#i may upload it later this week!

[hyuuukais]

ok 2k words let's goooooo

what if i finished chapter three tonight HMMMM........ thoughts are being thunk!

[meownotgood]

hallo. if you'd like to be tagged when this fic releases, please reply to this post. you will be added to a taglist and tagged in all subsequent chapters!

please be 18+, and please make sure your age is visable, whether in your bio or a pinned post somewhere. something that says your age, 18+, or adult. otherwise you will be ignored!

[bri-does-art]

i know this probably won’t do much, let alone anything at all, but i’m sorry for the stress this site has caused you and so many other creators here. i’m not asking for you to stick around on here, but i hope you know just how meaningful you and your art have been on here. you’re amazing. /pos

Hey, this ask has done a lot more than you would think. Thank you, you are very sweet. <3

I've kind of made up my mind about what I'm gonna do for a while now, but I've simply been... too busy and overwhelmed to take the time to let you guys know. I'm not going to delete my tumblr, there's just. Too much here that I don't want to lose.

So far the game plan is: keep my tumblr. But do not upload anymore art or writing on it - not because it's gonna get scraped, because it was already getting scraped anyway, AI company deal or not. It's pretty much unavoidable at this point, unfortunately. I simply do not trust Tumblr with my data, if they're going to sell EVERYTHING, including private messages and such, so I'm not going to give it anything worthwhile to profit off of. Instead, I'm going to start uploading my art exclusively on Ao3, for now. I'll answer any asks I receive here on there too, as well. I'll figure some kind of system out. 🤔

The cool thing about uploading to Ao3 is that anyone subscribed to my profile or to the containment series I will make will get a notification anytime I upload something new. Having my art and writing in one place is likely going to be more convenient for you guys too, since you won't have to move across platforms to get the full experience. 😄It'll be different... but a platform getting too greedy for its own good won't stop me from finding ways to share my stories with y'all. I'll just find another solution.

(I've also been entertaining the idea of joining or making my own Discord server but. That one is a little more delicate. The idea of joining a server that has hundreds of members like a lot of this fandom's servers have, just. Makes me break into hives, lmao. (I am in the Ghost in the Machine fic server. I muted it an hour into joining, it was way too intense for me. |'D) That is way too many people, I simply cannot handle it. I'd be way more comfortable in a smaller group with a less rapid-fire rate of posting and conversation. I am also. Very picky about which servers I join, which makes asking for recommendations doubly awkward when I shoot them all down, haha... And making my own... Err, I can hardly keep up with a server I helped create for another fandom and mod for, I don't think I could handle two of them - I would need other people to handle the moderation for me, and I wouldn't trust just anyone to be a mod. I'd need to know them well enough to know I could trust them, and I... do not really know anyone in this fandom well enough to do that, sadly. I take server moderation very seriously, as someone who has had experience modding for forums back before social media was a thing. I do not know if that would make for a fun experience for everyone, and anyone who hasn't known that kind of supervised experience. It is comforting to me. It may be intimidating for others. So that's still a very hand-wavy, 'eehhhh' kind of thing still.)

All of this to say, that this isn't the last you'll see from me, far from it. I'll restrict my creative output to Ao3 for the foreseeable future, and I'll let you guys on here know when I make a new upload, so those of you who do not have an Ao3 account know when something new has happened.

So there you have it. 😊

[sunnimint]

Writing chapter 12 of Beginnings of an End has made me realized, once again, that I possess god-tier writing skills because WOW

[kirnet]

are yall impressed with my actium progress *cries*

[thelooniemoonie]

i never thought i'd have active beef with a professor but here we are i guess

[batshit-auspol]

I just spent some time scrolling through this blog and am suffering from sever laughter. Thanks so much for collating the countries craziest moments. One of my favourites is when Scott Morrison was in Hawaii while the bushfires where burning.

December 2019: As Australia's east coast is engulfed in the worst bushfires in living memory, rumours begin to circulate that Australia's Prime Minister Scott Morrison may have secretly fucked off for a holiday in Hawaii.

Keep in mind, this is what is going down in Australia at the time:

The Hawaii rumour is initially written off as a fringe conspiracy, because surely nobody could be that fuckin tonedeaf, and it was quickly forgotten about... until an Australian man visiting Hawaii UPLOADED A SELFIE ON THE BEACH WITH THE PM THROWING A SHAKA.

At which point all hell broke loose.

Overnight the formerly popular "Scomo" became the most despised man in all of Australia. Think "firefighters shouting out of their windows to news cameras" level of despised.

After about two days of radio silence and pretending like he was still at home running the country, the Prime Minister's handlers finally dragged him onto call with an Australian radio station, where he pinky promised to return to Australia as fast as he could in an attempt to calm things down.

Unfortunately Scott's empathy consultant (a real job) then had to watch Scott pour more gasoline on the dumpster fire by uttering the now famous phrase "Look I don't hold a hose mate" when asked by the radio interviewer why the fucking fuck the fuckhead wasn't fucking in Australia doing his fucking job during a massive fucking crisis.

Testing just how much worse things could get, Scomo then proceeded to NOT rush back to Australia as promised, instead attempting to complete the rest of his holiday, a fact that was exposed when a passerby snapped a picture of him still lounging on the beach two days later.

Eventually, holiday complete, Morrison did reluctantly slink back to Australia, and in an attempt to calm things down, he decided to pay a visit to a small town that had been destroyed by the fires.

Which was a big mistake.

Scomo still had not registered how absolutely and totally he had screwed the poodle with his Hawaiian beach vacation, and he walks into what is now taught in PR classes as one of the greatest examples of "what not do do in a crisis" in all of history.

Scotty from Marketing, as he is now dubbed by the nation, spends a painfully cringe-inducing hour wandering around a burned down town with TV news cameras in tow, having to FORCE PEOPLE TO SHAKE HIS HAND in what is some of the most awkward footage you will ever see.

At this point it's probably also worth mentioning that, before becoming Prime Minister, Scott Morrison's biggest claim to fame in politics was being the guy that was so far up the coal lobby's arse that he literally brought coal into parliament and waved it around, claiming it doesn't hurt people.

So when a protest was organised it turned out to be one big national fuck you to the Prime Minister, the likes of which the world has never seen before or since.

Needless to say, at this point Scomo's career was dead in the water, but thanks to the rules brought in to stop Australian political parties from knifing their leader every two weeks (a popular Aussie passtime) Morrison basically couldn't get fired until after the next election.

And so, when the election rolled around in 2022, we decided that was an opportune time to travel over to Hawaii to erect this bad boy tribute to the Prime Minister, on the very beach where Scomo had sat and drank margaritas that one fateful week in December as Australia burned (thanks to @chaser for funding the ticket)

[simwithshan]

Selfie Overrides - Pregnancy Edition V1 (7/20/24)

Hi Simmers,

I'm tapping into a new market where I'll be diving into doing Selfie Overrides. Expect a lot of these coming up. These are my pregnancy Selfie Overrides. I Will be doing more, as well as couples in the upcoming weeks.

Please Read

What's Included

A total of 6 Selfie Overrides.

3 In Relaxed

3 In Thoughtful

How To Use

Make sure you cycle through the correct category to get the poses. Meaning, if these selfies say they are in Relaxed or Thoughtful make sure you're in that section. If you cycle through only on random, you might see these poses (you may not). You never know what the game will randomly choose for you.

How To Install

I didn't merge these files so you can mix and match later on. You just put all the package files in your mods folder, not subfolders.

TOS

DO NOT Re-upload my mods,cc.

DO NOT Modify or edit my mods,cc.

DO NOT convert my mod to any game without my permission.

DO NOT claim my work as your own. Please give me credit!

Please respect my early access dates & do not share this mod within early access.

Download

[clarenecessities]

He-man.org will close in 5 days.

He-man.org has been a staple of the Masters of the Universe community since the early days, originating as an email list that worked to document episodes before anything (not footage, not lists, nothing) was available online. It grew into a sprawling, multi-faceted beast of a thing, including an encyclopedia (an in-house wiki), merch lists, a marketplace, forums, anything you could think of.

Several years ago now, the main site went down for updates/maintenance. For a few weeks, we were told, maybe months. The forums remained open for fans to communicate, and barring a period of downtime earlier this year things were going smoothly.

Yesterday, the owner of the site, Val Staples, announced the site would be closed on November 14th, 2023. Six days later. We are currently attempting to contact him, to see if he’s interested in selling, and if he means closed as in “no new posts” or closed as in deleted entirely. Regardless of its eventual fate, the archiving of these forums is essential to preserving the history of the franchise, the fandom, and the brand.

TO SHE-RA (and MotU) FANS SPECIFICALLY: I have personally used these forums to answer questions that could be answered nowhere else. Had I not had access to them, I would never have been able to prove that Purrsia was fake, or found so much unpublished concept art, or discovered that Scott “Toyguru” Neitlich personally wrote Catra’s MOTUC bio (even if he’s put off answering my questions about it for over a year now). Forum members have conducted interviews with the likes of Jon Seisa, Cathy Larson, Janice Varney-Hamlin—essential figures in the very foundations of POP, and those interviews revealed and recorded priceless information for future generations (me! you! us!) to find. Did you know Cathy Larson named Adora? That she originally pushed for “Dorian”, after her own daughter? We cannot let this treasure trove disappear into the ether(ia).

TO THE UNAFFILIATED: Please help. Pretty please. If you’ve ever liked my art or my writing or my haphazard blogging, ever, at all, consider archiving just one board. Just one page. Literally anything helps. I am spiraling into madness & this is my library of Alexandria. The mythical one that was totally unique and persevered nowhere else and was destroyed in a single cataclysmic event. Pretty pretty please help.

HOW TO HELP:

Archive.org has several ways to upload shit but most of them are longer term than “a few days” so we’re focusing on two (which can be run simultaneously): Save Page Now, and browser extensions. From their help page:

1. Save Page Now

Put a URL into the form, press the button, and we save the page. You will instantly have a permanent URL for your page. Please note, this method only saves a single page, not the whole site.

We want to keep outlinks and screenshots wherever possible. The Archive does not keep your IP address, so your submission is anonymous.

2. Browser extensions and add-ons

Install the Wayback Machine Chrome extension in your browser. Go to a page you want to archive, click the icon in your toolbar, and select Save Page Now. We will save the page and give you a permanent URL.

One plus to installing the extension is that as you surf around, when you run into a missing page they will alert you if we have a saved copy.

More extensions, apps, and add-ons:

Firefox add-on

Safari Extension

iOS app

Android app

I strongly encourage you to use these tools even if you aren’t helping with this project/after it ends. Documenting and preserving information is essential in this day and age & The Internet Archive is at the heart of it. Please support them however you can.

