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ynscrazylife · 2 months

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Eek! Yay!

So since I'm just a few episodes ahead I'm just going to keep it kind of vague. What do you think of a younger sister whose just a little younger than Sam? Dean practically raising her and so they're super close but when Sam leaves for college their dad decides that maybe the hunter life isn't the best for his daughter so he leaves her behind with a family friend. Imagine the angst and abandonment issues (def not me) like after Dean picks up Sam he tracks down his younger sister he hasn't seen in like a year and she just never gave up hunting so now she's actually pretty good at it? Can you imagine how awkward that reunion would be?? Maybe they're hunting down a monster together or something??

Sorry, this isn't exactly a scenario so much as my own personal idea for a backstory? I don't know but if you like it or you want something else let me know cause there's tons more that are similar or completely different from this one 😏

Great minds think alike cause I kinda had an idea in mind where Dean and Sam meet up with their sister through a hunt! This is a little different than what you put in the ask tho, so I hope that’s alright. I also feel like there is enough for a part 2 so I could end up adding to this! And this would be a fun OC concept to make 👀 if anyone wants that.

a reunion for the ages (dean & sam winchester x sister!reader)

The thing that makes this entire situation, what your life has become, so backwards and twisted is that at first, you didn’t actually want to hunt. You wanted to go to college, like Sam. You weren’t even that much younger than him and in his first year, he seemed to love it. But when your time rolled around, you didn’t get into Stanford.

Yes, there were other colleges that accepted you, but you really wanted to be with your big brother. The rejection hit you hard and as a result (and needing a distraction), you threw yourself into hunting. You became careless and reckless and instead of talking with you about it, your dad made a decision for you: that you weren’t cut out for hunting. He left you and took Dean with him.

When Dean realized what was going on, he of course tried to stop his dad. They got into a pretty bad fight over it. But he was a stubborn man and he refused to go back for you. Dean tried calling you, but thinking that he was in on it with Dad, you refused to pick up. You kept in touch with Sam for a little while, but the both of you got busy as time went on, and the weekly calls stopped.

A few years later, Dean and Sam have hit the road, intent on finding Dad. The backseat of the Impala, which was usually occupied by you, is empty.

“I thought if I gave you some time you might bring it up yourself, but dude, are we picking up Y/N or not?” Sam asks finally, no longer wanting to beat around the bush about it. He knows about Dad and Dean leaving you behind, but assumes that at some point you would’ve made up with them.

“She shouldn’t be involved in this,” Dean says resolutely, keeping his eye on the road ahead, firmly gripping the steering wheel.

“You had no problem involving me in this,” Sam points out, trying not to sound upset over it. There was a small part of him that wonders if he hadn’t gone with Dean, would he’ve been able to save Jess? Still, he knows that he went willingly, and that he could’ve said no.

“You know how to hunt and fight. The last time I saw Y/N hunt . . . Trust me, it didn’t go well,” Dean mutters, definitely not in the mood to have this conversation.

“Shouldn’t we at least let her know what’s going on with Dad?” Sam suggests, now more curious about what happened between you and Dean and Dad. You never gave many details about it.

“Have at it, if she’ll pick up,” Dean says, throwing one hand in the air. He’s trying to play it off as if he doesn’t care, but he does. He misses you.

Sam tries but, as Dean predicted, you don’t answer. Over the next couple days, they get wrapped up into a case where they suspect an angry ghost is the perpetrator, going after the people that they blame for their death. Thankfully they’re able to find the object that the ghost is attached to, a music box. What they don’t expect, however, is to be dealing with a ghost possessing someone. It’s a chef, to be exact, which leads them to their current situation: fighting the possessed chef in his kitchen.

“Sam, a little help here?!” Dean yells, fist-fighting the enraged chef, who looks a little ridiculous in his white chef’s hat.

“I don’t have any iron! Or salt!” Sam yells back, rummaging through his bag in search of something, anything, that might help.

Suddenly, someone runs into the room from behind the guy and jumps on his back. It’s a woman, with a bat in her hand. As the guy stumbles back, she hits him in the head repeatedly, until the guy throws her off his back and onto the table. The woman smacks him again with the bat, then gets salt from out of her pocket, and throws it at him. The ghost is expelled from his body and he drops to the floor.

Dean and Sam exchange looks, wondering who the hell she is.

The ghost isn’t done yet, though. It lifts the woman into the air and lets her drop onto the table, which cracks. She falls onto the floor and the ghost lunges for her, disappearing and now possessing her. Dean and Sam prepare themselves for another fight, only to both freeze when the woman stands up and turns around.

It’s their sister. Their little sister, who’s meant to be enjoying a hunt-free life. There’s a gash on her forehead which is leaking blood down her face and within seconds, she’s lunging at Sam.

He falls back, not sure what to do. If this were anyone else being possessed, he’d fight back, but he doesn’t want to hurt you.

“Y/N, Y/N, c’mon!” He yells, doing his best to dodge your hits.

Dean runs around and grabs you in a bear-hug, pinning your arms to your sides. He drags you back, even as you thrash. “Get some salt, Sam!” He says, struggling to manage you.

“I told you, I don’t have any!” Sam repeats, frustrated.

“It’s a KITCHEN!” Dean practically screams.

While Sam looks for salt, you twist out of Dean’s arms. The two of you go at it but eventually, Dean’s able to get you down on the ground. He feels bad about pressing his knee on your abdomen, holding your arms down, but he has to keep you there.

“I found a salt shaker,” Sam says, kneeling down by your head. “We gotta destroy the music box, though, before the ghost possesses one of us.”

“Alright, do it, but give me the salt,” Dean says, moving your arms above your head and holding your wrists with one hand. With his other, he takes the salt and has to pry your jaw open to pour the salt in your mouth.

You cough and splutter, but Dean forces your mouth to close until you’ve swallowed the salt. Finally, the ghost leaves your body. Dean throws the salt shaker to Sam, who salts the music box before chucking it into the oven.

“Alright, Y/N, we gotta go,” Dean says, throwing one of your arms over his shoulders and pulling you to your feet.

All you can do is lean against him and mumble your brother’s name, your head spinning.

Sam grabs the chef and the four of you stumble out the back exit. Sam lays the chef on the ground and calls the fire department, then you guys make your getaway in Dean’s car.

“I’m staying with her,” Sam decides, sitting in the backseat with you while Dean starts to drive.

“Sam . . . Dean? What’re you doing here?” You ask as Sam tends to your head with the first aid kit that they keep in the car. You can hardly believe that you’re really with your brothers again.

“Could ask you the same question, kid. Sammy and I were hunting that ghost,” Dean says, speeding up a little to get to the motel faster.

“So was I,” you say. Your head feels far too heavy to hold up on your own right now so you let it lean against Sam’s shoulder.

“What?” The brothers ask in unison. They weren’t sure what answer they were expecting but it wasn’t that.

“Been hunting ever since you and Dad left, Dean,” you tell them. Even though you are in pain, you don’t miss the beat of silence that follows.

“You were pretty good back there,” Sam compliments, ruffling your hair a bit. With your head wound bandaged up, he slings his arm around you for the rest of the drive.

Dean is quiet, his fingers thumping against the steering wheel, until the three of you arrive at the motel. Sam helps you out and lays you down on his bed. “I’ll be right back, gonna get you an ice pack,” he says, going to the mini ridge.

Dean sits across from you on his own bed, sighing. “How are you feeling?” He asks.

“Like I got thrown onto a table . . . Oh wait, I did,” you answer sarcastically, mustering up a smile.

Sam returns, giving you the ice pack and then sitting next to Dean. He glances between his siblings, sensing some tension. “Do you two need to . . . Talk or something?” He asks.

“You’ve really been hunting this whole time?” Dean asks you, still in a bit of disbelief.

You nod. “I got my act together after Dad . . . After you and Dad left. I wanted to prove him wrong,” you explain, shrugging. “Where is he, anyway?”

Sam and Dean exchange a look. “We don’t know. We’ve been hunting and hoping to find him in the process,” Sam says.

You nod slowly. Your dad taking off isn’t that uncommon, but it is uncommon to see your brothers hunting together. “I’ll get out of your hair soon,” you mumble, not sure that they wanted you around.

“Woah, wait. There’s no rush. Sam was right, you were pretty good back there . . . We could use your help,” Dean says. He’s not going to let you go so easily this time around.

“Really?” You say, a little surprised. You sit up in bed, taking the ice pack off your forehead.

“Yes. And keep that on,” Dean says quickly, taking the ice pack from you and pressing it to your wound himself. He moves to sit down next to you, making you roll your eyes, but you don’t argue. It’s kinda nice to have him helping you out, he’s always been protective over you and Sam.

“The Three Musketeers, all back together again,” Sam jokes, just to annoy you both.

“Is it too late to back out now?” You ask.

“Yes,” the brothers say. You’re in too deep now, Dean and Sam aren’t letting you go again.

#sam winchester #dean winchester #dean and sam #the winchester brothers #winchester!reader #sister!reader #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #spn #spn x reader #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction

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lau219 · 2 months

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👀 Sneak Peek 👀

After Hours

•• Robert Fischer x Reader ••

Summary:

There’s a thin line between love and hate, a line Y/F/N Y/L/N and Robert Fischer have been toeing for nearly two years. As Robert’s employee, Y/N shouldn’t get away with some of the things she does, but seeing as Robert can never quite get her off his mind, well…

When Robert happens to learn one day that Y/N moonlights at the city’s burlesque club, he can’t seem to resist going to see if she’s just as good at that job as she is at Fischer Morrow…

Mood Boards

……………………………………………………………………………

This is not the story’s beginning, but rather, a little mid-story snippet.

Please tell me what you think!!!

“Mr. Fischer, what are you doing here?” the receptionist asked him, looking up with an expression of confused surprise. But as soon as she’d said it, her face flushed with nervous embarrassment and she spoke again.

“I mean…I’m sorry, Mr. Fischer. Can I help you with something?” She fumbled with her ID badge, likely thinking he was going to take note of her name so that he could ensure she was fired later.

“Yes, I need to pick something up from Miss Y/L/N’s office,” Robert replied, not even noticing how the woman had greeted him or that she was anxious because of it. “Is she still at lunch?”

The receptionist’s nervous expression didn’t change.

“Uh, yes, she is,” she said, of course unaware that that was the answer Robert was hoping for.

“I need to pick something up from her office that she left there for me,” he repeated, “if you could show me where it is.”

After saying that, Robert realized it was not such a great reflection on him that Y/N had been working as closely with him as she had for almost two years and he didn’t even know where her office was. He’d never even come to this floor of the building before.

Five minutes later and Robert was in Y/N’s office with the door closed, standing behind her desk as he looked for her planner. If she had a schedule or calendar of any kind for when she performed, it’d be in there. She lived by that planner, and he had to find out when she’d be performing again.

His heart pounding, Robert knew he was running short on time — Y/N could be back any minute and find him there. He also knew what he was doing was wrong, but in the moment, he didn’t care.

But after five minutes of looking on her desk and in her drawers, and being very careful to make sure nothing looked like it had been disturbed, he couldn’t find her planner anywhere, and he’d almost given up. Maybe she’d taken it with her to lunch.

But then, as he turned to push Y/N’s chair back in, Robert spotted the familiar floral patterned cover of her planner, which was sitting on top of her computer tower, the corner of it peeking out from under the papers she’d given him to sign earlier that day.

Immediately reaching for it, Robert lifted the planner from the tower and opened it, his eyes landing on the neatly organized pages with notes jotted everywhere in Y/N’s handwriting. As he leafed through the pages, he noticed she had color-coded the commitments she’d written in for herself each day, and after a moment, his eyes landed on a spot where she’d written his name…well, a version of his name, in pink ink.

Robbie - 10:45 a.m.

Then he looked to the next date.

Robbie - 9:30 a.m. (Remind him about this one!)

Then he flipped the page to the following week.

Robbie’s speech @ The Hilton - 1:00 p.m. (Bring an extra copy of his notes!)

Robert flipped through a few more pages, and on each one, in every slot where Y/N had a commitment with him or pertaining to him, she’d written it in that same way.

Robbie.

She’d never called him that, at least not to his face. Of course, it was possible that she could have been referring to someone else, but he knew that wasn’t true, seeing as each entry for “Robbie” was a duplicate of his commitments that he knew he had on his own calendar.

No, it wasn’t someone else. It was him.

Slowly inhaling, Robert glanced down again. His heart pounded once more and a rush went through him as he thought of Y/N and looked at her writing again.

Robbie.

Quickly, he lifted the entire set of pages in the planner and flipped through them, and as they fanned backwards, they suddenly stopped on his thumb when he reached a section that was divided from the rest. Once he saw she had things like “Manicure”, “Dentist”, and “Dinner with Nicole” listed on the pages, he realized this was the section where she kept her personal calendar.

And then there it was. The club’s name, written in purple ink.

Plume - 9:00 p.m.

He flipped to the next week.

Plume - 10:00 p.m.

The next week.

Plume - 8:00 pm (Serving first, onstage at 10)

Each week, it was entered somewhere. Which day she’d entered it during the week, however, varied slightly among Thursday, Friday, or Saturday.

As Robert turned to the current week, his eyes scanned the page until he saw the entry he was looking for. It was written in on Thursday.

Plume - 10:00 p.m.

Looking up, Robert inhaled, and then he quickly grabbed a pen and Post-It off Y/N’s desk, hurriedly copying down the dates and times noted in her calendar for the next several weeks, then slipping the paper into his pocket. He then slowly closed Y/N’s planner, and then turned and replaced it on her computer tower, making sure to put it back the way he’d found it under the other papers.

As he exited her office, he closed the door behind him as it had been and then quickly walked through the reception area before making it to the elevators and pressing the call button.

After seeming to take forever, the bell finally dinged and the elevator opened, and thankfully, it was empty. Once inside, Robert pressed the button for his floor, and as soon as the doors closed, he released a heavy exhale.

At the moment, he couldn’t even recall what was on his own calendar for Thursday night, but whatever his plans currently were, he’d just decided they’d been cancelled.

Part 1

@xsweetcatastrophe @nyxxie-pooh @wonderlanddreamer @mspookington-blog @an-eclectic-of-mass-destruction

@shopgirl6us @teawonderfultea-blog1 @vervainandspritz @cillmurphyslover @lara2719

@meister95 @allie131313 @murphymania1976 @ll4n4 @the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf

@cardan-official

#robert fischer x female reader #robert fischer x reader #robert fischer fic #robert fischer smut #burlesque #cillian murphy

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gabessquishytum · 7 months

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I'm having a galaxy brain moment: Winter Soldier AU 👀

Hob and Dream both grew up together in the same neighborhood. Initially, Hob was the lanky one, as he was from a family significantly more poor than Dream. But he always fought everything and everyone, especially those who dared pick on Dream. His beautiful, dark, lonely friend.

When they grow up, Hob wants to be a soldier, fight in wars, but his physique doesn't let him. Dream, who volunteers at the same time, is sent to the front, to their mutual dismay as they are now separated.

Until a scientist named Death because the experiments haven't gone tremendously well sees Hob and asks him if he wants to be their next lab rat for their "Immortality Serum", a treatment that will make him incredibly strong and pretty much indestructible. Hob, being the Himbo we know and love, and thinking how impressed Dream will be with his new muscles, says yes.

