day as you walked out of the store. You followed the sign, deciding to grab a treat on your way out. You deserved it.

The food court was massive and surprisingly empty. There was probably a total of ten people scattered around the building. Your eyes scanned the booths, trying to decide on which to stop at. Your eyes caught a familiar figure, doing a double take and stopping in place. Your heart pounded.

It was Mike, in his security uniform. He was surveying the room, hands on his hips. You inspected his face, noticing the serious expression on it. You knew he was a security guard, but seeing him in action was a completely different thing. It was hot.

As if he can sense your presence, you’re caught in his gaze. He’s smirking at you now. Your cheeks heat up, and you look away in embarrassment.

You look back up at him. He’s staring, looking you up and down. He makes eye contact with you again.

Fuck.

Before you can make a run for it, he’s walking towards you. His hands rest on his security belt as he struts towards you. You could make an exit, leave before he got close enough, and claim that you didn’t see him.

But he was fast, cutting through the middle of the food court, he stood in front of you in less than a minute.

“You miss me or something?” He asked. You internally rolled your eyes at his sudden confidence.

“You work here?” You ask, ignoring his question.

“I told you I worked at the mall.”

“I didn’t know it was this mall.”

“What other malls are there?” He asked sarcastically.

“You tell me.” You said, matching his banter.

He tried to hide a smile, but you could see it.

“What’re you doing here?” He asks.

“I was just picking up a shirt. I thought I’d grab a snack.” You answered, and he nodded.

“You like ice cream?”

You thought about it for a second, ice cream sounded good.

“Who doesn’t?”

“Follow me.” He said, leading you through the food court.

He stopped in front of a little shop, the two of you standing side by side. The place was cute, covered in rainbows and pictures of ice cream. He waved at the worker there.

“Your usual, right?” The girl asked.

“Two please.” He corrected.

You watched as she filled two cups with a swirl of chocolate and vanilla ice cream. She placed them on the counter in front of you, inputting something into the register.

“Let me get it.” You say, reaching for your wallet. His hand on your arm stops you.

“I’ve got it.” He says, taking his wallet out of his pocket. It’s small, a simple dark brown leather. Very Mike.

He pays for the ice cream and grabs the cups from the counter. You grab the spoons and some napkins.

“C’mon.” He says, guiding you to a table nearby.

He takes a seat, and you sit in front of him. He pushes your cup towards you and grabs a spoon from your hand. His fingers touch yours for a moment too long.

“Thank you.” You say, scooping some of your ice cream into your mouth. It’s refreshing. The flavors are classic, but not too overpowering and the texture was perfect. Mike knew his ice cream.

“Of course.” He says, copying your movement. He sucks on the spoon for a moment, still making eye contact with you.

You have to look away, your mind putting torturous thoughts in your head. Maybe you were ovulating, or that’s what you told yourself.

His voice brought your eyes back to him. You didn’t hear a word he said.

“What?” You asked, noticing him laughing at you again.

“I asked, do you like it?”

“Oh,” You looked down at your ice cream. “Oh, yeah. It’s good, you didn’t have to buy it though.”

He looked at you in a way that you couldn’t describe, narrowing his eyes. You hid a smile as you watched him.

“What?” You asked.

“Nothing.” He said smiling, shrugging and looking away from you.

You kept your eyes on him, pondering conversation topics.

“Long day?” You asked.

“Nah, it’s been okay. I had to kick out some college kids earlier though.”

“No way.” You said in a skeptical voice.

“It’s true, they kept connecting to the speakers and playing weird shit. Fart noises, the whole nine yards.”

“Oh my god.” You said, laughing as you went for another scoop of your treat.

“Living the dream.” He said, pulling another laugh from you.

“You’re funny.”

“I try.”

You smiled at him again despite yourself. God, he was charming. In a “this is just who I am” kind of way. Your hangout went on for at least another fifteen minutes, both of you eating and smiling.

Talking to Mike was easy, he listened to you. And not like a nodding along to appease, like an “I remember every little detail about what you said” kind of way. He asked questions and added things to the conversation. He laughed along to your jokes and widened his eyes when you deemed it appropriate.

Eventually, though, he was torn away from you by the sharp crackle of his walkie-talkie. He eased up from his seat slowly, as though he was being pulled through molasses.

“I’ll see you soon,” He said.

“You will.”

As you watched him walk away, he turned and looked at you again. You smiled and gave him a small wave. His eyes lit up, and he held in a small laugh as he nodded to you.

You sighed as he was out of view.

———————————————————————————

You stood in front of your bathroom mirror, desperately looking at yourself. You had already changed, put a little makeup on, and you were attempting to make something of your hair. It seemed to have a mind of its own.

You decided to put it up, choosing a style that suited your face. As you leaned back to glance over yourself, you smiled. You looked nice.

You grabbed your phone, checking the time. You had about five minutes until Mike was supposed to be at your door. You smiled, thanking the universe for your timeliness.

You added a few spritzes of perfume to your ankles, thanking the internet for this piece of your routine. You froze as you heard a knock on the door, your breathing suddenly picked up.

You grabbed your phone, pocketing it as you walked into the living room. You fast walked to the door, looking through the peephole. Mike stood there, staring at his feet while holding a little bouquet. Your heart softened as you opened up the door.

He smiled at you.

“Hi.” You said, taking the flowers from his outstretched hands.

“Hi. Um, I hope these aren’t too much. A guy was selling them on the street, it just made me think of you.”

“No, not too much at all. Thank you, Mike. They’re pretty” You replied, looking at the small flowers.

He had gotten you a bunch of orange carnations, tied together with a green ribbon. Even if it was last minute, the gesture wasn’t lost on you.

“You’re pretty.” He muttered immediately.

When you looked back up at him he had a sheepish grin on his face, almost embarrassed at the words that slipped through his lips.

“Thank you.” You said with a smile, looking back at the flowers in your hands.

“Want to come in for a second? So I can put them in some water?” You asked, opening the door wider at the suggestion.

He nodded, following you inside. He tailed you as you went into the kitchen. You set the flowers on the island when you got close enough.

Vases were not something that you prioritized in your home, so you settled on an old mason jar that you found. As you filled the glass up, you could hear Mike fiddling with the flowers behind you. He met you at the sink, grabbing the jar from you and placing the flowers inside of it. He arranged them in a neater shape, noticing your gaze.

“It’s not a gift if you do all the work.” He stated, placing them behind the sink.

You paused, watching him. He was right, of course, but most people didn’t think that way. Most people gave you the flowers and called it a day, but that wasn’t Mike. Mike was caring, you noticed. Whether it was with you and flowers, or with his sister and the tender way he took care of her. He was a caring man, and you liked it. It was good for you.

“They look good.” You settled on, trying to push the fuzzy feeling to the back of your mind. You suddenly noticed his outfit. He was now in black pants and a grey button-down shirt.

“No uniform? You look nice.” You asked.

“Oh,” He replied, looking down as if he had just noticed. “I brought an extra pair of clothes to work.”

You smiled, god how was he so nice? He got you flowers and went out of his way to look good for you, and this was all after a few days of knowing you.

“You ready to go?” He asked.

“Yes, I’m starving.” You answered, following him back to the front of the house. You grabbed your bag and locked the door behind you.

The drive to the restaurant was a comfortable silence, the only sound being the quiet radio. His car was on the older side, but it was nice nonetheless. It was clean and smelled nice. Bare minimum, but it was still impressive.

You made small talk on the way.