I’m serious about paying you, though I may need more communication with folks I don’t know so we can coordinate/verify shit gets done. I think this is a worthwhile pursuit in itself but I recognize your time is valuable & like, people gotta eat. DM me if you’re interested and we’ll talk. I may need to adjust pay depending how many people bite but I’ll do what I can

[httpsserene]

𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝟏 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝟑: 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: your boyfriend has to make an appearance at some sponsor event. he's gone ahead and bought you an alluring outfit, but he failed to mention how seductive he looks in the new fitted suit his team got him. you two won't be staying long, but you increase the pace by riling him up, mostly unintentionally. so it's your fault that he makes you ruin his loaned mclaren. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. squirting. car sex. semi-public sex. ooc (out-of-character) oscar. overstimulation. mild possessive behavior. mild jealousy. vaginal fingering. vaginal sex. condom usage. the audacity of men. lando norris’ savior complex /jk. author’s overuse of italics and run-on sentences. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5k words 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: water • tyla

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: what can i say, y'all. back at it with the unhinged thirst. every time i do one of these, they've been getting shorter and shorter. don't be afraid, for #4 (dr/mv) i'll be back on my game, they deserve it. yes gremlin lando appearance. also, i cannot imagine oscar ever acting this way, that's why i put the ooc tag? it's definitely a fun read tho (i think), along with the smut! thank you, loves, for the support on this event!

want to be added to my general taglist? or my f1 kinktober taglist? send me an ask!

thank you to my betas! @biancathecool for helping with my grammer and @barnestatic for her wonderful spoiled brat idea :))))

cross-posted on my ao3, httpsss

if you want to look at what i'm planning for ktober, or catch up on previous uploads here's my f1 kinktober masterlist and my general masterlist for all of my works!

oscar is known for his unfazed, composed and collected demeanor. he’s aware that some people say he has no personality–but, he’s just an introvert at the end of the day. oscar’s a man of few words: that’s what people who aren’t well acquainted with him would say. if you’ve had the pleasure of sticking around oscar long enough for him to become comfortable with you, you’ll learn that oscar has an incredibly complex personality. he’s overly sarcastic, has a niche sense of humor, and can ramble endlessly at you. but, he’s still a fairly calm and quiet individual. which is why the way oscar is about to scream at the top of his lungs in the middle of this mclaren event, would be considered uncharacteristic of him.

he originally invited you to join him tonight thinking that having you by his side would eliminate the social exhaustion he experiences at these types of sponsor events. however, the aussie failed to realize that you may introduce a…different problem, to tonight’s business party. when oscar asked you to join him two weeks ago, he was prepared for all of your objections–you’re both chronic homebodies, and you both hate partaking in small talk with balding, later-aged, cologne-drenched, white men who don’t know when to let a conversation die. he chose the perfect time to ask you (after you emerged from the bathroom post-self-care bath), and addressed all of your grievances. 

oh, you don’t have anything to wear? he already bought you an outfit, had it altered to perfectly fit your measurements, and bought you a pair of heels and a purse to match. oh, you won’t be able to get your hair done in time? he already scheduled an appointment with your usual hairstylist the day before the event, paid all of her fees, and tipped her very nicely. oh, your nails aren’t done?  he booked you a spot at your preferred nail salon for a premium mani-pedi, and has a few nail inspiration photos picked out if you can’t decide. if you need your lashes done or need to get waxed, he can make the call right now; he has them on standby to fit you in.

knowing the amount of phone calls oscar had to partake in to arrange all of this causes you to fold and agree to join him. there’s nothing more the two of you hate than making phone calls–well, besides the pr events.

oscar had chosen an alluring burnt-orange mesh corset and matching ruched ankle-length skirt that looks beautiful against your warm, soft and shining brown skin. your hair is silk-pressed, length reaching your mid-back and your edges are laid in a minimal manner, matching the simplicity of your makeup look. simple gold rings are spread across a few fingers, ears accessorized with a pair of small good hoops oscar gifted you, and his initials rest in the dip between your clavicles attached to a thin gold chain. objectively, you're considerably modestly dressed, the only skin you're showing is on your arms, shoulders, a smidge of your decolletage, and the tops of your feet in the low-heeled strappy sandals. 

this is the start of what oscar failed to account for. he didn’t expect the outfit to hug your curves like plastic wrap. the whole night he’s had to forcefully deny himself the opportunity to stare at your ass, but that doesn’t mean the other men at the event have the same courtesy. he’s taken to burning holes with his eyes into anybody who lets their gaze linger over your form for a second too long. on a regular day, oscar is generally unaffected by anyone who appreciates your body (they can look, but the second they try to touch–you let them know exactly how they had you fucked up), but if he catches one more mclaren engineer undressing you with their eyes–he will make zac fire all of them; he’ll plan his own race strategy and do his goddamn pitstop by himself.

oscar also didn’t account for how your timid and sweet attitude would have everyone enamored with you; at first, watching everyone eagerly attune to your shy words was amusing to him, but it quickly became a nuisance. he was originally leading you around the room, doing his rounds at any important figures’ tables, and everything was fine. and then, oscar had made the obvious mistake of making you laugh–a pleasant stream of giggles spilling from your lips, dimples deepening, and smile widening at whatever small joke he made. he’s always thrilled to see how you throw your head back in amusement, how your hands clap together gleefully, and how your eyes squint in from the force of your laughter. as he shakes himself out of your dazzling trance, he attempts to rejoin the conversation–but every single person at the table remains entranced and wide-eyed at you. 

this would be completely fine, of course, if it was a one-off occasion; but it’s not. 

suddenly, every person oscar tries to thank for supporting mclaren, starts ignoring him and paying more attention to you. he’s literally the pilot of the car that these people are spending an absurd amount of money on, but they can’t even bother to try and pretend to listen to him. men and women alike are finding any excuse to prolong conversations with you, and even lean within your personal space with the excuse that ‘they can’t hear you very well because you’re so soft spoken.’ nobody can invade your personal space, but oscar. he has no choice but to do the very thing he hates–pda. you continue to circle around the room, his hand constantly resting on the small of your back or the dip of your waist. when you’re in the middle of listening to some completely unnecessary story a man is telling you, oscar constantly adjusts your hair, plays with your rings, and smooths down your skirt if he feels like they’re trying too hard. you banish oscar to getting you a glass of water when he begins to interject in conversations in a passive-aggressive manner.

his third strike off the night, might actually be an overall win in his books. when you saw oscar in his new fitted suit, you stared him dead in the eye and told him to ‘get naked and rail you’. it’s this beautiful deep cream color that pairs perfectly with the dark orange tone of your outfit, but the vest underneath the suit jacket highlights his tiny waist so clearly that it makes you want to scream. in between socializing, you overwhelm oscar with compliments, unable to stop telling him how handsome he looks. you surgically attach yourself to his side and hug his arm; taking an occasional squeeze of his bicep, playing with his cufflinks, and tracing the veins on the back of his hand. oscar practically runs to get you a refill of water because he’d be unable to stop himself from getting fully hard if you touched him any longer–the trousers hide nothing.

he can feel your burning gaze from across the room, and turns back to watch you after asking a waiter for water, and catches your eyes roaming the length of his body. in high-definition, he sees your tongue wetting your lips before you bite at your bottom lip–and then, your attention is stolen away from some random man who’s introducing himself to you and the group of ladies you found yourself accosted by as soon as oscar left your side.

and, that’s it for oscar. he thinks he may have heard his last-fucking-button being pressed inside his head, and seethes. he goes to push off from his leaned stance against the counter and makes to start his warpath, but a hand grasps at his shoulder. oscar turns around snappily, biting out an irritated and sarcastic, “can i help you?”

“woah! calm down now, mate. thought you were going to bite my head off for a second,” it’s lando, “if i were anybody else i’m sure there would be an unfortunate tabloid of ‘how oscar piastri is the most rude f1 driver on the grid’” lando jokes teasingly, yet a hint of seriousness leaks into his tone. 

oscar nods, understanding the underlying warning within the brit’s teasing. he apologizes softly to lando, before glancing back over at you, and can infer that you charmingly informed the man that you have a boyfriend—based on the way you point in his direction. oscar watches the polite smile fade from your face as the man continues to bother you, and the murderous look rises to his face again.

“OKAY”, lando claps abruptly, startling not only oscar, but everyone in a 10 foot radius. lando waves everyone else’s eyes away, smiling like he didn’t do anything, and speaks underneath his breath, “go. i’ll cover for you.”

oscar’s mouth drops open, baffled, “what?”

“leave—get your girlfriend and go,” lando says matter-of-factly, his smile becoming genuine, “zac probably won’t like to hear that you looked particularly murderous, and he definitely won’t like hearing that you slaughtered our sponsors, and that i let it happen.”

oscar snorts before he thanks lando sincerely, and the brit dismisses him, “i’m just looking out for my rookie teammate as the senior driver for our team. i can’t let your horny teenage mindset become common knowledge to our esteemed guests.”

“first of all,” oscar says dryly, his grateful mood dissipating at the mocking, “i didn’t even know you knew the word ‘esteemed' existed,” lando scoffs, “and secondly, you are literally only two years older than me.”

lando looks at oscar with a blank stare and deadpans, “do you want to leave or not?”

oscar daps up his teammate in farewell, and makes his way over to you as quickly as he can without seeming desperate, your glass of water left behind on the counter. your back is facing him as he approaches and you're still unwillingly participating in conversation with the man who can’t take no for an answer. as he gets closer, he can piece together the conversation; the dude doesn’t believe you have a boyfriend and you must be lying to him, and you’re adamant that your boyfriend is very real.

“look, bro. even if i was lying about having a boyfriend, why would i give you my number now? like, i’m just supposed to forget how you’ve been harassing me—“

oscar rests his hand on your side, and when you turn your head to see who’s touching you, he leans down and kisses you. it’s a kiss deep enough to let everyone know who you’re leaving with tonight, but not deep enough to be salacious (he can hear lando’s cackle from the other side of the room).

you melt into his kiss before he pulls away, leaving you dazed and disoriented, stumbling into him. oscar drapes his left arm around your shoulder, guiding you to tuck into his side, while he offers his right hand to the offending man for a handshake. “it seems i haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you yet. i’m oscar, i drive for mclaren,” he introduces himself, sounding overly pleased.

the man angers, ignoring oscar’s extended hand and cockily states, “you should already know who i am. my family nicely lent you the mclaren you drove here tonight!”

