#it is so fucking lonely not having a single person with a close relationship to you within 100 miles

[satzumosupremacy]

Elite Bodyguard Series: Pt.10

Desperation

Male reader x Jeon Somi

Tags: Smut, literally face fucking, daddy kink

2.8k Words

You have a history with Somi. Back when you were a freshly new bodyguard, she repeatedly sought out your services. Regardless of whether the close relationship you shared with her is just a distant memory for you, she still thinks of you from time to time—perhaps more often than you'd expect. And here you are, reminiscing about the old days and walking in front of Somi as she follows behind.

“Oppa, y’know my song was inspired by you.”

“Fast Forward?”

There’s a reason why Somi isn’t your client anymore—she switched agencies, that’s the only reason. You advanced quickly, gaining many celebrity clients along the way. It’s the law of attraction: when people seek top talent, companies turn to you. And when Somi needed to make a decision on her own career as an idol, she only had two choices: move to a different agency or continue to have you by her side. It was a hard choice for Somi until she came to the obvious conclusion. You didn’t hold any resentment; you understood her decision. This was all business anyways.

However, the glares in your eyes weren't always so friendly. Your presence was already intimidating, with the black suit, sunglasses, earpiece, and sometimes even a holster at your hip. You didn't smile much, but you got the job done. Initially, Somi thought you were a cold person, but that changed once you became her regular bodyguard. The more time she spent with you, the more her perception shifted. Despite your cold and intimidating appearance, you cared for and protected your client. That was the job you had signed up for.

“I took part in the lyrics,” Somi says, causing you to stop short before opening the door and look back at her.

“What do I have to do with your song?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbles. “Just.. just missed you, Oppa. Don’t you miss me too?”

You couldn't give her an answer when she expected a 'yes,' but you remained silent. Was it wrong to forget about her? You had her phone number, but you never called or texted. Not even to wish her something like a 'Happy Birthday' or 'Happy New Year.'

Somi glances around to make sure no one is watching. Once she's certain both of you are alone, she takes your hand. “I know we are parting ways again after this. But can we catch up? I don’t want you to leave.”

“I think your manager is waiting, Somi. We can catch up next time. Promise?”

“But remember the promise you made with me last time?”

You're clueless. Her question was too vague. It's been years. "What promise?"

“May I come over, Oppa? You’ve seen my place. I never saw yours.”

Somi never slept with you, but it was obvious that she wanted to fuck at the hotel when you went overseas with her, which didn't went her way anyways since this was all business. “Does Chaeyoung talk about me to you, Somi? I’m sure she said something.”

“Oppa, just once. Please?” Somi’s begging for you straightforwardly, you can tell from her eyes that she’s been lonely for far too long. “Aren’t we close? How many years have we not seen each other? It’s been too long, Oppa.”

There’s also not a single lie that you can tell Somi was interested in you, not just sexually, but also romantically. When times change, it’s questionable when you and Somi parted ways.

“Ennik,” you say softly. “Somi.”

“Yes?” she smiles and lets go of your hand.

“Come home with me.”

She chuckles, “finally, you’re not playing hard for once.”

———

“Daddy?” Somi says cautiously out of the blue as you pull into the driveway.

“Is that like one of your kinks?” you chuckle.

“You don’t like it?”

“I’m not judging. I don’t mind it, Somi.” You turn the car off and close the garage door. “Let’s go inside.”

She's unusually quiet, waiting impatiently as you both exit the car and walk inside. There's no doubt that Somi won't let you off the hook the moment you step in. She's hungry. She's lonely. As you shut the door calmly, before you can even turn around, she gets on her knees with her hands in her lap, looking up at you desperately.

"Give it to me, Daddy," she softly pleads once you see her kneeling, slowly placing her hands on your pants and pulls down slowly.

“Somi,” you take a breath, "how much did you missed me?"

"So much." Somi leans closer, staring right at you from below and getting a whiff of your crotch.

"Then show me how much you missed me. Be a good girl."

Somi doesn't respond, but you can see it in her eyes that she wants to be proven worthy. And slowly, Somi bites onto the waistband of your boxers, then pulls it down with a wicked smirk, and you felt her nose dragging against your skin.

She’s not someone who you just met. You know that she's a horny one at heart. Somi didn't want to waste any time. Her breaths came shallow and quick, as if each breath were full of desperation. She gulps and stares at your cock the moment it flings out of your boxers. But before you give her a taste, what's the fun without a small tease? You already have her in a chokehold, and she wouldn’t want to escape it.

"Take off your shirt," you demand, caressing her cheeks. Somi didn't even hesitate and takes off her shirt, revealing a black bra as you stare at her cleavage. Her tit's are round and perfect, more than enough to where you would want your face in between.

“Good girl.” you say, smirking.

She leans closer again and only stares at you after a quick kiss on the tip of your cock. “I’ve been fantasizing about you. I thought about you late last night."

“I’ll make it come true, Somi.” You say, brushing her hair and getting a clear view of her beauty. Once her mouth opened, she wanted only one thing: to taste you. But knowing how desperate Somi is, you're not letting her. Not this easily. You pull her hair back and she gasp, staring up to meet your gaze.

Somi gulps, which was loud in this quiet house. “Daddy,” she whispers. You saw your own reflection in her eyes as she looks at you.

“Open your mouth,” you say, wanting to be in control. Quietly, she opens her mouth without hesitation and you slap your cock right on her cheeks, not once, but twice as she flinches and smiles, then Somi wickedly chuckles.

“I’m such a slut for you.”

“It should be that way,” you say, a deeper tone that made her heart to start fluttering. Your cock was right in front of Somi. She’s impatiently waiting like a good girl. “Keep your mouth open and your tongue out.”

Again, she listens to everything you demanded. Her eyes gleamed, begging you so desperately to the point she’ll do anything just for a small taste. And as you’re curious to how desperate she was, her salvia starts to drip off the tip of her tongue.

You slap your cock right on her tongue, then held her nape with no intentions on letting Somi have it her way. You’re planning to ruin her face. She deserves it. There’s no excuse if Somi’s been waiting for this day. And with a small thrust into her mouth, she chokes once you reached the back of her throat. You push harder, slowly every few seconds without pulling out your cock.

Somi's throat expands, and you could feel her trying to choke, when it’s only a weak one with your cock deep in her throat. She leans back, almost falling behind, and you intentionally did it to pin her against the wall. She closes her eyes shut, face trembling to how deep your cock was in. Well, you weren’t trying to make her pass out, but you did start to worry and gave Somi some room to breathe.

She takes a deep breath with your cock still in her mouth. Without a response, Somi grabs onto your hips, bobbing and tilting her head slowly. You couldn’t help but smirk at how much of a slut you made her. There was no sense of pride from Somi. She's going crazy for your cock.

“Good girl,” you groan, complimenting Somi. “Go ahead, have it. Take it.”

“Mhm,” she murmurs. Then there’s a long hum, the type of hum of tasting something delightful. You felt her perfectly manicured nails digging into your skin as she grips harder and harder, cock disappearing in and out from her mouth. Saliva drips down from her chin and right onto her cleavage. You give a hard thrust and her head’s now against the wall, perfect as you smirk to what wicked intentions you have for her face—a hard face fucking.

Somi closes her eyes, letting a tear out by how hard you were thrusting into her mouth. It’s the tears of happiness that everyone gets after getting what they’ve been longing for. You decide to suddenly stop, still with your cock deep down in her throat. And with your thumb on her face, you wiped her tears, smudging her mascara in the process. She looked more of a slut at this point, and you aren’t complain of seeing Somi like this when her hair is sticking to the wall.

“Good girl,” you say, more softly with a deeper tone. “You look so fucking beautiful like this.” Praising her is a cheat code, she loves being complicated and praised at, especially if it’s from you. You’re well aware of how much you meant to her. It’s no secret.

And it’s clear that you’re using her mouth like a toy, she’s choking and gagging. You could care less while you chase this peace of mind from a singer’s mouth. Somi’s not stopping you, neither would you want to.

“Fuck,” you groan softly, taking a quick breath, and seeing how much of a mess her face was and pulls out. Saliva drips down to her tits after she spits more out to make a mess. You love it how she’s just a slut taking your cock like there’s no tomorrow. Her lips are coated in saliva as she worships your cock with her lips pressing right on it.

“Am I being a good girl, Daddy?” she mumbles, lips on the tip of your cock.

“You are. Maybe you should stop talking and show me that you’re even better than a good girl.” Somi’s face was all fucked, a whole hot mess. She’s even more beautiful like this.

“I want it all over my face, Daddy.”

“Should maybe get ready then.”

You grab onto her face, squeezing her cheeks with your fingers and palm right on her chin to make Somi look up at you. You were once her love interest. You were her protector. And now, she’s on her very knees, in a mess taking your aggression. Somi couldn’t say anything, she’s more mesmerized by your glare. You push your cock back into her mouth to make Somi gag and continue to choke all over your cock.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good,” you groan. Your cock was shoved deep down to the point it bulges out her throat. Her eyes are closed, tears slowly coming down her face. You felt saliva dripping all the way down to your balls. Her small mouth couldn’t take it, but she's not stopping you from using her like a toy.

Your cock begins to throb, violently more as you keep shoving your cock into her mouth. There’s a whole mess on her tits as it’s drying out layer by layer. Somi’s taking it like a slut that she is. It doesn’t matter how rough you were, Somi loves the way your cock throbs. After a deep gasp, and a moan, you pull out. Webs of saliva flows out her mouth and on your cock down to her chest.

She grabs onto your cock to start stroking it. Somi knew what to do. She wants to make you cum all over her face. Her hands squeezes your cock, stroking it faster and faster while looking up at you.

“Make me cum, Somi,” you uttered quickly. “I’ll cum on your pretty face.”

“Give it to me, Daddy,” she murmurs. Her mouths wide open, tongues out, eyes all closed.

You cum by her small hands squeezing and stroking your cock, releasing all the built up sexual tension for years, but all Somi can feel was how much cum there was on her face. With a bright smile, and a couple flinches from cum shooting onto her face, she finally got her fantasy to come true. It’s warm. It’s thick. Just what she’s been craving for.

Somi’s face is the definition of getting face fucked. Her hairs a mess, cum all over her lips, cheeks, and even up to her hair as she couldn’t open her eyes but smile. Then strands of cum stretch and drip down her chin to her tits.

“What a mess,” she utters after swallowing your cum, and the biggest smile you saw from her today. Somi scoops all the cum on her face and licks every single finger.

“You’re missing more, Somi,” you say, wanting her to lick your cock clean. She crawls on her knees to suck you off without a word. “There’s some on your hair too.”

“It’s fine,” she says after pulling off your cock with a loud pop. “You taste good.”

“Was I too aggressive?”

“Kind of. Tolerable thought. But why should I complain?” She then leans in again to give your cock a quick kiss. Her chest is pumping after being used as a toy.

“Water?” you say, wanting to give her some care.

“No,” she whispers shyly.

You grab your pants and gently hand Somi her shirt. She’s still on her knees with the shirt rolled up into a ball as she covers part of her chest. “It’s not a problem if you want get in my panties if you’re thinking about it right now.”

Well, you did give her a hard face fucking. It’s only right that you give Somi a time to rest. As you put on your pants, she’s just staring down at the floor, lost in thought.

“What are you thinking, Somi?”

“Are you gonna kick me out?” she says, looking up at you. There’s a pure moment of silence, you couldn’t believe what she just said. After face fucking her? Why kick her out?

“Do you want me to, Somi?” you smirk, teasing her when you aren’t planning on kicking her out.

“You want my pussy? I’ll give it to you right now for as long as you want. Please let me stay for a while, Oppa. Please, Daddy?”

You’re dumbfounded to why Somi thinks that you’ll kick her out. “Calm down, let’s go sit on the couch. I’m not telling you to leave.”

“Oh,” she embarrassingly says and puts on her shirt. After Somi stands up, she follows you to the couch and sits right beside you. Somi couldn't belive that she got naked and took your cock like a slut. Neither did she want to fully admit of being one.

“How was it since you changed agencies, Somi?”

“I really missed you. I couldn’t stop thinking that I might of made the wrong choice to leave you behind. And now you’re with Twice.”

“I’m just a bodyguard,” you chuckle.

“So what? You’re so comfortable to be around with. Isn’t it obvious?”

You shrug, “don’t know.”

“Oppa,” she takes a deep breath. “Was it also obvious that I was interested in you?”

“It was. Why are you bringing this up, Somi?”

“If I can’t buy your love, I’ll sell you my body. That’s the most I can do for you to want me in a way.”

You sigh, “there’s gotta be a better way to word that, Somi. C’mon.”

She then sits closer to you and puts her head on your shoulders, “we never had a proper farewell to each other. I want to thank you for everything.”

“It’s..not like I’ll never take you in as a client again, Somi. If both our schedules are right, I don’t mind taking you.”

“Really, Oppa?”

“When’s your next concert? I’ll come with Chaeyoung.”

“Why come with her when you can be alongside me like we used to? Be backstage and we can eat at a restaurant after with my manager. I want to treat you for everything you’ve done with me.”

“Just text me, Somi. I’ll be there if your agency reaches out to me.”

“Mhm, I can’t thank you enough.”

“Do you plan on spending the night here?”

“I’m busy tomorrow morning, Oppa,” she sighs.

“I’ll take you home later, Somi.”

A/N: Lost motivation to write more, but hope this is enough. Half ass edit too.

[thisismisogynoir]

I love it when women hate men. I love it when women are allowed to vent to each other about how horrible and creepy men are. I love it when women form friendships with and prioritize each other over relationships with men(whether they're attracted to them or not). I love it when women put men dni in their bios and on their nude photos and on posts on their blogs. I love it when women refuse to mollycoddle and accommodate entitled male feelings with "but this doesn't mean I hate all men, I know a few men who are great, I love my father/sons/brothers/uncles/male cousins/guy friends" I love it when women complain about men WITHOUT "not all men" being a disclaimer. I love it when women avoid socializing with/refuse to be around/befriend/get close to men because they know men can't be trusted. I love it when women make "kill all men" jokes. I love it when women offer absolutely no concern or care for men's feelings and if their misandry offends men whatsoever because why should we, men are the oppressor class who have raped and killed and abused us and kept us as subjugated as second-class citizens for millennia, they regularly mistreat us and the women in their own marginalized communities still every single day and make this world so much harder and more awful for us to be in, and if we choose to hate them and not spare them any sympathy then so be it, and I don't just mean "men as a class" either, you can be a woman who doesn't want to have anything to do with any man on an individual basis and completely cuts off men from her personal life too and ykw I will love and fucking support you in that because men deserve absolutely NOTHING from us. If they're so tough and strong then they can handle it just like they can handle being lonely. If you are a woman who hates men, ESPECIALLY IF YOU ARE A LESBIAN AND/OR A TRANS WOMAN, then just know that I love you. I love you, I support you, and you are safe here.