“How’s work so far? You have to kick any other crazy people out?”

“Eh, it’s fine. It’s funny you say that because there was a crazy lady there today.”

“Oh, yeah?” You asked, suddenly curious.

“Yeah, she was just standing there in the middle of the food court. Totally staring at me.” He continued, eyes wide open as he glanced at you.

“What’d you do?”

“I bought her ice cream.” He said, smiling at the road.

You narrowed your eyes at him, finally understanding.

“That’s just mean.” You said, feigning annoyance.

“No, you don’t understand. Two very separate occasions.” He said as he pulled into a parking spot.

He brought you to a cafe, you realized. It was a small place, but it was beautiful. The inside was very homey, decorated with couches and rugs. The lighting was yellow, really bringing the space together.

He brought you up to the counter, which had plants placed on the corners of the granite. You smiled at him while he ordered, noticing his haste. He’d memorized his order, it was cute.

You ordered your food and drink after him, glancing at the menu as you spoke.

“Oh, and one of those brownies,” Mike added as he took his wallet out of his pocket. Your eyes widened, very curious about this brownie. You had a soft spot for sweets.

The worker nodded and then rang them up. As you walked with Mike to a couch in the corner, you spoke up.

“Let me send you my half, please.” You said, talking about the money.

“No way.” He laughed, sitting next to you on the plush loveseat.

“It’s common knowledge that the person who asks the other out pays.”

“Must not be very common, because I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He teased, looking at you mischievously. You shook your head at him.

“You’re annoying.”

“I was funny earlier.” He continued his teasing.

“That was earlier.” You retorted, narrowing your eyes at him.

He tried and failed to hold in his laugh. You couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

Soon enough, your food came. It was really good. Mike’s was also good, you assumed, as he very loudly groaned at his first bite.

“Let me try it, if it’s so amazing.” You suggested, holding your fork towards his meal.

“Go for it, you won’t be disappointed.” He said, pushing his plate towards you. You slowly took a bite of his food, trying to hide your enjoyment.

It was good, though you would think it’d be awful. He had gotten some weird salad, one with grilled chicken, apple slices, and a pomegranate vinaigrette. You chewed slowly, trying to put a facade of disgust on. He didn’t fall for it.

“Ah, you like it. I can tell.”

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes, stubbornly.

Your date went really well, eating and talking about yourselves. That’s what dates were for, so you went all out. The two of you talked about your plans for the future, what you wanted out of life, and your equally boring and unfulfilling jobs. Eventually, though, the topics landed on parents.

“So your parents won’t babysit Abby, ever?” You asked with raised eyebrows. He sipped on his coffee.

“Nope. We haven’t spoken since I moved out and took her with me.”

“I’m so sorry, Mike.” You said emphatically, you knew what shitty parents were like.

“Don’t be, they sucked. Were yours any better?”

“Not really. We’ve just never really gotten along.” You said with a shrug. He nodded in understanding.

“Seems like we’re in the same boat.” He said, nursing his coffee again.

“Tell me a little more about Abby.” You changed the subject, desperate to know something about the girl you were going to be babysitting during the weekends. Mike’s eyes lit up.

He told you that her favorite color was purple. She loved drawing, puppies, and any form of glitter. She was very girly and always wanted to give him makeovers. She liked to build forts and loved spaghetti and pizza.

Hearing more about Abby made you adore her even more. You loved kids and they always seemed to gravitate towards you. It seemed like babysitting would be fun, especially since you had some tips on what she liked.

Your date had to come to an end at some point, although you were both hesitant to depart from the bubble you had created.

Mike still had to work for the rest of the afternoon, and no matter how many times he told you that they didn’t care, you didn’t want to get him in trouble. He drove you back home, holding your hand in his the whole time.

When you stopped in front of your house he stopped you from opening the car door.

“Wait.” He mumbled, jumping out of the car and running to the passenger side. He opened the door for you, holding out your hand to help you out.

“How chivalrous.” You commented and you stepped out of the vehicle.

“You know me.” He said, shutting the car behind you. He followed you onto the sidewalk in front of your house, walking you towards it.

“This is me.” You said sarcastically as you walked to the front door. He smiled at your words, letting out a little chuckle.

He followed you to your front steps, just looking at you. You returned his gaze, suddenly warm with the tension that you felt. You looked at him curiously, as he glanced at your lips. You understood his intentions.

“Can I?” He asked, getting closer to you.

“Please.” You whispered.

He pulled you close by your hips, your fronts touching. You giggled at the quick movement, cut off by his lips on yours. You closed your eyes on instinct. His lips were soft and warm, all sweetness.

After a few moments of gentle kissing, you pulled away from him smiling. He shared your sentiments, smiling at you as he pushed a stray hair behind your ear.

You had wanted this so bad. And the real thing was even better than you had imagined, it made you want more. You crushed your lips back onto his, eagerly this time. He met your pace with vigor, picking up on the lust behind your actions.

He pushed you up against the door with his hands at your waist. You hungrily pulled him closer by his hair. He groaned into your mouth, allowing your tongue in. You sighed as he brought you impossibly closer.

God, he tasted good, like the brownie you shared earlier, and something else that was distinctively him. His hands eased under your shirt, kneading into the skin of your stomach.

He spread your legs apart with his knees, caging you in a little bit more. You moaned shamelessly when he pressed it up against the crotch of your jeans. He breathed it in like a breath of fresh air.

The sound of a front door shutting brought you both back into the present. He detached his lips from yours, drawing deep breaths. You felt his warm breath on your face.

His glossy eyes looked down on you as he licked his lips. He rested his forehead against yours, both of you coming down from the high of making out on your doorstep.

You started smiling at the situation, pulling one out of him as well. He pecked your lips again as if he couldn’t bear to be away from them. You fought against pulling him back to you. You suddenly remembered his words from the day before.

“On the first date? I thought you wanted to take it slow.” You remarked, he chuckled.

“I just needed to taste you.” He said, kissing your lips again. Your eyes closed involuntarily.

“And it’s basically our second date, so it cancels out.” He murmured as he pulled away.

————————————————————————————

**i do not give anyone permission to use my work as your own

this belongs to @joemothersfavoritechild **

[corefrisk]

hi!! Idk if you’re going to see this but I really love Core!Frisk and they’re an amazing character hfjfhvjvn—

idk if this counts as a question for core Frisk but how did you ever gain the confidence to post your own AU online? How did you know people would like it or smn?? How did you first feel about posting Core!Frisk online? (I suffer with problems of “I can’t post this because what if no one will see it/no one will like it/it’s kind of bad..”)

Sorry!! (Dunno why I’m apologizing hfjfhvjvn sorry whagshdgdhg) Also if you see this ty for answering aaaaaa

Hello! If you have an idea you love, draw and share it online and keep sharing about it, even if it doesn't get much response at first. A single post or few probably won't leave much of a dent, but eventually people will start asking you questions! And if you keep it up and make a bunch of stuff, people will have fun browsing through your old stuff even years later.

As for me, I just had a neat idea and I made some doodles and some comics, even though in retrospect the art quality is actually very subpar. Not to put myself down of course, I'm a good artist especially these days, I just mean that CORE!Frisk didn't capture people's hearts based on the quality of its artwork 🤣 People eventually started asking me questions, and those questions helped me to keep building the world and the character.

It's important to not get discouraged if you don't immediately get any attention, though. It doesn't mean no one cares about your work, it usually just means it wasn't able to reach a lot of people.