Cut to Hob in tight Spandex and other cute outfits being shipped to the front, where he is reunited with Dream. On a mission together, Dream falls off their train and is declared dead. What's worse, right before hia descent he told Hob he loved him.

Hob is devastated. His one true love is gone, there is little for him to move forward. Eventually he crushes into some ice, and is declared Deep Frozen, until 100 years later.

The reason he was defrosted? He is believed to be the only one able to go after The Winter Soldier, a deadly assassin hiding behind a horrifying mask who seems to be taking orders from some dark master he can't refuse. It's because his master, Burgess, is using some specific magic words and runes that bind Dream to him.

Yes, the Winter Soldier is Dream. Deprived of his memories, his empathy, his identity. Hob doesn't know who he is, and they fight, until during a hand-to-hand he curses a swearword that was an inside joke between him and Dream. The Soldier freezes, and in that split second Hob is able to remove his mask. Imagine his shock when he sees Dream, his Dream, staring back at him with no recognition. But it is Dream, without any doubt. Nobody has eyes this blue, lips this pink, skin this beautifully pale.

He weeps for his friend, both happy he is still alive but also desperate because he isn't his friend? The Soldier goes back to trying to kill him, and Hob is about to let him finish the job, he won't fight Dream, he won't hurt him ever ever ever.

That gives the Soldier pause, he doesn't understand why his target doesn't fight back. That gives Hob hope, that maybe his beloved is still in there.

How will Hob bring him back?

Ahhh, this is a great au for them!! Mostly because I want to see Hob’s butt in the spandex. He would definitely cheer on the morale of the troops!

And Dream would look so cool in the Winter Soldier gear, maybe with his hair grown out and flying wildly around his face. Fighting hard against the brain washing as he tries to remember why this unfamiliar man might be important to him. None of it makes any sense, and Dream is just so tired. Burgess doesn't let him sleep properly, and although it doesn't impact his physic capabilities, it's just another method of torture because his mind can't rest. He can't dream.

He stops fighting Hob, because he's confused and because he's tired. He steps back. Hob sees an opportunity, and he seizes it! He starts telling stories from their childhood. All the games they invented, the raven that Dream nursed back to health, all the times Hob got beat up by other kids because he defended Dream’s "weirdness". Everything he can remember, finishing up with the moment Dream finally declared his love for Hob. Hob is weeping the whole time as he speaks, and Dream just listens in stoic silence.

And then his eyes fix on Hob’s face. There's the barest hint of recognition amid those dazzling blue irises. He's fighting hard against the magic. "I never got to hear your answer. If you loved me too, or not." He whispers.

"I did." Hob manages to sob. "And I still do."

And maybe it's enough to break the magic, at least for a moment. And even if Hob can't save Dream, at least he'll know. That he's loved. Even if Hob can't save him, Dream will fight for that love with his own hands, until he's free of Burgess. Hob’s fought for Dream often enough, and now it's Dream's turn to fight for him.

#academicblorbo #the sandman #dreamling

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btsgotjams27 · 2 years

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keeping up appearances | pjm

summary: When you move back to New York, you must keep up appearances when you see your ex-boyfriend.

✨ title: keeping up appearances | ✨ pairing: jimin x f!reader ✨ rating: m/18+ | minors dni | ✨ word count: 7.5k ✨ genre/au: angst, light smut(?) | exes to ??, new year's eve ✨ warnings: language, alcohol consumption, reader gets tipsy, masturbation (f) but she doesn’t come, a memory of jimin (touching, kissing, marking, fingering, breast/nipple play), brief mention of fuck buddy!namjoon, did i mention angst?? ✨ playlist ✨ a/n: i've always wanted to write a fic based on NIKI's 'La La Lost You', so it's finally here. i hope you all enjoy it. thank you to @purplewhalewrites and @amethystwritesbts for being my betas. and a huge shoutout to @monimonimoon/@moni-logues for the brainstorming sesh and co-writing a part of this! also check out, 'the comeback' 👀 from them.

The blue circle around the date of December 21st began taunting you the more you stared at it. You finally made the hard decision of leaving Los Angeles after two years. Like every naïve person who moves to Hollywood, you placed all of your hopes and dreams into a job. However, that job turned out to be exactly like your previous one.

On the first day of the new job, you excitedly brought your new laptop gifted by your parents. You were ready to start brainstorming and pitching ideas for potential storylines and arcs. Then a staff writer asked why you were sitting in their seat. That's when you realized you were an intern, made to bring coffee and make copies for the writers.

"Keep working hard, and you'll move up, we promise," said one of the head writers on the show.

But empty promises weren't going to get you where you wanted. Two years later, you had only moved up to become a writing assistant and, at times, were still asked to bring coffee and grab lunch.

Haley, your housemate, quietly knocked on your door, leaning against the threshold. "Are you excited to be going back home?" She tried her best to hold it together because she had grown fond of you.

You didn't answer right away because you weren't. Having to go home as a complete and utter failure was the last thing you wanted. You were supposed to be a big shot - the girl who chased after their dreams and made them come true. You even left the man you loved to pursue your career. But you would have to chuck up the courage and face reality. Life in LA wasn't working out for you.

"I guess," you shrugged, folding your shirt before tossing it in your suitcase.

"Aren't you excited to see Jimin?" Haley asked. She was a West Coast girl who dreamed of the Big Apple and was always nosy about your previous life, especially when she saw the photo of Jimin hidden in your sock drawer.

Park Jimin. You thought about him too many times to count, wondered how he was doing, if he had moved on and found a new girlfriend. You didn't expect him to stay hung up on you, and the breakup had left you in shambles.

When you first arrived in California, you couldn't sleep and didn't have an appetite. You had no friends and had to figure everything out alone without help. Coming to LA was a fucking shit show. Sometimes you just wanted to pack your bags and go home, maybe grovel and beg for Jimin's forgiveness. But you made such a big fuss about this being a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that you couldn't pass up, only to find out you gave up being with Jimin for nothing.

"I don't think he'd want to see me. I already fucked up his life once."

Honestly, would anyone be excited to see an ex again? You guessed you'd try one-upping each other to see who was doing better.

A buzz from your phone disrupted your thought. You picked up to see it was your friend, Taehyung.

Taetae 2:41 PM

You're coming to my New Year's Party, right?

A party was the last thing on your mind. You hadn't told anyone you were moving back. The only people who knew of your move were your family and Taehyung, and you didn't want to announce your letdown.

You 2:45 PM

Do I have to?

Taetae 2:46 PM

Yes! You've never missed my parties, minus the years you were gone.

"Who's that?" Haley asked, peering from far away.

You sighed, plopping on the bed and staring at Taehyung's text. "An old friend is asking me to go to a party when I get back." You lay there trying to think of an excuse to bail, but you knew you'd never hear the end of it from him.

Taetae 2:50 PM

Guess I gotta tell everyone you're moving back.

You 2:51 PM

Goddamnit, Kim Taehyung! When I see you, I will hug you and then strangle you!

Taetae 2:52 PM

Be on time. Can't wait to see you.

You groaned, throwing your phone off to the side.

"Guess you're going to the party?" Haley inquired.

"Can I just crawl into a hole and never come out?" you asked before grabbing your pillow and screaming into it. You'd rather be doing anything than face all of your old friends, and you just knew Jimin would be there too.

When you arrived in New York, hanging out with your family kept your mind off the upcoming New Year's Eve Party. Your parents were glad to have you back home and even teased you about paying rent since you were staying in your old room, but all you did was roll your eyes at their suggestion.

Of course, your days back in New York wouldn’t be complete without Taehyung constantly bombarding you, making sure you were coming to his grand ol’ party. On Christmas Eve, you received a call from him and you picked up but all you heard on the other line were high pitched whimpers and deep groans.

“Shit–Can’t believe I’m fucking Chelsea in Chelsea.”

You gasped, mouth agape at what you were hearing. “Kim Taehyung, why the fuck are you calling me when you’re fucking?!” you yelled into your phone before hitting the end button.

Ten minutes later, you receive a text.

Taetae 10:27 PM

Sorry about earlier. Dunno how that happened. Butt dial or something…

You slightly threw up in your mouth thinking about Taehyung’s naked ass touching his phone.

You 10:30 PM

🙄 Finished that quickly? Couldn’t keep your Chelsea in Chelsea happy huh?

Taetae 10:31 PM

I’ll have you know that we were going at it for two hours already.

You 10:33 PM

🤮 Please keep those details to yourself. I don’t wanna hear about your sex life.

Taetae 10:35 PM

You still coming to my party right?

You 10:37 PM

Not after you butt dialed me while you’re having sex. You’re disgusting.

Taetae 10:38 PM

Guess I’ll just tell Jimin you moved back.

You huffed, turning to your side, furiously texting back.

You 10:40 PM

How long are you going to hold that over me?

Taetae 10:41 PM

Until you come clean 😄 See you on New Years!

Christmas had gone by, and it was filled with family and lots and lots of food. Your mother insisted on stuffing your belly to the brim. She reasoned that you probably didn't have a proper home-cooked meal when you lived in LA – which was accurate.

"Have you seen Jimin yet?" your mother asked while unhooking the ornament from the Christmas tree, hardly paying attention to the expression on your face.

You shook your head, not wanting to go into further detail.

"I'm sure he'll be glad to see you," she said sweetly. She knew how much the two of you loved each other, and even she was heartbroken when she heard about the breakup.

This conversation was reminiscent of the one with Haley before you left. No, you didn't think Jimin would be glad to see you, and you weren't keen on seeing him either. Taehyung mentioned in a text that he was seeing someone and figured you should have a heads-up to prepare if he brought her to the party. So, if you were to see Jimin at the party, you'd most likely see his girlfriend too, which made your heart sink a little because that would mean that he was doing well in love and probably in life.

Throughout your time on the West Coast, you often thought about Jimin, wondered how he was doing, and if he was achieving his dreams. You even tried searching for his username on all socials. But, you figured he blocked you because there were no traces of him on the internet save for the photos here and there that Taehyung would post. That's how you knew how much you hurt him.

"I always liked Jimin," your mother continued, but you didn't respond again. "If I thought you would marry anyone, it'd be him."

You groaned at her comment. "Mom, can you stop, please?"

Everything was about Jimin. Jimin, Jimin, Jimin. You wished you could erase the name from all traces of your life, but it was nearly impossible. Being back in New York meant you were bound to step back into some old habits and routines, revisit old friends, and hell, you even toy with the idea of rekindling things with Jimin, but you sure weren't going to be a homewrecker.

"I'm sorry. I know it's a sore subject for you, but it's been two years since you last saw him. It's possible that he's forgiven you. And who wouldn't forgive this pretty face?" Your mother put down the last ornament and cupped your cheeks, the pads of her thumb gently caressing them.

You closed your eyes and let out a sigh. "No, mom, I'm sorry. I just--I feel so stupid, you know? I gave up my whole life, gave up Jimin for a pipe dream...and it turned out to be nothing like I had hoped for."

Your eyes were now glistening, tears threatening to fall. The small, shaky intakes of breaths building in your lungs finally found their release in a long extended puff.

"I should've stayed. If I stayed, things might have worked out differently for Jimin and me and my career." Tears began streaming down your face, and the things you wanted to say became hitched in your throat.

Your mother pulled you in for a hug, quietly shushing you and caressing your hair. "We don't know what would've happened if you stayed. But I just know that if you didn't go, you'd regret not finding out." She pulled away, hands still cupping both sides of your face, gazing into your teary eyes. "And as for Jimin, he'll come around. They always do," she grinned.

You hoped she was right, but you also weren't counting on it. You hadn't even forgiven yourself for leaving him.

Before you left, you had hauled everything from Jimin's place and stuffed it into your old room. You glared at the boxes piled up in the corner because you knew what lay in them: memories. Memories of you and Jimin. Memories that you didn't have the heart to toss–not yet. There was an urge to look through the boxes but you resisted.

As you lay in bed staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling, you thought about what your mother said, 'He'll come around. They always do'. Except Jimin had clearly moved on, finding someone else to replace you. It's not like you expected him to stay single forever. Jimin's a catch; anyone would be lucky to have him by their side.

Your room was imprinted with memories of you and him - bits and pieces scattered throughout your walls, the floor, and the bed. Your mind fluttered to a distant memory of him slowly backing you up against your door.

His plush lips kissed you along your jawline, lightly marking your neck. His hand down your panties, slipping between your folds, telling you to stay quiet; otherwise, your parents would catch their precious daughter red-handed being finger fucked by her boyfriend. It was the second time he was having dinner with you and your parents, and he desperately wanted to see where you had lived out all of your teenage angst. He thought your room was pretty, but you writhing underneath while he pushed two fingers inside your cunt was the best view he could ever have.

You found yourself massaging your breast while the other slid past the waistline of your lace panties toward your sensitive bud, rubbing your clit in circles.

Jimin's fingers were pumping in and out of you, eliciting small moans and whimpers. He pulled down the top of your dress and bra, freeing your breast. He squeezed it before enclosing his mouth on your nipple, then alternated between sucking and flicking his tongue against your pebbled flesh.

Your fingers started overworking your clit, continuously rubbing quicker, your heart raced a million miles per second, your breath hitched in your throat, and your body helplessly squirmed underneath the covers.

"Fuck--" you whimpered against Jimin's mouth as he swallowed your moan, trying to keep you from outing yourself to your parents. Jimin pulled away, smiling at how fucked out you looked already. "'m gonna cum," you mumbled, words barely coherent.

Your half-lidded eyes peered at the angelic man before you, being anything but angelic - more of a devil if you should say so yourself. He grinned at how needy and desperate you were for his fingers. Normally, Jimin would be praising you, telling you how much of a good girl you were, but this time he was quiet, allowing himself to drink all of you in. Your nails dug deeper into his shoulders, head lulled back, slightly thudding against the door. The building pleasure was deep in your belly, begging to find its release as Jimin decided to add a third finger into your dripping cunt. And that's when the coiling tension finally--

A blaring siren from outside broke your line of concentration. You groaned in frustration right as you were on the cusp of coming. The moment was over because you probably shouldn't be thinking about Jimin anyway. But no one else was worthy enough to even think about. The few guys you slept with didn't come close to what you and Jimin had, and he ruined other men for you. But coming back to New York meant you would have traces of Park Jimin everywhere.

D-day had finally arrived. Your room looked like a tornado had ripped through your entire closet, because clothes were everywhere. You needed the perfect outfit for an LA gal coming back to 'visit.' You weren't sure how long you'd keep moving back to New York a secret, but you'd try for as long as possible.

As you stepped into the lobby of Taehyung's building, you checked your makeup and tugged down your sparkly sequin skirt. You figured nothing said 'glam' more than a sparkly skirt. You fixed a stray hair that was out of place before finally striding towards the elevator.

Your nerves hit you like a ton of bricks once you stood outside Taehyung's door. Your hands were so sweaty it was hard to get a good grip on the handle. You wiped your palm against your fuzzy white sweater, hoping it would help.

Music was already blaring, chattering, and laughter echoed throughout the apartment. You looked around, expecting to see some familiar faces, and were met with none other than your good friend, Kim Taehyung.

"Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in," Taehyung smirked, pulling you in for a hug.

"Hi, Taetae," you muttered reluctantly, withdrawing from his embrace. "Looks like you're doing well with your modeling career." You stepped away to observe the industrial loft decorated with quirky artwork and figurines. At least someone was doing well for themselves, you thought.

"It's so good to have you back," he enunciated a bit too loud for your liking, making you slap his arm.