[iluvapplesxh]

⧽⧽⧽Behind The Scenes II. ⧼⧼⧼

✰ pair: billie eilish x fem!reader

✯ summary: The man you thought has finally stopped haunting you, suddenly gives you a call. And needless to say, he doesn't quite like it when you seek comfort from the one person you should've left out of this.

✰ warnings: stalking, a little bit of fluff, angst, blood, stabbing, intentions and attempt of kidnapping, mentions of vomiting, !ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE! (5.8k+ words)

✯ part I.

✒ a/n: the fluff fics sitting in my drafts like: 😴. (I accidentally posted this when it was halfway done and almost had a panic attack)

The silence in your apartment was overbearingly loud as you sat by your kitchen counter. There was a glass in front of you, half empty, filled with some type of alcoholic drink you took out of your fridge. You hadn’t drunk that much, but your head was pounding while you rested it on your cold, clammy palms. 

Gosh, why couldn’t you just get her out of your head? That stupid, worried expression she had been looking at you with a couple days prior. The soft crease in her brows, the pouty frown which had been so beautiful on those pretty pink lips. Or how her fingers had wrapped around your wrist, pulling you back against her. Close. So close you’d felt her breath on your skin before you’d painfully stepped away. 

A long, soft breath slipped past your lips as you shook your head in hopes of making the thoughts vanish. But it was useless. You couldn’t just stop thinking about her. Not when the two of you parted ways so…stupidly. 

But you weren’t in the wrong. You had a fucking stalker at the time. And you couldn’t just say no  to him.  Not when he had been threatening you with such  things. But then again, you could have, no, should have told Billie. So why didn’t you? Maybe you were scared he’d find out somehow. Or maybe you were just a coward. Whichever, it wasn’t the right or your decision to make. 

You perked up when your ears picked up the faint sound of your phone ringing in your bedroom where you had put it up to charge. 

You pushed the glass in front of you away and stood with another heavy sigh. You slowly walked towards your bedroom, walking through the door and up to your bedside table where your phone was plugged in. But, when you stopped in front of the wooden furniture and your gaze fell on the bright screen of your phone -a tight contrast to the darkness in your room- and what you saw was; Caller ID: unknown.

Your brows knitted together and a lump formed in your throat at the realisation. Your jaw clenched tightly as you took a deep breath before picking up the device, unplugging it before accepting the call with a shaky thumb.

“Hello?”

Just about as soon as the word left your mouth, a dark chuckle came from your phone, making you cringe. “Hey, beautiful. How are you?” A rough, deep voice said. “Enjoying the single life?” He continued, a smug smirk noticeable in his tone even though you couldn’t see him.

You screwed your eyes shut for a brief moment before sceptical gazing towards your windows, covered by blinds. “What do you want?” You asked, your voice filled with confusion and anger. “You already destroyed my relationship. What else could you possibly want?” You all but pleaded in a desperate tone.

The man tutted loudly, a deep sigh leaving his lips. “Now, now. There are a lot  of things I want” He paused dramatically for a moment before continuing. “You. for instance” He murmured lowly and a shiver went down your spine at his words. “But, not yet-” 

You swallowed thickly around the lump in your throat, you gaze frantically shifting around your room. “Just…” You began speaking. “Leave me alone. Please”

Another dark chuckle followed your plea. “But, baby, I’m enjoying this way too much” You almost gagged at the pet name he used and your grip tightened around your phone. “And you will, too. In time” He said in a taunting tone. “Right now, you’re scared, sad, lonely…and alone” 

Your whole body went rigid and all you could do was breathe heavily in and out your nose. “Not for long. Don’t worry, darling” He all but murmured into the microphone of his phone. “I’m coming” 

Those words were the last thing you heard before the line cut off, signalling the end of the phone-call. You blinked multiple times, standing still for another moment or two before you turned around frantically, rushing out the bedroom and almost aimlessly going around the apartment as your chest started feeling tight.

Finally, you stopped in front of the dresser in the hallway and grabbed your car keys with a trembling hand. You took fast, big steps towards the chair you had been sitting on minutes before, your finger grasping the fabric of your sweater before pulling it on and striding towards your front door. Your phone slipped into your pocket and you hurriedly put on your shoes. 

Your heart was thudding hard and loudly against your ribcage and with every breath you took it felt like it might be the last. You placed your hand on the door handle, hesitantly pushing it down before slowly pulling it open. You peaked your head out the barely open door, looking side to side in the hallway before letting out a shaky breath of relief when you saw nobody and heard silence.

You opened the door wider and stepped out of your apartment, your shoes thudding loudly against the newly renovated floor of the apartment building’s hallway, the sound echoing a little. You pulled the door shut behind you and turned around, locking it. You took another deep breath before pocketing your keys and taking hesitant but swift steps down the hallway.

Soon you were in the garage, anxiously glancing around as you took big steps towards your car in the far end of the building. Your hands were held in front of your torso, one grasping the other tightly. Your heartbeat echoed loudly in your ears, just as your ragged breaths did through the empty garage-considering the time-. 

You were just about a few metres from your car when a loud bang echoed through the building, somewhere behind you. You turned around fast, eyes wide and heart beating in your throat as you eyes darted all over the place.  The faint sound of footsteps approaching echoed and your heart almost jumped right out of your chest.

You didn’t think, you just swiftly turned back around, and ran to your car. You unlocked it and opened the door as the sound of the footsteps grew closer and heavier. Your hand shook as you placed the key to the ignition hole and twisted it before the same hand flew to the shift gear, gripping it and moving it. Your other hand pulled the door shut and moved to the steering wheel. Your foot stepped on the gas pedal hard and in a fast single motion your car flew towards the exit, tires screeching as you took the turn out onto the street before the car sped down the road.

It was only when you finally stopped at a red light that your heart rate slowed and your breathing became less ragged. You leaned your head back against the headrest and let out a shaky breath, shutting your eyes for a second.

You swallowed harshly before opening your eyes again, straightening up and placing both hands on the wheel, watching as the light turned green before you began driving again. 

You didn’t know exactly where you were heading. You didn’t really care either. You just wanted to get away. Fast. So, did it surprise you when you ended up at Billie’s place? Kinda. Not really. After all, she's always been your safe place. A shoulder you could cry on. A pair of arms that would hold you close until your body stopped shaking in sync with your rough sobs.

Not anymore though. You’re not hers anymore. Not hers to hold. Not hers to comfort. You simply weren’t her problem anymore. And you didn’t know if rightfully so, but it hurt. So much. 

But there were other things right now that you felt. Things that overpowered the feeling of hurt and guilt you felt whenever she was near you. Fear. A gnawing feeling of overwhelming fear and panic. You didn’t know if he was there earlier. You didn’t want to. And who knows, maybe he was, and he followed you here. And now not only were you in danger but so was the woman you loved with all your being.

Nevertheless, your car came to a halting stop by her home. You looked out the car window and a sigh left your lips when a couple of rain drops made the image of the house blurry. Your hand was placed on the key, and you twisted it once more, pulling it out as the dull rumble of your car’s engine stopped. Your bottom lip was tucked between your teeth as you gathered yourself before your hand reached for the door handle, pulling it and pushing the door open. 

Immediately, as soon as you stepped out of the car, the now pouring rain drenched you. A shiver ran down your spine and you shut the door before locking the car once more. 

A lump formed in your throat as you turned, glancing at the familiar house in front of you. The lights were on in the living room and you couldn’t help but let out a breath of relief. You took fast steps up the sidewalk then you approached the porch. Now, you stood in front of that door. Like you did so many times before. Of course, this was different. Because as your hand lifted, fingers tucked against your palm tightly and your thumb squeezed between them, ready to knock, suddenly you couldn’t.

It just didn’t feel right.

Maybe it was a horrible idea. Shit. What if he did follow you? No. No. You couldn’t be the reason Billie-...

Just as your fist dropped to your side again and your body turned to the side, the door swung open and you looked up with wide eyes. And you saw those blue eyes staring back at you, filled with confusion and a tinge of concern. Her brows were once again knitted together, a frown on her face. 

You felt a raindrop run down your face as you turned, it felt like hours until the silence was broken. Her voice was just a little louder than the thudding of the rain against the roof of the porch.

“What are you doing here?” 

The softness of her voice almost made you break down right then and there. You cleared your throat, suddenly finding your reasoning ridiculous and cowardly. You stayed quiet for a moment longer before the words formed  in your brain and came out of your mouth. 

“I-…He called me”

When the words left your lips, Billie’s heart rate sped up. A lump formed in her throat and she acted fast. “Alright. Alright. Come in” She grasped your arm gently, her fingers -now ringless- wrapping around you in an almost timid way. She pulled you inside and wordlessly shut the door behind you. Swallowing hard around the lump in her throat before she cleared it. She took in your drenched form and a shaky sigh left her lips.

“Uh, I’ll get you some clothes…” She said slowly, the awkward atmosphere suddenly overwhelming her. “You-...you can take a shower.” 

You nodded and looked down beneath yourself, seeing the small pool of water around your shoes. “Yeah. Okay” The words were muttered silently and you hesitantly pushed off your shoes and began walking to the bathroom. When you arrived, you gently pushed the door open and stepped in, closing it behind yourself.

Billie’s eyes followed you as you took cautious steps towards her bathroom. When you disappeared out of her sight, she huffed and inhaled deeply. Then turned around and locked the front door in a swift movement.

Soon she was rummaging through her closet, searching for something for you to wear. In all honesty, you would happily wear anything she owned just to feel that comforting scent around you again even if just by wearing her clothes.  

Billie’s hand ploddingly halted on one of her big T-shirts and she lifted it carefully, her breath catching in her throat when she looked at the article of clothing. Honestly, it wouldn’t have been anything special but, the way her mind almost immediately took her back to the numerous times you had worn this shirt of hers. It was a simple grey T-shirt with a small symbol on the left side of the chest area. 

Billie gently placed the T-shirt on the bed behind her after shaking the thoughts out of her head and she turned back to the closet, now going through  her pairs of pants. It didn’t take long before she settled on a pair of soft material blue baggy jeans and placed the folded clothing next to the T-shirt on the bed. 

She decided you would need something for your bare foot, too and just simply placed a pair of socks next to the already laid out clothes. Then she closed the doors of her closet and when she turned around, her eyes were set on you. And her heart leapt into her throat as she took you in, standing there, just in a white towel around your body.

Your eyes shifted towards the bed slowly, a pang making your chest tighter when you see the grey T-shirt layed out on it. You heard Billie clear her throat and you gaze went back to her, watching as her hand flew up and rubbed the back of her head.

"Uh, you can change into those." She began, her eyes now burning holes into the wall next to you. "I'm gonna be in the living room" She walked to the door where you stood. You nodded your head silently and stepped inside.

You heard her footsteps disappear down the corridor and a soft sigh escaped your lips as you tilted you head back.

Your thoughts raced as you sat down on the bed. The mattress under you so soft and comfortable. The memories which came flooding back made your heart ache. You felt like you couldn't breathe for a second and it just got worse when you once more cast you gaze down at the clothes laid out next to you.

Tears brimmed your eyes but you blinked them away. God, you missed this. Seeing her. Wearing her clothes. Being with her. In this house. Home.

A shaky hand reached out and picked up the T-shirt, holding it up in front of you. You let out a shaky exhale before dropping the clothing on your lap and unwrapping the white towel from around your body. You quickly slipped the T-shirt on, it's sleeves reaching down to your elbows and the end of it bunching up a little around your hips.

Then you stood and slipped on the baggy jeans, too, pulling it up to your waist before buttoning it and putting on the pair of socks. When you were done, you turned and took a look at yourself in the mirror.

You hated this. You hated this because you looked like hers again. Looked like nothing ever happened. Like there wasn't a man out there, waiting for you to be alone. Her scent developing you like it has so many times before. It was so comforting, making your breath calm and your heart rate slow down.

You felt your eyes burn with unshed tears once more and you squeezed them shut for a moment.

It was so wrong. You shouldn't feel like this right now. Like you were hers. You weren't. She's just a good person. That's all there was to it.

You exhale loudly and open your eyes once more, not letting your gaze fall into the mirror in front of you, instead turning your body and beginning to walk out of the bedroom.

You made your way towards Billie’s living room, looking around the corridor. Pictures of Billie at various events or with her family adorned the walls, but you noticed a couple clearer spots in between them, like there had been pictures there, too, previously but it had been taken down.  And you knew. Of course you did, after all it was so painfully obvious. Said pictures which Billie took down were of the two of you.

Your throat tightened up and you struggled to breathe for a long moment before you took a deep breath in through your nose and swallowed harshly. You continued making your way to the living room after.

When you arrived, you saw Billie looking out through the blinds, looking for something. Someone. You halted your footsteps with a tight, gnawing feeling of guilt in your chest. She shouldn’t have been in this situation.  She shouldn't have to be worried, anxious that there was someone out there, lurking and waiting for you. Or her.  But she was, and once again, you were to blame.

Billie’s head snapped back when she heard footsteps and let out a soft sigh when her eyes locked with yours. She let go of the blinds and turned around fully, taking in the sight of you in her clothes. Again. God, how she had missed this. You, coming over, sharing a wonderful evening with her and then getting comfortable on her sofa  in her clothes, watching some random teen show on Netflix. 

Billie cleared her throat and snapped her gaze away from you. “Uh…” She rubbed the back of her head, fingers tangling into her silky dark hair. “Would you like something to drink?” 

The awkward politeness of her question made you want to run out of there and never come back. “No, I’m good. Thanks” You managed to mutter out while your eyes darted all over the room nervously.

A small silent ‘alright’ left Billie’s mouth before she looked to the side and gestured towards the L-shaped sofa which was pushed against the wall. “You wanna sit?” 