Use proper tags, keep it up, and for the love of god DON'T delete anything just because it didn't reach 100 notes by the end of the week! How are people supposed to find something that no longer exists?? There was this one artist I followed on Twitter and Pixiv whose artwork I loved and one day they just disappeared without trace, from all platforms. I still have their work saved as my phone wallpaper and it just makes me incredibly sad. It's why I never delete anything I made, even cringe stuff. Someone out there loves it!

[oskea93]

Keep it to Yourself (2)

✶ DouglasBooth!Nikki Sixx x OC ✶

Warnings: Mention of drug use, cursing. A/N: Thank you so much for the love guys!! I hope you enjoy the 2nd chapter, it's kind of a long one. If you would like to be tagged, just let me know! Gif(@ughmerlin)

Taglist: @fancywasmyname1, @kaitieskidmore1, @xxisxxisxxis, @sparxx27,  @cruecifymesixx, @tempt-ress, @a-sia-san, @x-xinenas, @casualcomputerarbiter-blog​, @makaelahdelvalle

“Is this some kind of sick joke, Bryant?”

I leaned my head against the payphone door – watching as Nikki filled up his car. “Afraid not.”

Wyatt stayed silent for a moment, my surprising news turning more into a nightmare as the minutes passed. He let out a sigh, “You’re 20 years old – got your whole life ahead of you but you decide to fuck it all up by eloping that idiot.” His usually soothing voice dripped with anger.

It was a total whim – Nikki and I were just sitting around, and he brought up the idea of getting married. We’d been together for a year almost and the thought of marriage never crossed my mind. I didn’t even think Nikki found our relationship to be serious half the time. He had dreams of becoming a rockstar – a wife – the old ball and chain – would only hinder that dream. There was no ring – no getting down on one knee. It was basically you have this one chance to say yes and get it done or it’ll never happen again. We scrounged up enough money to get a marriage license and were married the next day at the courthouse. A random guy from the street was our witness – Nikki buying him a bottle of booze as payment. It wasn’t the fairytale wedding most girls dream of, but it worked for us.

“I thought maybe you would have a change of heart and be happy for us.”

An annoyed laugh rang through the receiver, “Be happy for you – Bryant, you need to be married to this kid like you need a hole in the head. I’ve told you from day one that he wasn’t the one – have you're fun and then leave. You need to be with a man that has structure – someone with a steady income – I don’t give a shit if the guy works on Wall Street or at the gas station on the corner, Nikki is not the man you need in your life.”

“That’s rich coming from you, Uncle Wyatt.” I muttered.

This seemed to piss him off even more – “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

I played with the phone cord, unsure of what to say. “It’s just –“

“Just what, Katherine?” His tone aggressive as he used my legal name. “Now that you’re married, you think that you can talk to people however you want? Just remember this little girl-“ He paused. “I’ve known guys like Nikki all my life – Hell, I’ve been one of those guys and I know how they pick one girl, stay for a bit, and then move on to the next thing. Don’t come crying to me when he kicks your ass to the curb when the next little hottie crosses his path...”

I could pick the man out of a sea of people.

His hair was a little longer than I last remember – his clothing changing with the times and trends. The fancy sports-car that the guys purchased for him glistened in the California sun – the sun hitting the red paint just right.

“There she is.” His arms spreading open expecting me to jump right into them for one of his ‘famous hugs.’

“Hey, Doc.” I forced a smile as he pulled me in.

His touch felt more like relief than welcoming – kind of like a forced thank you for coming and saving my ass. “I’ve missed you, kid.”

I pulled away first as he took in my appearance. It’d been almost three years since we’ve seen each other – a lot of things changing in that time. “You look great.” He smiled. “More mature – nothing like that little girl I met backstage.”

“Yeah, well –“I shuffled nervously. “Someone had to grow up and become the adult.”

His eyes locked with mine, squinting as my words coursed through his brain. “May look different but that attitude is still the same.” He pulled my suitcase out of my hand, placing it in the trunk as I placed myself in the passenger seat. I took a couple deep breaths – the reality of what was about to happen finally hitting me. I was cool as a fucking cucumber the whole flight – only worrying that Wyatt would pop up at any second and drag me off the plane by my boots. I didn’t think about what I would do or say when I finally saw Nikki again. I already knew that he wasn’t going to be happy – raging would be more like it.

The thought of if this was a good idea was now creeping into my psyche. Hannah’s warning to watch my moves and have an escape plan just in case he’s bad enough where he tries to harm me played on repeat as Doc drove through the canyon. From the way he was going, Nikki still lived in the same house.

“So-“Doc smiled. “What’s been happening with you lately? Last I heard you were living in South Carolina.”

I glanced at him through my shielded lenses, rolling my eyes. “Just living life.” I was short.

“You got a job?” He continued to press.

“No –“I turned to look at him. “I just live off my good looks and hope old men want a young plaything to leave all their money too.”

His face instantly fell as he glanced at me – my face expressionless as he fumbled to form a sentence.

He chose to end the conversation after that leaving the rest of the journey completely silent. I was somewhat grateful but talking made me forget about my internal thoughts – the ones eating away at my emotions...

“Where are we even going?”

I watched as million-dollar homes passed by as we travelled further into the hills. Nikki remained silent – his eyes hidden behind his dark shades – a stoic expression on his stubbled face. We had been driving for almost 30 minutes – silence taking up most of that time. I could tell from his body language that he was nervous. His body was stiff as he kept both hands on the steering wheel. He was home from the first leg of the Shout at the Devil tour – the guy I had known before tour started was left somewhere on an abandoned highway. Nikki was different – a little distant – more focused on the drugs and booze than before.

Instead of saving the money that was coming in from the shows, he and the rest of the band went on a spending spree – laying thousands down on new cars, expensive clothes, and the finest designer powder they could get their mitts on. It was a nice feeling not to be struggling anymore but Nikki was going through the money like water in the desert. His habit went from a couple bumps here or there to being desperate for the next fix. Shady looking characters were in our apartment every night as he got ready to go out with the guys. They followed him around like a puppy would their owner – Nikki was their client – he had the money, and they had the blow.

I kept glancing at him as he concentrated on the road, “Is there a party up here or something?”

He cleared his throat, slinking further into the leather seat of the Camaro. “No.” His answer simple.

“Then why the hell are we u-“

He stopped the car in front of a large home – the exterior darker than those around. “Welcome home.” His voice flat. I looked between him and the house – confusion written all over my face.

“What?”

“You wanted a house, didn’t you?”

I stayed quiet for a second – trying to process the situation. “Are you trying to tell me you bought a house – this house – and you didn’t bother to ask me how I would feel about that?” I pointed towards the home; my eyes fixed on Nikki.

He ignored the question, driving past the gate that secured the house from the open road. The driveway was long and steep – the house sitting perfectly on the hilltop. It was an open landscape – not many trees and the perfect view of those that lived in the valley.

“Nikki – you can’t be serious right now?” He placed the car in park – turning the engine off before removing himself from the car. I didn’t wait for him to let me out, hastily slamming the door shut as he rounded the passenger side. “Please tell me you didn’t buy this house?”

“You know-“He smiled as he removed his sunglasses – the telltale signs of last night written all over his face. “You bitch about living in a small apartment but yet here you are bitching me out for buying you a beautiful house.”

I raised my hands in the air, “I didn’t ask you to buy me a fucking house, Nikki!”