"Jeez, Tae, tell the whole fucking world," you spat at him. You weren't ready for anyone to know you were back. You cleared your throat before pulling Taehyung aside, away from wandering eyes and listening ears. You already caught a few glances and smiles when you entered the apartment. "If you happen to hear that I'm just visiting and am working on a movie with a big named director, can you go along with it?"

Taehyung stared blankly at your request. "You're kidding me, right? I'm not helping you with anything." He tore away from your grip, heading in the other direction.

You followed closely, stepping in front of him. "Please, Tae, just for tonight, and then half of these people will probably never see me again," you pleaded desperately.

He rolled his eyes. "Fine--but only if you take a shot with me," he raised his eyebrow, hoping you'd take the bait.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "You're lucky 'cause I don't want to remember tonight," you said, knocking back the glass he handed you, grimacing as the liquid coated your throat. "Round two?"

After downing three tequila shots, you were ready to spill all your secrets to the next person who asked how you were doing. Drinking was never your strong suit, but it was the only thing on your itinerary tonight.

With another drink in your hand, you scanned the room, anticipating the one person you were trying to avoid. As you took a sip of your mixed drink, you looked up towards the door, and it was like the heavens opened up, and in walked your gorgeous, ethereal ex-boyfriend, Park Jimin. To your surprise, no one was attached to his hip, and a wave of relief flushed over you because God knows you were not ready to meet a girlfriend.

The butterflies in your stomach are begging to escape - indicating how anxious you were to see him. It almost felt like time had stopped just so the two of you could gaze at each other. You couldn't help but give Jimin the once-over. He looked as angelic as ever when he effortlessly waltzed over to you, beaming with the biggest smile you've seen on him. It was like no one else existed at this moment except for you and him.

When Jimin approached, the jitters within increased. He opened his arms up for a hug, your name leaving his lips, and honestly, you were surprised at how excited he seemed to see you. You were expecting the cold shoulder, the brush-off with how everything went down the two of you. There had been no contact since you'd left, so you wondered if Jimin being warm and friendly was just a ruse, and deep down inside, he actually despised your presence. What gave you the right to return to New York after all this time?

"Long time no see!" he said, wrapping his arms around you. "How have you been?"

Your eyes widened, arms tucked tightly underneath his with no way to hug him back, but again, his affection really threw you in for a loop. He couldn't see your awkward smile as he held you. When he finally let go, you were able to answer.

"Yeah, great! Good. I'm good." You loved that right off the bat; you were already lying to Jimin. You were hoping you had learned some acting skills from the actors you'd watch from time to time.

"How's LA treating you?"

Well, this was the big question of the night from everyone, wasn't it? Now was your chance to tell the truth, or tell a lie. Which one will it be?

You scanned his face, eyes seeking attention. Maybe he wanted someone else to chime in and break up the most awkward conversation the two of you ever held.

"Uh, yeah, it's great. Everything's going, uh, pretty well."

Lie it is, then. You could've told him the truth, but then Jimin might have felt victorious because life didn't go the way you wanted. He would have had the upper hand in this non-existent competition you had fabricated in your mind. You left him. And for what? Another dead-end intern job marketed as your dream job? God, you were a fucking idiot - still were sometimes. Maybe that's how you ended up living with your parents back home.

"But how are you?" you asked out of politeness. It was only courteous since he asked first. "How's New York?"

A part of you desired he would say what you didn't dare to say - the truth. Honestly, you anticipated he was doing a million times better than you. Jimin had everything going for him before you left. At least, that's what it looked like from your perspective. You hoped all his dreams could come true even if yours didn't. One of you deserved to be happy, and you'd rather it be him.

"New York is great, actually. I got accepted into the corps with ABT."

It was as you expected - Jimin was doing very well. The American Ballet Theatre? You were in shock, mouth agape for a few moments before you realized it had been too long before you said anything. Your mouth curved into a smile before you were finally able to speak. "Oh my god, Jimin, that's amazing," you said, opening up your arms this time to embrace him. This hug wasn't like the one before when he first saw you, and it was less touching - more refined and more civilized.

When you pulled away, all Jimin could do was smile. Maybe he was trying to be friendly and humble since you didn't elaborate on how 'well' you were doing in LA. You didn't want to go into detail about your life for fear of slipping through a lie.

"Anyway, I'm going to go get a drink, see if I can find Tae."

Whew. You thought you would have to be the one to come up with an excuse but thank God Jimin only just got here and needed a drink. You showed him yours and nodded as he turned away. A sigh of relief washed over you as you watched your ex-boyfriend walk away.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, making Jimin stop to turn back to look at you. "I'm really happy for you."

Jimin - One.

You - Zero.

Like you had hoped, at least one of you was doing well.

Your goal was to get hammered and avoid Jimin for the rest of the night. Maybe you could find a room to slip into or pretend to fall asleep in the corner. Anything was better than smiling until your cheeks hurt and mingling with people you didn't want to see.

"No fucking way. Is that who I think it is? My big Hollywood girl!" You turned to see an old friend, Quinn, nicknamed Quinnie by your friend group. She ran over, tightly embracing you. "How are you, babe?"

"Good...good," you tried to take a breath and gasped when she finally let go. Quinnie was a big personality, and you knew you'd need more than the half-empty drink in your hand to finish a conversation with her. You cleared your throat, beaming a fake smile at her. "How are you, Quinnie?"

"Oh, it's the same 'ole, same ' old with me! Let's talk about you," she said, dragging you down the hallway. It was quieter than the commotion in the living room and kitchen. "So come on, spill the tea! What big stars have you seen? Slept with?" she wiggled her brows, making you roll your eyes.

You hardly had time to sleep around, given the nature of the entertainment industry. Sure, you were invited to parties, but everyone always had a front or wanted something from you. It was hard to trust anyone. You may have had your fuck buddy, Namjoon, a music producer, but he was nothing more than that - someone to sleep with and release the stress of your job.

"Quinnie…you know I don't kiss and tell," you said with a sly smile, taking a sip of your almost empty cup.

"Okay fine. If there's no big-name star you slept with, what are you working on now? You can't have gone to LA for two years and not have something big lined up! Spill!" Quinn said with wide eyes, waiting for your answer.

You looked around, making sure no one could overhear because you didn't know how many lies and people you'd have to keep up with. The two of you were near the bathroom door but figured whoever was there probably couldn't hear anything due to the music. You leaned in, gesturing for her to come in closer.

"I'm so excited. Look, I'm really not supposed to actually tell anyone this, but this thing I'm working on now... It's with Lin-Manuel Miranda."

He was the one playwright and filmmaker you'd dreamt of working with, and with his new musical in the works, he was the first person that popped into your head. With how your life was going, you knew it was only a pipe dream.

"Shut up! SHUT UP!" Quinn squealed, trying to keep her cool when someone passed by. The two of you glared at the person before Quinn turned back to you. "You're fucking kidding me! Can you get me on set or meet him? Please, please, please!"

You felt like shit after letting the lie roll off your tongue. It was too easy. Why was it so easy to do that? Who had you become after moving to California? Another person who put up a front like all those trying to make it in the entertainment industry? New Yorkers were supposed to be tough and tell you like it’s supposed to be, not be shallow and fake like every orange spray-tanned person in Hollywood.

Maybe a breath of fresh air would do you some good. The crowd had begun to grow, and the room became stuffy.

The freezing night was one thing you didn't miss about New York, but Taehyung’s view significantly made up for it–well, some of it. You leaned your arms against the guard rail, gripping your cup, watching cars pass by, couples and friends racing against the clock to head to their destination. You didn’t like drinking because your thoughts somehow became clearer, the voice growing louder, almost mocking you for your decisions. Being here with old friends and seeing Jimin brought back too much heartache.

Taehyung's model friends interrupted your train of thought, and you left once they lit a cigarette to share. You didn't want to come home smelling like smoke.

The small breath of fresh air got your mind off Jimin and your lies for a split second, but as soon as you stepped back into the crowded room, your eyes found Jimin. But this time, he was talking to someone. A woman. They were laughing, and he was leaning in to whisper something to her. Your stomach began forming a knot because that had to be Jimin's girlfriend, right? You knew you wouldn't be able to avoid it.

You quickly averted your eyes from the two, not wanting to pay attention more than you already had. Suppose it was time for another drink.

Turning your wrist over and checking your watch, there was an hour left until midnight. Then you’d be free to leave and never see anyone again. Taehyung nudged you from behind as you poured yourself a glass of wine, and you needed a small break from all the hard liquor.

“Hey, sweet cheeks…How’s it going? You doing okay?” Taehyung asked, holding out a glass so you could pour him one.

You rolled your eyes at the pet name. “I’m peachy,” you said, holding the peach-flavored white wine.

“Did you see Jimin already?”

Yes, you saw him. And yes, he was doing ten times better than you were. And no, you didn’t want to hear more from Taehyung about anything related to Park Jimin. “Yep,” you replied curtly, “…and I don’t want you rubbing his success in my face.”

Taehyung snorted, spitting out his wine. “You guys are both losers,” he said, shaking his head.

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion, and you weren’t sure if he was referring to this party in general or now. “Shut up, Tae,” you quipped, taking another sip of the disgusting wine.

“You shut up–you’re both losers because you’re both yapping away and telling lies to everyone in the room,” Taehyung glared at you, cocking his eyebrow.

Did he just say that Jimin was lying too? “What?” you uttered, setting down your glass, replaying your and Jimin’s conversation. You weren’t crazy, right? Jimin said he was in the ABT.

“He’s not with ABT. He’s lying to you,” Taehyung said, “I love you both, but please, for the love of god, get your shit together.” Maybe all the liquor was also getting to him, and his drunken words spoke sober thoughts.

You were stunned at the revelation. After all this time, Jimin’s dream didn’t happen either.

The rest of the night was rinse and repeat of the same conversations. How are you? What are you up to? What are you working on? Yada-yada-yada. Oh god, you were tempted just to grab a bottle of liquor and drown yourself in it. You didn't know how much longer you could hold out. You might have to sober up and call it a night.

After another restless exchange of lies rolling off your tongue, you needed a quiet place away from everything and everyone. You wandered down the hallway to a door already opened, peering in to see that it was empty, guessing it was Taehyung's room, given that a large photo of him was framed above a dresser. You chuckled, shaking your head as you sat down on the bed.

Briefly, you peered around the room before fiddling and staring at your cup. A sudden click of the door grabbed your attention then you scoffed when you realized you weren’t alone–the one, the only, Park Jimin, showed up. You lifted your cup to take one last sip, but you had already finished yet another drink - losing count after the first one. “Miss me that much, huh?” You probably weren’t the nicest person to be around when you drank. Maybe your attitude would be different if life had gone how you wanted it to.

“Just trying to make sure you don’t die of alcohol poisoning. Haven’t you had enough?”

You cocked your eyebrow, tilting your head, “Don’t you have a girlfriend to worry about?” you asked with spite, most likely due to the alcohol running through your veins. You may have pre-gamed before getting to the party just to loosen up your nerves.

“She’s not here,” he replied simply.

You gawked at him, eyes raking him over from head to toe before looking away to stare at anything but the man you once loved. “So, why are you here, then?”

The two of you weren’t together anymore. Jimin didn’t need to worry about you. Big girls don’t fucking cry and whine in front of their exes, and they surely don’t need to be rescued. You’d lost the privilege of Jimin giving two shits about you when you left him two years ago.

"I should be asking you that. I live here. You haven’t been back for two years."

“Well, I’ve been busy in LA. That’s why I haven’t been back.” Which was true - but mostly running errands for coffee and lunch instead of writing as you wanted. You didn’t want to think about what Jimin would have to say about you leaving him for basically nothing.

“Yeah, I’ll bet.”

Jimin raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes. What the fuck was his problem right now?

“Do you have something you need to get off your chest? I still don’t understand why you’re in this room with me. I’m sure you’d be having more fun out there at the party than in here.”

You weren’t exactly the life of the party right now. You wanted to be left alone, to wallow in self-pity at the shitty decisions you’ve made. You returned to New York with nothing to show–no job and certainly no boyfriend.

“Yeah, I probably would. But then I’ll be the one stuck with all the guilt when you pass out and choke to death on your own sick. You never did know when to stop.”

You scoffed. “Like you fucking care anyway. Two years and this is the first time I hear from you.”

“We agreed we wouldn’t keep in contact, remember? Too hard. Besides which, I found out you were going to be here from Tae. Could’ve told me yourself.”

“How could I have told you when you blocked me from every social media platform?”

Jimin shrugged. “What did you expect me to do? ‘Like’ every photo of you living your best life without me?”

You were kind of glad Jimin blocked you from all social media because then he’d be liking complete lies about your life. “Well, I’m not dying, so can you just leave me alone? I don’t want to be around anyone.”

“It’s New Year’s Eve, y/n. You’re back here–with everyone–for the first time in two years, and you suddenly don’t want to be around any of us? Too good for us now, are you? Too good for New York?”

You looked away from Jimin, biting down on your lip. If you continued to look at the expression on his face, you were sure tears would begin to fall. The building of lies upon lies - you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep it up, given that Jimin could always tell when you were lying.

“That’s hardly the case, Jimin.”

“Then what? Why the need to be alone on the biggest party night of the year?”

“Because I’m a fucking loser! A fucking fraud! That’s why I deserve to be alone! I have nothing to celebrate this new year!” The alcohol makes you speak truthfully because what is the point anymore? All of your friends would soon wonder why you were still around, Jimin too.

“What about your big movie?”

“There is no fucking movie! And don’t pretend you don’t already know that! Taehyung told me you’re not in the ABT, so I assume he told you the truth about me, too!” you exclaimed, out of breath. You definitely weren’t expecting this turn of events.

”Yeah, maybe he did, and maybe I did lie; can you really blame me? You coming back here for the first time since you left me, throwing your supposedly fan-fucking-tastic life in my face? And then it turns out it’s all fucking lies, and I come in here to check on you, and you have the fucking gall to treat me like shit? You think I’m going to feel sorry for you? Oh, boo hoo, your little plan didn’t work out? Well neither did mine, and I had to deal with it on my own because someone had fucking left me!”

If only he could see the steam fuming from your ears. “No one’s fucking asking you to feel sorry for me! And fuck you, Jimin. You weren’t the only one who was alone! I literally had no one out there! No one! So don’t you dare say anything to me. We both made the same choice.”

“And it’s clearly worked out fucking brilliantly for both of us!”

“And you’re saying that’s my fault? That’s on me, is it?”

“Yeah! I am saying that. This is on you! You broke this!”

“So what do you want from me then, Jimin? What the fuck do you want me to do about it?”

“I want you to go back two years and not leave! I want you to fucking stay!”

“Well, you got your fucking wish. I am staying! I’m back, and I’m staying now! So you’ve got what you want! Are you happy?!” your voice shaky, the tears building up on the verge of falling.

“No!”

You could tell he was at war with himself. He took a deep breath and put his hands on his head, pulling at his hair. He sighed a shaky breath and slumped on the bed next to you.

“What exactly did Tae tell you?”

You shrugged. “He didn’t say much. He just said you weren’t with ABT and then scolded me.” Sitting here and talking to Jimin felt like nothing had changed, but in reality, the circumstances of your relationship wouldn’t go back to how it used to be.

“I am not with ABT,” he said. “Not even close.”