“Sure”

The words abscond from your dry lips after a moment of hesitation and you turned, taking a couple steps towards the sofa and softly slumping down onto it. Billie followed suit, sitting down next to you at a respectful distance. Her shoulders were tense as she leaned back against the soft cushions. Your knee bounced up and down in an anxious and annoying manner, catching Billie’s attention. 

Her hand twitched with the instinct to reach out and put it on your knee to stop the nervous habit, but she didn’t. And maybe it was for the better anyway.

After a long minute of stillness, Billie spoke up. “Can you tell me what he told you?” 

Her words made your heart pick up its pace and you swallowed around the forming lump in your throat. You nodded reluctantly after a second. “Yeah” Your voice was a little hoarse and you shifted in your seat. “Well, uh he called me and just…I asked him what he wanted” You started, hearing the man’s words echo in the back of your mind. Billie tilted her head, brows knitted together while she waited for you to continue. “He said,” You cleared your throat. “There’s a lot of things he wants. For instance…me” 

An almost inaudible gasp slipped past Billie’s lips before she bit down on her lower lip. “He what?” Her words were harsh, her blood boiling. You cast your gaze down at the rug and exhaled. Billie’s head shook in disbelief. “A-...and then?”

You took a deep breath before continuing. “He told me that I-...” Your tongue darted out, moistening your dried lips. “I won’t be alone for long…and he was coming”

Billie exhaled loudly and brought a hand up to her face, her index finger and thumb pressing harshly against her temple. The two of you sat in silence for a few moments before she spoke. “Okay…” She started, swallowing hard. “Then you stay here and…we call the police” 

Your head turned to her at the mention of the police. “What? A…-and say what? There is no valid reason for them to actually do something” You argue, clearly -and understandably so- frustrated. “At least not permanently.”

Billie screwed her eyes shut and groaned, running the hand down her face and letting it fall against her thigh. “Then I don’t know! I-...” She took in a deep, ragged breath. “I’ll talk to someone, okay? Tomorrow. Until then, you stay here.”

Your eyes studied Billie’s expression and your jaw clenched before breathing out slowly. “Alright…” You softly nipped at the inside of your cheek for a moment. “Thanks” 

Billie’s expression softened and she nodded. “Of course. You’re welcome” 

Soon after, Billie offered for you  to spend the night in the guest bedroom of her house and you reluctantly agreed. So now, you stood by the door of the room, eyes watching Billie’s every movement as she set up the bed. Your thoughts were once more racing. What was going to happen after all this is over?  Were the two of you going to go back to being distant and awkward and just overall strangers? Would this whole thing ignite a spark of fire in the both of you, and the next thing you know you’re resting in her arms again every night? Will you just become friends? Gosh, the seas of questions and possibilities made your head pound and your breathing unsteady while you stood by the door with your arms folded over your chest, your fingers mindlessly fumbling with the soft material of the grey T-shirt.

“Are you okay?” 

The feeling of a warm touch on your arm made you snap out of your head and your eyes locked with Billie’s. You cleared your throat and glanced down at her hand on your arm for a moment before looking back up at her. “Yeah, uh…I’m good” 

Billie’s own eyes went to her hand resting on your arm, your skin soft against her palm and she swallowed harshly before taking her hand back and letting it rest by her side. She turned her head back into the room as she nodded. “The bed’s set up” 

You also nodded , a wave of disappointment flooding you when her touch no longer warmed up your skin. “Thanks.” 

“Yeah…” Billie turned back and ran her hand through her dark hair. “I’m going to bed now, alright?” When you nodded your head again and stepped aside, she slipped past you and stood in the corridor for a moment, her eyes burning holes into the wall, staring at one of those empty spots before she glanced down the hallway and to her own bedroom.  

“If you need anything just…come to me” 

Her voice was soft and just above a whisper and it felt like pure heaven to your ears before you replied. “Okay.” When you responded, Billie hesitantly turned and began walking down the corridor.

You didn’t wait until she was in front of her door, instead you went right into the guest bedroom and shut the door behind you.

When Billie heard the door shut, she turned around a little, her eyes looking at the now closed door with sadness in them before a sigh left her lips and she turned back, walking to her room and also shutting the door behind herself.

To be completely honest, neither of you got any sleep that night. Billie laid in her bed, under her blanket and stared at her ceiling. She was worried. Scared, if you may. But not for herself. She couldn’t care less about that right now. There was a pervy psycho out there, hunting you. Well to be fair if she did get involved, she possibly could also be a target. All Billie wanted to do was to hold you close and never let go again, keep you close to her, hug you tight and keep you safe in her arms. To Kiss you reassuringly before whispering to you that everything was going to be okay.

But she couldn’t. Because you simply weren’t hers anymore. She had no right to hold you that close, to kiss you until you felt safe again. The only thing she could do was keep you safe. And she was going to. Maybe even until she draws her last breath.

You were just about in the same situation as Billie. You laid on the guest bed which felt a little rough, uncomfortable due to the lack of times it’s been used. And you could feel just about every molecule of the damn blanket on top of you and it made you sweat and your heart beat fast in an incredibly intolerable way. Your ears picked up on every sound that came from outside on the  street, but it also didn’t quite reach your brain as it was clouded with overwhelming worry. Not for yourself, of course. All for Billie.

You didn’t get it. She was so insistent on you staying. She didn’t leave any room for argument after she suggested it for the first time. Even when you voiced your worries for her own safety. Why? Why? For what reason was it so important that you stay? For you, if it meant she’d be at least 5% safer, you’d have been out of there the moment she had pulled you inside from the pouring rain.

But, obviously, you didn’t. Not when she looked at you like that. Such sadness, worry and firmness etched onto her expression. So you stayed. And maybe, just maybe when or if the man would come, you’d be able to keep her safe. Out of reach for him. God, how you would just give your life for someone who possibly doesn’t even care like that anymore.  But to be fair, you couldn’t be more wrong about that.

In the morning, your restless sleep was interrupted by the sound of knocking on the guest bedroom’s wooden door. With a painful groan into the pillow, your aching body got up from the concrete-like mattress and walked to the door, opening it up. Billie stood in front of you, now in a different outfit than last night which was quite possibly her night wear. Now, she was wearing white long sleeved T-shirt with red running down from its shoulders and to the end of its sleeves which reached just about the middle of her hands. A pair of baggy men’s shorts, its checked  bottom hems reaching just past her knees and there was a small distance of skin between the shorts and the socks that were pulled up high. When your eyes went up again, noticing the red and black cap resting on her head, your eyes locked with her blue ones and you felt heat creep up your neck when you realised you’ve just checked her out.

Billie cleared her throat and nervously adjusted the thin,  frameless glasses which sat on the bridge of her nose. “Hi.” Was all that came out of her mouth as she felt her own face heating. “I uh…did I wake you?” Okay, stupid question.

You shifted your weight from one leg to another and glanced back at the bed you’ve been laying on before looking back at Billie. “Oh, yeah. But it’s fine. I wasn’t exactly having a great time in my head” You tried to joke but when Billie’s expression softened your jaw clenched and you cast your gaze down. “What’s up?”

“I was just coming to tell you that uh,” Billie tapped her now once more, ring covered fingers against the side of her thigh. “I was called in for some work so…” 

You looked up again and nodded, folding your arms over your chest. “Oh. Okay” 

“I was thinking you could tag along” 

At her suggestion, your brows furrowed and you hesitantly shook your head. “I-...I just don’t think that’s a good idea.” You struggled to voice your thoughts. “You know, the crowd” You muttered.

Billie inhaled sharply and nodded, shutting her eyes tightly for only a second before they met yours once again. “Right. Of course,” she nodded. “Sorry”

You bit down on your tongue harshly and swallowed hard. “I’ll just stay here” Billie nodded her head to your statement with a soft sigh. 

“Yeah, good idea.” She took one last look at you before turning to the side. “I’ll be going then. I should only take a couple hours.” Her expression softened again and her hand itched to reach out. To take you in her arms and hug you goodbye. Maybe plant a kiss on your soft lips before walking away. “Call me if anything weird happens, alright?” 

“Yeah. Okay. I will” 

With those words of affirmation, she took a deep breath and walked down the hallway, turning and walking towards the front door. She slipped on her shoes and took her car keys before stepping out of the house with a heavy heart and a weird feeling in the pit of her stomach.

–

Remember the words; ‘couple hours’? Yeah well, now it was 6PM and all you got was an; ‘hey, sorry I might be a little late. Lock the doors please’ from Billie. Your throat tightened up at the thought of being alone for so long. That message was 3 hours ago and now you were in Billie’s kitchen, having tried to eat something but the uneasy feeling in your gut pushed it all back right up so now you’re just leaning against the counter with your back to the entrance of the kitchen.

Something just didn’t feel right. And suddenly, you felt like you should’ve gone with Billie to the studio.

 Or wherever it was she needed to go.

As you were dwelling in your thoughts of worry and uneasiness, you didn’t pay much attention to your surroundings. So, you didn’t even bat an eye when footsteps echoed down the hallways, growing closer and closer at a tauntingly slow pace. You could only feel the uneasiness grow and you shook your head in hopes of just letting it go, but you didn’t, not when suddenly you felt a presence close.  Your body tensed suddenly and your eyes widened.

You hesitantly turn your body to the side and your heart jumps into your throat when you see someone. You couldn't see his face, there was this weird mask-like thing on his face. Then, you heard that disgusting chuckle rumble through his chest and you backed up as you shook your head. 

“Hey, baby”  

You swallowed hard as tears of fear welled in your eyes. You heard a quiet scoff leave his lips before he began taking large steps towards you. “Oh, are you not happy to see me?” His head tilted to the side and you just stood against the kitchen counter, frozen in place. The man exhaled loudly and tutted. “I thought I told you I was coming…why are you so surprised?” 

Your breathing grew heavy and fast. “No…what do you want from me?” You pleaded out in a broken voice and the man now full on laughed before stepping close to you. 

“You. Of course…” 

Your head shook side to side rapidly and you tried to step away but when you felt the feeling of something cold and metallic against your midsection through your shirt your head shot down, the edge of the sharp knife glistening back at you as the kitchen lights hit it just right. 

“It wasn’t a fucking question” He practically growled out into your face. “Not after you came here” He scoffed and took his gaze off you, looking around. “To that bitch’s house. Have you learned nothing, little girl?” He looked back at you and you could see the anger flaring in his dark eyes, you let out a whimper when the point of the knife pressed into you harder. 

“Please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry”  Tears fell on your cheek as you begged. “Don’t hurt her, don’t-...”

“Shut the fuck up!” You flinched and nodded, heart thudding loudly against your chest. “Whether I hurt anyone or not…will simply depend on your decision, baby” His voice was once more low and somewhat calm when he spoke. “But whether I have to force you or not, you’re mine. Not hers. You understand?” 

When you felt the tip of the knife press against your flesh through your shirt, piercing it, you whimpered again and nodded. The man chuckled again and nodded. “Good. Good. Such a good girl, aren’t you?” You grew nauseous at his words and you swallowed down your sobs.

“So,” He began speaking after a couple moments of listening to your helpless sobs with a satisfied grin behind the mask-like thing on his face. You felt his free hand wrap around your forearm, holding it tightly. “You’re gonna come with me…without as much as a squeak” 

You were about to nod when both of your attention was drawn to the sound of an engine rumbling lowly and lights shone through the window as Billie’s car parked in the driveway. Your eyes widened and the man almost growled out. When his grip loosened and he took a step away from you, your whole body was trembling as you saw him move towards the front door which Billie was no doubt approaching.

No. No. No. No.

You didn’t think. Your body moved on its own and leapt forward, pushing the man into the counter. He let out a low groan before looking at you. “The fuck. Oh you wanna be disobedient?” He asked angrily before stepping towards you. Your heartbeat in your ears as you shook your head and sobbed, taking a step back before fleeing towards the living room.

The man didn’t waste a second and ran after you, and you didn’t get far before he tackled you and you were pushed face down onto the cold floor. You cried out when you felt your nose crack and blood almost immediately gushed out. The man swiftly turned you around as he got on top of you.

“Oh would you look at that?” He chuckled lowly. “I always knew you’d look even sexier with blood all over you” His thumb gathered some of the blood from your chin then put it against your trembling lips. “Come on” He muttered and you shook your head, tears mixing with the blood on your chin. He scoffed and forced his thumb into your mouth, harshly gripping your jaw and bringing your face up. 

“Any moment, that little pop star of yours will walk in…”  He whispered against your face. “And I will be long gone. But don1t worry. Not for long” He chuckled and pushed your face down roughly. Then you watched with blurry vision as he brought the knife up with his other hand and traced it on your side. “This is just for good measure, baby…this way she’ll know you’re mine” He growled before you felt the knife being brought down against your side, plunging inside fast and your vision blurred more as you screamed out in agony. The skin around the knife burned when he kept it in for a few seconds before pulling it out and you felt the as it was pulled out of your flesh, a disgustingly slushy sound leaving the wound as blood immediately poured and gushed out. 

The last thing you felt was his weight lifting off of you while you laid there. You didn’t see where he went. Then you heard the front door slam and hurried footsteps approach before a loud voice shouted. 

“Oh my God”

✒ a/n: oof...it got a little dark there. Anyway, the way 'Guess' ft. Billie has been on repeating on spotify is honestly unhealthy (i don't regret anything) Ahh the ending is so rushed. so sorry guys 🙏

➥ part III.

[starry-bi-sky]

"Stillborn? No, still born" Danyal au -- VLAD MASTERS THE BITCH HIMSELF

*Points at Vlad* THIS MFER GOT SOME TEEFS TO HIM. !! Okay okay, Vlad Masters in the stillborn au is different compared to most of my other aus in the fact that I am far more heavily leaning into his original ambitions of wanting a family and being desperately lonely. Because you know what wanting a family implies? Wanting to be a parent.

Fucked up father figure that could've been Vlad. Complicated love-hate relationship between the only two halfas in existence.

Danny hates Vlad, but he hates even more that he's genuinely considered his offers of mentorship. Vlad is the only halfa around, and they both have fire cores. Danny has these powers he doesn't understand, can barely comprehend some days, and can't control. But Vlad does. Vlad can. And Vlad wants to help him. He's the only other person who can get close whenever Danny runs too hot. Whenever his igneous hair cracks, splits, and spits back out into magma and his friends can't get close, Vlad can.