“ah,” oscar smiles viciously, “if ‘your family’ kindly lent me the car, that would explain why i only remember your father’s name–and not his arrogant, disrespectful, and narcissistic trust-fund son’s name.”

the man stomps his foot in rage, like a spoiled brat, and questions, “who do you think you’re talking too?!”

oscar smirks, “nobody important, apparently,” (one of the ladies listening whispers a quiet ‘damn, that’s crazy’), oscar continues, “don’t worry, mate–i’ll make sure your father’s car returns home to him safely. should i bill you for any cleaning, in case i make a mess of it?”

the guy stumbles over a response before he scoffs and stomps away. oscar shrugs uncaring, before addressing the group of ladies who were cliqued to the side watching the whole interaction, “well. if you all don’t mind, i’m just going to steal her away from you ladies, if that’s okay?” (like there’s an option). the ladies fawn over oscar’s protectiveness before they let the two of you go, and then he starts herding you towards the exit.

it’s torture. in every five steps the two of you take, you're interrupted by various guests trying to catch you one last time. oscar feels like they’re all intentionally aggravating him; patting you on the arm, commenting on how eye-catching you look, and using the fact that the two of you are leaving to press a kiss to your hand in goodbye. you two burst out of the main doors and sigh in relief, for different reasons–for you, it’s because oscar didn’t give one of his sponsors brain damage, and for oscar, it’s because he’s one step closer to getting you in his bed.

you grasp at oscar’s hand, and he starts to lead you down the steps towards the valet, and as you fall into step at his side, you speak softly under your breath, “i can understand why you kissed me like that inside because the dude was being an asshole–even though you were marking your territory like some kind of dog–but, please; don’t tear this poor man’s throat out for helping me into the car.”

the australian remains quiet, properly chastised and works on releasing the pent up effect of the annoyances from inside the venue. everything is going well; the valet asks oscar for his parking ticket, and he goes to grab the keys, but stops just before he makes to start heading to the car, and turns back to you two and says, “i don’t know if i told you when you walked in but–you look incredibly beautiful tonight, miss. you could be a model, seriously. like, you should feel so lucky to have a woman like her–”

all attempts of oscar finding his peace are thrown out of the window. he interrupts the dude’s rambling, and bites out, “hey man, y’know what. i can just take the keys to the car. we can walk to it.”

the valet stutters, confused, “a-are you sure, i mean it’s like pretty far in the back. i can run and get it no pro–”

“it’s FINE! i mean, it’s cool, we can use the extra steps, y’know. enjoy the breeze and everything,” oscar says, slightly maniacal. there’s no breeze, it’s warm. the valet’s and your eyes meet for a second and a shared thought of “he’s trippin” is passed telepathically.

the valet concedes, not wanting to upset the f1 driver any farther and tosses him the keys. as the two of you are passing by, oscar hands the man a bill that’s probably too big based on the man’s astonished gasp. you call out to the man, continuing to walk further in the lot, “sorry about him! he just gets a little touchy about strangers driving his car, y’know?” oscar grumbles lowly next to you, and you smack him on the arm, “what did you want me to say? ‘oh sorry, my boyfriend just wants to fuck me really badly to soothe his needless jealousy?’”

“as long as he knows who’s the one who gets to take you home and fuck you.”

“oscar!” you squeak, “we both know we’d die of embarrassment if you said that. i can’t even imagine those words coming out of your mouth, in that order.”

you guys eventually puzzle out where the car is after several remote beeps of the car’s horn, and find that it’s literally tucked away in the last row, far corner with no surrounding cars for two rows.

oscar doesn’t open your door like he usually does, and leads you around to the driver's side. he opens the door, pushes the seat back as far as it goes, and sits down. without saying anything, he loosens his tie and goes to unbuckle his belt before you reach down and grab at his hand, bewildered, “oscar jack! what the fuck are you doing?”

he blinks, “i’m fucking you, right now. it’s too long of a drive back—i’m going to crash the car if you keep sitting next to me in that goddamn outfit. i was going to take you to the bathroom inside, but i figured you’d at least prefer the car. you can be a little louder here.”

your mouth dries, “you said they loaned you an incredibly rare, vintage mclaren, babe. i’m not gonna-“

oscar wrestles his way out of his suit jacket, spreads it underneath him on the leather seat, and pats his lap. “problem solved.”

shifting your weight, you glance around nervously. oscar is right, you would prefer the car over the bathroom. all those people inside who could overhear, gossip, and spread the news of how rookie mclaren, f1 driver, oscar piastri, had you yelling his name in the middle of an event. you’d pass.

“oh, c’mon now, babe. you didn’t think i saw the way you were eating me alive with your eyes inside,” your boyfriend teases, “i know you‘ve at least gotten a little wet for me already, haven’t you?”

that’s all it takes; the australian acting possessive and feening to get inside you is more than enough to have you straddling his lap and pulling the car door shut with a slam.

oscar tugs you into dirty make out, and you get lost in his pink lips, tugging teeth, and explorative tongue. the last of your breath tapers out in a reedy moan, and you break the kiss to pant against his lips, and oscar laughs. his laughter spreads through your chest, and it has your hips rolling against the bulge you feel underneath you. his amusement is cut off, and his hands fly to grip at your hips. he starts tugging you against him in a filthy grind, and choked off moans from the two of you start to fill the car.

you press kisses to oscar’s jaw line, paving a path down to his wide strong neck with your tongue. you suck on small patches of skin, not using enough suction to leave a mark, but enough for oscar to become aware of the fantasization that you could. the aussie gasps at every random suckle of your lips as he scrambles to pull the skirt up your legs. you shift your hips up to make it easier for him, as your hands feel down his torso to his belt. it unbuckles fairly easily, and you shove it out of the way, to unzip the slacks and pull his cock out.

oscar moans, throwing his head back at the feel of your hand on his length, and you get entranced in the trap that his pale thick neck is, again. you hum against his neck, introducing teeth alongside the ache of the suction of your mouth, and bully the collar of his shirt out of the way to find a space to leave a few marks. oscar’s breath freezes at the first hickey he feels you leave, but the rapid inhale he takes next clears his mind enough to have his right hand pull your panties to the side, and move to caress your heat.

you shudder on top of him, your breathy sigh amplified within the car. oscar sinks two fingers inside of you, and a much louder moan is tugged out. your hands fly up to grasp onto his shoulder, and your head tilts backward away from his neck in pleasure. his fingers thrust into you gently for a few beats slowly working to open you up for him and once he feels your cunt starting to relax, his thumb reaches to press at your clit. whines fill the air, as you lean all the way back, resting your back on the steering wheel allowing oscar all the space he needs to stretch you out. his fingers start curling as they drag out of you, and you can feel the pads of his fingers rubbing over a soft spot on the front of your walls. 

oscar’s eyes were stuck marveling over the overwhelmed expression on your face, but once he starts feeling wetness dripping down his arm he glances down, and curses out a rough, “fuck, baby—you’re dripping all over me.” your cheeks burn hot, and you can’t tell if that’s out of humiliation or the effect of his awe-filled voice. your right hand releases his shoulder, and bats at his arm, before tugging at his wrist to pull his fingers out, “that’s enough, mmm, just get in me already.”

oscar eagerly draws away; he uses his clean hand to tug his wallet out of his back pocket, and tugs a condom out with a smidge of struggle before handing it to you. you snatch it out of his hand, biting it open and rolling it over his cock, and once it’s on, you tease, “jeez, osc. you really were planning on jumping me in the middle of the event tonight—grabbing a condom and everything; you think i’m that easy?”

he chuckles, satisfied, his hand drenched in your wetness rubbing over his cock to get him slick, and teases back, “you’re about to ride my cock in the parking lot of said event, pretending to be worried about ruining the seats of this vintage car. i’m not calling you easy, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared, does it?”

your cheeks are definitely burning from humiliation this time around, but you huff, ignoring him checking you. you tug his hand away, raising your hips, and guide him to your entrance with your own hand, before slowly sinking down. 

twin sets of moans fill the air as he bottoms out; one of his hands reaches to palm at your ass (it’s sticky, so it must be the one he fingered you with), and the other grips at your waist tightly. you squirm on top of him, knees barely managing to find enough room to prop on the seat to give you a stable base. once you feel stable in your cramped position, you give a testing grind of your hips, and from there, it’s lights out.

oscar lets you set the pace for a few thrusts, suffering in the languid rock of your hips; you’re torturously tight around him, and he can only groan at the feeling of you wrapped around him. his chest heaves, before he brings both hands to halt your hips, and starts fucking up into you rough and quick. a scream jostles out of your throat at the unexpected change of speed, but you just take it with no complaints, allowing yourself to go limp against the wheel of the car to hold your body upright. he moves your body for you, pulling you downwards to meet his upward thrusts; and you feel him constantly applying pressure against that one tender spot right under your navel.

your boyfriend revels in the sound of the moans he’s punching out of your throat, admiring the way your head is thrown back—mouth open wide, eyes scrunched tight, lips bruised and bitten to hell. it’s a lewd picture, painted by himself. the car rocks along to his frantic rhythm, windows fogging, and sweat begins to form on both of your skin. the aussie’s core tightens; he won’t last much longer, you’ve had him half-hard the whole night.

a frustrated grunt escapes oscar, and you hum questionably about to ask what’s wrong–but his right hand leaves your waist to furiously start circling your clit, and an ear piercing shriek leaves you. “c’mon now, babe. ah-be good and come f’me yeah? im so close, baby–please,” he babbles, the last shred of sanity leaving him. his hips don’t falter once–to you it feels like they’re moving quicker, every sensitive spot receiving attention from the sharp snaps of them.

you cry out, it’s all too much; your hand reaches down to press against his navel in a feeble attempt to stop him from stroking so deep and roughly, and incoherent pleads try and tumble out of your mouth, “mm! osc–no! ah–too much, baby! it’s too much–hngh–feels weird–s-slow down!” it’s like his ears are filled with cotton; he can hear you begging down at him but can’t make out what your saying over the blood rushing in his ears. he’s trapped staring at your pretty cunt, watching the obscene amount of wetness coming out of you–the suit jacket underneath him is completely ruined, and he off-handedly thinks it won’t be saving the leather upholstery.

your legs start quivering and trembling–it damn near looks like you're freezing to death, even though the car has become as humid as a sauna. your own orgasm shocks you, and your eyes roll back erotically–unable to give oscar any warning. and in your last moment of awareness, you realize that something feels different, but it’s too late.

you choke on your scream of, “oscar, fuck!” as fluid gushes out of your cunt, and the first wave is enough to completely drench oscar’s pants, and oscar finally returns to the moment in amazement. he eagerly brushes his hand against your clit, and shortens his strokes to quick little jabs to force more of your juices out, and you can only ride along. you try to slam your legs shut, to jostle oscar’s hand away, but it’s futile with his torso propping you open for him. you’re sobbing messily, as he forces more liquid to spray from your cunt–and he moans out his own orgasm, ripped from him in surprise. the australian halts his stimulation this time around when you frantically tug his wrist away when the pleasure melds to pain, and allows himself to get a few more jerks of his hips in.

you fall forward, collapsing into his chest–the squelch of your thighs meeting his pant-covered ones has him humming and grinding his hips into you as gently as he can. the two of you shake against each other, hearts rabbiting as you catch your breath. oscar’s hands rise to rub at your back, bringing you down from the aftershocks still trembling over your body. 

“i-i’ve never squirted before,” you whisper into his neck.

your boyfriend hums softly, “did you like it?”

he feels you nod against him shyly.

“then, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he comforts, knowing if he seems approving of it, you’ll be quicker to accept it as something good, “how i’m going to explain the ruined suit and car seat to mclaren on the other hand…”

a shaky laugh from you causes oscar to smile, “i told you you shouldn’t fuck me in the car.”

“how was i supposed to know that tonight would be the night i’d made you gush all over me?! i was hoping that when the time came we’d at least be on a couch,” he whines.

“shut the fuck up,” you joke, “i want a live play by play when you explain the cleaning bill to zac.”

the aussie pauses, faking thoughtfulness, “maybe i should send the bill to the trust-fund baby. zac would back me up–he’s american, he’d probably find it hilarious.”

oscar gently shifts you over to the passenger seat, and you tug your skirt all the way down, and he fights his way out of his slacks that stuck to his thighs with your wetness. he manages to wrangle them off and kicks them to the side of the car floor along with the soiled suit jacket, after fishing the keys out of them, sitting out in his boxers, and glances over to see you adjusting your appearance as best as you possibly can.