He rolled his jaw in anger as I vented about how we were supposed to be saving money and not throwing it away on things that we didn’t need or things we could wait for. I was perfectly content in staying in the apartment – hell, it was better than the one he was in when I first met him. I made sure to keep it clean and we shared the rent 50/50. Just because Motley had become a success didn’t mean that I wanted him spending that hard earned money on a house. We had plenty of time to look at houses – a house we would both love – not the first one that had a for sale sign.

“Fine –“His voice low. “You don’t want to the fucking house – “He hastily reached into his shirt pocket fishing out the key before throwing it as hard as he could down the embankment. “Then no one will fucking get the house!”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” My anger exploded as I raced to find the key. He stood behind, leaning against the black hood. I knew it was gonna be like finding a fucking needle in a haystack – the only chance of getting into the house would be to break in...

Doc’s car pulled up the familiar driveway – Nikki’s overzealous purchases sitting in front of the house. “I’ve always hated this house.” I muttered.

“Yeah-“Doc smirked. “Nikki’s made mention of it a time or two.” He placed the car in park – a knowing sigh slipping past his lips. “Ready for this, kid?”

I tucked my lip between my teeth – a nervous habit I had since childhood. “Ready for it like a hole in the head I guess.”

He chuckled at my answer, walking up the stairs ahead of me. The day I left kept flashing in my mind – the way my shoes hit the stone steps – Nikki trying to follow behind but stumbling from the drugs. Doc unlocked the door using his personal key that he had made, telling me that he had keys to all the guy’s houses. Stepping across the threshold showed me just how much he had changed. The once bright living room was now painted in a dark red – black, leather furniture scattered around the room. The house was an absolute mess! Liquor bottles, beer cans, food containers, and clothes littered the living room and kitchen.

“You can’t afford to get him a housekeeper?” My nose turned up at the smell. “This place is a fucking pigsty, Doc.”

He waved me off as he started towards the staircase. From what I could see, all the doors to the rooms were closed – the bedroom we shared being off to the left side. “Let me go see if he’s up and decent.” I nodded my head, looking around in disgust at the mess.

Gold and platinum records lined the walls – older photographs joining here and there. The photos that hung while we were together were nowhere to be found – probably burned and turned to ash. Heavy footsteps sounded as the person descended the stairs – my heart starting to race at the thought of seeing Nikki again.

Doc appeared seconds later, “He’s not here.” He spoke out of breath. “Fucking needles and baggies are lying all over the closet floor – probably got high and left for God knows where.”

I threw my purse on the couch, taking a haphazard seat as Doc began to pace the room.

“When’s the last time you seen him?” His eyes connecting with mine.

He thought about it for a second, “Probably three – four days ago I guess.”

I looked up at the ceiling, my tolerance for him starting to waver. “You have a guy that’s actively addicted, knocking on death’s fucking door, and the last time you laid eyes on him was four days ago? Are you fucking kidding me, Doc?”

“I talked to him on the phone the day before yesterday and he sounded fine. I can’t be on babysitting duty twenty-four fucking seven, Bryant. I have other bands that need me –“

“No-“ I cut him off. “You have other cash cows that are out there killing themselves so you can make a name for yourself and have money in your pocket.”

He ran a hand through his thinning hair, “I didn’t bring you out here so you can rip me a new one, Katherine.”

My anger finally coming through, “Don’t fucking call me that.” My finger pointed in his face. “You don’t have the right or luxury to ever call me by my real name.”

“And who has that luxury, Bryant?” He pressed. “Your fucking ex-husband who’s out there killing himself because you fucking left him? You know you may think it’s my fault that Nikki is the way he is, but you’re just as much to blame. He didn’t get bad until you sent the fucking divorce papers – this is on you, sweetheart.”

“Fuck you.” I pushed past him, making my way to the front door.

I started walking down the driveway, not even caring that the sun was starting to set, and I didn’t have anywhere to go or anyone to pick me up. I made it about halfway down before Doc’s car came up beside me. “Get in the car, Bryant.” His voice monotone. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that in my 25 years of being on this planet. That was my go-to move anytime Nikki pissed me off and we happened to be in the car. Hell, there was sometimes I would just get out of the car at a red light and start walking down the busy street.

“I’m sorry –“ I turned to look at him. “I don’t accept rides from assholes.” My boots slapping against the concrete.

Doc let out a string of curse words, finally stopping the car as he got out and tried to catch up. His fingers grabbed tightly onto my wrist, spinning me around into his body. “Fucking stop, Bryant.” His breathing ragged. “I already have enough to deal with and you acting like a fucking brat doesn’t need to be added to the plate.” I pushed the hair out of my face, yanking my arm out of his hold.

I waited a second as he walked back to his sports car before inching my way back to the passenger side. I may have slammed the door a little too hard, earning a look from Doc as he drove to the main road.

“Vince is throwing a party-“He spoke. “My guess is Nikki’s probably there since all the dealers are there.”

“He’s like a month flying to a bug zapper.” I mumbled.

The drive to Vince’s beachside mansion didn’t take long – traffic being light for that area. Different cars surrounded the home as music blared out of the open windows. I watched as people moved out of the way as Doc drove up to the front – those outside looking to see who was arriving. I didn’t bother waiting for Doc this time – getting out and stomping up the staircase.

I had no idea where he could be – the house was ginormous. The music grew louder as I neared the living room – a circular couch sitting in the middle of the room. A tall skinny guy was the first person I noticed – still having the same stupid haircut he had when we first met. Tom was a fish out of water in the world he lived – the opposite of Motley Crue. It still amazed me to this day that he was the reason Motley got signed.

My eyes moved across the couch, a head full of jet-black hair bent over a silver serving tray caught my attention. I watched as the lines that were perfectly placed vanished as the rolled up bill moved in a vertical motion. His head popped up for a moment, rubbing his nose as the high was hitting.

“I see you found him.” Doc stood next to me. “This is mild compared to what he’s usually doing.” I kept my eyes trained on Nikki as he talked to Mick and Tom – laughing at whatever they were saying. “Bring back memories?”

I glanced at Doc, rolling my eyes before walking towards the white couch. Nikki was in his own world that he didn’t even notice that someone was getting closer. Tom was the first to notice, his jaw dropping to the floor as his eyes grew wide.

“Holy shit.”

Nikki and Mick looked up to see what caused Tom’s reaction, Nikki’s eyes connecting with mine. It took him a moment before his smile started to fall – sobering up within seconds.

[hswriting]

The Moment I Knew - Part 7

[Image Alt ID: a four picture collage with a black background. The first picture is of a journal with fully filled pages. The second picture is an outfit that consists of a tan bra like tank top, blue jean shorts, and a white and blue flannel button up. The third picture is of a phone laying on a blanket. The phone is receiving a phone call from someone saved as “Past”. The final picture is of a silhouette of two people kissing. The lighting behind them is purple. End Alt ID]

- - -

Masterlist Part 6 Part 8 (Coming Soon)

- - -

3.3k words

- - -

After some time, Millie and Harry take the next step in their relationship together (Content Warning: SMUT, hair pulling (gently), fingering, pet names (princess), oral (f receiving), p in v sex), but the night does not end the way they planned.

Also if you’re interested in being on the tag list, message me!

- - -

I’m at Harry’s house and he is letting me make dinner tonight. I’m making homemade noodles for broccoli chicken alfredo. I’m also making the sauce instead of using the jar kind from the store.

Harry walks out from the bathroom after his shower and comes to the kitchen. He sits at the table.