His hair is made of magma, which runs so hot that people need specialized suits in order to get near it. He physically cannot get close to the living as a ghost unless he's calm enough for his hair to cool into igneous rock. Which isn't as often as he would like. And sometimes he's too hot for other ghosts to get near unless they have fire cores -- which Vlad has.

There have been many times when Danny's having a meltdown (literally) and gone somewhere to be alone, to let his anger and hurt and loneliness overflow and spill out, that when he's come back to, Vlad's right there with him as an anchor. It's desperately frustrating, it's the only time they can get along. They don't say anything, Danny just turns and clings onto the only person he can touch as a ghost.

Its not fair. Vlad wants to kill his foster dad, and Danny can't let him do that. But he wants to be trained by the man, he wants his help and wants what he can offer. But Vlad can't step away from his revenge long enough to let him. It's just not fair. He thinks for a moment that maybe it could work, and then Vlad does something to remind him that no, it can't.

Vlad Masters sees too much of himself in Daniel Brown -- from the way he holds himself, to the defenses he puts up, his quiet anger that builds and builds and builds until it explodes. That simmers beneath his skin. All the way down to the fact that they have matching cores. This boy is cut from the same cloth as him, and by god does he want to help him. He's always wanted to be a father, and Daniel Brown is too much like him for him to ignore. He genuinely, truly cares about Danny and his wellbeing.

He wants to help him, child just let him help you. Let him kill your foster dad so he can adopt you himself and help with these powers that terrify and intrigue you -- he knows what that's like to have something that you can't control, to have a heat that you can't cool down from. "We're in the same boat you and I, let him help you please."

But his methods are all wrong, and Danny is too much like him -- stubbornness and all -- for him to agree when they oppose each other so greatly. But again, Danny is much like him -- which means that Vlad is equally stubborn, and in every single one of their fights he's parental. He's annoyingly parental. He drops his interest in Maddie to focus his efforts in trying to coax Danny onto his side. It's like trying to get a traumatized cat to trust you, and on some levels it works. It's like he makes some progress, and then moves too quickly and the cat immediately runs off and you have to start back from square one.

TL:DR; Vlad and Danny both want to find family in each other but they're too different to get along and ultimately they are doomed by the narrative to be at constant odds with one another unless one of them is changes, and it doesn't matter who.

[dix0nvix3n]

𖤓°⋆ Chapter 1 °⋆𖤓

⋆☀︎｡Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader  ⋆☀︎｡Media: The Walking Dead; No Apocalypse & Alternate Universe ⋆☀︎｡Pronouns: She/Her  ⋆☀︎｡ Warning: Smoking (Cigarettes), One mention of weed, Talk of a bad past relationship. (That's it I think?) ⋆☀︎｡ Word Count: 2.5k

⋆☀︎｡ Author's Note: It's finally here... the beginning of my magnum opus. Even though I only have this one chapter out, there hasn't been a single day since I came up with the idea for the fic where I didn't think about it at least once. I just wanna thank all the people who let me infodump about it; y'all are true soldiers, cause I can really ramble on. Special thanks to @sinkdownbeneath for helping me write the intro because I was completely stuck for months with almost nothing to show, and being the person who let me yap the most, he can account for me pretty much talking about it every day for the past five months. So, anyway, I guess I hope y'all like my first finished something that wasn't just a blurb. Last night I only had a little over 200 words at 10 PM something, and now it's 7:44 AM with 2.5k words as I write this... I don't know what got into me, but anyway, enjoy!

June 1st, 1992

Daryl finds himself propped up against a tree, catching his breath. The cool summer air around him makes his chest ache with every breath he takes. He had been running, hearing the twigs snap and the leaves crunch beneath his feet as he darted past every tree, trying to evade potential capture from a party that had him jumping out a window when the cops showed up due to a noise complaint.

He spent much of his life within the comfort of the woodland, underneath the thick canopy of leaves and branches, the first roof he ever felt safe under.

He gasped for air, his legs exhausted and his lungs overworked, adrenaline still pulsing through him as he slid down the rough bark of a tree, pulling his legs up to his chest.

He's close to the road, hearing a solitary car cruise past. He can tell it's late from the stars that peek through the leaves that loom above him in the thick black sky, but he spots his glimmer of hope, which seems to be the soft light of a gas station just a bit beyond the road's traffic barrier closest to him.

With a deep inhale, Daryl knew he had to walk to the gas station and reluctantly call for a ride in a phone booth.

After fully catching his breath, he pulled himself off the ground and began walking towards the gas station, already dreading the thought of the phone call.

Reaching the gas station, he saw two cars; one belonged to the lone worker at the cash register inside, and the other belonged to a woman smoking a cigarette at the side of the building. The woman did a quick wave at him, which he found to be a little odd just because most people at this time of night aren't too friendly, but he gave a polite wave back anyway. 

Finally getting up to the phone booth, Daryl looked down at his watch, which read 1:00 AM, causing him to let out a deep sigh, realizing how late it was and how much of an inconvenience it would be for someone to come and pick him up. 

He stepped inside the phone booth, staring at the phone for a minute before popping in the quarters he luckily grabbed from the living room floor of the party. If he hadn't grabbed them, he'd be completely fucked and have to figure out his way back to his apartment.

After dialing the number he knew would pick up, the phone rang just a few times before a tired and clearly just woken up by a phone at one in the morning voice picked up.

"Hey, Mr. H... Could ya pick me up?"

"Thanks. 'm sorry about this; kinda just started walking and didn't stop. Ended up at some party, and now I don' know where I am."

"Yeah. Place is called Peachy Speed, never seen another gas station called this; it must be family-owned or somethin' and the closest road sign says it's on Navel Street. You know where I'm at?"

"Okay, cool. See ya in a bit. Sorry again."

After hanging up, Daryl stepped out of the phone booth with his head held down, letting out a deep exhale and running a hand through his hair until he heard a pair of feet shuffling up to him.

He looked up to see who it was, and it was you, the woman who waved at him.

"Need one?" You held out an open pack of Marlboro Reds, with only one cigarette missing from the pack.

"Oh. Yeah. Thanks." His thoughts stuttered for a moment because he was caught up in the fact that you came over to him. You're really pretty, and now Daryl feels like a nervous schoolboy trying to ask a girl to the prom just because of a simple gesture.

He grabbed a cigarette out of the box and reached to pull his lighter out of his pocket, only not to feel it, and checked the other pocket to have the same luck. "Shit."

You let out a small chuckle. "Need a light too?” You pulled a lighter out of your pocket and handed it over to him.

He nodded his thanks and popped the cig in his mouth before lifting the black bic with a spiderweb seemingly hand-painted on up to the end of the stick. Flicking the flame to life, he took a long inhale and handed you back the lighter, as he really took a moment to take in the sight of you. 

You were in a black tank top tucked into a pair of black ripped jean shorts. Under the pair of jean shorts were fishnets with an intricate pattern of moons and stars, and you had on a pair of slightly battered-up Doc Martens. 

As he exhaled the first plume of smoke into the night sky, he saw your kind smile, which sent a rush of warmth through his face. Your lips had a simple gloss on them, but your eyes were a different story, painted with smokey eyeshadow, sharp graphic eyeliner, and two rounds of mascara on each set of your top lashes. He also noticed the simple yet pretty titanium stud on the left side of your nose and two helix rings on both your ears.

He thought you were gorgeous, his heartbeat a slightly faster pace than what it normally rested at.

"Rough night?" You asked as you lit up a cigarette for yourself, letting out a slight gag at the taste and smell that you weren't used to, which caused Daryl to let out a small chuckle.

"Sorta. More of just hated the fact I had to call and wake someone up to come and get me. First time smokin'?" He said before he took another drag.

"How'd you know?" You said sarcastically as your face contorted in disgust a bit at the taste building up in your mouth and throat after each puff.

"Maybe try a different brand. You'll find one ya like." A small smile graced his lips as he butted off the ash at the end and took another drag. 

"Nah. Think I'm quitting after this one. I'll just stick to weed."

He let out a chuckle. "May I ask, why'd ya even start?"

You let out a small groan, running your hand through your hair in slight embarrassment. "I finally left my shitty boyfriend once and for all. I finally realized he'd never like me for the real me. I constantly had to put on this mask around him, and I finally found out that it was impossible to fix him and the fact he didn't actually like me. I know it sounds weird, but I guess my thought process was that my epiphany about him would stick with me after smoking one like a character in a movie or something." You let out a laugh. "Stupid, right?" 

He snubbed out the end of the cigarette, as it was almost a roach at this point. "Nah, it ain't stupid. A lot of my best thoughts come after smokin' one, cleared my head more times than I can count. You deserve one after the bullshit he put you through, I think. Hope the prick is havin' a shit night after realizin' he's lost you cause ya seem awesome to me so far."

You felt warmth begin to rise in your cheeks at his words. "Thanks. I know I deserve better. I'm just pissed; it took me so long to realize it. So, anyway, what's your name? I can't believe I haven't asked yet."

"Name's Daryl; what's yours?"

You had a few good puffs left of your cig but decided to snub yours out as well since you didn't like it anyway. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Daryl. My name is (Y/N). Do you wanna come sit with me at my spot against the wall? My most likely melted slushy is calling my name to get this taste out of my mouth." 

"Yeah, I can. Might be a bit till my ride gets here, so I might as well sit down." He started walking to your spot, and you followed in tow. 

When you got back to your spot, you looked down at your slushy on the ground. The dark purple concoction of blue raspberry and cherry slushy combo was completely melted. "Goddammit." You didn't fully care though; you paid for that slushy, because you were stubborn it meant you were going to have all of what you paid for, so you drank down the rest of the sugary liquid with a satisfied sigh. It was luckily still cold, at least, and it was just what you needed to get the taste of the cigarette out of your mouth.

As time passed, you and Daryl talked about whatever came to mind as you doodled some intricate pattern on the front of the pack of the Marlboro Reds with a sharpie, ultimately moving to the back when you ran out of room. You found out that he works as a mechanic for motorcycles and cars at a nearby auto body shop, that he rides a motorcycle that he built himself a few years ago, that he loves to hunt on occasion, specifically with a crossbow, and that he ran from the cops at a house party tonight.

You knew your short time with Daryl was up when you saw a 1987 Ford Sierra MK2 pull into a parking spot at the gas station, and Daryl stood up, doing a quick stretch. The man in the car smiled and made a small wave at you, and you did the same back.

"It was nice meetin' ya, (Y/N). I'd talk more, but I don't wanna keep him up any longer." He said as he gestured a hand towards the man who came to pick him up. 

"It was nice meeting you too. Thanks for talking to me, Daryl." You pulled the pack of cigarettes from your pocket and held them out to him. "Take these. You need them more than me. Plus, I just quit." You grinned at him as he took the box from you. 

"Holy shit, thank you." He smiled back as he placed the box in his own pocket and slowly started walking backward towards the car. "Hope ya have a good night and that Nick the dick has a shit one. 

You let out a laugh at the nickname Daryl gave your ex-boyfriend and waved him goodbye with a "You too." You leaned your head back against the wall, staring up at the night sky as your eyes finally began to feel tired, knowing you should head back to your friend's apartment soon and try and get some sleep before your nine AM shift. 

Once Daryl got in the car, he let out a quiet sigh as he looked out the window at you, wishing he dared to ask for your number. You were the first good conversation he'd had in a while, and his schoolboy-like crush on you kept growing the whole time you talked.

"So, who's that?" The man said as he shifted the car into gear, Daryl noticing the grin on his face.

"A girl that started talkin' to me after our call. Name's (Y/N)." He pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, mindlessly tracing the pattern of doodles you did.

"You ask for her number? The car was now beginning to be backed out of its parking spot.

"Nah. Mind if I smoke?" Daryl shook the pack and began looking for one of the lighters he left in the glove compartment a few weeks ago. 

The man shook his head with a slight sigh and said, "Go ahead." He wasn't shaking his head over Daryl wanting to smoke, but over the fact he wouldn't ask for your number when he obviously liked you, but he knew he couldn't push him; he understood Daryl's nature.

Daryl looked back out the window at you, opening it as he blew out the first cloud of smoke. He then looked back down in his lap where the box lay, flipping it over to the back to see what you had drawn there as well. His breath hitched as he saw it. On the back was your phone number, and above it said, "Call me" with a smiley face. 

The tips of Daryl's ears were beet red, and he tried to hold back his face from turning the same color. He looked back out the window at you to see you grinning at him this time, to which he smiled and waved goodbye to you as the car pulled out of the lot. In Daryl's twenty-three years of life, he could say that this night was one of his best.

"Daryl, why'd you call me Mr. H again? Son, you've known me for five years; how many times do I gotta remind you to call me by my name? It's Dale for you."

Daryl let out a small cloud of smoke this time, wanting to savor this one on the peaceful ride back. "I'll tell ya again, it happens when I'm nervous; didn't wanna wake you up, s'all, and you still are my boss after all."

"Daryl, you're like a son to me, and I told you to never be nervous if you need help, and that includes coming and picking you up in the middle of the night if needed. I'm here for you." Dale placed his right hand on Daryl's shoulder, keeping his left on the wheel as he squeezed his shoulder lightly before returning it to the steering wheel.

"Now, it's not Mr. H or Mr. Horvath, son. It's Dale."

Daryl rolled his eyes playfully. "Yes, sir," he joked, letting out a chuckle.

It was the next day around 10:30 PM when Daryl picked up the phone on his nightstand and finally called the number you gave him, nervously wrapping the cord around his finger. The phone only rang twice before the other end picked up, "Hey, is this (Y/N)?" 

The inner teenage girl in your brain screamed in excitement, so happy that he finally called. "Omg, Daryl! I was wondering when you were gonna call me. I've been waiting since I got off my shift."

"Didn't know if you worked a mornin' shift or got off at night, and I didn't wanna leave too many voicemails on your friend's phone."

"Yeah, I worked a morning shift at the diner today. I got off at five. Morning shifts are the fucking worst." You're lying on your stomach on the couch, playfully curling the phone's cord around your finger and kicking your feet back and forth in the air.

You and Daryl talked for an hour, mainly talking about the shitty customers you dealt with today, sounding especially frustrated about the woman who yelled at you just because the diner was out of unsweet tea that you couldn't do anything about because the place was also out of tea bags to make more. What did she want you to do? Just up and leave your job and go buy the tea bags, your fucking self?