“you want a mcflurry?” the aussie offers.

“as long as we can get a fry with it,” you smile at the random shift in conversation, allowing him to hide his embarrassment.

oscar turns the keys in the ignition, and the engine rolls into life with a deep, vibrating hum. he catches your legs pressing together tightly, and you squirm at the purr of the engine under your seat.

“well,” oscar starts nonchalantly as he reverses out of the spot, “you have the time that it takes to get from the drive-through to the flat to finish eating–because as soon as we get home, i’m taking you to bed and learning how to make you squirt, consistently. i don’t care how long it takes, or how many orgasms you have–i’ll keep going ‘til you come dry, babe.”

taglist: @lorarri @soph1644 @jaydensluv @fanboyluvr @nissaimmortal @redgonerogue @hollie911 @saintwrld @buendiabebeta @butterfly-lover @lana-d3l-rey @dylan1721 @spicybagel14 @dhhdhsiavdhajj @miahgonzalez16 @jjaekin @dkbj14 @f1lover55 @f1lov3r @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @sweetpiccolo-blog @my-ylenia @zaynzierulez @reblog-princess

© httpsserene 2023

[reiderwriter]

♣️ To Warm a Lonely Night ♣️

Chapter 6 of That's What You Get

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Reader

Prev. Chapter || Next Chapter

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: With a few days of leave ahead of you, you wake up in Spencer's apartment with absolutely no plans to leave. All in the pursuit of regaining your memory, of course.

Warnings: none, but there is one sexually explicit-ish sentence at the end (which may or may not be a spoiler for the next chapter, who knows 👀).

A/N: Ahh! I can't believe we're halfway through! This one is mainly fluff, and I hope you love it because it's building to something more next Chapter tee hee. It's a bit later of an upload today because I've been so busy at work, so please forgive me lol 🙏 And please, please, PLEASE let me know in the comments/reblogs/through an ask what you think about it! It'd would make my week 🩷

True to his word, Spencer provided you with a toothbrush, toothpaste, wet tissues to remove your make-up with, a generous amount of pajama options, and a warm bed. You had shyly accepted everything and readied yourself for bed in a matter of minutes, half of you cursing your stupidity at landing in this situation and the other half of you jumping for joy at being back in the same bed as him.

He was right about there being a possibility that the two of you jumping into bed together - again - could jog some memories for you. The only solid memory you had of your marriage was, after all, waking up the day after. So you’d thrown on the plaid pajama bottoms and oversized sweatshirt that surely must’ve been big on him too, and slunked back into his bedroom.

He was already there of course, folding down the covers to his bed and climbing in, trying to make it seem more comfortable and appealing by removing the stacks of books that were strewn across it.

“Sorry, don’t get much use out of that side of the bed,” he said, noticing your eyes on him at that moment.

“You don’t? After everything you said, I assumed that you had… frequent visitors.” You looked up at his face to gauge his reaction, delighted by the flush of color that greeted you there.

He cleared his throat and turned away, shelving another set of books. “It’s not… I’m not that great at picking up women if you hadn’t already guessed that, Y/N.”

“I don’t know, you managed to get me to marry you in the span of less than three hours, Spencer, so I’d say you’re plenty good at it.”

“That was the alcohol, though.”

“It wasn’t.” You let the thought hang in the air between you, having mumbled it so quietly you weren’t sure if he even heard you. You cleared your throat and tried again.

“I mean, can you imagine if some random guy had tried to pick me up and marry me this weekend? Hotch would’ve had to arrest me. Or worse.” You laughed a little to ease the tension of your sudden almost-confession. What the hell were you thinking, blurting out something like that?

“Thank god you got me, then, right?” Spencer smiled back at you, sitting up on the edge of the bed facing you.

“Yeah. Thank god.” You moved towards him then, awkwardly asking which side you should sleep on, and he quickly moved over for you, letting you climb up into the bed as he returned to the door to shut it and turn the lights off.

You listened to his footsteps as he returned to the bed, pulling the covers up and over himself, trying not to confuse his movements with your heavy heartbeat. He didn’t reach out to you, and so you didn’t reach out to him, the two of you awkwardly facing each other in bed, not touching in even the smallest of places.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Spencer.”

–X–

You hoped that you would wake up tangled up in him, that his arms would be wrapped around you, his legs buried deep between your own. You hoped that his breath would be warm on your neck, that he would take the plunge and give you a good morning kiss, and that he would pull you closer into him, suggesting that the two of you not move for another hour at least.

Instead, you woke alone, the bedsheets still warm as you heard the sounds of running water soundtrack your morning. Spencer was gone, and he hadn’t bothered to wake you.

Of course, this was his apartment, and you knew exactly where it was since your brain had finally kicked into gear two minutes into consciousness, but the overwhelming disappointment had you almost frustrated to tears.

So much for trying to jog the memories of your wedding.

You cautiously climbed out of bed after hearing the shower switch off, following the dying trail of steam to the bathroom just as he emerged from within.

“Y/N. You’re awake, good morning.” He greeted you, almost too naturally for a man wrapped in nothing but a white towel. You stared at him a minute too long, your gaze raking down his body, doing everything it could to deny your brain's pleas to pleases look back at his fucking face, for god’s sake.

“Sorry, forgot to bring clothes, not used to this sharing a space thing,” he said awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot a little, before giving you one of those tight-lipped smiles you loved seeing.

“Shit, um, sorry, I’ll just head back to the bedroom.” You start walking in that direction, then automatically change my mind. “No, you need to get clothes, I’ll stand here.” You nodded at that last decision, sticking by it and boring a hole into the floor with your rapid attention to it,

He smiled at you again, ruffling your hair as he passed you on his way back to his own room, leaving you alone with your already sinful thoughts, to gently rest yourself against the wall and convince yourself that you could persist through this temptation.

He emerged a few minutes later, and, with some grace and fucking decorum finally, you looked up at his eyes and started talking cohesively.

“Spencer, why didn’t you wake me? We were supposed to see if this could jog a memory for either of us right, that’s the whole reason I stayed over.”

“Sorry, it must’ve slipped my mind.”

“Spencer, you have an eidetic memory,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms as you waited for his real answer, blocking the doorway to the rest of his apartment with a stern look.

“Okay, I give up. You just looked too… Too happy. Resting there tucked into my arm. I didn’t want to wake you up, because I’ve seen how you get on cases after you’ve had only a couple hours of sleep and I don’t want to be on the other end of that.”

You laughed at him then, not knowing whether his words were truthful or not, and trying your best not to profile him.

“Would you mind if…Spencer, would you mind if I stayed a little longer?” You grabbed his hand and held it as you said the words, trying not to use the way his body stiffened to inform any decisions you were about to make.

“What for?” He asked, genuinely curious.

“We only have seven days, right? And, let’s be honest, most of them are going to be spent on some case or the other. I was hoping we could spend these precious few moments free from work trying to get our memories back.” You smiled up at him hopeful, squeezing his hand just a little.

“I, um… Sure. I have some tickets to a thing this weekend, though, but I can cancel.” Your heart jumped into your stomach and your face dropped as you did your best to backpedal.

“No, wait, Spencer, if you have plans, that’s okay, I can go home.”

“It was just this stupid book fair thing. It’s okay, I didn’t even have anyone to go with.” You almost laughed at his obliviousness.

“Spencer, it’s not stupid, and now you have someone to go with.”

“I do?”

“Yes. Your wife, now where is it?”

–X–

The book fair had turned out to be an accidentally amazing first date. Which was, you’d realized after driving home to change clothes and freshen up, exactly what it was going to be. A date. Another - accidental - date.

He’d picked you up a half hour later, and together you’d driven the 45 minutes to the fair. It was more of a book jumble sale, a collection of vendors, antique dealers, indie bookshops, and exhibitions coming together to celebrate vintage, used, and second-hand books. Spencer was excited, of course, but you felt like a kid in a candy store, ooh-ing and aah-ing at every special edition, basking in the smell of old books, and desperately seeking out the most obscure titles you could find.

You’d made a game out of it with Spencer, sharing a laugh over titles including “Ducks and How To Make Them Pay,” by W. Cook and “An Essay on the Art of Ingeniously Tormenting; with Proper Rules for the Exercise of that Pleasant Art,” by Jane Collier. Walking through the aisles of stalls, you let your hand slip into Spencer’s, not letting yourself think too hard about it.

You’d probably held his hand at some point on your wedding night, you thought to yourself, so maybe it would help. Your justifications were unwarranted, though, as you knew you weren’t letting him go until you absolutely had to.

“Spencer, look at that!” You gasped excitedly, pulling him over to a stall decorated in an array of plushies, some old and worn, some newer, showcasing children’s books from the last century. He trailed after you with a stumble, your excitement having pulled him a little too quickly, his long limbs not able to move as gracefully as you’d somehow managed to.

“Oh my god, isn’t this adorable?” You asked him, squeezing his hand a little bit as you perused the titles. Titles you remembered from your own childhood were there: Judy Bloom, the Babysitters Club, and some Enid Blyton. You talked his ear off about each childhood memory you had with each of the books when you’d read them, asking if he’d read them, too.

“I’m sorry, I’m just so excited about books for some reason,” you apologized to the kind-looking old man running the store, shyly flushing at the run-on conversation you’d been having in front of him.

“It’s fine, my dear, isn’t that why we’re all here? To be excited about books?” He smiled as he looked at you over his glasses, and you pulled Spencer further down the table, noticing that as you went further to the left, the books seemed to get older. You spotted it then, wedged tightly between two piles of other children’s classics, but you pulled it out swiftly, still not dropping Spencer’s hand.

“Spencer look! Anne of Green Gables! I loved this book as a kid, it’s been like 20 years since I last read it.” You beamed up at him, and he smiled down at you as well.

“I’ve read it, too, though only a few years back, I’ll admit. I went through a phase of reading a lot of children’s books after Henry was born to see which would be the best gifts to get him.”

“And did you?”

“Oh, yeah. Got him a whole box set, but I’m not sure if he’s read any of them yet.”

“Perfect, then this one’s for me.” You said quickly, before turning back to the vendor and asking him how much for the book. He gave you the price, a reasonable one for a vintage book. Before you could pull out your money to pay, though, Spencer had dropped your hand and pulled out his own wallet, handing over the money before you could even insist he didn’t have to.

“Spencer! You didn’t have to do that!”

“I know. I wanted to.” The look he gave you had your stomach doing somersaults, as you felt the blood race to your face.

“That’s one very sweet boyfriend you’ve got yourself there, my dear,” the old man said, handing the book back over, having wrapped it, and placed it in a paper bag. Before you could stutter out an explanation, Spencer was sending you further into a tailspin with his own reply.

“I’m her husband, actually. We’re newlyweds.”

“Ah, my apologies, I didn’t see a ring, so I just assumed.” You looked down at your left hand then, before Spencer wrapped it in his again. You’d taken the ring off after you’d woken up that first day, and not wanting any questions about it, you’d placed it in your bag and then in your jewelry box when you finally returned home. You had shown it to Penelope though, in a romcom-drunk fit of giggles.