“That smells amazing.” He says as the sauce is cooking.

“Thank you.” I reply. I turn the heat off and put everything together. Noodles, sauce, chicken, broccoli, stir together. I dish out two servings and place them at the table. I pour two glasses of red wine and set everything up. I sit across from Harry at the table and we begin to eat.

We both finish up quickly. Harry stands and picks up my plate and takes it to the sink.

“I could have did those babe!” I tell him and he turns around to smile at me.

“You worked so hard on dinner. I can do the washing up.”

“I know you can, but I am capable too. Now move over.” I demand and bump his hips with mine. He stumbles for a step but regains his balance. His hands find my hips and he pulls me closer by my belt loops. He places a kiss on my lips. The fireworks from his kisses haven’t faded, and I hope they never do. I love kissing him. I love him.

He picks me up and sits me on the countertop as he kisses me. His kisses trail down my jaw and to my neck. He must have figured out that is my favorite place to be kissed, because he does it all the time. It makes me feel breathless in the best way. His hands wander from my hips to my back, up to my shoulders and finds my hair. He gives it a gentle tug to get to more of my neck, sending a feeling straight to my core. Harry’s hands move from my hair and down to the hem of my shirt. He slides his hands under it and it sends goosebumps across my skin. He gently slides his hands up my body and my shirt follows. He gently peels it off of me, leaving me in only my purple lace bra.

Harry gives me a good long look before he continues his endless attack of kisses. They trail down from my neck onto the parts of my breasts not covered by my bra. My heart is beating out of my chest.

“Har.” I lightly moan, which only encourages him to kiss down to my stomach. I guide him back up to my lips and grab at his shirt to take it off. There is a slight hesitation from Harry, but he does let me take it off of him. I see his chest that is almost fully covered in ink. I don’t think I have ever seen Harry without a shirt before. He is stunning. My fingers delicately trace the shapes and lines on his chest.

Harry gently puts me back on the floor and unbuttons my pants.

“Is this okay?” He asks. I nod. “Let me hear you say it.”

“Yes. Please.” I say, not hiding how desperately I have been wanting this. He slides my jeans down my legs to reveal my matching purple lace underwear.

Harry takes a minute to look me over.

“You’re so beautiful baby. God, look at you. You’re amazing.” He tells me and I feel heat rise to my face. He picks me up again, but instead of putting me on the counter, he carries me to his bedroom. He lays me on the bed and begins kissing me again. He starts on my lips, moves to my jaw and down my body again. He reaches my thighs and another breathy moan escapes me. His hands roam my body as well and goosebumps lay in their wake.

“You’re so beautiful Millie.” He tells me again. He comes up and gives me another kiss on the lips. My hands reach to find his pajama bottoms and untie the strings. He stands up and slips them off, leaving him in only his boxers. “Can I touch you?” He asks. I nod again.

“Baby.” He says, “please?”

“Yes.” I tell him, remembering his want for me to be verbal. His hands slide down my body and find my thighs. He spreads my legs apart and his hands trace down the lace and to my most sensitive area.

“Fuck.” I moan. “Har please.”

I feel him pull my underwear to the side and his fingers draw circles on my clit.

“Is this what you want baby? You want me to touch you like this?”

“Yes Har.” I moan again. His fingers continue masterfully. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

His fingers slow to a stop, and I whimper at the loss of contact. He starts kissing my thighs again.

“Harry please.” I beg him.

“Patience, princess.” He tells me and the name only makes me want him more. His kisses trail my body and meet back at my thighs. Harry then takes me by surprise when I feel his tongue begin to lick me. My back arches off the bed with pleasure.

I can’t help but move around because he is making me feel so good. Harry’s hand quickly find my hips and hold them to the bed, minimizing the squirming.

I feel that coiling feeling in my stomach, and I think Harry can tell. He quickens his pace. He then takes a finger and slides it in, quickly pumping and curling his finger inside me.

“Please.” I beg him. He doesn’t let up and I come undone on his mouth and fingers. Harry isn’t shy about licking up every last drop of me. He removes his mouth and then his finger. He brings his finger to his mouth and licks it clean as well.

“That was so good har.” I tell him and he smiles.

“Do you want to go any farther with this, or is this all you want to do?”

“What do you mean?” I ask confused. Harry reaches into his bedside stand and pulls out a foil wrapper. A condom. “Oh. Yeah of course.” I say, feeling stupid that I didn’t understand.

“Yeah?” He says. He climbs off of the bed and slides his boxers off to show his length. He rips opens the wrapper and slides the condom on himself and I can’t help but stare at him. I’ve never seen this man without a shirt, but now he’s in front of me, no clothes, wanting me.

He climbs back onto the bed and above me. He kisses me again and again. A moan escapes my throat.

“Are you sure you want to do this? There’s no pressure or anything.”

“I’m sure Har. I promise.” I reassure him.

“Okay.” He says and then holds himself. He guides himself to my entrance and he teases for a minute, slightly entering and then pulling out. It makes me moan.

“Har please. Quit teasing me.” I say, desperate to continue.

“Why? You’re making such beautiful sounds, princess.” He tells me. As I am about to say my comeback, he presses in just a little farther. It drives me crazy. No words come from my mouth except his name. He fully sheaths himself into me and he lets out heavy, breathy moan. “You feel so good baby.”

He starts slow, and gradually begins to pick up the pace. He kisses my neck again. That familiar coil begins to wind again in my stomach. Harry’s pace is faster. My nails leave scratches down his back.

Harry stands on his knees, still inside me. He grabs my hips and begins again. Harder. Faster.

“Fuck Millie, you feel so good.” He praises. “I’m so close.”

He keeps going, moans spilling from both of our mouths. His movements get sloppy, and then he slows. He slowly pulls out of me, and slips the condom off. He ties it and throws it away as I continue to lay on the bed. He comes back and sits down beside me.

“You okay?” He asks me.

“Yeah. I’m great. You?” I ask in return. He nods.

“I’m good.” He tells me. “Do you want to shower?”

“Yes please.” I say as I sit up.

“Can I join you?” He asks and I’m a bit surprised. He has never wanted to shower together. Plus he showered earlier.

“Of course.” I tell him. He places a kiss on my cheek before standing. He holds out his hand and helps me off of the bed. He takes the sheets off of the bed and puts them in the hamper. We then head to the bathroom. He turns on the water and adjusts the temperature as I grab towels and washcloths. We hop in the shower and I wet my hair. Harry grabs the shampoo I have been leaving here and puts some into his hands. He gently massages it into my hair and scalp. He takes one of the wash cloths and puts my body wash on it. He takes it over every inch of my body. I rinse quickly so he can have some hot water and I step out.

I grab one of the towels that was set out. I dry off and make my way to the bedroom. I pick out a shirt and some pajama bottoms. I get dressed and find his spare bed sheets. I make the bed up nice and lay down.

Buzz buzz buzz

It’s Harry’s phone on the night stand.

“Har you’re getting a phone call!” I shout.

“Answer it for me!” He shouts back. I pick up the phone.

“Hello?” I say.

“Who’s this?” A female voice says.

“This is Millie. Who are you?”

“My name is Kate. I thought this was Harry’s number?”

“It is. He’s just busy right now. Do you want me to tell him something for you?”

“Yes please. Just tell him that I wanted to say thank you for the good night the other night. Also tell him to text me back please.” She says and my chest fills with anxiety.

“Oh. Alright. I’ll let him know.”