"Even though I don't want to, I gotta go to bed 'cause I have another morning shift tomorrow. I get off at five, so call me around six-thirty, okay?" 

"I get off at five too. Works for me. Goodnight, (Y/N)."

"Goodnight to you too, Daryl."

The call ended, and you both looked up at your respective ceilings, smiling as warmth bloomed through your faces. You both slept well that night, falling asleep to the thought of calling each other tomorrow.

⋆☀︎｡ Extra author's note: Here's what Dale would look like in 1992, I took Dale's age of 64 from the show since the apocalypse started in 2010 so he'd be 46 in 1992. I think this picture of Jeffrey Demunn is from when he was 43 maybe? I can't remember but that's close enough to 46 and even if he isn't 43 in the image he fits the look of someone in their mid-forties. Just imagine him without the cowboy hat, okay? There's not a lot of pictures of him when he was younger.

⋆☀︎｡ Taglist: @mrdixon , @yevmarie , and @shadowcitrine

⋆☀︎｡ Divider creds: @ saradika, go check her account out! She has some very cute dividers!

[astupidweeb69]

You know x-virus don’t get enough love…. Do you have any head cannons regular or nsfw (maybe both)??

I've been thinking about this guy a lot lately for some reason. Also I've never written for Cody before so hopefully this came out okay.

I was going to work on Toby's but.... I have more inspiration for Cody at the moment. He absolutely doesn't get enough love!

X-Virus Headcannons

SFW

Isn't related to Toby at all. In fact doesn't really look like him either. Sure, he's got the brown hair, but he looks waaay more dorky than Toby does. While Toby has kind of a boy-next-door-from-hell look to him, Cody is more slender and works out less. He looks like your typical STEM student (sickly complexion, poor nutrition, etc.). His whole schtick requires him to stay indoors most of the time, in a make-shift lab.

Has a refrigerated van, which he paid to be converted to safely transport whatever science experiments he's got going on in a temperature-controlled environment.

He tries to stay in one place. He's less of a drifter than most of the other creeps but sometimes... the things he does requires him to uproot his life and start over in another town. (No Cody you can't just infect your landlord with a mutated form of tuberculosis when they raise your rent! There will be consequences!)

Has kind of a nasally voice. I feel like he always has a bit of a cold too.

Ironically has a shitty immune system, and probably drinks those Airborne Immune Support drink mixes like it's his job. Also a germaphobe, wearing medical gloves all the time, and his hands are dry and cracked from overusing sanitizer.

LOVES Re-animator. He's rewatched that movie more times than he can count. But he has a love for science fiction movies in general, with horror elements to them. Like Alien.

Also loves zombie apocalypse movies, but that's an obvious one. Specifically 28 Days Later and World War Z.

Sometimes he's like... should I try to make a zombie virus? nah.... unless...?

I also think he was raised by a single father, who worked for a large pharmaceutical company.

Antisocial. I know Toby and him are compared a lot and people give them similar 'hyperactive' personalities, but I don't see that for Cody at all.

Cody's more focused, and is less inclined to interact with others. He doesn't really get lonely?

I'd say he'd get along okay with someone like EJ (both like science, ya know?).

Toby and him hang out a bit - they'll stay in and watch movies together. Or Cody will tag along with him to a bar and watch as Toby fails to pick up anybody. Cody wouldn't say it to his face, but it makes him feel better about his own social skills to see Toby strike out like that.

NSFW (Under the cut!)

I don't know how he'd find himself in this situation - but if he DID have a partner.... the sex would be kind of bland at first?

He doesn't know what he wants and frankly is too much of a germaphobe to get up close and personal with someone he doesn't know well.

You'd have to spend months getting to know him for him to feel comfortable to engage in anything sexual.

I think at the start of the relationship, he'd want to experiment with voyeurism.

He'd be across the room watching you touch yourself, giving you directions while he slowly strokes his cock, loving the feeling of ordering you around.

But as things escalate, of course, he'd give in to his urges. However, the voyeurism would become how he likes to foreplay.

Out of all the creeps (most of whom I view as being dominant) he's actually pretty tame.

He whimpers a lot, and it sounds almost pathetic when he moans. He's been holding out for so long for the right person, and when he finally gets to fuck he's absolutely drunk off of you.

That said, his sex drive is about average.

One of his roleplay fantasies is him being the experienced scientist, and you being his lovely little assistant.

Probably started after the first time you helped him in his lab.

He just kept thinking of you in a tiny little lab coat, bent over his desk - papers and test tubes falling to the ground while his hips piston into you.

[peachsayshi]

peach u should absolutely 100% share that nanami thought

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ sugar daddy!nanami x babysitter!fem reader ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ minors/ageless/blank blogs dni (this blog is 20+ of follows)

➳ tags: single dad nanami; porn with little plot; nipple play; pussy drunk nanamin; oral (female receiving); overstimulation; squirting; mentions of cum; dirty talk ➳ n: don't ask about my mental state when I wrote this.

nanami hasn't been intimate with a woman in two and half years. so, of course, he can’t help but be in a constant state of heat when he’s around you in such close quarters. his last relationship was serious enough for him to invest in an engagement ring, but a surprise pregnancy ultimately turned his life upside down. one minute he was ready to start a family, and the next he found himself abandoned by his partner who left him to raise his son all by himself.

nanami didn't have time to process the devastation of that experience with a toddler to worry about. instead, he buried himself in his work and channeled all his focus on raising yuji. he absolutely adored being a father to his bubbly little boy, but he knew that he couldn't keep relying on his parents to take on the extra pressure as he juggled between his very successful career and fatherhood.

you were a part time babysitter, but a godsend to nanami.

hiring you proved to be the best kind of luxury he could afford, and the man was finally able to acknowledge that he was spreading himself far too thin. with you around, he managed to catch his breath for the first time in two years and the cherry on top was that yuji absolutely adored you.

of course, the arrangement worked out both ways.

you were strapped for cash after paying off your loans, and with the cost of living skyrocketing in the last couple of years, you knew you needed to take on a second job just to make ends meet. not only was nanami the sweetest employer, but he offered you a very generous salary.

the man isn't shy to admit that you brought a little light back into his life, as well as some peace and much needed quiet.

he found himself having more alone time during the weekends, especially on saturdays when yuji would stay by his grandparents and you were off from work.

that's when it dawned on him just how lonely he'd been all these years. he shouldn’t have been surprised that his dormant sexual appetite emerged once you came into the picture, and that he regularly began touching himself with the thought of fucking you in every position imaginable.

after one of his solo sessions, when your name escaped him in a broken grunt as he came all over his palm, a bold proposition crossed his mind…

…you've been doing such an amazing job with yuji, why not help fulfill his needs to?

he knew how much this could backfire if things turned sour, but nanami was also aware of your financial circumstances and decided that the risk was worth taking.

he treated the conversation professionally; along with a monthly salary, he offered to cover any and all of your expenses in exchange for you quitting your job and working exclusively for him.

he had "new terms" in regards to your position. you would continue taking care of yuji as usual, but every saturday would be dedicated to having scheduled "dates" with nanami. he was expecting a companionship, preferably one that was physical, but he wasn’t going to force you with anything you were uncomfortable with. you were to join him on any work or family trips, but he reassured you that you were allowed to take any personal breaks and holidays as you saw fit. he would be flexible with you just as long as you stick to the demands of the contract he drafted.

“can I think about it?” you asked him a little breathlessly, your cheeks scorching hot as you clenched your thighs tightly together in your seat.

“take whatever time you need,” he politely replied. “I want you to think it through”

- ♡ -

this pretty cupless corset top with the matching lace thong is the most expensive present you’ve ever received. the detail on the set itself is stunning, molding around your body like a piece of art. your skin is the canvas beneath the see through material, showing off the printed panels and lacy embroidered detailing.

nanami handed you the present just the night before as he walked you out the door.

“wear this tomorrow,” he whispered in your ear, smirking with amusement and anticipation.

you feel so exposed with your tits exposed out like this, hard nipples poking against the air as you watch your employer wrap his mouth over one of the tender buds.

you hiss as he swipes his tongue along the peak, nipping at the tip with his teeth before sucking gently. your thighs were still trembling from the orgasm he just delivered from this act alone, and you can feel your arousal stick to your inner thighs as it soaked through your underwear.

“ah-ah!” you whine, your lashes fluttering close as you arch your hips lightly against his pelvis. “nanami-san…”

it’s strange hearing yourself call out his name this way, the tone unfamiliar and foreign to your ears.

those strong, beautiful hands leave your waist and travel to your breasts. nanami squeezes your tits and drags his thumbs over the taut peaks as he places a kiss along the boning of your corset.

“I'd rather be inside you, but I haven’t tasted pussy in ages…” he admits shyly against your ribs, his mouth traveling further down to the space between your legs.

your thighs nearly snap close, but he sternly pinches your nipples to keep them spread.

“Such a pretty thing, I bet you taste like heaven ...” he contemplates, nuzzling his nose into your clothed crotch and breathing in the scent of your arousal. he swipes his tongue over the soaked material, his brown eyes turning hazy as he glances up at you from between your legs, "mmm, you really fucking do..."

your spine quivers from the vibration of his deep voice, and his vulgar choice of words. nanami releases his hands from your chest and proceeds to tug your underwear to the side while keeping one thigh nice and open for him.

he licks his lips at the dewy wet mess and groans.

"fuck, I could cum just looking you."

he places featherlight kisses over your clit, one after the other, until you sigh dreamily as your head fall backs against the pillow. he keeps you spread while his tongue massages over the sensitive button and parts your folds. he slurps, nips, and kisses to his heart's content - the tension knitting the front of his brows together from how your pussy intoxicates him.

he draws out another orgasm, his hand kneading your shaking thigh as your essence coats the lower have of his face. he can feel himself leaking through his boxers, so he ruts against the mattress to give himself some relief.

he moves to focus on just your clit, making noises as he lewdly sucks on the bud. his other hand finds your dripping hole, and he manages to slip two fingers inside with ease. he brushes his digits upward, the pads stroking over your gummy walls and turning your sensual moans into desperate little whimpers.

the pressure is unbearable; the tight coil around abandon an ache that you can't even stand. your hand threads between his golden strands, your manicured nails digging into his scalp which eggs him on even further. your eyes roll to the back of your head, your jaw goes slack when he touches just the right spot that has tears of relief falling down your cheeks.

your body spasms when your third orgasm trickles through you in an eruption, a gush squirting from between your legs and painting nanami's hand, forearm and neck.

"good girl," he grunts as he peppers kisses over your pubis and along your hip.

you're trembling as you readjust your position to sit up again. nanami finally shifts his body to sit upright, his knees on either side of your thighs. he pulls his dick out of his boxers and starts stroking his thick, veiny cock. you're panting to catch your breath, mouth slightly dry at the sight of the bulbous head.

"s-shit, I can't h-hold off any longer," he admits with a shaky voice, his heavy eyes locking on yours as he continues jacking off. "gonna have to cum on those beautiful tits, darling..."

you sheepishly reach one hand to tweak at your nipple to provoke him, "do whatever you want with me, I'm yours."

your sensual delivery tips him over the edge and with just a couple more strokes, he finally reaches his climax and shoots white ropes all over your chest.

you crawl up his body as he comes down from his high, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your tainted chest against his own strong torso. you brush your finger over his undercut, leaving a kiss along his jaw before murmuring against his lip: "was that good for you, nanami san?"

he grins as he reaches to grip the flesh of your rear, his lips closing the gap of space where he steals a messy, open mouthed kiss. "better than I expected, " he reassures as he nips at your bottom lip, careful not to confess that he's pined for this moment night after night.

[lovexjoe]

The reader is a famous actress and dated Jacob for 3 years / ended he finds out he has a child at the bb4 premiere one year old

The ANGST 😭

You and Jacob were dating for 3 years till you guys called it quits…well he called it quits. Your relationship was very private so he appeared single to the world. It was half your idea and half his idea. Apparently his manager said it helps if he appears single cause it draws more attention to him. After shooting Bad Boys Ride Or Die he barely returned your calls and was just acting completely off. You couldn’t believe that someone you knew since high school could treat you like this, but fame will do it to ya. You let it be and took your loses.

2 months after the breakup you found out you were pregnant. You left endless calls asking Jacob if you guys can just talk in person one last time. Without context, you sounded desperate but you just didn’t want the potential of your phone calls being leaked. You managed to grab a job in the music industry under a stage name. You produced a few beats for the movie and with that you got invited to go. Greaaaaat. You didn’t really have a choice either cause your management needed you to get more exposure.

You birth a beautiful baby boy all by yourself and today on the day of the premiere he was one year old. You did a few interviews while your baby sitter had Alex inside away from the crowd

“Omg Y/S/N you look stunning tonight! Congratulations on your baby boy turning one today!” The interviewer gushed over a few pics you posted of Alex earlier.

“Awww thank you so much, it’s insane that he’s already a year old. Time flies!” You continue chatting it up with each interviewer. Happy that everybody was really sweet and respectable. You didn’t realize until the last interview that Jacob was right behind you in line for interviews. You felt his eyes on your back. Oh fucking great.

You hurried your way through the crowd hoping you could lose him. When you made it inside you cut the corner to go to the bathroom but you felt a hand grab your arm. He pushes you in the family bathroom, locking the door.

“Y/N do you want to explain to me, why the fuck I wasn’t informed that I have a child?!” Jacob’s jaw was clenched and it was the first you really seen him pissed off. But you know what? So tf were you.

“Oh hi Jacob! Maybe if you returned the 20 missed calls I left you asking to speak to you, you would know! You don’t get to be pissed! You left me! I did all of this by myself and I fucking hate you for it!” At this point you had tears streaming down your face. All the pain, lonely nights, sleepless nights: rushed to the surface.

It broke his heart that you went through pregnancy alone. He was crying as well. He couldn’t believe he missed this crucial time with you and his son.

“Y/N I’m sorry just please please let me make this up to you.” He pulls you close, wiping away your tears. It would be wrong to be petty in this situation cause Alex needed his father.

“I’m not gonna make this easy on you.”

“I understand. I fucked up but I need you and my son. I lost too much time already.” You nodded as he pulls you in for a hug.

You two fixed yourselves up, walking out the bathroom hand and hand. You met up with your babysitter and Jacob couldn’t believe his eyes. You gave birth to a baby him.

“Alex meet your daddy!” You placed Alex in his arms and he was immediately in awe. Alex was already giggling and grabbing Jacob’s face.