With another thank you, you quickly left the stall behind, this time Spencer being the one to take action and pull you excitedly onward.

“What did you do with that ring?” He asked, genuinely curious. “And where did we even get it?”

“It’s in a jewelry box at my house, I didn’t… I didn’t want anyone asking questions, you know.” You felt a small tension between you then, as you suddenly acknowledged the circumstances of your relationship. You were doing the adult version of “playing house,” and neither of you was sure when the game was going to come to an end.

“And no memories, remember? We probably picked it up on the side of the road somewhere, or maybe it’s a souvenir from the chapel?”

“No, I only caught a glimpse of it, and it didn’t look like costume jewelry or something we could get for cheap.” You looked at him puzzled before an idea came to you.

“What if I send a picture of it to Penelope? See if she can come up with anything for us. I’ll tell her one of my college roommates is getting engaged and she’s bragging about the ring, so I wanted to know what it’s worth?” It was a white lie, of course. You still weren’t sure about telling Spencer about Penelope being your witness, not sure how it would go over with him.

“You think that’ll work?”

“Oh yeah, Penelope’s big on girl drama. I think she actually coined the phrase ‘I support women’s rights and I support women’s wrongs.’”

“No, Y/N, about the ring, do you think she’d be able to find it?”

“Spencer, you’ve worked with Penelope Garcia for over a decade, and you’re still doubting her?”

–X–

True to form, Penelope found the ring for you in under 24 minutes, along with a list of stores in the immediate Las Vegas area where it could be purchased, and a follow-up mention that the transaction was nowhere in either of your credit card histories, so you must’ve paid cash.

Which only begged further questions, because where the HELL had you gotten 30k in cash?

“Spencer, holy shit.” You shouted out as he pulled up to his apartment, the two of you finally calling it quits at the book fair after you noticed the sun was beginning to set.

“What? Did you not want to come back here with me, I can drive you home if you want?”

“No, Spencer it’s not that, it’s the ring. It retails for $30,000, Penelope found it. Where the hell did we get that much cash?”

“Cash?”

“For a transaction that large, we must’ve paid cash, right? I haven’t had any cold calls from my credit card company asking me to watch my back, and I certainly don’t have that amount in my regular bank accounts.”

“Oh, right. Well, we were in Vegas.” He shrugged and exited the car, but something about the words rang in your head a little as you followed him in, and you gasped realizing what it was.

“That’s it, Spencer! We went to a casino, we must have! You did your card trick magic and whatever and then boom! Wedding ring!” You smiled at the discovery as he pushed open the door to the apartment building for you, letting you bask in your discovery.

“It’s not magic, really, it’s just math.” You gave his arm a light punch at the stupid words and followed him back up to his apartment.

“Well, then, I want to do a lot more math with you, Doctor Reid.” You wiggled your eyebrows a little, and he burst into laughter in front of you, having finally reached the door to his unit.

Pushing the door open, he left the doorway empty for you to make your decision. Were you really going to follow him back into his apartment again? After making yourself a temporary guest the night before, and forcing the man to spend the entire day with you, you didn’t want to push your luck, but oh god how you wanted him to invite you to stay and never leave. Is this why people got married?

“After you, Mrs. Reid.” His words made the decision for you, and you stepped over the threshold swiftly, letting his hand on the small of your back guide you.

“Since we had takeout last night, I was maybe thinking I could cook today? That is, unless you wanted to go home?” He muttered the words a little shyly, and you found yourself squirming at his cuteness, pushing down the overwhelming urge to kiss him.

“Yeah, I could eat.” Was all you managed before he pulled you into his kitchen and started preparing the pasta dish Rossi had taught you all to make only weeks prior.

–X–

You finished off the pasta quickly and just sat together talking for a while before he returned to the kitchen again for a second and bought out a bottle of wine and two mismatched wine glasses.

“A lecturer got me this when I guest lectured in their class last year, but I don’t drink that much. Do you want to share it with me?” You nodded and grabbed the glasses from his hands, letting him prepare the drinks for you.

“This is kind of like the bar, right? All the books, and now the drinking. It could probably lead to some memories, right?”

“Yeah, it probably could.” He held his drink out and you chimed your glass against his, finally taking a sip as he returned to his seat next to you. At some point, you had migrated from the dining table to the sofa, back in the same seats you’d occupied the night before.

“Let’s play a game,” you said, taking another sip for confidence as he turned to look at you with a questioning stare.

“I have a pack of cards and a chess board, but I’ll warn you I’m not the most fun to play with-”

“Not that type of game, Spencer. I mean like… twenty questions or something?”

“Oh, right, Um, how exactly do you play twenty questions?”

“Is that your first question?”

“Is that yours?”

“See you’re already great at it.” He rolled his eyes at you and shifted himself closer to you on the couch, letting his hand rest gently behind your head. A breeze blew through the room, and you shivered slightly, huddling closer to him, too.

“Okay, so question 1. What’s your favorite book?”

“War and Peace. Or at least it’s the book I reread the most often. What about you?"

“Probably something by Austen. There’s just something about an Austen hero that has me melting.” You let your hand trail up his leg, and you saw him drop his gaze to follow it’s path. “Your turn, Spence.”

“Oh, right… So, what… what is your dream date?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a trip to a cute cafe or… I don’t know, a book fair?” He laughed at that, and you asked your next question.

“Did you think you’d ever get married like this?” You took a deep breath after asking it, not sure if you wanted to hear the answer to that.

“No. I didn’t… I guess I didn’t ever think I would get married. I’ve been alone this long, you know, it seemed that I’d be alone forever, you know.” The words cracked your heart, and you let your hand fall from his thigh to his hand instead. “I’m sure you didn’t so I won’t waste my question on that.”

You laughed a little before answering, “Yeah, I… I didn’t expect it to happen that way. I was picturing more church, white picket fence, 2.5 kids, and growing so old together that we die like that old couple in The Notebook.”

“You want kids?” He asked, almost a little too quickly to be casual about it.

“Yeah, I guess I do. What about you?” Your heartbeat burst into your ears as you let the question sit between you, Spencer considering the question for a while before speaking again.

“I didn’t think about it before… with everything going on with my mom, I guess I was a little afraid about passing on my problems to a small child, but…” He let his head hang for a second, before grabbing his drink again and taking another sip.

“But now what?”

“I don’t know I just… I think it would be really nice. I love spending time with Henry, and Jack, but it’s different when it’s your own, right? Someone to make the world better for.”

“That’s a really beautiful way to put it, Spencer.” You smiled at him, and he matched your gaze, returning your smile. Your game was left abandoned between you then, the questions fizzling out as you just sat, halfway to being in his arms, and looked at him.

“It’s getting late again. And you drank, too, you should probably stay here again tonight.”

“I probably should.”

“And we should probably go to bed now, you never know when we’re going to get called in on an emergency case again.”

“You’re probably right.”

You talked your way around in circles there on his couch, but when you finally crawled into bed together, neither of you feigned the distance of the night before, instantly reaching out to hold each other as your breaths synchronised into shallow breaths.

–X–

Frustratingly though, he was gone again when you woke. You stretched yourself out on his bed, just to be sure, but he was gone. You found him this time in the kitchen, though, making you breakfast.

“Good morning, Spencer.” You walked up to him, grabbing him from behind and letting your head rest on his back, no longer shy with your physical affection. Well, still a little shy. You hadn’t kissed him again yet, and you had no plans to, waiting to see if he’d go that extra step all by himself.

“Good morning. I wasn’t sure what you liked to eat, and honestly, that pasta dish from yesterday is the only thing I really know how to do, so I hope you like pancakes?”

“I’m in love with pancakes, Spencer.”

“That’s a weird way to put it, but great.” You cursed yourself and pulled away from him, grabbing some plates from his cupboards for the two of you. You settled down to eat together, and before you knew it, the morning was drawing to a close.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” He asked you, leaning on the doorway to the bathroom as you brushed your teeth.

“Plans? You want… you want to spend today together as well?” The question had taken you off-guard. You really thought you’d overstayed your welcome, but here he was, asking what was next.

“Yeah, if that’s… if that’s okay with you. You still don’t remember much, right?”

“Right. But, uh, I was kind of planning on running errands today. Laundry, grocery shopping, picking up prescriptions. It’s not going to be like yesterday.”

“Well, then I guess we’re running errands. You need to drop by your house to pick up clothes?” You nodded your reply, finally washing the toothpaste from the side of your mouth.

“Perfect. You can get ready and we’ll go from there.”

–X–

A couple of hours later and a drive to the nearest supermarket, you were surprised at how true to his words Spencer was. He’d followed you to the dry cleaners, and helpfully advised you on which items were best hand-washed vs. laundered by taking a look at their material percentages. You’d accompanied him to his opticians, where he picked up the refill for his contact lenses - while wearing the eyeglasses that you secretly found very, very hot. And now here you were, the picture of domestic bliss in the aisles of a supermarket, arguing over which milk you should buy.

“What if we get called on a case? You don’t want bad dairy in your fridge for a week, trust me.”

“Spencer, I’m telling you, I’ll use it. I drink like a liter of tea a day, and I like mine pretty light.”

“Okay, but it’s your contaminated fridge, not mine.” You scoffed and laughed at him again as he pushed the shopping cart from behind you, trapping you between his body and the handle.

“Spencer, what are you doing?” You rolled your eyes at his childish antics, turning around to face him as he leaned closer.

“What? I like pushing the cart.”

“You like pushing my buttons. Come on, I thought you were supposed to be helping me with the errands today?”

“I tried to help. In fact, I offered some very sound advice on which milk to buy, but I was heartlessly ignored, and now I’m pushing the cart.”

“Okay then, Mr. Tragic Hero. Fruit aisle next, please. I’m going to buy enough perishable goods to really piss you off.”

The stares you got in the supermarket were worth it for that small moment of happiness with Spencer, gently tickling your sides as you practically ran through the supermarket with him, not caring that your groceries haul was about to look like an ingredients challenge on Hell’s Kitchen. Or maybe Gordon Ramsey’s Kitchen Nightmares instead.

He was there next to you, and he was smiling. That’s all you really wanted for that moment.

–X–

After a day of errands, pulling up to your house left an almost empty feeling in your stomach. The groceries had been your last stop, but it had taken you almost two hours to complete them just because of the sheer chaos you’d caused between the two of you, your multiple faux-stand-offs over food choices. You’d since argued over instant coffee brands, apples vs. oranges, the longevity of a pack of Doritos, and more. It was probably the most romantic second date you’d ever been on.

He turned off the engine of the car and immediately began grabbing things from the trunk, grabbing paper bags to deposit within your house. He managed to get all of them in his arms before you even unclipped your seatbelt.

“Spencer, let me help, you can’t carry all of that on your own.”

“I can. Just unlock the door, it’s fine.”

“Okay, but if you break something, you’re driving back to the store alone to replace it.” That was all you said as you led him into the tiny apartment you called home.

“You can put the bags on the counter, I’ll unpack everything later.” He followed your directions quickly, then stepped back into the passage, readying himself by the door to leave.

“Thanks for staying with me again today, Spencer. I really enjoyed having company.”

“Me too. Even if…Y/N, even after all of this is finished, do you think we could… do this more often?” He asked, grabbing your hand and pulling you a bit closer to him in the doorway. You let yourself fall into his arms, not caring which of your neighbors was suddenly out and about to witness this.