“Thank you so much. Have a good night Millie.”

“You too Kate.” I tell her and hang up. I can’t help but sit in silence as the shock passes through me. Who is Kate? What was he doing with her the other night? The texts?

I know I shouldn’t, but the anxiety is overwhelming.

I open his messages app and find her number. She isn’t saved in his phone.

I hope you had a blast like I did. I think we should catch up again sometime. I missed talking to you like that Harry.

Good morning Harry

H?

Maybe my anxiety is getting the best of me. Or maybe I’m seeing what is right here in front of me.

Harry met up with another girl named Kate. They knew each other apparently. She missed talking to him.

I feel tears well in my eyes. Not again. Damn it. Not again.

Harry walks into the bedroom with a fresh set of pajama bottoms on and a t shirt.

“Millie? What’s wrong?” He says as he looks at me from across the room.

“Who is Kate? And she says thanks for the good night the other night. She also wants you to text her back. She misses talking to you.” I tell him, trying not to let my voice crack.

I can see a look wash over Harry. He looks nervous and upset. “I know how this all sounds Millie. Just hear me out okay?” He tells me. I nod.

“Okay. I’m listening.” I tell him and he sits down beside me on the bed.

“Kate is my ex girlfriend. We haven’t talked since we broke up. She came into the animal shelter the other day and was adopting a cat. She stayed and talked. After my shift she invited me to dinner.”

“You went to dinner with your ex? The same ex who burned your journal? The same ex who cheated on you?” I asked.

“I know how bad this sounds and I’m sorry. I should have told her no I-“

“Know how bad it sounds? You lied about it. You told me you were going to stay home that night. You know-“ I start to cry. My voice cracks. “Why would you lie to me?”

“I had planned to stay home that night, but she invited me to dinner. She wanted to apologize to me for everything. She just wanted to catch up. I’m sorry Millie.” He says. He tries to hold my hand but I pull it away.

“You lied to me. You know the worst part Harry? It’s not even that you talked to her. I just wish you didn’t lie. You helped pick me up after what Kellen did to me. He snuck around. He lied. I trusted you!” I cry at him, my thoughts scrambled.

“Millie we didn’t do anything. It was just dinner. I was going to tell you about it I just haven’t had the chance-“

“No. You broke my trust Harry. You not only lied but you hid it from me. It would have been fine. I just wanted to be respected enough as your girlfriend to be told. You didn’t tell me.”

“Millie I-“

“You know how bad this hurts! You’ve been through this before. Fuck Harry, I’ve been through this before. You were there for me through that. And you go and do the same thing.”

“I should have told you immediately. I’m sorry. I know how bad this hurts. I’m so sorry.” He says, a tear slipping down his face.

“I want to go home.” I tell him. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Please take me home.”

“Millie.” He says desperately.

“I’m sorry Har. Just please take me home.”

“Okay.” He says defeated. I slide in my shoes and go out to the car. Harry meets me out there, but I have let myself in the car. I don’t need him to open the door for me.

The car ride is silent. No music. No talking. Just the sound of the wheels on the road. Pain radiates through me, pulsing through my veins. I can’t help the tears spilling down my cheeks. They burn like fire as they fall down to my chin and eventually off of my face. It’s been two months. Two very good, very wonderful months. Two months that I wish were how the rest of my life is going to feel. Leave it to me to get my hopes up again.

I can see tears slipping down Harry’s cheeks as he drives. Part of me wants to immediately forgive him so I can crawl into his arms and be held, but another part of me never wants to trust him again. I felt safe. I felt secure. I felt the happiest I had in my entire life. Dating him, meeting his family, game nights at Jason’s house, watching movies, painting together, and writing songs together. I really enjoyed getting to be a part of his music. I had gotten the hang of song writing. He wanted me to try a duet with him soon. It will never be the same. How did I get here again? How can all of that be ruined?

We are pulling into my driveway. I go to reach for the handle of the car door when Harry grabs my hand.

“Please don’t let this be the end of us. It was a stupid mistake to lie about it. To hide it. I don’t want to lose you.” He begs.

“I need some time to think about everything Harry. I need some space.” I say. I pull my hand from him and exit the car. I walk up the sidewalk and to my front door. He waits there until I unlock the door and walk in. He drives away. I go to my room and open my drawer. I retrieve the journal he got me and open to the next empty page. I write. I write. And I write.

By the time I’m done putting my feelings into paragraphs, songs, and poems my hand is cramping. It’s getting close to midnight. I put my journal away and crawl into bed.

The next day I wake up, but can’t muster up the energy to move. I stay in the same pajamas from his house last night. I don’t bother eating breakfast. I can’t make myself move. Everything is so painful. I’m so exhausted.

Buzz

I open my phone to a message from Harry.

H😊: morning. I know you said you needed space, but I just wanted to check up on you. I love you.

I close the message and put my phone down. Tears already are pouring down my face.

I turn over and cover myself back up. I fall back asleep for a little while.

When I wake up again, it’s around noon. I feel my stomach growl. I’m hungry, but I don’t want to eat. I can’t stand to think of anything else except Harry. I miss him. I miss him so much.

I manage to get myself out of bed and walk to the kitchen. I find some leftovers and sit down at the table. I begin to eat, but I find myself more playing with the food than I do actually eating. Something has to be better than nothing.

The day passes by slowly. I don’t really do much. I watch tv to try and forget the pain. I can’t, but I sure do try to forget it.

The next day is easier. Very hard, but easier.

I wake up to a text from Harry again.

H😊: can we talk? I love you.

I ignored it again. I feel awful about ignoring him, but I’m asking for space to think. I need it.

I actually ate more today than yesterday. Everything hurts still, but I’m able to make it through the day. I work on my laptop to keep myself busy.

I journal again today. I fine tune the song I wrote the other night. It sucks I don’t have a piano or guitar so I can record it. I’ve never recorded a song before, but I feel like this is the best thing I’ve written.

I wish Harry was here. He would be able to help.

The third day is the day I caved.

I woke up to a text from Harry. I think maybe text is an understatement. I woke up to a book from Harry.

H😊: Millie. I’m so sorry for what I’ve done to you. I know I messed up, and there is nothing I can do to fix what I broke. I just need to talk to you or see you. I can’t stand this silence anymore. I’m doing my best to give you space but I miss you so much. I need to hear from you. I need to hear your thoughts. I need to know if you’ll give me another chance, or if you don’t want to see me anymore. I really hope you give me another chance. I miss you coming over. I miss hearing your laugh. I miss writing with you. I love you so much Millie. Please call or text me soon.

I see the text and break down in bed. All of the pain rising to the surface. I want to see him. I want to give him another chance. I’m so afraid of getting hurt again, but I feel like I’m torturing myself staying away from him. I miss him.

Me: where and when do you want to meet?

Almost instantly he replies

H😊: coffee shop by your house? And as soon as you’re able

Me: okay. See you in a few minutes.

I put my phone down and go to the closet. I put on some denim shorts since it’s beginning to get warmer outside. I put on a tan tank top and a flannel jacket. I grab my car keys and walk out the door.

- - -

Masterlist Part 6 Part 8 (Coming Soon)

[songliili]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

thank you @happiness-of-the-pursuit for tagging me

How many works do you have on ao3? only 10 as of now, but i hope it'll be 13 by the end of the year

What's your total ao3 word count? 107,767

What fandoms do you write for? rwrb and supernatural. although it's mostly rwrb as of now

Top five fics by kudos:

we all have a hunger - Henry is a porn star, Alex is a fan.

bro, you're fucking hung! - Alex is fascinated by Henry's huge dick.