You were hurt, yes. But you wouldn’t change this for anything.

Taglist: @yeahnohoneybye @cardi-bre91 @onlysarang @romanreignsluver1 @minwn

@armandosbabymama @dyttomori @bbyplutosblog @vergilnelosparda @believeinthefireflies95

[januaryembrs]

WORTH THE WAIT | Poe Dameron x Reader

Request: my sweet @happyhauntt says: and to counteract the fact that my last request was sad as fuck, here's a happy one!!! a wee fic based on the song 'i guess i'm in love' by clinton kane, and this one feels like it should be for poe or steven!! enjoy!!

Description: Poe tries to help reader overcome her fear of flying by giving her something good to remember

length: 2.1k

warnings: mention of puke (none just feeling of nausea) mention of fear of heights?

authors note: yes I did listen to Romantic Flight from HTTYD when I wrote this and yes this did heal the part of me that always wanted to be flown through the clouds like this. also sorry this is so late things have been HECTIC

Poe really hoped she liked his surprise. 

There were very few things that he knew he was good at besides flying; knowing exactly how to tell her just how deeply he felt for her even after all this time being one of them. He knew he stumbled over flirtatious lines, not at all like the bachelor he once was, that his chest still pounded at the thought of her just the same as it did when he was soaring through the stratosphere, his stomach flipping when they kissed as if he’d done four barrel rolls on an X-Wing. 

He knew he was in uncharted waters being so far in a committed relationship, that his usual rendezvous' had lasted little more than a few weeks at most, but that was entirely in the past. No one had even come close since the day he met her. 

She had been his mission once. Captured on a First Order ship, Leia had ordered him and his squadron to go rescue her, had said she was some lord’s daughter of a dying planet wanted by Ren for information about her father. He had heard the stories of how his resistance leader had come to be kidnapped from Alderaan when she was young, and figuring she was just screamingly empathetic for the girl, he had done exactly as he had been told. 

He’d had no clue that his mission would become his entire life within a few short months. 

“I feel like this is a little unfair,” She teased, his hands over her eyes as he led her out to the hangar, the lone sun on their planet lowering behind the horizon, “You make me wait all day for my present, and I can’t even see it,” 

“Have a little patience, Princess,” Poe said, his lips drawing into a small smile as he felt her huff beneath his palms, “I know you’re used to getting what you want in your palace, but you’re in my town now, baby,”

She chuckled, shaking her head as he directed her down the stairs. He wasn’t entirely lying. After she’d been rescued from Ren’s grasp, her planet had quickly declared its allegiance to the resistance and she had been appointed as one of Leia’s advisors. Whether it was her quick wit, or the love she seemed to drench every single person with, no matter who they were or where they had come from, Poe wasn’t exactly sure what it was that made her such a good leader, other than the fact she was so entirely herself it was hard not to favour her; a rare quality of politicians he'd often teased her. 

She gave a sniff through her nose, trying to give herself some kind of hint as to what her gift was. “Smells like… oil? Did BB-8 leak again?” 

“Just wait, one more step in front of you,” Poe replied, his eyes trained carefully on her high heeled steps over the concrete. His stomach somersaulted as he wondered for the last time if this was a good idea, but he couldn't very well lead her all the way back out of there empty handed. Reminding himself it was her, and she would never spit anything kind back in his face, he released her face gently, “tada!”

He watched her shoulders tense under the jacket he’d given her because he worried she’d be cold in the night air, and he could tell her mind was racing a million miles a second trying to make sense of what it was he was showing her. 

His T-70 starfighter. The only thing, he often joked, that could ever rival her for the title of his beloved.

“Poe…” Her voice trailed off, unsure but not wanting to seem rude, “Poe, I can’t-”

“Baby, hear me out,” He cut in, knowing she was never going to be jumping for joy before he could explain, “I promise you, nothing bad will happen while I’m there,”

“Poe,” She said hesitantly, as he came around the front of her to see her worried expression that made him cradle her face with his warm hands almost immediately.

“They don’t call me the best pilot in the galaxy for nothing,” He smiled at her cheekily, and he was relieved to see her crack a grin then, though the fright lingered in her eyes that rolled at him.

He’d known since the day he’d rescued her that she had a fear of flying; when he’d had to sit her on his lap in that very same cockpit so they could escape the base together, when she’d screamed bloody murder and held his hands so tight he worried he might lose circulation. 

Not the best of first introductions, and not quite how he’d imagined his two greatest loves meeting. Which was why he wanted to change her experience of the whole thing. 

She gave him a tentative glance, and he fretted for a moment that it had all been a mistake; that his kind act coming from a good place had been one giant heap of selfish bantha fodder that he felt stupid for even suggesting it. But then she took a deep breath, her hands coming up over his own on her cheeks and squeezing them gently. 

“Certainly don’t call you the most humble pilot in the galaxy, Dameron,” She said with a tease, moving past him to head for the jet, “Alright, help me up. My carriage awaits,”

He beamed so hard he thought his cheeks might explode, rushing past her to lift himself up onto the right arm the way he had done so many, many times before. 

“My lady,” He stretched out his hand, all but yanking her up most of the way to where he kneeled, and he was glad he’d told her to wear her cargos and not the pretty dress she’d showed him.

Pulling herself up to a sit, she looked unsurely at the metalwork beneath them, “You’re sure it can hold two?”

“It did before, didn't it?” He countered back, hoisting himself into the cockpit that felt like a second home to him, his body sliding into his seat like a hand into a glove. He parted his thighs, granting her a space of her own, and patted the leather chair, “Actually, don't think about that. Hop in,”

She paused, uncertainty written across her face that cracked when she saw the hopeful gleam in his eyes, brown hues that had always seemed to watch her with pure adoration. She had always struggled to say no to him, especially when he looked like that. 

Slipping between his legs, she hated to admit that she found herself rather comfy enveloped between his body and the dash. 

“You sure we’re safe?” She asked once more, and his arms slid around her to grab the wheel in his right hand, the left pulling her back against his warm body that made her relax just that little bit. He kissed the side of her head, resting his temple against hers for a second. 

“You know I would never put you in harms way, sweetheart,” He said, all trace of jovial teasing gone as he kissed next to her ear and pushed the button to lock the glass canopy over their heads. It slowly lowered down, hissing into a click as it shut, and he felt her shuffle in closer to his chest, “There’s something up there I really, really want to show you. Okay?” 

She looked up at him over her shoulder, his eyes twinkling with excitement at seeing her in his seat, his co-pilot for the evening. 

How could she ever resist?

“Okay,” She nodded, tugging his arms over her shoulders like a seat belt as if strapping herself in for the ride, “Okay, I’m ready,”  

He chuckled, praying to the maker one last time that this would work, and switching the ignition up to a low rumble. 

The jet rolled forward slowly, and he wheeled it around to a clearing in runway that made her think he’d told everyone to take the evening off just so they could have their solo flight.

“Okay, baby, I’m going to have to go fast at this bit, so you might want to hold on tight,” He warned her, and he felt her grab onto his thighs with tight fists, “That’s it, I got you, you’re safe,”

Not giving her much time to overthink what was coming, he floored the gas, flicking a few of the levers above their heads. She sucked in a breath, her knuckles almost turning white with grip, “Poe,” 

“I promise you’re safe, baby,” He reassured, forcing the throttle down and they jumped forward as the engines kicked in. He would have been in the air by now if it had just been him, would probably already be doing a loop-de-loop, but he didn’t want to terrify her before they had even really started. 

She squealed, a muffled version of what he knew she was probably holding back as they started lifting off the ground, and he sped up even more, the g-force throwing her back against him, and he flicked pressed the switch on the dash to start retracting the wheels into the underbelly. 

“Poe, I’m scared,”

“You got it, I got you,” He removed one of his hands off the wheel and looped it around her waist to keep her secure, “You’re doing so well, baby,” 

It was then she made the mistake of taking a peak outside, seeing their base quickly becoming little more than a speck beneath them as they sped off upwards into the atmosphere, “Oh my stars, we’re so high,” 

He chuckled, kissing her hairline tenderly, “That’s a good thing, means we’re not in danger of crashing into trees or mountains or-”

“Poe!” She slapped his thigh, scrunching her eyes shut, “I can’t look, I’m going to puke,”

His resolve wavered for a minute, and he made the impromptu decision to yank the steering wheel down, forcing them to take a quick turn up even higher into the air, to which she tucked her head towards his jaw so she didn’t have to watch. 

He wondered if he was going to regret such a bold move, he felt her whimper against his skin and Poe cursed the whole concept of ‘Go big or go home’ that he had been going for. 

Until-

They burst through the clouds, the dusk air that had been growing dark under the smog disappearing as they cut in a straight line up, further and further until the cottony slew of powder white clouds blanketed beneath them, the way they had for him so many times before. The sun was still out this far up in the aerospace, syrupy orange, and almost pink as it met the pillowed floor, like they had flown right into a meadow of blankets and warmth. 

“Poe, I tried to be brave, really I did, for you, but my nerves are shot-” 

“Baby, look,” He cut her off, engaging the auto-pilot and moving his warm hands down her arms softly to hold her fingers in his own. The X-Wing evened out, the force barely feeling like a pull at their bodies anymore and more like a lingering jitter in their skin that could so easily be passed off as the engine. 

“I can’t, I feel sick-” She protested, pushing her nose into his neck, and he felt her hands shaking with nerves that he gently stroked away. He chuckled, the sound reverberating over the apples of her cheeks.

“Just trust me, look,” Poe said, and she took a deep breath, as if holding back another complaint, peeling herself away from him just the smallest amount to glimpse outside the star-fighter. 

Her eyes widened, sitting upright almost immediately as she saw the technicolor that had been a dull beige before, the world she’d known for over two years entirely gone, buried beneath the silkened clouds. Her mouth hung open, eyes darting over the teracotta hues, down to the valley of puffy clouds beneath that didn’t seem nearly as threatening as she’d imagined. 

She was silent for a moment, and Poe had feeling that was atleast a good thing, but he was known to second guess himself when it came down to her. 

Watching her expression with a besotted gaze, the sun’s heat glowing her cheeks with a honey kiss, he ran his fingertips over her palms, “Do you like it?”

“Poe, it’s-” She swallowed, not once ripping her eyes away from the oil painting infront of her, “You get to see this every day?”

He laughed, dipping his nose in her neck and leaving a loving kiss there, “Pretty much, yeah. I told you, it’s a whole other world up here,”

“How do you ever come down, I mean it’s, it’s,” She stammered, shuffling on the edge of the seat to take it all in even more, “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen,” 

“I have my reasons that are pretty compelling actually,” He smiled, eyes washing over her face, trying to commit that expression to memory because there were very few times they were allowed to have something good in the middle of a war. But this was it. She was it. His little bit of goodness that had been so worth the wait, “Happy Anniversary, honey,” 

[eldritch-nightmare]

yandere jeff the killer headcanons.

a/n: i had a thought and then the thought spiraled. did i write this to cope? ...perhaps. apparently, when i'm sad, i write yandere content, so. the more you know. maybe i should try making a yandere blog again idk. is this kinda bad? yeah, yeah it is. did it bring me out of a gloomy slump? yeah. it did. it did it's job, so that's all that matters. about halfway through writing this i was like 'is this really yandere atp bc honestly he would just do this casually' but i mean yeah. yeah it, is. listened to pet by a perfect circle while writing this so thumbs up it influenced me a bit.

warnings: gn!reader, yandere content, possessive behavior, ownership, toxic pre-relationships, stalking, isolation, blood, murder, yeah a guy gets decapitated, implied future kidnapping, mockery perhaps, throwing up.

He wouldn't be able to tell you what it is about you that caught his interest because he doesn't know.

You lived across the street from some random couple he killed, and he saw you getting ready for bed through the window of your home, and for some reason, you just... stayed in his mind.

It honestly annoyed him beyond belief. No matter what he was doing, his mind would always drift back to you for some reason. It pissed him off, but not enough to want to kill you. Which only confused him even more.

He hates this, actually. What the fuck.

The most logical thing he decides to do is watch you from afar. He thinks that, maybe, if he stalks you a little bit, his interest in you will fade once he sees how boring you are or something, and then he can kill you and go on his merry little way.

Turns how the exact opposite happens.

A couple weeks into stalking you, Jeff learns that his interest is not at all going away. If anything, it only seems to have gotten worse. This interest he has in you unnerves him a little bit, which is saying a lot because there's not a lot that can make Jeff feel uncomfortable.

He's developed emotional attachments to people before. I mean, yeah, he's a serial killer but he's not heartless. He has feelings. He's just never felt... this before. And it's strange.

But he doesn't hate it. I mean, he does. But he doesn't at the same time, y'know?

For a while, the stalking is all he really needed. He would follow you around maybe once every couple of weeks, and you would be none the wiser. But then it became once a week. And then it was every other day. And now it's whenever he's not doing anything else.

And you're starting to feel his eyes on you wherever you go. You try to brush it off as you just being paranoid, perhaps a sudden discomfort with crowded places or your mind just playing tricks on you when you're alone. It's hard to ignore though, especially when you're in the comfort of your own home.

Jeff thinks your sudden awareness of him watching you is cute. He likes seeing you look over your shoulder every couple of minutes whenever you're outside. He likes how you're always searching for him.

And that's when a shift happens. Alongside his interest in you, a feeling of ownership begins to form.

He started to feel an itch whenever he saw you interacting with other people. At first, the itch only came when you spoke to your friends and family. But then it started to happen when he saw you talking to random service workers as well.

Now, he can't just go around and kill every single person you speak with. He can, however, kill your friends! But don't worry, he doesn't kill all of them. He doesn't want you to feel lonely just yet. He just kills the ones that are too close for his liking.

And he doesn't exactly hide that he's the one who kills them. Why would he? Besides, why would you suspect that the infamous serial killer, Jeffery Woods, is your stalker? I mean, no one would come to such a conclusion. It's all just a coincidence.

But you know better. So when you start to isolate yourself from your friends in hopes that, if there is a chance that he's the person who's been watching you these past couple of months, it'll keep them safe.

And, well... it almost makes Jeff wanna go 'awww' because isn't that just adorable? Honestly, if he didn't have so much fun scaring you from a distance, he'd probably whisk you away right then and there.

He hates that he loves you, and he loves that he can't grow to hate you.