“I think I’d like that.” Your lips were inches from each other now, and you stilled yourself completely, not wanting any sudden movements to get between you and the kiss you had been begging for silently since Saturday night. He tilted your head up and leaned down, closing the gap as his arms tightened around you.

His lips were sweet, warm with a hint of the sweetness from the morning's pancakes still, and you wanted more of him. But as his lips slid over yours again, his tongue seeking entrance to your mouth, your stomach dropped with an intense feeling of deja vu.

All of a sudden you felt his hands on your body, his lips trailing down your neck, his cock buried deep inside of you, and his voice low and husky in your ear.

With the force of your entire will, you pushed him away with the whole weight of your body and slammed the door shut in his face.

You had successfully restored part of your memory.

--X--

🏷 Pt. 1 @w-windyy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @academiareid @sailortongue @daddy-dotcom @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @jamiemuscatosslut @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @ghostheartbeat @casss2111 @rebloggiest-reblogger @wishyoudaskme @imawhoreforu @academiacoffeelover @softservepunk @andiebeaword @r-3dlips @wakaladjarin @ratbastardchild @mcira @danika1994 @stargurl99 @whovianwholikesgirls @its-not-too-late-for-coffee @doriantomybasil @shqwqrma

[raplinesmoon]

원샷! (One-Shot!) - MYG X F!Reader

Part 1.5: Half The Man

series masterlist

pairing: Doctor!Yoongi x Doctor!Reader genre(s): crack, fluff, angst (i'm sorry) au(s): medical AU, idiots-to-lovers (not quite yet) word count: 1.7k chapter warnings: cynical Yoongi, Jeonghan cameo!, hospital talk, artificial insemination and pregnancy, sperm for insemnation switched without readers’ knowledge/consent, Yoongi has no filter, mentions of previously regretful acts done while drunk, arguments, lots of unresolved feelings, did I mention they’re idiots (affectionate), rating: 18+

summary: As your pregnancy progresses, Yoongi continues to wrestle with his long-standing feelings, culminating in an argument that has you making an unexpected move.

a/n: Hi, thank you so much to everyone that has shown love to this series. I'm so sorry that it took me so long to upload the second part, I struggled a lot to continue writing this partly because of my own insecurity, partly because of other things (which I don't want to get into). But Doc!Yoongi is so fun to write! I hope you enjoy!

disclaimer: I do not own, or have any affiliation with BTS. Any similarity between the version of the idol(s) mentioned and portrayed here and their real life counterparts is purely coincidental, and does not represent the thoughts and opinions of said idol(s). Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. This specific fic is based on the 2010 movie The Switch, which contains sensitive themes relating to accidental artificial insemnation, consent, and pregnancy. Please do your research before engaging with this fic, as these themes may not be for everyone.

The small splotch on Yoongi’s white coat, the byproduct of an accidental run-in with a very flustered Jeon Jungkook holding a very hot cup of coffee, had now turned into an unsightly bloom. Yoongi rubbed at the stain, cursing under his breath that he’d skipped laundry day this week.

To make matters worse, he’d gotten an impromptu page right in the middle of his lunch break. The three tiny beeps went off, and Yoongi’s face turned stark white.

“Oh no,” you gave him the most sympathetic look you could muster, your eyes turning misty. The pregnancy had thrown your hormones completely out of balance, the smallest inconvenience turning into enough to make you cry. “Jeonghan?”

“Jeonghan,” Yoongi sighs. 

…

The frigid air in Jeonghan’s office was nearly enough to rival the stare he currently possesses. Yoongi has to resist the urge to scoff. Yoon Jeonghan was the head of his department, full of pride with a face to match his inflated ego. A handful of years younger than Yoongi, he’d only gotten the position after Yoongi had turned it down multiple times, grumbling about how he was too busy taking care of real patients to deal with all the paperwork that department heads had to put up with. 

“I’m going to be very frank with you Dr. Min,” Jeonghan leans over his desk, a few stray papers falling to the floor. “You’re falling apart.” 

Yoongi bristles, shuffling his feet. He’d felt off ever since the night of your party, and even worse a few weeks later when you told him you were pregnant, all the memories coming back to him. He’d pushed it out of his mind, but clearly Jeonghan had noticed which meant it was affecting his work.

“Namjoon says you’re ordering X-rays and labs for your patients, but not coming up with any diagnoses.”

He straightens, heat coming to his face. “Dr. Yoon, I can explain—“

“No need, Dr. Min. The whole hospital knows you’re in love with ___. You don’t do a great job of hiding it.”

If there was ever a time Yoongi wished a sinkhole would open up and swallow the hospital whole, it was now (not that he’d thought about it before). Almost as if he can sense Yoongi’s sheer embarrassment, Jeonghan is by his side in no time, pulling up a chair to catch Yoongi’s unsteadily swaying figure.

“I’m too fucking sober for this conversation,” Yoongi groans, plopping into the comfortable cushion, Jeonghan looking on with an amused smile.

“That’s probably why Seungcheol also said he saw you throwing up in the hallway like a sorority girl the night of ___’s party.”

Yoongi cursed his stupid neighbour, who also happened to be one of the hospital’s charge nurses, for ratting him out. But then again, a free therapy session with his director was hard to come by, so maybe Yoongi would need to stop and buy Cheol a coffee sometime.

“He has a PhD from Harvard… HARVARD,” Yoongi whines, thinking back to the stupidly attractive man he’d met who was going to be your sperm donor.

“You’re just mad because ___ put you in the friendzone,” Jeonghan sighs.

“We put each other in the friendzone,” Yoongi interrupts, but Jeonghan waves him away.

“No, you had your chance six years ago when both of you started working here, and you blew it.”

“How did I blow it?” Yoongi questions, even though he knows exactly how – and what you’d say if he ever had the guts to ask.

“You went all Yoongi on her — it kills the vibes. You showed too much crazy too soon,” Jeonghan is moving around him now, picking up the stray papers, and Yoongi’s patience becomes thinner than the 11 blade he uses for procedures.

“Oh I’m sorry, did your extortionate divorce settlement teach you that?” He quips back, purposefully sliding his chair onto some of the sheets so Jeonghan can’t reach them.

“Yoongi, you sent me a picture of your armpit three weeks ago while I was in the middle of a surgery.”

“I thought I had a growth! You’re a doctor, you should want to help me!”

“Newsflash, Min, we’re all doctors in here.” And Yoongi knows Jeonghan’s right – he was eccentric, too much at times. But somehow, you never seemed to mind, from always having his back through his daily rants, to showing up at his apartment with a tub of ice cream after his call shifts so you two could make affogatos (Yoongi was nothing if not a caffeine addict).

He hears the door click shut behind him, and Jeonghan’s gone, leaving Yoongi alone with his thoughts, thoughts he’s had many times before. But somehow, it all feels different this time around. You’re pregnant with a child - his child, and you’re not supposed to be. It’s everything he’s ever wanted, and yet, he can’t have it because it would mean confessing that he’d messed up. And like Jeonghan, Yoongi much preferred to shut the door on things rather than let anyone in.

The moan you let out is borderline indecent, and probably not something you should be doing in the middle of your best friend’s apartment. But you were four months pregnant, and the tangy spice of the kkaenip-kimchi Yoongi had prepared for you at 1am was the best thing you’d ever put in your mouth.

“My eomma would have a heart attack if she saw you eating unfermented kimchi at 1am, she says—” 

“The fermentation is good for the baby, I know, I know,” you finish Yoongi’s sentence with a pout. “But I wanted kimchi now.”

“You’re lucky I’m Korean. What if you didn’t have a best friend like me and your random kimchi cravings hit?” Yoongi chuckles, his gums peeking out from one of his rare smiles. The dim lights from the city skyline reflect onto the window behind Yoongi, casting a faint glow over him, and you feel your heart flip-flop, unsure if it’s from nausea or something else.

“I would have gone to H-Mart or something, or called up Seokjin,” you mumble under your breath, but Yoongi, the ever preceptive one between the two of you, catches your hushed response.

“You’re still in touch with him?” His face is pale, a far-away look in his eyes, and you feel your stomach drop, a lead weight settling on your chest.

A strange heat crawls up your spine, and you feel yourself flush at the iciness in Yoongi’s tone, wanting to defend yourself.

“Of course I am Yoongi. The whole point of doing this was so that I could have a donor that I’d be able to meet face to face, look him in the eyes, shake his hand —”

“What, are you going to marry him or something?” Yoongi cuts through your rambling, eyes blazing. “I thought the whole point of this was having a baby. I thought he didn’t matter.”

“Obviously he matters, but not like that, I just–” you trip over your words, unsure why you’re growing so frustrated. This isn’t what you expected when you’d called Yoongi up asking for kimchi. “Why are you being so weird about this?”

“I’m not being weird,” Yoongi’s back is to you, shuffling around in the kitchen. He is being weird, refusing to meet your eyes. “It’s just – what if you meet someone tomorrow? Or in six months? What if you fall in love? Isn’t that an important part of this?”

“This isn’t like you Yoongi,” you shove your bowl of kimchi to the side, wrapping your coat around your arm. Yoongi pales, watching you get up to leave. “I’m not going to spend my life waiting for some what-if. I didn’t exactly dream of this okay? It wasn’t like I was sitting there suffering through med school, just pondering the idea of putting an ad out for a sperm donor one day! But this is real, and it’s happening, and even though you’ll never say it, you think I’m making the wrong choice. You’re supposed to be my friend!”

Your voice breaks at the last sentence, eyes filling with tears. Yoongi had always been there for every stage of your life, through all your terrible dates and failed situationships. He’d been your one constant, but lately it felt like he was fading, purposely removing himself from your life the moment you’d told him you were going through with this.

“I think we need to take some time apart. We need a time-out,” you throw your coat over your shoulders, and Yoongi stiffens, a choked sound escaping him.

“Already learning how to speak mom,” Yoongi quips, but his signature Yoongi humour isn’t enough to quell the rage filling your body. You don’t spare him a second glance, turning on your heel, letting the door slam behind you before you fall apart.

Yoongi wasn’t just your friend, he was so much more than that, but now you weren’t sure if he remained anything to you at all.

Jeonghan’s face is no longer smug when he breaks the news to Yoongi. You’re moving back home, claiming that the city is no place to raise a child. For once, Yoongi is thankful that the younger man doesn’t let his ego get in the way, opening the door to his office so Yoongi can lament in peace, the walls he’d built around his heart growing higher and higher. 

Two weeks later, you were gone. Yoongi stood with you as the moving trucks pulled up, watching you get choked up, the two of you barely having the guts to say more than a simple goodbye, for fear that you’d crack and say the wrong thing. 

Yoongi had always thought of himself as a mature, stable adult, but he fell apart at your leaving, feeling much like a child in need of constant attention. Your words ring back to him – a timeout. You’d left your friendship in constant purgatory – daily texts turned into once-a-week phone calls, which then turned into once-a-month emails, until you’d exchange Christmas cards once a year.

Seven years passed by in the blink of an eye - bringing with them two failed relationships, a stock market crash, a new roommate in the form of a poodle named Holly, and one phone call that changed everything.