Jimin sighed before kicking off his shoes, then he pulled down the back of one of his socks, lifting his foot on the bed. You looked down to find an inch-long scar on the outside of his ankle. You gasped, thinking about how painful it must have been for him.

“Y’know that little extra bone I had at my heel? Don’t have that anymore. That training program that I got into, that-” he stopped. “Turns out that training program was too much. All those little twinges turned into something a whole lot bigger, and then the pain got so bad, I couldn’t even...” He flexed his foot forward, pointing his toes. “They were good about it. I got to see some really good doctors, and, I mean, technically, the problem is fixed.” He rotated his ankle around first one way and then the other as if to demonstrate. “But I was in a cast for a week, then in physio for eight weeks, and, even at that point, it was too late. Full recovery took almost six months. I was already too old to have been off my feet so long; that program was kind of my last chance. And I couldn’t finish it.”

You’re not sure what prompted you, but you reached out, your index finger softly tracing the raised mark on his ankle, stomach fluttering at the simplest touch of his skin. The thought of Jimin going through all of this alone made you feel even worse than you already did. You had left him heartbroken while chasing your dream when he was here, chasing his - only to find he wasn’t able to achieve everything he wanted.

You pulled your hand back, tucking it underneath your thigh, and cleared your throat. “I’m sorry. I wish I had known what you were going through.” All the guilt from the breakup and your leaving was beginning to seep back in. “It must have been hard on you,” you mumbled, quickly peering at him.

“It wa-” Jimin paused before clearing his throat. “Yes,” he said quietly. “It was.”

You slumped over, thinking about the last two years without him. Both of you were hurting without the other knowing to an extent. And Jimin…not being able to do what he truly loved pained you more than your stupid little dream of writing. You could do that whenever, wherever you wanted, but Jimin wouldn’t be able to go back in time and try again.

“I’m uh,” you paused to sniffle, “I’m moving back to New York for good. Gonna be with my parents for a bit while I get everything settled and figure out the next steps. LA was a complete bust. The dream job I left for was the same thing I was doing here.” You shifted back on the bed, then stretched your legs before settling them again. “There’s no big movie, no Lin-Manuel Miranda. I don’t know who I was kidding trying to lie my way out of this,” you chuckled sadly, “Pretty lame, huh? I left you and have nothing to show for it.”

There was a silence that settled between the two of you. You chuckled to yourself, thinking about how lame each of your lies was. And what did they achieve? Nothing really, and it was just a way to feel good about yourself, even if just for a split second.

Out of nowhere, his hand was on top of yours. You stared at the familiar hand, remembering how you’d always tease him about the duality of his hands. One minute they’re cute, soft, and stubby; the next, they’re confident, cunning, and unyielding. Your body felt warm, humming with excitement when he softly caressed the back of your hand. As much as you wanted your hand underneath the warmth of his, you didn’t forget that he was seeing someone. You didn’t want your hands to linger longer than they already did for fear of never wanting to let go again.

"Jimin…" you breathed, his name barely audible. He might not have heard you if he wasn't so close to you. His plush rose-tinted lips looked delectable - you were fighting every fiber of your being, not wanting to lean in and remember what they tasted like. Your skin is hot just thinking about what that mouth of his could do to you. Maybe press kisses along your jaw, your neck, and down the top of your chest. Possibly nibble on your earlobe and whisper something he’d like to do to you. He loved teasing you until you were squirming under him, and you wondered if he did that with this new person.

You didn’t know if Jimin was the only one struggling, but your heart began racing as he moved closer. You wondered if he was also fighting the same urge as you.

It’s been a long time since you had been anywhere near Jimin, let alone almost kissing him. Your eyes flicked to his before dropping to his lips, and your breathing slowed. It was as if time had stopped specifically for you and Jimin, waiting to see what the next move would be. Honestly, you’d be tearing his clothes off now if it weren’t for the fact that he was seeing someone else. You let out a breath, closing the distance, forehead gently bumping into his, your hand resting on his toned pecs.

Then the door swung open.

“Oh! Whoa! Oh, no, no. Ok. Back out! Back out!”

Tae swung in, leaning heavily on the door handle and, upon seeing the two of you in such close proximity, swung immediately back out again, slopping half the contents of his cup on the floor in the process, shooing away whichever lucky person was about to follow him in.

But it was enough. You both jumped, Jimin’s hand lifting off yours, both shifting away from each other. He laughed shakily, ran a hand through his hair.

“As much as I want to kiss you right now, I’d hate myself for it tomorrow,” you insisted before pulling away from him. Even though you had more than enough to drink tonight, this conversation with Jimin awakened you from fantasy land. The two of you were a complete mess, lying to one another about each other’s lives. You couldn’t bear the thought of whomever he was seeing finding out that he had kissed an ex-girlfriend while they weren’t around. Ugh, the idea made you feel sick–or maybe it was the alcohol.

You stood on your feet, a little wobbly like Bambi on ice, which warranted Jimin’s hands ready to catch you, but you assured him you were okay. You pulled down your skirt, which hiked up underneath your ass cheeks. You berated yourself, walking toward the door. Wondering who you thought you were, coming to this party as a big shot when in reality, you were nothing but a fake, a fraud who deserved nothing else than to be alone in this new year.

You turned around, taking one last look at Jimin, who hadn’t taken his eyes off you since he first saw you earlier tonight. Lifting your hand to wave, telling him, See you later, Jimin. Even though you knew it was another lie. You couldn’t bear to see him with someone else, let alone have their hands all over him. It would be too much for you.

“No! Don’t!”

He was on his feet, crossing the distance to you in two large steps. He placed one hand against the door and the other on your waist.

“Please don’t go.” He floundered, starting sentence after sentence with nothing to follow. “Please, just stay.”

“What about your girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend; it’s not that serious.”

You chuckled, wondering if he was lying to himself. “Yeah?” you asked, cocking your eyebrow, “What are we doing then? What is this? Are you saying you want to get back together, or is this just because we’re both pathetic and miserable and drunk?”

“We might be pathetic and miserable and drunk, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t anything between us; you were the love of my life. You can’t just say we’re nothing to each other now. I know I’m not the only one who feels it. It’s still there. And I don’t want to be your friend.”

It’s true. How could you ever go back to being just friends with Jimin?

If the two of you were to continue what you had before, you feared you’d hurt Jimin again. But what if next time, it was him who left you? You weren’t sure if you could handle another heartbreak.

Your heart leaped when you heard the crowd roar echoing down the hall and into the room, the countdown to midnight in full swing. Fireworks glowed bright hues of white and yellow, illuminating Jimin’s face. More cheers and singing repeated as everyone rang in the new year.

The big question was, how would the two of you go forward now?

As Jimin caged you in against the door, your hands settled on his shirt, fingers curling into a fist, your body fighting every cell not to give in. You leaned in, nose brushed against his, lips faintly touching.

“Call me tomorrow when we’re both sober.”

Then you slipped out of his grasp and were gone.

#jimin fanfic #jimin fic #jimin #park jimin #jimin x reader #jimin x y/n #jimin x you #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts x you #bts x y/n #bts x reader #jimin angst #exes to lovers #jimin smut #bts smut #fic: keeping up appearances

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headgehug · 10 months

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beat generation dash simulator

📝 windblownworld

I need to run away and live on a mountain fr

#jack.txt #my buddy gary @ dharmabum has a good gig lined up for me next summer. #feels like forever away #fuck my life

( 1 note )

❕️This post has been flagged for the following community warnings: mature

📚 starvinghystericalnaked

okay, you know what, fuck you. fuck. you. there's nothing "obscene" about my poem. in fact the bible is more "obscene" than this. maybe if you had the guts to read it you'd understand that YOU are the problem. WE are the movement WE are the people WE are the answer.

🔁 🐒 oldbulllee14

Allen, I completely agree with you. Customs officials are a load of cock-sucking bastards. Next time you are in town, come over. I just got back from Mexico if you know what I mean.

🔁 📚 starvinghystericalnaked

say less 👀🍃

#like for real say less LMFAO if the feds are on tumblr we are so fucked

( 30 notes )

🚗 coloradocarjacker-deactivated04011948

"Well it's about time you wrote, I was fearing you farted out on top that mean mountain or slid under while pissing in Pismo, beach of flowers, food and foolishness, but I knew rhe fear was ill-founded for balancing it in my thoughts of you, much stronger and valid if you weren't dead, was a realization of the experiences you would be having sown there, rail, home, and the most important, climate, by a remembrance of...

🔁📝 windblown world

needed this right now. missing you, brother.

#does anyone know if neal remade or is he just gone? #did he say anything to anyone? he told me he was just remaking

( 2,396 notes )

🎶 bopaholicedie Follow

happy 1 year anniversary of the official annulment of my marriage

#if you're reading this jack go to hell. I wish you'd rotted to death in jail with that m*rderer #after all these years and not even a fucking thank you

( 2 notes )

📝 windblownworld

logging off indefinitely. my editor needs a draft of my book by the new year and I already blew my advance so there's no way I can ask for an extension. if you see me online tell me to fuck off

#mutuals can still send letters

Pinned post

( 0 notes )

❤️‍🔥 lucienspress

feeling blessed for all of my good friends today. real ones know — rip d.k. '44 — keep the hustlers and parasites at arms length, we'll get through this!

#this one goes out to you jack! 🙌 hit me up sometime

( 74 notes )

🛤 railmanmoriarty Follow

what's up motherfuckers! remade from @coloradocarjacker

🔁 📝 windblownworld

neal? holy shit. is that you? are you busy tonight?

🔁 🛤 railmanmoriarty Follow

kerouac my boy my lad my good man for you I am never busy I have to just drop carolyn off at the motel and procure a fine feast dinner for her and the kids and then maybe an hour two just setting around making sure she's and they're alright and then if you pick me up at 10 no I better say 10:45 not a minute later than ten forty five pm jack I will be fired up and ready to go out with you

( 4 notes )

📝 windblownworld

SAL AND DEAN ON THE PROWL TONIGHT JUST LIKE THE OLD DAYS!!! if you want to party with the OGs first rounds on me.

#NYC beat scene #jack.txt

( 12 notes )

❤️‍🔥 lucienspress

"Make 'em laugh, make 'em cry, make 'em horny."

#quotes #beatnik #beat literature #deep #counterculture #new york city #on the road core #kerouaquette #writer #writing advice

( 500 notes )

#jack kerouac #beat generation #beat literature #dashboard simulator #don't let this flop i spent way too long on it >_<

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writingwhimsey · 7 months

Note

Hi hi! I'm a new follower, and I can't wait to binge read all of your works 💗 but I wanted to request one shot Kanetsugu angst and slight spice. Maybe he could be observing MC training with Keiji and unexpectedly get jealous 👀 angry kiss? Idk I'm just throwing it out there 🤣 xoxo!

Hi! Thank you for the follow and for the request! I apologize for taking so long to get to this one, but I really had fun with it. It ended up getting a bit long. I hope you and everyone else enjoys this as much as I did writing it!

KanetsuguxMC

Slightly spicy, but nothing too bad.

Foolish

I stood at the gates of Kasugayama Castle, waiting to greet our guest. “Awe, are you my welcoming party, Princess?”

I smiled at Keiji as he approached the gate. “Yeah, everyone else is busy, so I volunteered to be your tour guide for the day.” I said.

Keiji grinned as he threw an arm around my shoulders in that flamboyant friendly way of his. “Sounds good to me. Though I’m surprised Kanetsugu didn’t come with you.”

“He has a lot of work to do.” I replied, laughing at Keiji as I shoved him away. “He did say he was going to try and finish up early so he could join us for tea later.”

“Sounds like that ole sour puss.” Keiji said grinning. “Alright, show me a good time Princess!”

I laughed again and began to take Keiji through the halls of Kasugayama. “So, how’s everyone back in Azuchi?” I asked.

“Everything’s going pretty great.” Keiji answered. “If Lord Nobunaga hadn’t ordered it, Hideyoshi was gonna be here. He wanted to try to convince you to come back home.”

“I should probably write him more often. Let him know that I’m doing good and that Kanetsugu is taking VERY excellent care of me.” I replied, making that a mental note.

“He’d probably just assume you’re being forced.” Keiji replied. “He’ll be okay, though.”

“I hope so.” I replied.

We talked more as we walked around. When we arrived at the training hall, Keiji gave me a grin. “Hey, you been keeping up on your training?” He asked me. Sometime before I came to Echigo, I had begun spear training with Keiji and the new recruits back in Azuchi.

“Oh…well I don’t really get to practice that much.” I replied.

“Well, since I’m here why don’t we take the opportunity to brush up on your training then?” Keiji replied. “Be a fun way to pass the time.”

“Well…alright.” I agreed after a moment. “I just need to go change first.”

“I’ll wait here.” Keiji replied.

I went to mine and Kanetsugu’s room and changed into a light linen top and some “leggings” I had made for myself back when I was still in Azuchi. It was all specifically for training. Much easier to move in. I returned to the training room and Keiji and I both picked up some practice spears…which were just wooden staffs really.

“Alright, Princess, let’s see what you remember.” Keiji said, grinning at me.

Keiji and I started going through the stances. I was surprised by how automatically my body seemed to move. I guess muscle memory counts for something!

“Doing pretty good there!” Keiji encouraged me.

“I’m surprised by how much I remember.” I replied, grinning. “Let’s see what else I can remember!”

“Haha! That’s the spirit!”

Kanetsugu…

Kanetsugu managed to finish up his work for the day…incredibly early for him in fact. He knew Keiji was coming and spending time with the Oda princess. While Keiji was his friend… he couldn’t help but to feel a twinge of jealousy at the thought of his lover spending time so close to another man.

Kanetsugu took note of the time and headed to the room where the pair would likely be having tea…only to find that they weren’t there. One of the soldiers passing by. “Lord Kanetsugu, if you’re looking for the princess and Lord Keiji, they’re in the training hall.”

“What on earth are they doing there?” Kanetsugu asked.

“Spear training.” The soldier answered.

“Keiji is showing off as always.” Kanetsugu muttered as he began to head towards the training hall.

The soldier started following him. “Not just Lord Keiji. The princess is pretty capable, too.”

Kanetsugu stopped in his tracks. “What?”

“The princess is training with Lord Keiji.”

Kanetsugu blinked. He recalled his lover telling him that she’d previously trained with Keiji, but she hadn’t seemed interested in doing that again or at least not that she’d told him. He had assumed it was something that had been thrust upon her by the Oda.

“Lord Kanetsugu…”

Kanetsugu mentally shook himself. “I’m fine.” He replied and then started marching off towards the training room, his pace may or may not have picked up a bit.

As he got closer, Kanetsugu could hear Keiji’s boisterous voice. “Your form is great, Princess.” Keiji said. “You sure you haven’t been practicing?”

“I guess it’s muscle memory.” She replied.

Kanetsugu picked up his pace, a frown instantly creasing his brow at Keiji complimenting her form…and just how pleased she sounded. He slid open the door and stepped inside the training hall. He saw his lover and Keiji standing beside each other, going through some stances with practice spears.

His eyes couldn’t help but to notice the way his lover looked in a thin linen top and tight pants that were similar to the ones Keiji wore. Her hair was up in a bun, but strands were falling in places. Her skin was glistening with sweat from the exertion of the training, reminding him of how she looked after a passionate night in their shared bed.

He didn’t like that another man was seeing her looking like this. Though perhaps what bugged him even more was the happy grin she was wearing as she looked at Keiji.