It goes on like this for a while, to be honest. You keep yourself isolated, and if Jeff sees you getting too close to anyone, he'll kill them as a reminder to be good. You haven't even officially met him yet, and he's already in control of your life.

But don't worry, he doesn't just kill the people who try to get close to you! He also kills the ones who say anything bad about you. He doesn't take too kindly to people who badmouth something, or someone, that belongs to him.

Even if you don't want to acknowledge the fact that you belong to him, it's hard to ignore.

Especially now.

You could only stare down in horror at the gift left for you on your doorstep. It was so early in the morning, the sun only just begun rising when you had received a knock on your door.

With how things have been these past few months, you obviously were cautious when you went to see who was there.

A quick peek out the window showed you that no one was there, and for a moment, you thought that maybe some random kids had decided to pull a dumb ding-dong-ditch prank on you.

But that's when you noticed something sitting in front of your door.

You should've just left it alone. Hell, you should've called the cops or something to inform them of a suspicious package left at your house, but you didn't.

Your curiosity is going to get you killed someday, that's for sure.

But you weren't reckless. You made sure to quickly head to your kitchen to grab a knife for protection before you went back to the door to see what had been left behind.

It was... a box.

Nothing that would be too suspicious, if it weren't for the fact that you were most definitely being stalked by a maniac serial killer who may or may not want to kill you. How are you supposed to know his intentions?

There wasn't only a box, of course.

There was a folded note resting on top of the box with your name on it, and in front of it, there was a rose that still had its thorns.

Alarms were going off in your mind, but there was that feeling of being watched again. He was watching you. You could feel him looking at you expectantly, but when you glanced around outside, you couldn't see him.

But you knew he was there. And he wanted you to see what he left for you. He wanted to see your reaction.

That tidbit of knowledge in mind made your nerves spike, and you could already feel nausea burning in your stomach as you hesitantly picked up the note resting atop the box.

Your hand shook as you unfolded the note, and you couldn't deny the wave a fear that washed over you as you read the words written down.

You owe me.

Three little words shook you to your core. Whatever was inside this box was not something you wanted to see, that's something you knew. The grip you had on the knife tightened for a moment as you set the note to the side and carefully moved the rose of the box, making sure you didn't prick your fingers on the thorns.

You had to take in a few deep breaths, setting the knife down and using both your hands to lift the flaps of the box to take a peek inside. You... weren't entirely sure what you were looking at for a moment, brows pinching together as you open the box a bit more to get a better look at the item sitting inside of it.

That's when you make eye contact with the decapitated head of a coworker who had been harassing you these past couple of days.

And you immediately scurried back inside and hurried to the kitchen, where you proceeded to throw up the dinner you had last night into the thankfully empty sink.

You had to swish some water around in your mouth to get the leftovers out, and you left the sink on to clean some of the vomit as you hurry back outside, this time holding your phone to call the police and keep an eye on the stuff that would no doubt be considered evidence.

But instead of finding a box with a head in it, you find a different sight. The box, the note, and the knife you had left behind were gone. The rose was still there, sitting on top of a new note.

This one wasn't folded like the last one, so you could see the words clear as day, and it truly felt as if the world was caving in around you as you stared down at the note. It felt like you were being mocked, to be honest.

See you soon.

[mikuni14]

I Hear The Sunspot - Ep 10

I won't lie if I say that series that create dramas out of nothing, creating problems and scenarios that are far removed from the ordinary lives of millions of people around the world, kind of annoy me 🙃 Kohei and Taichi's relationship is getting more and more weird and unnatural, and they had such a good flow in episodes 1-6. Taichi, who didn't allow any bullshit and openly confronted Kohei and everyone he met, is now unable to communicate. Kohei, who had a tendency to blurt out confessions about his feelings, is now unable to communicate. We also had scenes of them being shy, hiding, which were eventually resolved by contacting/meeting/ even visiting home, and we keep going back to the same point over and over again. Although that's not even it: I complained about the repetition, but now they're back to a point where they never even were. Besides, I really have the impression that the series creates artificial drama, the lack of communication has reached astronomical proportions, they either do not talk to each other AT ALL, and when they meet for a second, when they are not with Maya, they barely talk about important stuff, which was not a problem for them before. They cannot talk, they cannot make an appointment and meet with each other alone like adults, they do not use phones, they cannot get rid of Maya for 5 seconds.

I am generally furious with Kohei that he cannot once and properly put Maya down for her words and behavior towards Taichi, if someone spoke shit like that about someone I like - not even my close friend or crush, and someone like that is supposedly Taichi for Kohei - we would have a serious conversation about it: either stay and shut the fuck up, or leave.

I absolutely hate how Maya described Taichi not knowing him at all and how Kohei immediately thought of it when he saw Taichi making a decision about his life, career and future. What the actual FUCK. Am I the only one who sees Taichi's life as being quite lonely and supporting himself and going to college and working and helping Kohei? And how he has to think about himself and his future because he has no supportive parents and no one will do it for him? How can anyone even think of him as doing it all thoughtlessly or on purpose? Or that he "abandons Kohei" because he is a stupid and cruel person who never cared? ☹

What is the point of this BL at all, since there has been no BL for the last 4 episodes, and the main characters are drifting further and further away from each other with each episode. Why don't they struggle with all these adversities, problems TOGETHER. What is the point of all this, since there is no "togetherness" in it! 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

I just... I just love Kohei so much and he seems very lonely to me now. I started shipping him with Chiba-kun ngl, with whom he currently has the most chemistry and scenes lmao

On the one hand, it's not so good that the grandfather isn't more helpful and advising on the young man's important life decisions, on the other hand, the fact that he doesn't make a drama out of these decisions is a big relief for him 😊 Even if Taichi makes a bad decision, he'll have a place to go back to and he'll have the support of his grandfather, who won't make him feel bad about it or say "I told you so". Taichi is still young, he can do whatever he wants, he can go back to college someday, these are no longer the times when people had to make the most important life decisions before the age of 25, which were also irreversible. I think it was a good scene.

But what's worst about all this is that the series got itself tangled up in its own plot, because we don't have a single hint since ep 6 that Taichi is responding to Kohei's feelings, so this whole drama makes no sense. Since they have nothing in common romantically, if they want, they can meet up after work/school (although they haven't managed to do that yet lol) as friends, write to each other (also something they can't do) and live their own lives. Kohei can meet up with Maya since he prefers her company anyway, and Taichi can pursue his career. After all - there is no BL in this BL, so why the drama?

This show has become such a mess. But it would still be a "managable" mess if Kohei and Taichi had more than one scene per episode where something actually happened between them. And we didn't even have the aftermath of the famous "what if I didn't hate it". Like it never happened...

[jeonqkooks]

our beloved summer | jjk (06)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader

genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, swearing, kissing (omg k1ss1ng omg WHO IS IT ??? 😦), tbh this is the only warning i wanted u guys to read cuz 6 chapters in and we finally get sum action i feel like that's a win lmaooooo, jimin being Real as fook, unbeta'd cuz uhm i'm a godless menace who should be conked on the head, once again we are severely lacking jk in his own fic lol i'm owning up to this 🤗 BUT! this is probably the last chapter where jk feels like a side character lol apologies my dudes

rating: PG-13

word count: 8.1k (honestly i wrote obs6 just so i could get to obs7 lmao that's why it's a lil bit shorter)

note: my apologies if this sucks. you are legally allowed to stone me if you hate it. but i hope you don't hate it. but if you do hate it don't tell me just stone me lol 🤐 why am i so unhinged with this update

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

I can see you starin', honey Like he's just your understudy Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me

Exile - Taylor Swift (ft. Bon Iver)

The picture is fucking terrible.

“Jimin, what the fuck,” you grumble, staring at the huge framed photo on the wall, taken on the day of the opening party. You, Taehyung and Jimin are gathered on the floor of the dance studio, with boxes of takeout neatly sitting between the three of you. “I look like ass.”

Jimin barely glances at the wall, just continues to stuff his face with the dumplings that you ordered. “You look fine,” he says absentmindedly, mouth full, continuing to munch on the food despite your little dilemma.

“Bitch, I have my eyes closed.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“I look like I’m in the middle of a sneeze.” You cross your arms in front of your chest, squinting at your photographed self again. The more you look at it, the more irritated you become.

Realistically, you know nobody would pay enough attention to notice the immortalized visual of your fluttering eyes, and you yourself wouldn’t care about it that much. Maybe you would even laugh in good spirits and poke fun at yourself as you often do. Make a meme of it for the group chat.

“What’s the big deal?” Jimin asks.

You shrug petulantly. “I told you. I look like ass.”

Yeah, true, but it’s also more than that.

It’s the fact that the person standing next to you looks so good that you must voice your grievances. It’s the fact that he looks so much more than just good. 

The guys stop eating to look at you. You wonder just how much of what you’re feeling is written all over your face. Regardless, they don’t comment on it. 

One of them clears his throat, shaking the whole thing off.

“Did you tell Yoongi anything yet?” Jimin asks.

You poke at a lone dumpling with your chopsticks, popping the ‘p’ when you say, “Nope.”

“Damn, Y/N,” Jimin scolds you. “It’s been three weeks. He doesn’t want to push you for an answer but the man has got to be suffering.”

You flick a piece of spring onion garnish at him. It lands on his hair, a single bit of green sitting among golden locks. “I don’t know what to tell him!”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Jimin shakes the onion piece from his head and chucks it back at you. “Obviously you say yes!”

You exhale through your nose, then take a bite of your dumpling. You nibble on the fried dough, stretching out the silence, delaying your response.

It hasn’t even started, and it might not even start. But you’re already thinking about all the things that could go wrong. Yoong is your friend, first and foremost. He’s a good friend, and you would be crushed if you lose that relationship. 

What if he hurts you, or you hurt him?

Sometimes, people are meant to hurt each other even if they don’t mean to.

Yoongi hasn’t seen your pieces in all of their jagged glory, how they’re only meant to reflect the light but never be healed by it. He’s still blissfully unaware of the ugly thoughts that have a home inside your head, and you’re afraid if you let him in, he’d realize it’s a place he doesn’t want to be. It’s hard to love a broken thing. You wouldn’t want to love you either.

Maybe this is the real reason that’s been holding you back all this time. Maybe it isn’t Jungkook - though he certainly isn’t absolved - but it’s you, and how you just don’t know if you’re someone who deserves to love and be loved. You’ve felt inadequate more times than you can count. You’ve been left before. Who’s to say it isn’t going to happen again?

You’re well aware that this is a bad way to look at things, but can anyone really blame you? You still have a heart, and despite how fragmented it is, you still want to protect it.

“I know that look,” Taehyung says, parting your fog and pulling you back to him. “You’re overthinking again.”

You roll your eyes. He knows you so well, but does he have to call you out every time?

“I’m not overthinking. I’m regular thinking.”

“Right. And to normal people, that’s overthinking.”

“It’s just…” you wonder out loud, gaze on the floor. “What if I go all in, and Yoongi sees me for who I am and thinks that I’m just an utterly sad person who can’t be loved? That I’m too much work when he’s got literally thousands of people throwing themselves at him left and right?”

Taehyung stares at the side of your face as he bites the inside of his cheek. His tongue soothes the spot, his jaw clenching once. “He’s not going to think that.”

“You don’t know that,” you say, the corners of your mouth tugging down.

“You’re not unlovable just because one person didn’t love you right. So stop it with that bullshit, because I love you,” he says, voice serious. Even Jimin stays silent as he listens to his friend, his eyes flickering between you and Taehyung. “And Jimin loves you. Hobi loves you.”

You merely blink, because you hate it when he’s right. In all fairness, you understand. This is the same thing you would tell him if the situation were reversed.

You deflect anyway. That’s what you do best.

“You don’t count,” you tell him with an unserious scoff, your tone starkly contrasting his. “You’re my family.”

You taste something bitter as soon as the words leave your mouth. You should know better than anyone, that just because someone’s your family, doesn’t mean they have to love you.

Taehyung reenacts the blinking guy meme before chuckling, holding a hand over his chest like you’ve just wounded him. “Ouch.”

“You two are getting nowhere,” Jimin interjects. “Just call Yoongi.”

“And say what?” you ask.

“I told you. Say yes. God, you’re so dense sometimes.”

You reach over to jab a finger into his side, making him hiss and shuffle away from you.

“That wasn’t nice,” you grumble.

“Well, somebody’s gotta say it.” He gives you a look, eyebrows raised for a few seconds before he lowers them and grows more stern. “Come on, Y/N. You know you don’t want to say no, or else you would’ve turned him down already. You said you wanted to start dating again. Yoongi is practically on his knees offering himself to you. What are you waiting for?”

There’s a voice in the back of your head - tiny, barely audible - that whispers, Who are you waiting for?

“Fuck it, I’ll say it,” Jimin continues. “It sucks balls that Jungkook hurt you, but you can’t let that affect you for the rest of your life. Not everyone is going to hurt you. You’re not even giving Yoongi a chance just because someone else did you dirty. If you keep always thinking about the worst possible outcome and banking on it to happen, then you’re never going to get anywhere. I love you, dude, but y’know.”

You stare at Jimin with your mouth slightly open, stunned into silence. When you glance at Taehyung, he’s surprised too, though probably not as much as you.

After a couple of minutes, you say, “Wow.”

“Tough love. I have my moments.” Jimin shrugs casually, like he didn’t just drop a truth bomb on your head. “But also…” He picks his phone up and types something in. Your phone instantly buzzes with a notification.

“Open the link I just sent you,” he says.

“You are literally sitting across from me.”

“Just open it! I made you a playlist.”

“Aw, Jimin, that’s so cute,” you coo softly, reaching over to pinch his cheek before he swats your hand away. You unlock your phone to see what Jimin made you, because that is some friendship hall of fame stuff right there. However, when the link redirects you to your music app, your smile immediately drops.

Aaand he’s back.

You stare at the screen for a good ten seconds to try and find your bearings, flabbergasted at something that is quite honestly very on-brand for Jimin if you think about it. “You made me a playlist called Dick Appointment with an eggplant emoji and the tongue out emoji and it’s mostly just Yoongi’s songs. Even the playlist cover is from his Valentino shoot.”

“So you can get it on while Agust D plays in the background!” Jimin grins, and you could just smack it right off his face.

“Park Jimin, who raised you? You are vile.”