A/N pt. 2: Thanks for reading! As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

[stxrvel]

the one where you came close! (2)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. eventually ot7 x f!reader. content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, we're still on the safe zone, angst if you squint, just silly writing! a/n. hi guys! finally second chapter is out! im blown away with your response!! thank u so much from the bottom of my heart! i loooooved reading your comments <33 pls remember updates are weekly or biweekly! and if you want to be tagged pls say so in the comments! see you next week ;)

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“This is unbelievable! We're going to be rich!!!” 

“What makes you think my sister is going to give you any of that money?” 

“I created that Instagram account that was tagged in Kim Taehyung's damn story, I deserve a raise!” 

“What makes you drones think my daughter is going to give you any of that money?”

“None of you are going to get anything out of that act of feigned innocence. Honey, are you all right?”

It seemed like a light had gone on in the room, four pairs of eyes landing on your still pale, surprised face. The night had been heavy after Yuna's call and you'd had so little sleep that you didn't know how you were functioning at the moment. Maybe that was the thing: you weren't functioning at all.

When you woke up, you thought it had all been a bad dream and that definitely the first exposure you'd had to the guys in years hadn't been because Taehyung came across your books at a convention you decided not to go to and uploaded them to his Instagram account with over eighty million followers. It was impossible, wasn't it? Too crazy. 

Maybe not as crazy as waking up to your parents banging on your bedroom door saying that over a hundred thousand orders had been placed overnight and they didn't have enough book production for that much demand. 

Be that as it may, Yuna and your mother took care of the communications on the account. You went from having twenty followers (including your family and friends —your father had created an account exclusively for that and only followed you—), to almost sixty thousand in at least twelve hours. The posts you had worked so hard to create and put together were finally getting the attention they deserved, but it had all happened so fast and suddenly that it was too strong to process calmly. 

Weighing which was stronger, whether Taehyung's acknowledgment of your existence after so many years of zero contact or that your book sales shot up so immeasurably that they couldn't even keep up with demand, even if a month went by, didn't make things any easier. 

“She's obviously still in shock,” Yuna replied to your mother at your lack of response from the living room, right across the dining room where you had been sitting since you had come down from your room. Your breakfast was still untouched on the table, but that seemed to be the least important thing in the room with all the more important news. 

“Have the printers answered yet?” your brother's voice through the speaker of your father's phone rang as you blinked, reality settling too slowly on your shoulders. You didn't even want to think about what it meant that Taehyung had done that. Maybe it was simply an altruistic act, wasn't it? Maybe he felt guilt and wanted to ameliorate it somehow. What better way than to do an act of charity?

“I'm on it,” your father was sitting across from you in the dining room, his laptop on the glass of the table as he moved his hands over the keyboard and stared through his glasses at the full tip of his nose. From the way his eyes narrowed, your mother snorted. 

“Why don't you get those glasses adjusted if you know you don't see well up close, let alone on electronic devices?” the woman reached over, dragging your father's glasses until they were almost glued to his eyebrows. Your father barely gave her a goofy grin as your mother started shaking her hands. “You better move. I'll do it. You write too slow; you're getting on our son's nerves.” 

“Nah, I'm fine. I don't know if y/n is tho.” 

Silence returned and you growled internally. Well, that was enough conjecture and assumptions without any information to substantiate them, it was time to get down to business. 

 “Do you think we should take over this business now?” Yuna completely ignored your stretch and you sent her a confused look. 

Your brother exclaimed from the phone in agreement. “I call dibs on the treasury!” 

“There's no way you can keep the accounts right! You're studying law.” 

“Seojun is good at numbers, Yuna.” 

 “Ha, with all due respect Mrs. I/n, he must only be good at counting sheep.”

 “Hey,” you tried to get attention, getting up from the chair. 

 “y/n, don't talk, you're still in shock. Can you believe he once called me from the supermarket to ask if he got his change right? He didn't even move from the checkout counter. There were people booing him.” 

 “Ow, my poor baby.” 

 “I told you not to say that to anyone!” 

 “I can't keep quiet if they're speaking lies about you!” 

 “This wasn't lies! This is about my pride!” 

 “Nonsense. I'll handle the treasury. I double majored in finance and international relations for a reason.” 

 “You can't run anything without starting bossing everyone around!” 

 “It's not my fault you're a good-for-nothing!” 

 God. It was going to be a long day. 

- 

Sorting out the whole printing issue and the number of orders was difficult, but with a couple of stories, interactions with new followers and express delivery of the few copies you'd already had at home for months, the waters calmed down a bit. Now, in the stifling silence of your room, you wanted to run. 

 “Are you going to stare at the ceiling all night?” 

 “Maybe.” 

Yuna watched you from the bed while all you could do was stare as notifications continued to pop up on your Instagram account and your mail because the requests simply wouldn't stop, even though you had made a thousand clarifications to all the new followers. You were trying to focus on the bright side of things, regardless of whatever reasons there may have been for everything to have happened that way, but with your friend's incessant gaze lying on your bed it made it a little difficult. You knew she wanted to pierce your skull from curiosity, but you wouldn't know how you would answer her questions. 

 “Is there anything you'd like to share with the class?” 

 The tension had become a little more latent during the last few minutes, when Yuna saw a specific notification on the account. Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin had followed you. To describe your look of shock might be an understatement, and all you did for the next half hour was run across the room and throughout the house vociferating that you were living a nightmare. 

 Yuna has known all along that you had never been a fan of the siamese or their clan of friends, but she never knew why exactly. You had to tell her that you weren't interested in fashion, that you didn't like the kind of music Jungkook made, that hip-hop was never your thing, that you weren't interested in dilfs and you weren't interested in dance either. You had to tell her that all the things you once did with them didn't matter to you because it was painful, even if it was hard to accept.

 You couldn't remember the times you would go shopping at the small mall in town to buy the trending clothes to put together different outfits with Taehyung and Jimin, then go try them all on at your house and invite the others and even your parents to do an impromptu runway show. You couldn't remember how the genre of music that Jungkook and you listened to all the time on his iPod and your MP3 player was the same one that his entire music career focuses on. You couldn't remember the nights when Yoongi would share his writings with you and you would help him compose a song or two on the piano when he felt brave enough. Or the times when you would accompany Hoseok to his workouts and then watch him create dance routines to his favorite songs while Jungkook sang in the background. You also didn't want to remember the times when Namjoon and Seokjin would sponsor their trips and give everyone gifts without expecting anything in return. 

You couldn't remember those things. It was too much to bear for such a weak heart. 

“What do you want to know?” you sighed, your body sliding on the chair as the notifications grew. 

“How did all this happen?” 

“Why do you think I have an answer for that?” 

Yuna clicked her tongue, sitting on the bed with the cell phone still in her hands, still staring at the notification that snapped her out of her sanity. 

“It's just… this is all unbelievable, magnificent and unreal. But how come you're not so excited about what happened?” Yuna slid across the sheets, to be right in front of you, but you refused to look away from the computer. Every time you thought you had overcome and grown around everything that happened so many years ago, something would pop up to remind you that you still had a long way to go. Maybe the nostalgia was strong, but so was the anger. “Regardless of how things turned out, because I know you're not as big a fan as me, this opens a million doors for you and I don't know why you're not celebrating it like we are.” 

 “It's…complicated.” 

 “I don't think so. Tell me.” 

Yuna was unstoppable when she wanted to get answers out, but besides the obvious, of course there was something else that bothered you and kept you from enjoying this boom so much. 

 “It's just that all of this doesn't feel like it was a product of my effort,” you began, letting your gaze wander over the desk. The copies of your books you kept for yourself, the first ones you'd ever printed several years ago, lay there, as tattered as your failed accomplishment. “It doesn't feel like an achievement that my work had exploded thanks to a celebrity whose fans would buy even the toilet paper he uses. A lot of those people won't even read the book. They will just buy it and take a picture of it to say that they have the same book that the great Kim Taehyung read. Many of those books will never have a life, they will just be dust collectors and be reminders that all this did not happen because of my effort.” 

“What the fuck are you blabbering about? Of course it's the fruit of your effort! Of course you deserve it!” Yuna got up from the bed and moved the chair around the back to leave you in front of her disgruntled and almost offended face. You could see the words drawn in her face. “You worked so many years to pull this off and after so many bumps you finally can! You deserve to have what you wanted so badly. This recognition will last just the same because many other people will read them and love them and they may not be many, but you will form a solid foundation as time goes on with people who will be truly unconditional and supportive and that will grow over time. Don't look at this so negatively, maybe you skipped a couple of steps, but you had every right to. It was what you deserved after all the effort and dedication you put into this project for so many years.” 

 Yuna didn't hesitate for a second. Her very serious expression sent a shiver down your spine and you could tell from her furrowed brow that she really was angry at your perception. Perhaps she was right, but without knowing the full background of this specific situation, you were only left to shake your head in assent and send her a grateful smile. 

“I guess you're right,” you lifted a shoulder, turning your gaze back to your mail notifications.

“Of course I am!” the smile returned to her face and it didn't take long for her to look back down at her phone with sparkling eyes. “Now that we got the emotional charge out of the way, would you mind telling me how you know Taehyung?” 

Your breathing stopped for a second and you cursed yourself because it sounded too loud as you almost choked on your own saliva. 

“Oh?” 

Play fucking dumb. 

“What, did you think I wasn't going to notice? He wrote it crystal clear.” 

Yuna wasn't even looking at you, too focused on running her finger over the row of notifications. Her nonchalant demeanor only caused you to panic more. It was as if she had caught you red-handed. 

One of the best writers I've ever met in my life, damn you Kim Taehyung. 

“Ah… I didn't… I didn't really know him so let's just say…”

“He couldn't have said that for nothing, don't you think? No celebrity would do that unless it was a person they hold in deep regard.” 

Yuna had just caught you totally off guard. Maybe you should've focused a lot more on what Taehyung had written before you blocked his user from your personal account and threw the phone in the bottom of your drawer the night before and tried hard not to think about the rest for the rest of the night and all that day. 

“It's just that… uhm… we studied at the same school. But for a short time actually. I don't even remember it well actually, ha, ha.” 

Your laugh came out too constrained under your friend's narrow-eyed stare. You knew you'd have a hard time convincing her because you were a lousy liar. 

“You know, it always struck me as odd that you weren't a fan. Taehyung and Jimin are like the two extremes of your ideal type.” 

“Whaaaat?”

“And Jungkook's music is literally the kind of music you listen to, you just don't listen to his. All the other artists in the same genre you do listen to.”

“That has nothing to do with…” 

“And even your parents don't claim to know Kim Seokjin when your mother was literally a nurse. She probably worked with him.” 

“What does that have to do…?”  

“And your brother is a hip-hop fan. How come he doesn't listen to Agust D? He's the best rapper of the last few decades and he's been trending for a long time.” 

“…” 

At what fucking moment? 

“And all of them, plus Hobi and Namjoon, they all went to the same school. They're all friends. And you say you went to school with Taehyung?” 

“Ahm… well, yes, but it's not like I would have met the others.” 

Yuna looked at you, really looked you straight in the eyes as if that way she could tell what it was you were hiding or as if that solved all her guesses. It was impossible for her not to figure it out if she had already tied up all the damn loose ends. 