“What are you two doing?” Kanetsugu asked, keeping his tone cool and level. He would make sure no one could see the storm that was brewing beneath the surface.

Both turned to him, the smile on the Princess’s face becoming even bigger as she looked at him. “Kanetsugu!” She said, her voice showing she was happy to see him.

Keiji was grinning his usual smile. “I figured there was no way a workaholic like you would be finished in time to spend any time with us.” Keiji replied. “So I decided to see if the princess had been keeping up on her training.”

“I see.” Kanetsugu replied.

“Well, now that you’re finished we can go have tea.” The princess said. “I’ll just need to washup and change first.”

“No that’s alright.” Kanetsugu said. He wasn’t sure what exactly it was…curiosity perhaps to see this side of his lover, but his next words surprised him. “I’d like to stay and observe your training. I know you mentioned it before, but I didn’t realize it was something you had taken so seriously.”

A lovely flush came to her cheeks and a bashful smile graced her lips. She had no idea what that look did to him…what thoughts it put in his head.

Before she could speak, Keiji was speaking up. “Sounds good to me. And yeah, the princess here was my best student!” He was then patting a hand on her back…a far too familiar hand for Kanetsugu’s taste.

“Well, continue with your training then.” Kanetsugu replied, moving to a spot where he could better observe. He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest in an effort to hold himself in place.

“Alright, you heard the man!” Keiji declared. “Let’s get back to it.”

The princess smiled at nodded. “Alright!” She declared in a voice that showed she was determined and ready to go…though that slight flush remained on her cheeks.

Kanetsugu watched as the two continued to go through the stances and exercises. The princess did indeed have a good form. He was surprised to see how well she wielded the practice spear. She moved as someone who had trained for quite sometime.

“Alright, let’s see if you can remember some of the more advanced stuff.” Keiji declared leading her into another exercise.

She did well once again. Though Kanetsugu did notice one stance she had a bit of trouble with. Keiji as her trainor noticed this as well. “That’s good, but ya gotta move your hands more like this.” Keiji said, showing her where her hands should be positioned by demonstrating himself.

She nodded and moved her hands. “Here?” She asked.

“No, here let me help you.” Keiji replied, setting his spear aside and then moving to stand behind the princess. “First relax into it a bit more…” He said, a hand coming to her back and adjusting her posture. “Spread your feet just a bit wider, but not much…”

As Kanetsugu watched this, he could feel the rage bubbling up inside of him. He didn’t care that this was for training purposes…another man was touching HIS lover…and right in front of him! He did his best to contain that rage.

“Alright now,” Keiji went on, his arms going around the princess and his hands resting on hers, “you’ll wanna move your hands here…” He was then sliding her hands along the staff into the proper position.

Kanetsugu couldn’t help but to notice just how close Keiji was to the princess. Keiji’s head was even lowered so that his face was right next to hers…and she still had that flush on her cheeks. Was she liking this? He couldn’t stand it a second longer.

“I think that’s enough.” Kanetsugu declared.

Both Keiji and the princess looked at him, shocked expressions on their faces at the sound of his clipped tone. Keiji was then grinned as he pulled back from the princess. “Got it.” He said, clearly understanding what was going on.

The princess looked at him, confused. “Kanetsugu…” She asked, slowly lowering the practice spear.

Keiji was quickly taking the spear from her as Kanetsugu came over and took her hand in his. “Come on.” Kanetsugu said, tugging on her hand to lead her from the room.

“But…” She began to protest.

“Don’t worry, I’ll clean up here, Princess.” Keiji declared.

“He’ll be fine. I’ll send someone to show him to his guest room later.” Kanetsugu told her.

“O…okay.” She replied and waved back to Keiji, who was just grinning at the two.

Kanetsugu led the princess out of the training hall and quickly pulled her into a deserted corridor. He moved quickly, pinning her against the wall and pressing his body to hers. “You foolish girl.” He muttered before claiming her lips in a hard kiss.

“Mmmnn!” She gasped into the kiss as she parted her lips for his quickly intruding tongue.

Kanetsugu firmly held her, his hands running over her body as he deepened the kiss. His lips parted from hers only to trail down the side of her neck…he couldn’t seem to control himself and his teeth were soon scraping her over her flesh, leaving marks. He wanted to mark her…to claim her.

“Kanet…sugu…” She gasped, her body responding of its own accord to his ministrations. He opened the collar of her shirt and allowed his lips and teeth to explore her collarbone and cleavage.

Kanetsugu pulled back, looking at her with a feverish need burning in his eyes. He could see her panting against the wall and his desire only seemed to grow. She was panting and sweating, her cheeks glowing and her eyes filled with desire and confusion, tears already seeming to glisten at the corners. Her clothes disheveled from his own work. He wanted more…and it was clear she would let him.

“Kanetsugu…?” She asked, her breathy voice filled with a mixture of confusion and desire and longing. “Wha…what’s…going on?”

Kanetsugu sighed as he leaned his head down, forehead coming to rest on her shoulder. “How else am I supposed to react to another man touching you?” He replied. “And even worse when you’re smiling and blushing at him…”

“Oh…” She gasped. She was then moving her hands to cup his face between them and forcing him to pull back and look at her. “So, you know Keiji is my friend and only my friend.” She began. “So yeah I was happy to see him and happy to work on training again…but the blushing…well that was…because YOU were watching.”

Kanetsugu blinked. “What…”

The princess now turned away, a bashful expression on her face. “Well, how else is a girl supposed to feel when the man she loves most in all the world is watching her? I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of you…”

A gentle smile came to Kanetsugu’s face. He brought a hand to her chin, coaxing her gaze back to his. “We’re both fools.” He declared before capturing her lips once more.

She responded to the kiss, wrapping her arms around him. When they broke the kiss, she was smiling up at him. “I love you, Kanetsugu.”

“I love you, too.” He replied. He was then helping her to straighten her top back out. “Let’s get this fixed…I can’t have anyone else seeing you like this while we head back to our room.”

Her eyes widened. “It’s the middle of the day…”

“I don’t care. I can’t contain myself much longer…not after all of that.” He replied.

The princess smiled, her cheeks reddening but her eyes with desire. “Well…I’m not really sure I can wait either.”

Kanetsugu let out a groan. “When you say things like that…”

The pair worked to quickly straighten themselves out and were hurriedly making their way to their bedroom…where they wouldn’t leave until the next morning.

#ikesen kanetsugu #kanetsugu naoe #ikemen sengoku kanetsugu #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #whimsey answers #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #fanfic #ikemen series #otome boys #fanfiction #cybird #one shot #jealous kanetsugu

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abiiors · 2 years

Text

Wired Autocomplete

Matty Healy Drabble (fem! reader)

A/N: Definitely did not procrastinate by watching a shit tonne of these interviews in the name of “research”

There’s the use of Y/n a lot of times. Sorry, it’s based on the wired interview. I can’t really find a way around using it.

This is based on an ask! (My requests are open)

‘Does Matty Healy…write his songs?’ That’s how the interview starts.

‘Yes he does,’ you both say in response at the same time.

‘He leaves his moleskins lying around all the time,’ you add on. Then you give him a theatrical side-eye, ‘drives me crazy, really.’

‘What?! You love peeking at my unfinished lyrics!’

You laugh and pick up your board again.

‘Does Y/N Y/LN…have a boyfriend?’

You both look at each other and then look straight into the camera. It’s freaky how you share one braincell sometimes because what comes out of both of your mouths is a single, deadpanned ‘No’

‘We’re best friends really,’ he continues, in all his mock seriousness.

‘Roommates even,’ you add.

It’s all in good fun, however. Your relationship is not exactly private, has never been very private. You both love to show each other off whenever you get the chance. Still, some people really do live under the rock…

‘Has Matty Healy…acted?’

His eyes go wide as he quickly says no. A bit too quick… Meanwhile, you make wild gestures at the camera, stage whisper “Waterloo Road” until he puts a hand over your mouth and both of you end up giggling like idiots.

There are a few more questions after that about his music. Then there are a few more about your career and your life outside of the spotlight. It’s instantly noticeable to you how seriously he answers questions about his music. That’s definitely one of his most endearing qualities. Soon, that section is over and he picks up the next board.

‘Up first,’ he announces and you do a small drumroll with your finger. ‘Is Matty Healy…gay?’

‘Aren’t we all,’ he replies. The crew laugh at that but of course, you knew that’s how he was going to answer that question.

‘Is Y/N Y/L/N,’ you rip off the tape with a flourish, ‘...a singer?’

‘Uh…’

‘You should hear her in the shower, mate,’ he says with all seriousness, ‘the voice of an angel.’ The hint of teasing in his voice makes you whack him on the back of his head with the board. He laughs a bit, pretends to be seriously hurt but then he picks up his board again.

‘Is Matty Healy…married…’ he trails off once the tape is off.

Your eyes widen momentarily and his go to your hand, specifically to your ring finger. There’s a blind moment of panic when you think you’ve left the damning evidence on.

‘No,’ he tries not to swallow audibly, ‘Matty Healy is not married.’

It’s not a lie…not exactly.

But he’s about to be.

The blinding diamond ring safely tucked in your purse is proof of that.

He quickly moves on to the next question (Is Matty Healy an Aries? Yes he is, he even makes a face while he confirms that). The rising blush up his neck has not escaped your attention, however.

You both know no amount of editing will stop the fans from reading into that look you just shared.

***

Two weeks later, you get a notification from Youtube while you’re laying in bed.

“Matty Healy and Y/N Y/L/N Answer the Web’s Most Searched Questions / WIRED”

The comments are almost instantaneous. There are fans who think he’s hilarious. Then there are the people who think you two are adorable together and you make sure to like some of those comments from a personal account.

That’s when you see it—

“Did anyone else notice the look at 9:56 👀”

It only has 3 replies right now. Not much traction but all 3 of them agree that there definitely was a look.

‘Look at this, love,’ you turn to him and make him take off his headphones. He lets out a proper chuckle once he sees the comment.

‘Looks like the cats out of the bag, huh?’

It is and it isn’t. Who knows, maybe the comment will gain traction. It’s only been 9 minutes since the video came out. In the meantime, he grabs your hand and kisses it right above the ring.

‘I don’t wanna take it off anymore,’ you say to him after a moment’s silence.

He smiles at you—a genuine, dazzling smile—which ends in him giving you a lingering sweet kiss on your lips.

‘So time to make it official?’ he whispers against your lips.

‘Nah,’ you laugh, ‘let the theories go wild for a bit!’

#♤: matty blurbs #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you

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lunadeathbed · 2 years

Text

Hi Ren

Notes: How I think Ren would react to the MC getting freaky with a toy and calling out his name. (–‿⁠・⁠)

!!! Gender-Neutral Anatomy (technically I guess, the hole isn't specific 👀) + Reader!!!

My writing doesn't specify any gender or body parts so interpret it however you like!

Pink : Ren Blue : Angel

The colour will tell you who's perspective your reading from, the first word is a different colour. Every time the perspective changes the colour changes. Also texts and dialogue are just highlighted to tell you who is saying what not the perspective.

Part 2 of Normally Not Normal ↓

You enter your bedroom in just a plain black shirt.

Ren already knew what you were up to after you left your room to go shower. What he didn't expect though was the brand new black vibrator you walked into the room with, he hadn't seen that one before. He watched you closely as you sat down on your bed, puting the vibrator on a towel to your left

Pulling out your phone you look at your contacts, clicking on Ren's you started to question whether this was a good idea.

You inhaled and send the text.

“Hey Ren”

Ren certainly wasn't expecting to be getting a message from you right now. He sent one back as fast as he could.

“What's up angel?”

You were surprised at how fast he replied. It was certainly to late to back out of this now.

“I was wondering if you wanted to hang out later?”

“I was gonna binge a bunch of horror movies and I know that you like them too”

You hoped you weren't being to forward, waiting for his response you bit your bottom lip.

Ren was ecstatic, YOU were asking HIM to hang out.

“Of course, I would love to”

“What time do I need to get there?”

Ren smiled to himself, you were really adorable and so thoughtful too.

You nearly jumped of your bed at your excitement. You bearly managed to answer him.

“At like 8 maybe a bit earlier”

Watching you through the camera he looked at you fondly. How could you be so amazing. You really were an angel.

“I'll pick up some snacks on the way over”

“Ok”

It was currently 6 you still had some time before Ren arrived. You left the room to go get something.

Ren watched intently as you stood up and left the room shortly returning with a bottle of lube. He knew the exact type you were using, he even bought the same one. He pulled out his own bottle from the side draw of his desk.

He continued to watch you as you opened the cap and squeezed some onto your hand, rubbing it over the vibrator. Ren felt his excitement rise, his sweats began to feel a bit to tight to contain his throbbing boner. He pulled down his pants to relieve some tension, covering his dick in some of the lube. He imagined the feeling of your hands stroking his length. They were so small compared to his, so much gentler and warm.

You lifted your shirt enough to get better access to yourself, parting your legs in a more suitable position.

Ren watched as you turned on the toy and pressed it against yourself, listening to your soft moans. He himself started at the same pace pressing down on his length slowly letting a groan escape him.

You continued to rub the toy against yourself gasping whenever it hit you just right. Finally pushing the toy into your needy hole, you moan out Ren's name.

Ren stared at the screen in total awe listening to you call out his name nearly every time you buried the vibrator back into yourself.

It was heavenly.

Matching your pase, his own moans and breaths mix with yours coming from the monitor.

You began to pick up your pace letting a string of his name come out, slurring your words. You imagined how he felt inside you. How his significantly larger hands held down your waist, how his touch was so gentle. The way he looked at you, the way he said your name. How his soft hair clung to his face, his fresh sent of mint and linon swirling in the air.

You loved how Ren felt so intoxicating, almost like poison making his way through your thoughts until you couldn't think about anything else. You felt your eyes role back and the waves of pleasure come over you.

Ren came it sync with you as you called out his name. Breathing heavily he felt a surge of needy possessiveness rise over him.

You were his Angel.

His and only his.

You even said it yourself.

He wanted-no needed to hear your voice. Reaching for his phone he waited a second to calm down before calling you.

You heard your ringtone go of, you paused catching your breath for a second looking at the screen.

Ren was calling.

He sure had some impeccable timing.

You answer the call.

“Hi Ren”, you sounded a bit out of breath. You hope it wasn't too noticeable.

“H-hey Angel”, he sounded a bit out of breath too. You wondered why a little, he was probably working out or something. He certainly had the build of someone who did.

Ren spoke again snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Are there any snacks you want me to pick up?”

“I forgot to ask earlier”

Oh, right. Horror movie binge.

"hmm"

“Uh, can you get some ramen cups?”

“Sure thing Angel, anything else?”

“mhh, no get whatever you want”

“Ok Angel, I'll see you soon”

“Bye Ren”

Ren enjoyed toying with you a little even when he “wasn't” ment to be. He looked at the monitor displaying your bedroom. You looked a little dumbstruck as you collapse back onto your bed.

Notes: I wrote this while watching a shitty action movie at 10 o'clock at night

(⁠・⁠–⁠・⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ

Also there's gonna be a part 2 but I'm not sure if I wanna make it another smut or wholesome, I might do a bit of both. Let me know what the people want plz. This is the first time I'm posting my work so please be nice.

(⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆

If there are any errors or feedback please let me know!