Fill My Stocking - Alex wants some attention and Henry has to get creative.

you should floss more - Dean goes to the dentist and is his usual disaster bi self. Lucky for him, his dentist doesn't mind.

footage of (y)our love - Alex and Henry get married, and 2/3 of the Super Six documented their love story.

Do you respond to comments? yes, i do my best at not leaving them unanswered!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? probably I Had Some Time (With You) because of the mcd tag and the kind of open ending with claire and jody that i left just in case i decide to write claire's story. but i also think that dean and cas had a soft beautiful and loving end, so yeah it's sad but i don't think it's a sad fic? more like haunting in a positive way (this makes me sound so pretentious but i just love that story so much and i'd love for more people to read it it too)

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? i genuinely don't know? all of them have happy endings imo... probably psau1 tho. simply because i'm writing the sequel and i know they're even more happy lmao.

Do you get hate on fics? thankfully i don't!

Do you write smut? yep! and i thought i wasn't able to. (peep at my two most popular fics being rated E and the second being just pwp)

Craziest crossover: i don't think it's crazy but I Had Some Time (With You) kind of is a crossover with the last of us? i mixed up tlou and spn.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? not that i know of, but i don't think anyone would steal my stuff, i'm nobody

Have you ever had a fic translated? ... well............. eight years ago i wrote a fic for a kpop group and before orphaning it someone asked me permission to translate it. i don't know if they ever did it, and i can't check cause i don't remember the title so i can't even look it up

Have you ever co-written a fic before? i've started writing a fic with @zeppelinmixtape a while ago, we should pick it back up.

All time favorite ship? destiel and firstprince, obviously

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? probably the great dean court off, and it's a shame cause i love it and i want to finish it cause i have the ending clear in my head, but i changed so much as a writer that i think i'd have to rework it all to avoid a stark contrast between then and now/the future.

What are your writing strengths? once @cactusdragon517 told me that my italian brain "lends so much to it. It is so beauful and the way you write it feels like reading something SACRED." (yes, i copy-pasted their message cause i saved it in a note on my phone for when i need a ego boost)

What are your writing weaknesses? i'm verbose but at the same time i skim on things. small things turn into big things and fics that can be under 5k turn into 10k, 'cause small, insignificant details and context in conversations are needed; but not descriptions. for the life of me i can't remember that people aren't in my head and they need to know who's talking and what the place they're in looks like.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? i'm a sucker for it, but if they're written in a language i know i will be critic of the translation used - and if i know the author i will suggest a translation that in my opinion is better.

First fandom you wrote in? aforementioned kpop fandom. no, i will not disclose what group or pairing.

Favorite fic you've written? I Had Some Time (With You) and we all have a hunger. but also mh fp, ciayaq? and psau2 that live in my wips folder. (and if y'all want to tell me what's your favourite of my silly little fics, let me know!)

i guess i have to tag 20 people now, i don't know who's done this already so forgive me if you did.

(mae, chrissy, consider your previous tags as tagging for the game lmao)

@father-salmon @underwaterninja13 @leojfitz @read-and-write- @littlemisskittentoes @galitzine-nick @inexplicablymine @affectionatelyrs @gayrootvegetable @wordsofhoneydew @emmalostinwonderland @rockyroadkylers @three-drink-amy @theprinceandagcd @imyourhoneybeespn @princehgejfmw @absolute-audacity @firenati0n

[sungbeam]

[𝟖:𝟑𝟐𝐀𝐌] — nonidol!eric sohn x gn!reader

0.7k words, comfort, college au

in which you're sitting on an airplane, sad asf, but the cute guy next to you let's you know that you're not alone

a/n: low-key come back with my first tbz fic :') if i tagged u and u don't wanna be tagged for future tbz fics, feel free to lmk ; and yes, i'm literally sitting at my airport boarding gate writing this

"First time?"

A voice from beside you drew you from your mind space, and away from the airplane window. The sky outside had barely lightened and remained a moldy-gray sort of color that it often was in the early hours of the morning. 

You turned to see who had spoken, and was met with a guy who looked around your age sitting in the aisle seat of your row. He wore a dark colored bomber jacket and a backwards white cap, his bleached blond hair tucked under said cap. There was a small smile seated on his face, yet a kind of sympathetic crinkle in the wrinkle by his eyes. 

You realized that he had been talking to you. "First time on an airplane?" You asked him, uncertain about what exactly he meant by first time. 

He chuckled, his smile widening, and the thought crossed your mind of how pretty people looked when they smiled—namely, him. "No, silly. First time flying back so early for school."

Ah. Your mood dampened just a little and suddenly, it was like gazing back out the window, wondering what you might have been doing had you not needed to go back to college so early. Out of all your friends here, your school gave you the shortest winter break, with the new quarter beginning just a couple days after the new year began. It meant that you were leaving on New Year's Day. You hadn't gotten to stay up and party last night, and you wouldn't be able to spend any of this week with family. You were to go back to your little dorm, alone, and start the grueling cycle of the new quarter. 

You nodded, pursing your lips. "Yeah. What about you?"

"I'm a second year," he told you in response. "Promise I'm not a creep, but which school do you go to?"

You named your university for him and you watched recognition flash across his face. 

"Oh hey, same! I'm Eric by the way." 

A small, yet genuine smile graced your features. "I'm Yn. Nice to meet you, Eric."

"Hey," he said conspiratorially, leaning over the empty middle seat between you two, "I know it's really depressing to go back so early while everyone else gets at least a week longer, but—everything will be okay. Trust me; I went through it last year, and it's always rough at first, but I believe in you, Yn."

Somehow, his words hit you with the weight of a freight train. You wondered how he had taken one look at you, sulking in your window seat, and understood exactly what had been running in your head. He must have seen the way your eyes shone with familiar emotions—all the fear and sadness for the future—but the appreciation and hope, too. You wondered if he saw himself in your eyes. 

You swallowed and choked back tears. God, you felt so pathetic sometimes. "Thanks," you rasped, clearing your throat when your voice came out hoarse. "That's… that's really sweet of you."

"It's no problem." He shrugged, returning to his own aisle seat space. "Just know you're not alone, okay? I mean, I'm assuming you're out of state right?"

You nodded. 

"Then it's… kinda lonely, huh? I get that." Eric suddenly shuffled around his pockets until he fished out his phone. He held it out to you over the empty middle seat with an encouraging smile. "Here, put in your number. We can keep in touch when we get back to school."

You grabbed his phone and swiftly inputted your information into the new contact section. When you handed him his phone back, he sent you a text back so you could save his contact number and name. 

Both you and Eric stopped to listen as the flight attendant announced that the plane's doors were closing now. 

He lightly nudged you with the back of his knuckles, and you had a feeling you would never tire of seeing that boyish smile on his face. "You know what that means? We get the middle seat open!"

You chuckled at his child-like excitement (and maybe even envied it). "Lucky us, huh?"

"For sure. Now I have an excuse to bother you," he said. "As long as that's okay with you."

You'd never thought he'd ask, to be honest. "I wouldn't have it any other way," you mused, and relished in the way his eyes twinkled back at you.

You had boarded the plane with nothing but melancholy, anxiety, and bitterness—but as the plane began its take-off procedures and Eric Sohn talked to you about his friends back home whom he was leaving behind, you could put those negative feelings away and start the New Year right. 