Since the boys had left one by one, clearly your family was the first to realize how much their departures had affected you. In the beginning there was communication and all, but when Jungkook was the last to leave you lost any kind of link with them completely. You never knew exactly what happened because no matter how hard you tried to contact them you couldn't, not even your parents could talk to the boys' parents. Perhaps they had simply grown up, matured, completely forgetting about their ordinary life in that town. 

They seemed to have disappeared from the planet. 

Until your family moved to the capital. Jungkook was just starting out as an idol, but he had an amazing debut. He had captivated the entire audience and was too successful almost from the second one. It was a torment to watch them grow professionally little by little because, although you were happy for their achievements and all, you couldn't forget that they had basically abandoned you. And your parents and Seojun had noticed. They had noticed how much seeing them all over the place was bumming you out, so unreachable when at one point they were all in your living room eating your mother's delicious kimchi and listening to your father's anecdotes. Everyone was affected by their departures, but clearly no one as much as you. 

That's why, of course, your parents and brother had made a silent vow to keep all media about the boys away from you, because they didn't even talk about it by accident in the house, at least not when you were present. 

“It must be a huge coincidence…” Yuna continued and only at that moment did you realize how much you got into your head. Your vision slightly blurred. “I shouldn't accuse you of anything for things like that, should I? What nonsense.” 

You were probably as white as a sheet of paper. 

“Yeah, it would be too weird… ha, ha.” 

God, you had to stop letting out those giggles when you were nervous. 

“Anyway, should we order fried chicken for dinner?” 

“I think I heard mom say she was going to make japchae.” 

“Ohhhhhh, Mrs. l/n's japchae is delicious!” 

You let out a laugh watching your friend spring up from the bed and head for the door. She stopped halfway out and pointed her index finger at you. 

“Don't tell my mom I said that.” 

You made a gesture to zipper your mouth shut and Yuna finally left. 

The previous conversation had been so tense that you already felt tired and ready to sleep at seven o'clock at night. Really the whole day had been so heavy for everyone that you didn't know how the lights in the house were still on. For now, you couldn't do anything else, even if orders continued to come in, now everything depended on the printer and how fast the books would come out, so you would have to wait. 

Maybe you should rest. You had asked your boss for the day off, but tomorrow you would have to continue working hard. Regardless of the incredible growth you'd had, you couldn't let your work go to waste. 

Tomorrow would be a new day. A quieter one, preferably. 

-

a/n: i'll try to have ready part 3 for next week! see you on june 13 at 11:59 pm - GMT5 time!

tag: @rinkud @futuristicenemychaos @pastelpeachess @parapiop7 @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthings @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @saintomie @damn-u-min-yoongi @juju-227592

[3hks]

How to "Copy" a Character (Step-by-Step Guide)

Have you ever fallen in love with a specific character's concept? Where you absolutely NEED a similar character in your story, but aren't too sure on how to mimic it? It's quite simple, really, so let's get into it! (Disclaimer: If this qualifies as plagiarism or anything similar, please let me know ASAP and I'll take this down immediately. I do not support plagiarism and I do not wish to be encouraging it, even if indirectly.)

1. LIST EVERYTHING

Once you have your chosen character, list everything you know about them. This especially applies to personality traits, habits, emotions, and thought processes. Make sure to include their negative qualities and any headcanons you have! Circle or highlight any defining characteristics of the character because it may be the same for your fresh one.

2. REMOVING AND REPLACING

Your list should be rather long if you were thorough. Now, strike out anything you don't want to be a part of your new character and include any original features you want to add. This altered list should have pretty much their whole personality and you can work from there!

3. WHEN AND HOW?

Now, let's put the personality to use! Adding onto your list of traits, add when/how they will show. This way, you are able to keep your character's character in check. Starting with the five senses is a good idea, but you can go from there! (This is kind of confusing so let's look at an example! ^^)

NAME

Affectionate: Physical

Relaxed: Verbal (Tone)

Stubborn: Verbal

Fashionable: Physical appearance

Anxious: Mental (Only shows in xxx situations)

Unpredictable: Actions/Physical

Does this make more sense now? There are many different ways of demonstrating one's qualities and to keep things organized, it's a good idea to know how they'll demonstrate it! And if you study your original inspo character, you'll see that they establish certain attributes exclusively by how they talk or act!

4. FINE DETAILS

Alrighty! Finally, let's include all the fine details about your character! This will vary amongst everyone, but there are a couple of things that I highly encourage you include!

Morals

People they're close to

Relationships between the people above

Goals

Love language

Habits

Backstory (This can come later, but it's good to have one at any point)

And lastly, list ALL the differences between your new character and the reference one! Maybe they both show passion but in different ways, or maybe they have separate speech patterns! It's always interesting to see how far you have gone!

See? In all honesty, it's really straightforward and just about breaking the characters down in order to rebuild them in the way you want!

Just an extra note, school has OFFICIALLY started for me! I'll still be uploading once or twice a week, but please stick with me if I'm a bit late! This school year already seems far busier than the one before, so I need to figure out how to re-balance things!

Thank you all so much for 700 followers!! It's crazy in all honesty (I haven't been giving out the best content recently, ik) T~T but I WILL WORK HARDER!

Happy writing~

3hks <3

[vintagetimetarot]

When will it happen? timing reading 🕰️

Hi everyone, I know I said I would upload a love reading next (it’s coming) but I felt really called to do a timing related reading, since I think I’m getting the hang of learning to interpret timing in tarot. This is a general reading, so only take what resonates. Some readings could be shorter or longer than others because this is very based on what just comes out to you. Make sure you ask a question related to the timing of something. Let’s get to it, pick a vintage item below for your reading.

Pile 1

So, in terms of the timing of your question, I feel like there are two different types of people in this pile. If you are asking about love or anything to do with a specific person, I feel like this thing you are asking about is going to happen between seasons changing. So I think this could be (at least from my northern hemisphere perspective) between the end of summer to the start of fall, so between 2-6 months. If you were asking a question about conflict, personal growth, or anything unrelated to what goes into the category of the first type of people, I see this thing happening when you have come to a certain realization of breakthrough. I see this happening a bit slower, probably 4-8 months. Because there is this energy of being very stuck for awhile, but eventually prevailing over time from catching a new perspective. This is your reading pile 1, I hope you got some clarity.

Pile 2

Ok, so in regards to your question, you could either be asking about an event that you may not be particularly looking forward to, or there is just an emotionally charged question. I do see this event you are asking about happening quickly regarding the context. I think if you are asking about something that takes typically longer, this could be about 5 weeks from now. If you are asking about something quite quick, I’m getting five days from now. I think your question may have to do with a certain situation of conflict for most of you, or something related to this has been bringing you a lot of genuine stress, anger, and/or anxiety. A message I’m getting is to not get too in your head about this, and remember you control your own destiny. YOU are taking the lead here. That’s all Pile 2, I hope this brought you clarity.

Pile 3

You got all major arcana cards, so pretty strong energy. You may be asking about something or big or something you are very passionate about. So, I think the answer to your question is that the timing of this really depends on your actions right now, they could slow down or speed up the timing of this. This question involves a lot of divine timing. I know it might be annoying to hear, but the pace of this really depends on you. If you continue with positive actions towards this event, I do not see this happening any later than 5 months from now. But again, there is this emphasis that this is really dependent on the work you are putting in so to speak. That’s it Pile 3, I hope this brought you some clarity.

Pile 4

I think based on the cards I pulled, this may be a bit of a longer timeframe from when you expect this event to happen. I do think whatever this is, there is definitely a positive outcome to this, if you are asking about something you want to happen, don’t worry, it will eventually happen but it’s going to take time. It is not found to happen overnight. This could be dependent on another person or other people, which is why this is taking so long. I feel like this may happen within a year, at the earliest I feel like this could be is 6 months from now. There’s an emphasis on waiting for the right opportunity and having patience. This is all pile 4, I hope this brought you clarity.

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Ch 11

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

I had such a hectic day but decided I wanted to stay up late and upload anyways. Prepare yourselves for a plot twist!!!

Content Warnings - Mentions of suicide/torture

How long had you been here? Weeks? Months? None of that mattered to you. You were happy here.

The capital doctors had fixed you. No more meltdowns over people touching you; no more urges to kill. You were finally healed.

You don’t know why they took the route of healing you while they tortured the others, but who were you to complain? They had made you whole again. Maybe they thought that making you realize the stability you had lived without for the past five years would be a form of torture. Maybe they thought it would make you sad. It didn’t. It made you the happiest you had been in a long time.

The only thing that would make you happier would be seeing Finnick. You know he’s not in the capital. Peeta said he saw him on the screen the other day while he was doing an interview, so you know he’s alive. You just hope you’ll be reunited soon.

Hopefully he will come here and they can fix him too. He may not show it, but his games and the years after have left him with a lot of scars. If he comes, you’ll make sure he gets the same treatment you received.

The power here keeps flickering out. Peeta says it’s cause the dam in District 5 was destroyed. Apparently Finnick and Katniss are in District 13 and the capital sent bombs. Peeta warned them and got extra torture because of it.

Johanna is silent outside of her screams. Whatever they’re doing to her sounds horrible. You don’t want to find out.

“Y/N!” Peeta whispers loudly to you. His room is across from yours and you can hear each other under the door.

“What?” you respond.

“I overheard them talking about you,” he states. “The peacekeepers were talking about your treatment.”

“What about it?” you ask.

“I didn’t hear all of it,” he explains, “and it’s hard for me to know what’s real nowadays, but they said something about a timer going off and how they would make you crazy again. We have to get out before they hurt us.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask him annoyed. “They won’t hurt me. Snow promised.”

Just as Peeta goes to respond, the lights cut out again and peacekeepers enter the hall. They usually set up extra guards when the power goes out in case anyone tries to escape. Why would you escape? You like it here.

It must be an hour later when panic sets in. You hear a hiss coming from the hall and what sounds like people falling over. You don’t have time to think, however, before your door is opened and a canister of smoke is thrown into your room. Peeta was right. They are going to hurt you.

“Did you always love her?” Katniss asks Finnick as they wait for the rescue team to return. All communication had been cut off but the two were still holding onto hope that they would return safely.

“No,” he chuckles. “I guess she snuck up on me.”

“How?” Katniss asks.

“After her incident in the capital Snow killed her family,” he explains. “I moved in with her because she wasn’t stable enough to live on her own. We were scared she was going to kill herself and selfishly I couldn’t let the one victor I had brought home at that point die.”

Katniss nods her head in understanding and Finnick continues.

“I don’t know if I’d even call us friends when I first lived with her. She wasn’t thrilled I moved in and found me annoying, yet I was the only one she would talk to. She wouldn’t even speak to Mags,” he states. “Before Annie’s games my nightmares got worse. I would wake up screaming in the middle of the night completely disoriented. Instead of running or turning violent she would stay. Whenever I woke her up she would come to my room and sit near me till I fell asleep again. Something just clicked at that point and I knew I couldn’t live without her. I still can’t.”

“I never even told her I loved her,” he sadly says to Katniss.

“She knows,” Katniss responds. “And I know she loves you too.”

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