#14 days with you #14dwy #14dwy redacted #14dwy ren #💜 — renren supremacy.#fanfic #fanfiction #ren #love him #14 Days With You smut #smut #ren smut #lunadethbed fannic #ren ren #sneaky boy #STOP WATCHING REN

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evansbby · 4 months

Note

ARI REALLY DID IT!!! HE REALLY BROKE UP WITH HER!!! HOLY SHIT!!!

When Sharon said she thought reader was the Ari was cheating on her with, cause she had a feeling deep in her gut… should’ve listened to it. Always, and I mean always go with your guy ladies.

SHARON IS BI CURIOUS SHE THINKS OF READER WHILE MASTURBATING!!!!!

Curtis is a damn sleazeball, Wanda is dumb and blind asf. Also a bitch! Hinting at having a threesome with Carla 🤣and Reader. Then when reader says he needs to respect his gf and he says she’s one to talk OHHHH BURRRRN!!!!!!

Also yes Ari how do you know where Steve’s parents live 🌚

He sighs, “If you want, I could come clean to her and tell her it was you who I was sleeping with. You shouldn’t have to deal with that, it’s my problem, anyways.” Does he not realize that that’s not gonna make the situation any better 🤦🏾‍♀️ MEN.

When reader finally had the outburst in the supply closet 😭 poor baby.

Definitely gotta make sure to keep out the part about letting Steve finger her in the Uber🤣 didn’t want Ari even more pissed that he already is.

Uh oh… Ari freaking out about Kira 👀

“Because I do care! I think I’d know what I’m feeling better than you would!” Calm down Stevey Boy 🫢

“I was always going to ask you out, Ari or no Ari. It’s only when I saw how jealous he got when he saw you with me, that I realised how much he liked you. That he liked you more than he liked his own girlfriend. That’s when I realised I could be with you and get back at him at the same time.” Umm… that’s not- yeah that’s still not cool Steve. Men are so so damn stupid I bet this has actually happened in real life before.

“Fuck you! Try an’ scratch me again and see what happens!” Steve arguing with the branch 🤣🤣 then when he claims that that’s it’s tryna pick a fight with him LMFAO!!! This man is drunk!

Poor Steve getting kicked off the team. Also, get this man in some anger issues classes.

Out of everyone, I feel bad for Kira the most. Especially after what Steve said she’s going through and how their parents are never home, and don’t know how bad she’s really gotten.

God, you would never understand men! YOU AND ME BOTH GIRLIE

Also should I feel bad for Carla? Yes, maybe. Possibly? Do I feel bad for her though? 🙂‍↔️ nope

He grabs her by the upper arm roughly, “Carla, shut the fuck up right now if you know what’s good for you,” He hisses. LMFAO!!! YEAH CARLA SHUT UP!!!

“Stop acting so holier-than-thou, Sharon. You’re not worth shit anymore, not since you got dumped,” yeah umm… Carla deserved what Curtis did to her at this point.

She says brokenly, “I..I liked you. I liked you so much. You have no idea how much I…” oh I know how much, that almost confession you made I remember that 👀

“I’m in love with you.” Ari breathes. HOLY SHIT HE SAID IT ARI REALLY SAID NO HESITATION THIS TIME!!!

“Why does it always take some sort of traumatic event for you to say these things?” You know that’s a really good question. WHY ARI?!

“Tell me, is that what you told my sister too?” JAW FUCKING DROP! ITS ABOUT TO GO DOWN!!! Again! 🫢🫣

Steve telling Ari about what Kira has been going through makes me feel even sadder than when he was telling reader about it

“She’s my sister and you were my friend and you fucking broke her, Ari.” I FUCKING KNEW IT!!! I KNEW THEY HAD BEEN FRIENDS BEFORE!!!! It always hurts more when it’s a friend that does the betraying, cause like you trusted that person. Never thought once out of the whole friendship that they would ever do something to hurt/betray you.

STEVEN GRANT ROGERS!!!! WHYY JUST WHYYYY?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

“Don’t worry about me. I’m comfortably numb, remember? I think I finally made it last…” I-… 😓😢😭😣😔 damn Steve is really going through it. Poor baby

To answer your questions:

1. They were both sweet, but Steve was bittersweet so I think I kinda liked his more. It did hint/foreshadow at what would happen later on in this part.

2. Carla Wanda SUCKS ASS FUCK THAT BITCH!!!!

3. Because she pretended to be her friend, let her vent about Ari and cry on her shoulder. She knew the whole time why Ari broke up with her, had so many times to open up about the truth. I think if reader would’ve told the truth from the get go, and explain everything then she would’ve been a little bit more forgiving towards reader.

4. I’m not sure. Ari says Steve doesn’t know what he’s talking about, so maybe Curtis did it. I wouldn’t put it past him tbh. He seems like that kind of guy. But that begs the question… how did Curtis get ahold of Kira’s nudes if that’s what actually happened?🤔

5. Team STEVE!! I feel like they’re gonna have to pump his stomach. Attempted OD, maybe his parents will even have to fly back at this point.

AHHH BESTIEEE OMFG

Okay firstly YES I AGREE, as a woman, always trust your gut and intuition! But also, Sharon was kinda blind bc Ari literally carried y/n bridal style away after she got hit with a basketball like HE LITERALLY COULD NOT HAVE MADE IT ANY MORE OBVIOUS that they were together. But tbh I think Sharon was being blind bc she wanted to believe the best in y/n bc SHE liked y/n 🥺🥺

And yep lmfao Curtis was so damn sleazy in this chapter! Which is crazy bc he and Wanda were genuinely inseparable in the previous chapter! But now this guy is blatantly cheating on her with that brunette cheerleader AND he propositioned reader to have a threesome??? BRO FUCK THIS GUY FR.

ALSO YES. I really wanted to illustrate how stupid and clueless men are. Like when Ari says “you want me to tell her?” LIKE BRO??? That would just make it worse 😭😭 Also when Ari says “she’s a strong girl, she’ll bounce back” that is literally crazy 😭😭 men are fr so stupid and I don’t get them either and I’m happy you picked up on them being stupid in this chapter!!! Emotionally stunted fr! Steve too!! He also had some stupid dialogues and moments like him wanting so badly to explain, then his explanation being like “yeah idk why I did that, I just did” 😭😭😭

Thank you so much for this wonderful review bestie! I always appreciate it so much when people quote lines from my fic and then analyse or react to them!!! And your commentary is fr so funny!

Last thing I’ll say is… yeah maybe Steve will need to get his stomach pumped… IF he survived that is 😔😔😔😱😱😱 but would his parents care enough to even fly back to see him? 😔😔😟

#anon #wg ask #wg 4 ask

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capricornmuffins · 1 year

Note

Majorly in need of Kendall’s improved and sweet birthday please!! 👀🎂❤️

Anything for you, lovely!! Thank you for the inspo as always! ❤️❤️ this is fluffy and also a little angsty because ken and Rava are separated at this point in the timeline and I have no self control. I’m sorry this got so long!

Summary: A happier birthday for Kendall. Set a few months before the pilot.

Some smuttiness under the cut also!

Anyway, Don’t Be a Stranger

“Hey!” Her warm smile greets him when he answers the FaceTime. “Happy birthday, grandpa.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, unfastening the tie he put on. Too stuffy. “Thanks. 39–fucking prehistoric.”

“Did you get your AARP brochure yet? Or is that the big 4-0?”

“Uh huh. Laugh it up. You’re next.”

“Hey, I still have 4 months to go, so. You’ll always be old first.”

“Oh, that’s nice. You uh—you better have a great present for me. To make up for this fucking harassment on my birthday.”

“Who said I’m getting you a present?” She asks, brow raised.

He huffs a laugh. It’s too easy to fall back into their usual banter—he never knows quite where to draw a line.

“What are the kids doing?”

“Getting ready for school, but they want to say hi—hey, guys? Daddy’s on the phone.”

“Happy birthday daddy!” Sophie practically screeches on the other end. Her crooked smile makes Kendall’s heart constrict. She grows every time he sees her—which is admittedly less these days. He’s burning the candle at both ends, getting ready to take up the mantle at Waystar.

Only a few more months to go til Dad’s 80th. The final countdown.

“Thanks, baby girl. You pick your dress out today?”

“Yes! It’s my new one from Auntie Shiv.” She hands the phone back to Rava so she can do a twirl.

“Wow, look at you! Auntie Shiv picked out a beauty. You look great, sweetie. What’s Ivey doing?”

“He’s here—he wants to say hi,” Sophie passes the phone to Iverson.

His baby boy. His son. His legacy.

“Hey buddy!”

“Hi daddy,” Iverson waves, pushing his too-big glasses up the bridge of his nose. Kendall aches.

“You all ready for school?”

“Uh huh.”

He hears Rava whisper to him offscreen.

“Happy birthday,” he recites dutifully.

“Thanks, bud. Hey—I got a new Lego set for us. It’s that Spider-Man one you wanted.”

“Cool!” He nods enthusiastically, a genuine smile lighting up his little face. “Will you help me build it? Like last time?”

“Sure will. I think you’re gonna like this one even better.”

“Hey, Ken—we have to run—“

“Oh, sure—have a good day at school guys. I love you.”

“Bye daddy,” The answer in unison.

“Hey—one sec,” Rava comes back on.

“What’s up?”

“I know you have them this weekend, so I haven’t asked. But—do you have any plans tonight? For your birthday?”

“Um—“ He wishes he could say he was throwing a cool party, or even just having dinner at Dad and Marcia’s. He should just lie, because his actual plan of working as late as humanly possible and passing out is pathetic even to him.

“I’m sure you probably do—“ she goes on, almost nervously.

“I um—yeah, I don’t, actually. Been a lot going on at work, you know, with everything. So—I was just gonna work late.”

There’s an almost pitying look in her eyes that makes him feel even worse.

“Well, if you don’t feel like being at the office for 14 hours, I was wondering if um—maybe you’d want to come over for dinner? With the kids?”

“I—wait—really?”

“Yeah—I would have asked sooner, but um—I don’t know. I figured you’d have plans.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs. “I’m uh—I’m in really high demand.”

She laughs a little. “You usually are.”

“Yeah—I don’t know about that. But um—sure, that sounds great. Really great.”

“Yeah?” She looks relieved. As if he’d say no to her. “You wouldn’t rather be out with the guys?”

“Come on, no way.”

“Okay,” she smiles. “Okay, good. You think you can get here for 6:30? They usually eat at 6, but I know it’s not easy getting out early around there.”

His mind flashes to the nights he wasn’t home until 9 or later, too coked up to eat the food she’d leave out for him. He screws his eyes shut and lets it pass. Bad, bad times.

“Yeah, no, that’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“I think they can let the birthday boy out early. I’ll be there.”

“Great. I’m glad we’re doing this. It’s been a little while since the four of us had dinner together…” she trails off.

“Uh huh. Yeah, this is good. And hey—thanks, Rav.”

“Yeah, of course. See you tonight.”

It’s his second birthday since they’ve been separated. Last year was spent in a black hole of depression after she left with the kids. She took them to her parents, brought him to rehab, and left him with the promise that this whole thing was temporary. Just so he could completely focus on his sobriety.

They’d get through it, she said, but she needed time. How much more fucking time did she need?

This time last year, he hoped he wouldn’t see 39. The sky fell and fell and fell. He’s better now — rehab and therapy have stuck. He’s learned to live with the pain, like some incurable disease. But the hole in his heart is still there, it scabs over and the slightest misstep reopens the wound. He’s all scar tissue. She still hasn’t come back to him fully, only in late night phone calls and the occasional dinner hand-offs that feel like explicit trysts.

But now, she’s finally throwing him the life vest. He’s fucking taking it.

————

He spends the last hour of the work day anxiously checking his watch. He needs to be en route to Rava’s by 6 and he’s determined to get there on time. He’s going to prove to her that his head is clear, that he can be the man she needs again. To prove what a good father he is.

“Hey, dad—“ he sticks his head in to Logan’s office. “I’m heading out.”

“Bankers hours today?”

“I’m uh—I’m having dinner with Rava and the kids.”

Logan’s face is stony.

“For my—for my birthday.”

“Uh huh,” he looks like he wants to say more, but remains impassive. “Well. Good. That’s fine.”

“So I’ll—I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Well, when you’re done there, if you want to come by for a drink—you know, for your birthday. Marcy and I will be home.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.”

“Good. Give the kids my love, won’t you?”

He’s no longer looking at him, attention back on his screen. Dismissed.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll bring them by soon.”

“Happy birthday, kiddo,” he says, still not looking up.

“Thanks.”

He feels light as he gets into the idling Mercedes.

“‘Sup, Fikret.”

“Evening, Mr. Roy. To Rava’s as planned?”

“Please.”

He puts on his headphones to decompress from the day, stomach fluttering in anticipation of seeing Rava and the kids. Their absence has taken up permanent residency in his ribcage and he can’t shake it loose. It’s ever-present, the weight of his fractured family. His failure. Loneliness.

But today he feels hope, because he knows they’re getting back together. She’ll see that everything will work out. They’re just going through a rough patch right now. He has to pay the toll for his sins.

“Thanks Fikret,” he nods as he steps out of the car. Rava’s new building feels tall and looming and unfamiliar.

She buzzes him up and opens the door herself instead of her usual housekeeper. His heart almost leaps out of his chest at the sight of her. She’s casual in faded jeans that hug her perfectly, and a fashionably slouchy white sweater. She’s done her hair and makeup though — he tries not to feel too good about it.

“Hey,” she greets him with an easy smile, the one that sucks the air out of him.

“Hey,” he tries to sound chill, but he feels like he just ran the fucking New York Marathon.

He clocks her taking in his Brioni suit with a flicker of satisfaction.

“You look nice,” she says.

He leans in to embrace her, his confidence growing. Her sweater is soft, tangible against his fingers, grounding him. But the scent of her Jo Malone is still a gut punch, so he’s careful not to inhale too deeply.

She rubs his back, almost absentmindedly, before pulling away.

“Thanks. So do you.”

“Oh, thanks. I’ve been running around,” she waves him off. “The kids are so happy you’re coming.”

“Really?” He smiles, daring to let himself be cheered at the thought.

“Mhmm,” she gives him a funny look. “Did you think they wouldn’t be?”

“I mean—I dunno. We FaceTime almost every day. I’m not that exciting.”

“You’re their dad, Ken,” she reminds him gently. “They always want to see you.”

He nods, swallowing a lump in his throat.

“Hey, guys? Dad’s here!” Rava calls out up the stairs. The sound of barreling footsteps echoes from the second floor.

“Don’t run down the stairs, please,” she adds. “This spiral staircase is a fucker,” she says to him.

“Architectural Digest’s wet dream, though,” he notes.

“Hi daddy!” Sophie appears at the top of the stairs, consciously making an effort to walk slowly.

“Hey, there’s my best girl,” he opens his arms to her. She hits the last step and launches herself into him.

Iverson follows behind, nudging himself into Kendall’s side.

“Hey, slugger,” he ruffles his hair, pulling him in for a hug.

Sophie wraps her little arms around his neck and looks at him earnestly, the way she has since she was a toddler.

“Daddy, we’re making you a present. Me and Ivey have to finish it. Okay?”

She reminds him so much of Rava, all soft eyes and self-assurance and abundant affection.

“Whatever you say, wild honey-pie.”

She kisses his cheek, making him want to sink to the floor and weep.

Iverson stays quiet, looking at the ground. His boy, a piece of his soul, who’s so much like him in every way he almost wants to shake it out of him, like a fucking genetics Etch-A-Sketch.