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @tayunji @im-a-big-mess @honeyhuii @y3jiishot @crazywittysassy @seomisaho @stopeatread @enhacolor @rnjfy @jaehunnyy @kpopjackie @spiderrenjunfics @soobin-chois @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @ethereal-engene

[eneiryu]

do you have any tips for people who want to start writing/posting works, but don't know where to start?

I’ve been mulling it over since I got your ask, and I think I have come up with a few things:

- Start small, not just in length but in concept. Plotting out fics in such a way that all the threads get satisfactorily tied up at the end, and things don’t feel rushed or dragged out or forgotten about, is a skill. I find it much, much easier to pick one single core concept, and build a whole, detailed story around that, than to successfully keep several metaphorical plates in the air. For example, with my last fic: I wanted Theo to convince himself he had to leave BH after the series finale, and then for him and Liam to run into each other years later, and end up having that explosive resolution. I could have felt like I needed to write all the in-between, or even the after, but really I didn’t. To steal a piece of writing advice I heard from someone else, ask yourself if you’re writing the most interesting parts of your character’s life/story, and if the answer is no, try stopping and writing that. Conveniently enough, that also usually ends up being the more fun parts to write. And, eventually—you’ll get to the point where writing out the epics is much, much easier.

- OUTLINE. Seriously, outline everything. If you have an idea, even if you don’t have any idea where it goes or anything other than the first sentence or summary? Write it down. Write it down immediately. You will forget things if you try to save it for later. My phone is full of incomprehensible chunks of stories, but that is how I get to comprehensible stories. And outlining honestly makes things so much easier. If I have an outline, I very rarely get “stuck.” I know what happens next, and it’s so much easier to thread the different moments together, than to sit there staring at an intimidatingly blank page, and feel like I need to come up with everything.

- Don’t worry about titles and summaries and tags until the story is actually done, and don’t stress yourself out trying to come up with the perfect one. I come up with my titles on the fly. One of the most talented fic writers I’ve ever come across has one-word titles, usually just some kind of noun (does the fic take place in an arena? The fic is tilted “Arena.”).

And, honestly, most importantly?

- Write for yourself, and for the fans that you have, not the fans that you wish you have. It’s so tempting to judge how “successful” you were at a story by how many comments or reblogs or likes you get, but my experience has been that there are so many stories, and so many posts, and so many different tastes and styles and whatever, that being “popular” in fandom is a mythical and almost impossible thing to achieve. Some of my favorite stories I’ve written are the ones that received the least notice, comparatively. I have made so many friends and have come to have a group of readers who names and pseuds and comments I genuinely remember and appreciate, because they show up again and again and take the time to leave the comments, or the reblogs, or the likes. They engage, with me and with the work that I do genuinely spend hours or my time and energy on, and having a handful of those readers show up in one of my stories, even if it doesn’t hit the same “mark” as some of my others? That’s a damn good day, right there.

Okay just kidding, one more:

- Have fun. Writing is seriously so much work, and it’s hard, and a lot of the time, it may feel like you’re shouting into the void. So you’ve got to write the things that you enjoy, that you want to see in the world, and then you’ve got to go put it into the world. If you’re having fun, your readers will know it and respond to it. And if you’re having fun, well, then—you’re having fun, aren’t you? 😊

[kengan-daddies]

Hello I have read some of your works and would like to ask you, if you could write more about Rei Mikazuchi❤️❤️❤️. I think you are the only one that I have seen write about him🥲 Could you please write a SFW story, but please make it a happy ending.🥰

I know right!? Rei gets no love in the community, my boi is cute, hot, and sexy!! What more could we want in a character, aside from characterization.

Also, I'm so sorry, I feel like this has a hint of angst, but the ending wasn't Angst, and the story isn't exactly happy and fluffy, I feel like I failed but writing SFW for Rei is lowkey kind of hard, but I'll just keep trying with him until it finally happens!! When I do it, I'll tag you in it!! Because you deserve it!!

Love is what You Make It Rei Mikazuchi

Anime : Kengan Ashura Character : Rei Mikazuchi Warning : Mention of violence, sensitive topics, discussion of ideology, slight angst? SFW

Love is what You Make It Rei Mikazuchi

Love is what You Make It Rei Mikazuchi

Living is already hard, having to pay bills, and making sure you have enough for groceries, hygienic products, household products, and even a little treat for yourself, but like they always say " life is what you make it" , just like home. Living in your own place can be rough at times, having nosy neighbors that could be rude on top of it, a stingy landlord, DHA on your ass for the smallest of reports, bugs, piping, cracks, not enough space, or too much space, but home is what you make it.

If that's the case, then couldn't that go for love too? You choose who you love, but you can't choose 'what' you love. For example, you fall in love with a lair, but you'll never know that they're a liar until you're in too deep. That goes for thieves, killers, rapists, racists, sexists, homophobes, pedophiles, stalkers, and abusers, it applies to all of them. You can't just back out and say 'Let's break up, I never want to see you again.' after spending 5 years with a person, even 1 year is more than enough time to develop a bond that's almost inseparable.

Humans are social animals, we thrive in social activities, even those who say they don't still do. Watching TV is a form of social interaction, you're learning characters, developing feelings for the ones you like most or despise, and researching their real age and where they come from. Even just reading this now, is a form of social interaction. Another human wrote this, and you're deep into the stories that have been written on this blog, you may have even followed and are extremely pleased that there is another writer who writes for this fandom. Social interactions are everywhere you look. In a book, on TV, in your phone, or even in a picture.

It's hard to pull back, especially when you had learned that Rei was an assassin. You were angry, you felt betrayed, you felt underestimated in your loyalty. It was like he didn't trust you enough, but you were in too deep to tell him to 'never see me again.' You've met Rei for Rei. You've seen him laugh, you've seen him cry, sleep, eat, vulnerable, strong, and funny. You've seen him at his highest and at his lowest, so why didn't he trust you enough to let you know?... Fear, he was afraid that you'd reject him, call him a monster and a killer, which you wouldn't be wrong, but can a monster love like he does? Can a monster cry like he does? You'd think not.

You love Rei for Rei, and he loved you for you, you made a deal with him, that he can continue his job unless it's just evil people that he killed, but he couldn't agree to that, simply because evil people just don't exist in his eyes. "Everyone has a different point of view on life, you'd either die and let a starving child eat your last meal, you'd eat the meal and leave the child to starve, or you'd eat the child and save the food for later, there's no in-between. However. there is a fourth option, sharing the food, but one of you will still end up in the other's stomach in the end. Either way, you look at it, it's either evil or good. Or take this, you're about to be murdered, will you let the killer kill you? Or will you kill the killer? Either way, someone is dead, and there will still be a mother weeping over their dead child." That was Rei's point of view.

So, you decided that he'd stop killing instead, you wanted to argue with his logic, but no matter how you looked at it, it was the truth. He was so blunt about it, just like how blunt he is for his love for you. He wants you to be blunt, so you will, and you want him to stay. Knowing that he has spilled blood on his hands, knowing that he's destroyed families, you still wanted him... Suddenly his logic on life was staring you in the face. Cuddling up with Rei, holding him tight at night when he'd have nightmares, having breakfast with him, lunch, dinner, laughter, and dates... It was a part of Rei, it was a part of you.

It was what you guys did, it was all you guys could do because it was a strange romance, but whoever said that there was a guidebook to romance? It was what you make it, and honestly, you guys were doing a damn good job at it too.