“How was school today, guys?”

“Good. We learned about presidents. I said that you know the President in real life,” Sophie informs him.

“Oh yeah? You remember meeting him a few years ago? When you were like—“ he puts his hand down by his knee. “Yay high?”

“Uh huh,” Sophie nods. “He was weird.”

He and Rava both snort.

“Yeah, uh—he is kinda weird, huh?”

“Grandpa likes him,” Iverson comments.

“Yeah—Grandpa likes everyone.” He means it as a joke. Rava raises an eyebrow, and he shoots her a look.

“Hey,” she intercedes. “You wanna guess what’s for dinner?”

“Uh—how about….” He looks between Sophie and Iverson. “Spaghetti worms?”

“No!” T hey giggle.

“No?” He smiles. “Huh, okay. Dirt cake?”

“Daddy,” Sophie rolls her eyes fondly.

“Okay, okay. Tell me.”

They both look at Rava and shrug.

“I had Margareta make your favorite filet. You know I’m hopeless with a steak.”

“You—you did?” He prickles with pleasant surprise.

“Well yeah! You have to have your favorite meal on your birthday,” she smiles.

Fuck, he loves her. This feels like how it used to be. He wants to say fuck the dinner and lay her down on the countertop—

He exhales heavily, expelling the pent up emotion from his lungs.

“You are fucking hopeless with a steak.”

“Little ears,” she nods to the kids, but there’s a glint of humor in her eyes.

“That’s a bad word,” Iverson informs him.

“I know, I’m sorry buddy. That doesn’t mean you get to say it, okay?”

Iverson nods.

They spend the next hour at the dining room table. His appetite has returned more recently, particularly now that he’s clean. It’s been a long time since he’s tasted a homemade meal, usually preferring takeout sushi if he isn’t at a business dinner.

“No steak for you, Soph?” He asks.

“Her friend Avery Bancroft is a vegetarian, so…” Rava offers.

“Oh, right. That Bancroft?”

“Uh huh.”

“Red meat is gross. It’s all bloody,” Sophie wrinkles her nose.

Iverson picks at his plain pasta.

“How’s your pasta, Ive?” He asks.

“Good. I put butter on it now.”

“Awesome, bud.” He thinks that’s the right answer.

“Mom, Ivey and I need to go finish daddy’s present.”

“Okay, go ahead.”

“Can’t wait,” he calls after them.

She clears their plates, and he helps stack the dishwasher, despite Margareta hovering nearby.

“You want some coffee?” She asks.

“Uh…yeah. Sounds good,” he smiles.

He sits down at the island as she sets to making them coffee. She doesn’t ask him how he takes it, but still makes it perfectly.

“You remembered,” he notes.

“I’ve been making your coffee for like, 15 years. Have you figured out how to use your machine yet?” She teases.

“Fuck off,” he laughs. “And no. Carla handles that…”

“Helpless,” she rolls her eyes. He tosses a sugar packet at her.

“What’s new with you? How’s work?” He asks, trying to keep things on neutral ground.

“It’s good—you know, the usual. Taking on more projects lately than I normally would.”

“What, you strapped for cash?” He jokes, trying to keep the bitterness out of it.

“Ha ha. No, I just…need to throw myself into things right now.”

“I uh—I get it.”

“But hey, I got you something.”

“You—you got me something?”

“It’s um—it’s nothing crazy. Just a card.”

She procures an envelope from the basket on the granite counter, simply reading Ken.

The card is simple, almost generic. Not much like the Husband birthday cards she used to thoughtfully pick out for him, making sure the words aligned with her feelings perfectly.

But he opens it, and lottery tickets fall out. He chuckles, remembering the year she started adding them to his birthday gifts as an inside joke. They were engaged at the time.

Happy birthday, Ken. I’m so proud of all the work you’ve put in this year. I hope 39 is happy and healthy! Love, Rav

Love.

He’s touched. He holds the lottery tickets in his hand. If you win, you have to leave Waystar and start a rival company, she used to say. They’d spend all night coming up with names and business plans.

“Never did win any of these.”

“Maybe this’ll be your year,” she smiles sadly.

“Thank you, Rav. You didn’t have to.”

She shrugs. “It’s still your birthday.”

“Dadddy!” Comes Sophie’s voice from the top of the stairs. “Close your eyes!”

“Okay,” he plays along, covering his eyes. He can’t see the smile on Rava’s face, but he knows it’s there.

He hears their footsteps come into the kitchen.

“Okay, open!”

Sophie is proudly holding up what looks like an art project, a poster with all kinds of construction paper shapes glued to it. There are 7 or 8 pictures of him and the kids, and a couple of the 4 of them, glued haphazardly around the construction paper. Stickers dot the borders.

At the bottom, I LOVE MY DAD is written in Sophie’s messy handwriting. They’ve both signed their names.

Kendall can’t speak. He feels like he’s been broken in half.

“Do you like it?” Iverson asks, proud of his handiwork.

“Guys—“ he chokes out. “I love it. This is so great, thank you. Wow. Come here.”

He scoops them both into each arm and hugs them against him. They nuzzle into him and he tries desperately not to let his eyes well up. He might be failing.

Rava unexpectedly joins the hug, wrapping her arms around all of them.

“We saved the best for last,” she says.

“There’s more?”

“Cake!” Sophie and Iverson chorus.

———

After they eat cake, and the kids have showered and gone to bed (Ken even got to tuck them in), he and Rava are sitting on her couch.

“This is the best birthday I’ve had in a while,” he says. “Last couple of years have been—“ he doesn’t need to finish the sentence. She knows. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad we could do it.”

“And, hey, this place looks great,” he looks around the vast living room. His unofficial, non-legally-mandated child support is clearly doing it’s job.

It’s surreal that she has a whole

new home, with new furniture and art on the walls and sculptures on the coffee tables. But he still sees traces of their life before—there are scattered pictures of him with the kids, of his arms around a radiantly pregnant Rava, of him holding Iverson in the hospital when he was born.

He thinks of his own home, their home, that still carries her ghost. He can still smell her on his sheets, hear her stilettos on the marble entryway, feel the indent on her side of the bed.

“Oh, thanks! Yeah—I actually brought in a decorator this time around.”

“What? Given up your interior design side hustle?” She’d always insisted on decorating their previous homes herself, filling them with familiar touches.

“Yeah, I just—I didn’t have it in me for this one,” she shrugs. There’s sadness behind her nonchalance, and he feels it in his bones. He can fix this.

“Rava—it doesn’t—it doesn’t have to be like this,” he looks at her earnestly, trying to reach her the way he used to.

“Ken,” she sighs.

“Seriously—hasn’t this little trial separation gone on long enough? I mean, come on.”

“You’re doing so well. You’re sober and getting ready for the big job—I just—I think you should stay focused,” she puts a hand on his knee.

“I am—I’ve turned things around. I’m good. I’m in a really fucking good headspace.”

“I know,” she pats his knee. “I meant it—I’m really proud of you. I want you to be happy.”

“But I’m not—I’m not like— happy happy. Not without you. Or them.”

She closes her eyes and sighs. When she opens them, they’re glassy.

“You still have them, Ken. They adore you.“

It’s a small comfort.

“I know, but I mean—are—are you happy? That they have to FaceTime me every night instead of us all being together? Do you like going to sleep alone every night?”

“Well it’s not ideal, obviously, but—“

“Because I fucking hate it, Rav. It’s been awful without you.”

She looks pained. “I’m sorry. I am. Believe me—this hasn’t been easy for me either.”

He wants to dispute that, but then he remembers the first few months of their separation. When she’d call him at 2 am. They’d stay on the phone in silence until she fell asleep. Sometimes he’d hear her crying quietly.

“I can do both, now. I can focus on being the big boss and you guys. That’s all that matters to me.”

She brings a hand gently to his face, cupping his cheek. He leans in to her touch.

“We can’t keep doing this,” she protests, but it’s half-hearted.

He leans in closer, eyeing her lips. He wants to suck her in until she’s absorbed into his bloodstream.

“Do you—do you still love me?” He asks tentatively. He’s both confident in and terrified of her answer.

She pulls back a little, removing her hand.

“That’s not fair.”

“No—I’m sorry. I know.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Okay, sure. But it is. I mean, do you still love me or not?”

She bites her lip, nodding imperceptibly. He catches it nonetheless. His heart leaps. She still loves him. He feels that pesky glimmer of hope again.

“That’s—that’s never been the issue.”

“Then what the fuck are we doing?”

“We’re doing the right thing.”

“How? That doesn’t—that doesn’t even make any sense? How can us not being together be the right thing?”

“You know why.”

“I’ve done everything you asked. I went to rehab. I’m sober. I’m in therapy.”

“Ken,” she clutches at his hand. “I’ve already gone through one devastating breakup here, okay? I can’t do it again.”

“But we wouldn’t break up again. I’m better now. We’re still not—I mean, we’re not like, really broken up. We’re just taking a break.”

“Okay Ross,” she laughs a little.

“Hey,” he leans back in, close to her face. He looks into her eyes. “I still love you. Okay? I love you.”

“You can’t just say that,” her voice wobbles.

“It’s the truth, baby.”

He can see the walls crumbling within her. He leans in even closer, forehead resting against hers. His lips a millimeter away from brushing hers.

“Ken, please,” she whispers. “Don’t.”

He pulls back, stinging like she’s slapped him.

“Okay, fine. I won’t—if you don’t want me to. I’ll stop. I’m—I’m sorry.”

She searches his eyes and he feels heat rising in his cheeks. She always makes him feel raw and exposed.

To his surprise, she grabs his face and brings her lips to his.

He hungrily grabs at her and she climbs clumsily into his lap. Her hands run through his hair while his travel up and down her back. He can feel her smile into the kiss, making him do the same.

This feels good, this feels right. He can feel himself coming back to life.

He skims his fingers under her sweater, making her shiver. She begins to undo the remaining buttons on his shirt as he moves to the button of her jeans. He’s already hard as a fucking rock as she wiggles out of her jeans, grinding against him. The feel of her wet cotton panties makes him moan in her ear.

“Rav,” he growls, fingers threaded in her hair, gripping at her scalp.

She pulls off his shirt, running her hands over the planes of his chest, down his stomach, like she’s reacquainting herself with the feel of him.

“Touch me,” she whispers, nibbling his earlobe, the spot she knows drives him crazy.

He indulges her command.

They end up on the floor of the living room (the couch was nowhere near big enough) while the kids still sleep peacefully upstairs.

They’re spent, panting and sweaty. Her hair is stuck to her forehead, and he brushes it aside. She shoots him an almost-nervous smile. He squeezes her into him.

“That was—“

“Yeah—wow.”

“That was fucking interstellar sex. Holy shit.”

“Yeah—what was that new move? Have you been using it lately?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve had a lot of dates to practice it on.”

She narrows her eyes, and he basks in her hint of jealousy.

“With uh—with Pornhub. And my right hand. Or your nudes.”

She laughs, whacking him in the stomach. He grunts exaggeratedly, curling in on himself. “You should delete those.”

“Easy, killer. You know I’m fragile right after I cum.”

“Mhmm,” she grins.

“You think they heard us?” He nods at the stairs.

“Nah. They’re hard sleepers.”

“They get that from you. A fucking freight train crashing into the bedroom couldn’t wake you up,” he recalls, making her snort.

“Iverson is like you though,” she says. “He has trouble falling asleep sometimes. Gets jumpy. He needs to be woken up gently.”

“Yeah, there’s no waking you up gently. I used to have to practically toss you onto the floor. Dump water on your head and shit.”

“Shut up,” she laughs again, resting her head against his shoulder. “You never did that.”

“How would you know? You fuckin’ slept through it.”

He grins at her laughter. It’s the kind he used to be able to pull from her easily. He wants to drink it up, snort it like powder.

“Okay, stop. We’re actually gonna wake them,” she’s wiping tears of mirth from her eyes.

“Should we—“

Before he can say should we go to bed, his phone vibrates from the pile of their clothes. Her smile fades a bit.

“Sorry, one sec—“ he rummages for his pants, pulling his iPhone out of the pocket.

“Fuck. It’s Dad. Just—just let me get rid of him,” he promises, pleading with his eyes. Her smile is gone, replaced with a resigned look on her face.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Are you still coming?”

“Oh—shit, sorry. I forgot. I’m still at Rava’s.”

“Uh huh. Marcy and I are going to bed. So don’t bother.”

“Fuck. Sorry dad. I’ve been spending time with the kids—“

“Right, sure, sure. Good.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh. You have a good night, kiddo.”

“Uh—thanks, Dad. Hey, um—“

Logan’s already hung up.

“Well, fuck. Whoops.”

“What’s up?” Rava asks, covering herself with a blanket from the couch.

“I told Dad I’d stop by tonight, after this. But—“

“Oh. Right.”

“Yeah it’s—it’s fine. Whatever. I’d rather be here, obviously. I just didn’t think we’d—“

“Yeah, I—me either. Maybe we shouldn’t have—“

“Hey, no no. I wanted to. You have no idea—“

He reaches for her before she can slip out of his grasp again. She looks hurt.

“It’s just—it would have been nice to—I don’t know. Not make plans with your dad overlapping dinner with us. That’s all.”

“Hey, come on. It wasn’t like that. I told him maybe I would, if I wasn’t—if you didn’t want me to stay long.”

Her eyes soften. But she picks up her clothes and starts to get dressed.

“Rav,” he can feel the magic of the last hour fading away, and he clings to her arm. “Please. Let’s just—let’s go to bed.”

She rubs a hand over her face. “I don’t want the kids getting the wrong idea—“

He feels the air deflate from his lungs, crushed.

“Right,” he scoffs.

“No—Ken, not like that—“

“Uh huh. No, sure. Sure.”

“I just—I don’t want to rush into things. I’m trying to set boundaries.”

“Oh, yeah, well. I’d argue that me being inside you is not a great fucking boundary?” He spits.

“I know, I know. I just—when I’m with you—you know? When I’m with you—“ she trails off, looking anguished, grabbing at his hand.

He sighs, anger releasing.

“I know.”

“It’s been so hard,” she wipes at her eyes. “It’s not fair. It fucking sucks.”

He’s caught off guard and a little indignant. She thinks it’s been hard? His anger flares up again, withdrawing his hand.

“This whole fucking thing was your idea. You wanted this.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t—want this. This wasn’t in the fucking vows, you know?” she sighs, defeated. “I can’t rehash this all again.”

“Uh huh—maybe pass it off to your therapist. I’m gonna go.”

“Kendall,” she puts a hand on his arm. “I don’t want to ruin this—tonight felt like we were a family again.”

“Yeah, it did.” He feels cagey, like he needs to pace.

“Can we not—can we not leave this angrily? Please?”

She looks down at the ground, still wrapped in the blanket. She chews a nail nervously—an old habit. He feels a pang of guilt, and his anger deflates.

“I’m sorry. I’m working on not reacting emotionally,” he parrots his therapist calmly.

“I know. It’s okay.”

“I’m gonna—I am gonna go, actually. I’m sorry. I just—I’m sorry, Rava.”

“I know,” she placates. “You’re okay.”

He nods, willing it to be true. He takes her card and the kids present.

“I’ll um—I’ll see you Friday. For pickup.”

“Yes—let me know what time works.”

“Yeah, will do.”

She cautiously wraps her arms around him, rubbing his back. He sighs, returning the hug.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Happy birthday.”

Late that night, he’s laying in bed. He feels shitty. He’s hovering over their text thread, wishing he was in bed with her. He fucking hates all of this.

He clutches the kids gift close to him, like if he holds it tight enough, their belief in him will rub off.

As he debates calling her, because he’s desperate for her comforting words, he sees that she’s calling him.

“Hey,” he answers in surprise. “I was—I was thinking about you.”

“Me too. I um—can we—“

“Uh—yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“Okay,” she sounds relieved.

He closes his eyes and lays the phone down next to his head, each of them falling asleep to the sound of their breathing.

#succession fic #Kendall Roy #Rava Roy #kenrava #kendall x rava

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forabeatofadrum · 2 years

Text

Ljubim te (2/24)

Notes: Oh, what is that? Is that a title? Yes, Jen @1908jmd sent the idea to me. It means I love you in Slovene, which I didn’t know up until now (but also, my Slovene knowledge is quite limited and I never had a reason to learn this sentence) (unlike Klaine I was not there for a Slovenian romance). After all, Blaine has such a hard time saying I love you to Quinn. Maybe he’s saving it for someone else 👀???

AO3 | S&C

–

CORK

Kongresni trg is the place to be.

Kurt loves sitting in the grass - on a blanket, mind you, he’s not going to ruin his clothes - and breathing in the scent from the pizza place in the corner. He’s not attached to the square because of its historical value, but because he likes being here. It’s a nice green spot in the heart of the capital. It’s surrounded by gorgeous buildings and you have a stunning view of the Ljubljana Castle on top of the Castle Hill.

Kurt’s only been here for a few days, but he already loves this place as a spot to unwind. And again, the great pizza place is an added bonus.

Kurt watches a man walk towards the pizza place in a hurry, as if his life is depending on it and Kurt smiles. He understands the appeal of the place. A few minutes later the man comes outside with a huge slice. The pizza place is small, so you have more place to sit outside. It’s a cold February day, but it’s doable. That’s why Kurt is also outside.

No one has warned this guy about the birds, though.

The moment he sits down, a flock of little sparrows land on the table and they try to get some of the pizza. At first the guy seems amused, but since more birds keep arriving, the amusement changes into slight panic. He throws some crust on the floor in hopes of distracting the birds and sure, some fly down to peck at it, but this means more birds arrive. He looks distraught.

Is that guy afraid of birds?

Kurt doesn’t have the moral obligation to save a stranger’s pizza, but he gets up anyway. He quickly rolls up his blanket and walks towards the table.

“Shoo, shoo!” he shoos.

The guy shoots Kurt a grateful look.

The sparrows don’t give up so easily though.

“Begone, birdies,” Kurt says and after more overly enthusiastic movement, the flock leaves. Kurt might look absolutely ridiculous, but the guy is looking at him as if he’s God himself.

“Hvala,” the guy says, “I was- uh, wait, English?”

“Yes,” Kurt says back, “I’m American.”

“Oh, me too!” the guy sounds relieved again, “I just moved here last night and as you can see, I am kind of a mess.” He lets out a self-deprecating laugh.

“Are you afraid of birds?” Kurt asks.

The guy shakes his head.

“No, I like birds. Usually. But I am just very tired right now and I think my brain fried when those birds arrived,” he says.

“They love the pizza,” Kurt shrugs, “Every time I get a slice, they are here.”

“You live here for long?” the guy asks.

Kurt shakes his head. He is just obsessed with this pizza place, but that might be a bit too embarrassing to say. Kurt did pick up his Boni yesterday, so maybe his pizza addiction will subdue.

“I only moved here a week ago,” he answers.

“Okay. Oh. My name is Blaine, by the way,” the guy – Blaine – says. He looks very tired indeed.

“Kurt,” Kurt answers.

“Kurt, do you know where to find the nearest supermarket?” Blaine asks desperately. It catches Kurt off guard but then he laughs.

“Oh wow, you’re really going through it.”

“You can tell?” Blaine sounds frazzled.

“Trust me, I probably was just like you only a week ago.”

“Oh, great. Good to know it gets better.”

“How about this? You finish your slice, and I will walk you to the biggest supermarket in the area,” Kurt answers. Blaine once again looks at him as Kurt’s been sent from above to assist him. He must be really out of it.

“Yes, yes, thank you.”

The Maxi Mercator is literally across the street and Blaine laughs when he realises.

“I was so close!”

“Yes you were, although you probably were looking for the Mercator ten minutes that way,” Kurt says and he points in the right direction. That Mercator is easy to recognise. This Maxi one is basically underground.

Kurt didn’t have ‘go grocery shopping with a stranger’ on his to-do list, but here he is. The pizza definitely rejuvenated Blaine, so he is less frazzled and more put together.

“So, are you also a student?” Kurt asks when they’re at the vegetable area.

Blaine shakes his head.

“No, I am here for my dad’s company. You know, popping some corks with fancy respected business people and shaking hands while wearing nice suits.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, we’re expanding and I need to oversee the expansion.”

Kurt whistles.

“That is a big responsibility.”

Blaine shrugs and he reaches for some potatoes.

“It’s a job,” he says flatly and Kurt raises an eyebrow.

But Blaine didn’t see it. Instead he asks about Kurt.

“A student, you said?” he asks.

Kurt nods.

“Yes, I am here on an exchange. I follow classes at the Academy of Theatre, Radio, Film and Television of the University of Ljubljana. I’ll go back to New York in the summer.”

“And you came all the way here? Alone?” Blaine sounds impressed.

Kurt nods proudly.

Now it’s Blaine’s turn to let out an impressed whistle.

Blaine finishes his groceries and Kurt assumes that’s the end of whatever wack adventure they have, but once they’re outside Blaine turns to Kurt and asks:

“I hope it’s not too much, but are you willing to give me some sort of tour of the city? I really have no idea where to start.”

“Oh-”

“It’s okay if you’re busy!” Blaine quickly adds, “You must be buried in coursework. Never mind, forget I said-”

“It’s fine!” Kurt says. Classes start next week. Like many other students, Kurt moved to Ljubljana before the semester starts in order to also get to know the city and country.

“I will drop this off at my place,” Blaine nods towards the two bags of groceries, “But we can meet at that park again?”

“Park Zvezda, at Kongresni trg,” Kurt says, “Sounds like a plan.”

–

End notes: “Shoo, shoo!” he shoos is my peak in writing!

Anyway, as I said in the first chapter, I am definitely putting some spots that I love in the fic, and the pizza place was *chef’s kiss*. I actually didn’t know the name up until 5 minutes ago, when I looked it up on Google Maps for these notes, since I just know it as “the pizza place at Kongresni trg”, but it is the take-away part of Ljubljanski dvor. Kongresni trg is also a place that I love. I also called it “the place to be” in my Ljubljana travel blog. Ahhh, good times.

And the sparrows were definitely a thing, although I slightly exaggerated it for the purpose of the fic. This didn’t happen like this all the time, but it did happen once. My Belgian roommate (let’s call her C in case I will mention her more often) and I went there on her first (or second?) day in the city and the sparrows couldn’t let go. One even tried to drag an entire piece from the paper plates. A lot of people were amused by it, even us. Blaine, on the other hand, really needs his pizza so good thing Kurt stepped up.

Lastly (woah, I didn’t plan on having a long end note), I am definitely taking some liberties with the whole business and study thing here. I have zero (0) knowledge about business and I did study at UoL, but at a different faculty. Kurt’s faculty actually requires a B2 Slovene level, but in this fic... let’s not.

#klaine advent: cork #klaineadvent #klaine advent 2022 #klaine advent #klaine #glee #holy fuck I wrote #2022 #multichaptered

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littleladymab · 2 years

Note

Mab mab mab mab mAB i see "request a ship" and i IMMEDIATELY THINK thalias and samakro sooooooooo thalias and samakro with number 4 (forehead kisses) mayhaps? 👀

OH NO DID I USE THIS AN EXCUSE TO WRITE A PLANNED EXTENSION OF THE LAST THALAKRO I WROTE FOR YOU SIMPLY BECAUSE I ALREADY INTENDED FOR THERE TO BE A FOREHEAD KISS IN THAT?

maybe.

is that cheating?

probably.

The plan is to eventually clean up the transition between the two scenes then I'll post it to ao3 🤭 and when i write my Eli prequel to "far from the world that i made", this will feed into that

++++

After dinner, Mak’ro takes a shower to “rinse the last of the Family ties off” and Thalias carefully hangs up the Commodore uniform. (He doesn’t make a direct offer for her to join him, just a curious tilt of an eyebrow when he declares his intentions during their meal. Thalias declines by saying she’ll handle his uniform.)

She calls a porter to pick it up and arranges to have it sent ahead to his new command so that he doesn’t have to worry about lugging his dress uniform around. He’s also left a duffle at the bell desk as he stopped by earlier that morning to add her name to the reservation and pre-check in, which she has brought up. She leaves that for him in the bathroom.

After that, Thalias busies herself with tidying up from dinner. She fixes her makeup and hair curlers strewn across the vanity. She puts her dress away in the closet, resigned instead to never wearing it. Because what good will a formal dress do her all the way out on Ool?

Thalias doesn’t even realize how lost in her own head she’s getting until a pair of warm arms wrap around her middle and hoist her off her feet.

“I’m pretty sure there’s a saying about idle hands,” Mak’ro comments as he half carries her to the sitting area.

“I couldn’t possibly know what you��re talking about,” Thalias replies as she gets her feet back under her. “I wouldn’t know what to do with an idle moment.”

His hands remain at her waist, his grip loose enough that she can turn around to face him properly. He’s wearing one of the bathrobes and his damp hair is slicked away from his forehead. She loves seeing him like this and she gives in to the urge to run her fingers through his hair. “I’m sure I have a few ideas, if you’re wanting,” he offers, and his laugh is smothered by her kiss. “I meant like you could knit! I didn’t mean anything else.”

“Of course not.” Thalias grips the open collar of his bathrobe and pulls him in to kiss him again for good measure, and again and again — drawing it out until she can feel the humor in his lips fade into simple contentment. “The girls are a handful at the best of times. I hardly have a chance to pick up a hobby.”

“What?” Mak’ro does an expert job at faking surprised. “A bunch of children away from home are a handful? I don’t know what you mean; Sache was a perfect angel.”

Thalias laughs despite herself. “You can say that because you were more preoccupied by me.”

He hooks a finger beneath her chin and tilts her face up so he can meet her eyes. “You’re very distracting,” he comments.

“You say that with fondness now,” she teases.

Mak’ro’s answering grin is crooked on his lips and he places a kiss on her forehead. “It’s been nearly twenty years. I’d have hoped you have forgiven me for that by now.”

Her expression softens and she presses the palm of her hand against his cheek. “I can officially say I have now, Commodore Mak’ro.”

His grin softens to match, and he turns his head to press a kiss to her palm. They linger like that for a moment, then two, before separating. “You want anything to drink?” he asks as he wanders over to the minibar.

“I’ll have whatever you’re making,” Thalias says, moving to sit on the couch. Her questis is already on the cushions after she abandoned it there earlier in the day. She settles in against the arm of the couch and gives a languid stretch of her back.

Mak’ro joins her a moment later, handing her both glasses so he can clamber onto the couch as well.

“How are you supposed to drink yours?” she asks, amused, as he kicks his legs out and settles his head into her lap.

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” he admits, taking his drink back and settling his hands over his chest. “This seemed more important.”

Thalias smiles and runs her hand back through his hair. It sticks up at odd angles and refuses to settle. “I’ll catch it if you start to fall asleep with it.”

“Lifesaver.” Mak’ro already has his eyes closed, a small and self-satisfied smile playing at the corners of his lips. He’s never this relaxed unless its in the privacy of either of their quarters, and these days they see each other so rarely that she hates to imagine how much pent up stress he’s been harboring.

She glances at her questis for a moment in consideration. “Darling?”

He opens one eye, suspicious. “Yes?”

“Was Ar’alani at your promotion ceremony? I heard the Steadfast is in for repairs.” She hesitates a beat as he stares at her, waiting for the shoe to drop. “After their whole adventure in Lesser Space.”

“She was there,” he says slowly. “She didn’t stay long but she did want to offer her congratulations.” Mak’ro sets his glass down on the nearby table and props himself up on one elbow so he can get a better look at her. “Why?”

Thalias plays with her questis hoping her shrug comes off as dismissive. “I read the publically available version of her and her officers’ reports of the event. I was just hoping I could get a copy without all the redactions.”

His face does something complicated before settling into an expression she remembers from her time aboard the Springhawk at Sache’s side. “You are not asking me to send you a combat report that is strictly limited to flag rank officers the day I am promoted to Commodore.”

“You don’t have to send it to me,” she says innocently, though they’re both at an age where that doesn’t quite work. “I can read it on your questis—”

He looks so tired as he runs a hand over his face and she wonders just when the gray at his temples started to look so pronounced. “You know what I mean, Thalias,” he says on a sigh but doesn’t push her hand away when she reaches up to brush the hair just above his ears. It’s the tone of voice that highlights the old animosity of Ufsa versus Mitth, even if it has been nearly twenty years for them. Even if he cut ties with his Family. It’s an old habit to fall back onto. “Ask anything else of me, but not that.”

She hates that this was exactly what she was setting him up for. Ask for the impossible first and then the slightly more outlandish but completely possible. So she braces herself and says in a rush, “I want to meet him.”

This catches Mak’ro completely off guard and the exhaustion immediately fades into confusion. “Meet who?”

“Eli’van’to. The human.” She almost says Thrawn’s human but stops herself. “Was he there too?”

“No. What? Hold on—” He pinches the bridge of his nose, then rolls back over so he can get his drink and take a fortifying gulp of it. “Okay, back up. Why do you want to meet Commander Ivant?”

Thalias props her chin in her hand, leaning against the arm of the couch. “You know why.”

He frowns. “Alright that was a stupid question. I don’t know how much he knows about…” Mak’ro gestures at her. “All of it.”

“That’s why I want to read the report.” She holds up a hand when he gets that look on his face again. “I know, I know. I’ll have to go through official channels to requisition the data from proper channels…” Thalias doesn’t know what her expression does next because Mak’ro reaches up for her, letting his fingers tangle in her hair and his hand anchor at the back of her neck. Keeping her there in that moment. “They found a sky-walker, didn’t they?”

His silence is answer enough.

“She’ll need to undergo evaluation and proper training and—”

“I can’t help with that,” he says, cutting her off. “Officially, I can’t tell you anything. I won’t confirm or deny any guesses you make, but my hands are tied.”

Thalias sighs and presses her thumb to his lips, smearing a bead of liquid against them. “Alright.” Then, after another sigh, she repeats, “Alright.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Alright?”

She laughs despite herself, nudging him upright so she can curl up against him. His arm drapes around her shoulders, warm and comfortable, and she presses her hand to the exposed skin of his chest where his robe is open. “Are any of us?”

Mak’ro gives a disgruntled huff but places a kiss to the top of her head all the same. “What a good fucking question,” he grumbles, and she smiles at the familiarity of his frustration.

#star wars #thrawn novels #a lil miss fic #lil miss writings #thalakro #I have been thinking about them NON STOP the last few days #there is a ✨spicy ending✨ version to this i'll never write #but my ship deserves more content on ao3 where they aren't a side couple #this is also a very good motivation for me to write that eli prequel

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