“Validate me,” he demands. Oh, you would smack him. You really would. “I spent hours making that playlist.”

“It’s literally just Yoongi’s songs.”

“Yeah, but I had to curate an experience. I can’t just dump every song into a playlist and call it a day. I gotta make sure they fit the vibe.”

“I literally just heard the most profound shit from you not even two minutes ago.” Then, you turn to Taehyung with an exasperated look on your face. “Why would you let him do this?”

He just waves a dismissive hand in the air, like Jimin isn’t even there. “I’m not responsible for the stupid shit he does.”

Jimin crosses his arms in front of his chest, both eyebrows raised dramatically as he gapes at you. “You both suck. From now on, you can make your own sexytime playlists.”

“Nobody even asked you to do that!” you cry.

“Yeah! Which makes me an even more considerate friend,” he says. “Ugh. Whatever. Go call Yoongi.”

“You want me to do it now?”

“Yes. Because I know you’ll wuss out when you’re alone. You can stay and put him on speakers for us to hear or you can go out into the hallway. Come on, chop chop.”

“No, I have to text him first,” you protest. “What if he’s busy?”

Jimin narrows his eyes at you suspiciously, but allows you this after a moment. “Fine.”

You take out your phone from your bag that’s lying carelessly on the floor to draft a quick message to Yoongi. 

[12:59] You: got a minute?

The three of you go back to the food, abandoning the previous topic of conversation in favor of something lighter and meaningless or else you would go crazy waiting for Yoongi’s reply. After you’re finished, you and Taehyung are in the middle of putting away all the empty containers and soda cans when your phone buzzes again. 

You go to grab it to look at the notification, hands already starting to sweat.

[13:17] Yoongi: for you? always :)

You turn back to the guys to find them already looking at you. Jimin wiggles his eyebrows suggestively while Taehyung just stares at you.

“Time to get your whore on,” Jimin says in an exaggeratedly sultry voice.

You turn to Taehyung for help. “He’s bullying me.”

“Ignore him,” your best friend tells you gently. “Go call Yoongi.”

When you take your phone out into the hallway, you make sure to go to the far end of it, near the main entrance so the two dorks can’t eavesdrop. You’ll tell them everything once you come back anyway, but you don’t want them within earshot while you’re in the middle of it.

Yoongi picks up your call on the third ring. In the background, your ear picks up on some chatter.

“Hey, princess,” he greets you. Then he holds the phone away from his ear to tell someone that he’d be back in a bit.

“Hey,” you say. “Where are you?”

“Just at a fitting. I have an ad campaign to film next week,” he answers. “Did you call just to get my whereabouts?”

“No, I… If you’re busy, we can talk later.”

“We’re still in the middle of lunch break anyway. What did you want to talk about?”

You briefly regret not taking a minute to psych yourself up before. You suck in a deep breath, which eases your nerves for just a second, long enough for you to say, “Yes.”

You’re met with brief silence from the other end of the line, which only makes your palms more clammy than they already are.

“Yes?” he echoes confusedly. “Yes what?”

“Yes,” you say again. “To…”

The silence commences once more, and lasts longer than you think you can handle. Then, you hear him stop in the middle of a breath.

“Oh.” A subsequent chuckle in response to the lightbulb that must’ve been switched on. “To that?”

“...Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

It feels like you two have invented a secret language that nobody else could understand. A single syllable, bouncing off the metaphorical walls of your conversation. Two idiots sharing the same brain cell.

“Yes?” he continues to prod, but at this point, you know he’s just teasing you.

“Yes! God, stop making me say it again. We sound so stupid.”

He graces you with a hearty laugh that makes you fight back a sheepish smile, even though there isn’t a single soul in sight to witness it. Yoongi makes you so fucking shy for some reason. Your nerves dissolve momentarily as you lean against the wall, your index finger running along a crack in the paint.

“Hmm, I wish you would’ve told me this in person,” he says, his voice soft.

“I can’t handle you in person. You’d tease me so much.”

“Because you’re adorable when you’re flustered, that’s why.” He waits a second before adding, “You’re blushing right now, aren’t you?”

“You’re being overly confident, Min.”

“Maybe,” he responds easily. “But am I right, though?”

“Shut up.”

When Yoongi said he would cook for you, you almost gasped.

“You can cook?” you had asked. It wasn’t an earth-shattering revelation or anything, but you suppose you’d never given much thought to the hidden sides of him. 

“Y/N,” he laughed then. “I’m a great cook. I could probably make a pretty decent career out of being a chef.”

“I didn’t know that,” you told him sheepishly.

“There’s a lot of things you still need to know about me.” It sounded like a promise. Like I’m willing to show you me. Like I’m willing to take the first step if you’d be in this with me too. “Does that sound like a good idea? You, me, dinner at your place?”

“My place?”

“Yeah, so you’ll be more comfortable. I’ll come over.”

This one simple gesture shouldn’t affect you that much, but it does. You appreciate that he’s considerate even when it comes to the littlest things. You swell with gratitude for the thought he puts into this, into putting your comfort first. It made you feel a bit better about yourself, calmed your stormy sea of thoughts enough to rationally accept the fact that he genuinely cares.

Regardless, it doesn’t stop you from spending most of the day obsessively cleaning your apartment. Even - and especially - your bedroom, although you’re sure that is not where the night will end. Every surface is spotless, not a single speck of dust to be found. It’s like the goddamn Pope is coming over for a house inspection. 

You haven’t had a first date in… fuck, how long has it been now? Nine years? It’s almost been a fucking decade already? You honestly can’t tell if that’s embarrassing or not.

But you remember the last time.

College, freshman year, with Jungkook. His yellow piece of sticky note that he slipped inside your favorite book. His adorably flustered expression when he timidly stood in front of you in the campus library. The way he was trying so hard to be confident and charming throughout your first dinner together. How he ran back to you after saying goodnight.

No.

You shut your eyes and shake your head, warding off any Jungkook-related thoughts before they could send you spiraling. You can’t reminisce about your ex while waiting for someone else to show. Yoongi deserves better, and that’s what you’re trying to be.

You’re not exactly sure how nice you should dress tonight. Yoongi told you that you could be clad in sweats for all he cares. If the dinner didn’t hold any connotation other than platonic, maybe you would’ve really donned your loungewear like you were merely having Taehyung and Jimin over for pizza.

You’d completely forgotten all the things people worry about in the early stages of dating, when you want to impress the other person but don’t want them to think that you’re trying too hard. 

Calm down. It’s just Yoongi. He’s seen you ugly crying with mascara running down your face, for fuck’s sake.

In the end, you opt for a sweater and a comfortable skirt. Casual. 

Yoongi rings your doorbell about ten minutes later than when he said he’d be there, holding a bag full of groceries. The visual alone makes you bite back a giggle and subsequently fail. You believe this is what people would call husband material.

You take his coat and guide him into your home. “Welcome to my humble abode,” you say shyly, gesturing around as you lead him into the kitchen to show him where everything is. Why are you acting like this? This isn’t you. If Taehyung or Jimin could see you right now, they would probably laugh. Hoseok would straight up be rolling on the floor.

You barely breathe as you watch Yoongi take in his surroundings. It’s intimidating, even though you know it’s just Yoongi. 

“I actually don’t know what I expected, but I like it. It’s very you,” he comments, smiling.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that it’s cute,” he says, throwing you a wink as he leans against your kitchen counter.

You avert your gaze immediately. “Oh… Thanks,” you reply, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “So, uhm, what are you making? How can I help?”

“Just sit down. I got this.”

“Yoongi,” you say his name in protest. “I want to h-”

“I’m trying to romance you here. Let me do that,” Yoongi says, his smile turning lopsided as he starts emptying the contents of his grocery bags. Even though his tone is light, the gentle reminder of tonight being a date shuts you right up.

You take a seat at your dining table, though you can’t really sit still. As Yoongi starts working, you absentmindedly talk to each other about your day, about his campaign, about Seokjin’s album. At one point, you get up to creep over to his side when the smell of whatever he’s making becomes more prominent. You try to peek at the pot, curious, but he just shoos you away by bumping his hip against yours.

When you give him a small pout, you pretend not to notice the way his eyes dart to your mouth. You retract yourself from his personal space, choosing a spot on the other side of your kitchen island, staring at his back as he works.

You watch him expertly navigate your kitchen like he’s been here before. When he’s finished, he makes you sit down, not even letting you help bring the food to the table.

“What is it?” you ask once he’s settled in his seat, everything plated in front of you.

“Kimchi jjigae,” he says, a proud look on his face. “My mom’s recipe.”

It’s endearing, and it makes you smile.

For the most part, Yoongi lets you eat in peace, though there’s still a couple of flirtatious comments here and there. Every time it comes, you bite down on your bottom lip to try and snap out of that daze before you cough, as if that would help tone down the colors adorning your face. There’s no verbal response from you, and it seems like Yoongi doesn’t expect one either, because he just chuckles. You think he must notice the palpable nervousness that radiates off of you, but it’s not like you’re doing a very good job at hiding it.

You’re taking baby steps and he knows it. The fact that you even agreed to this at all is already major progress.

When you’re done eating, he clears the table while he asks you to open the expensive bottle of wine that he brought over. It does wonders for your nerves.

Three glasses in and you’re visibly more relaxed as you both sit on the couch in the living room, facing each other. There’s a small smile on your face that you can’t help, maybe it’s some of your inhibitions wearing off as a side effect of the alcohol. 

You glance around the room, and you take in the sight of Yoongi sitting here, this close to you. He feels bigger than your small world can handle.

“You know,” you start. If the wine didn’t make you more mellow, you probably wouldn’t be saying this. “There are thousands of people thirsting over you every day.”

Yoongi tilts his head, swirling the wine in his glass. “Really?”

“Don’t you look at the internet? I personally know two girls from college who are on the Yoongi Marry Me train,” you say matter-of-factly, like you aren’t borderline tipsy in front of him.

You aren’t an avid Twitter user, but every time you check the damn bird app, Yoongi is almost always trending. In every single one of his posts on social media, there is always an influx of comments asking him to marry them. Not only that, when word first got out about you collaborating with Agust D back then, people you knew - both old friends and acquaintances - practically bombarded your messages to see if it was true, and to ask if you could get them an autograph.

Yoongi stretches out his legs until they brush against yours. Your stomach flips even though it’s only your legs that are barely touching.

“The what train?”

“You seriously don’t know about the Yoongi Marry Me movement? Look it up. It’s a whole thing. People would do anything to, I don’t know, hold your hand or something.”

With an amused look on his face, he holds your gaze. “Would you?”

“What?”

“Would you do all of that just to hold my hand? Because you don’t have to, y’know.” He brings the wine glass to his lips, partially hiding his face from you, and you don’t know whether he’s doing it for your sake or his in preparation for the words he speaks next. “But I would do it to hold yours.”

You’re sure that your cheeks are burning bright, your stomach twisted in knots. It’s the wine, but it’s definitely the effect of his words too. You stare at Yoongi in surprise; no matter how many times he openly flirts with you, he’d still elicit the same reaction from you. It’ll be hard to get used to it. He just always seems to know what to say to make you blush like a schoolgirl, which you resent but you can’t deny the sparks of excitement that make your fingertips tingle.

Yoongi is smooth, and it’s even worse - or is it better? You haven’t decided yet - that you know he means every word he says. It makes you feel… wanted. It’s good to know that he’s being genuine, and to know that Yoongi isn’t the type of person who would ever pull the rug out from under you.

Yoongi is… stable.

You suppose, after everything you’ve been through, that stability is what you need. It’s good for you.

You try to swerve around the thoughts, to avoid them at all costs, but deep down you know now that they’re glaringly true.

That love is stored in two bags of groceries, so filled to the brim that some onions almost fall out. Love is stored in every flick of his wrist holding a knife, slicing the sharp blade across your cutboard. Clean cuts, yet he’s never this way when it comes to you.

Love is stored in a fond smile and adoring eyes when he sees how you cradle your expensive dishware like it’s a newborn baby before you set it carefully on the table.

Love is stored in a Yoongi-shaped silhouette, dancing over your countertops with practiced precision in every movement, filling in the cracks of your home. The love in him is reserved because you, like the moon when it crescents, still have a ways to go.

When he stands at your door an hour later with his coat in hand, you wait for him to speak first.

“Performance review?” he asks. “How did I do?”

“I… liked it. It was nice,” you say honestly. But you still feel the wine in your system, and it makes you bold enough to tease him for a change. “But it was my first date in a while, so it’s hard to tell if that opinion is objective.”

He rolls his eyes fondly. “Do I qualify for a second date then?”

You hum in thought, making him wait on purpose. “Yeah, I guess,” you say, feigning nonchalance, which earns you a hearty laugh.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” he asks, hopeful.

“Don’t know yet,” you answer, though you’ll probably end up going home and catching up on a kdrama. “Are you coming in tomorrow?”

“Just in the morning. I have a shoot in the afternoon.” He shifts to lean his weight on his other leg, tipping his body closer to you. “But I can pick you up after.”

“Yeah? And where would we go?”

Yoongi shrugs in earnest. “Just drive around? Grab a bite?” he thinks out loud, tilting his head slightly to one side for emphasis. “I could take you to that popup store you mentioned.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “You would stand in line with me to buy a novelty mug?”

“Pretty sure we wouldn’t have to stand in line if I gave them a call,” he says, grinning. “One of the perks of the job, y’know.”

“Must be nice,” you laugh, then shift to lean just a tad closer to him. You look at him for a brief moment before you agree, “Yeah, okay.”

You and Yoongi stand there at the door, each of you on either side of the threshold. This would be an appropriate moment for a kiss, you think. That explosive first kiss, if this were a movie. Exhilaration courses through your veins. You feel it from your head to the tips of your fingers to your toes. The feeling is rendering you a mere teenager again. 

It’s exciting because it’s new. You have the entire book ahead of you, waiting to be written. At this point, anything could happen. You’re a blank canvas waiting to be drawn, a blank page hoping to be written. 

Wait.

Back up.

A kiss?

A kiss?!

With Yoongi?

You’re thinking about kissing Yoongi?!

Fuck.

Fuck?!

It’s the wine.

Your thoughts knock against each other like bumper cars, echoing loudly in your brain that it almost gives you a headache.

You stay still as Yoongi leans down, your heart racing while your brain just keyboard-smashes. You can’t tell if you want him to kiss you or not, but when he only presses his lips against your cheek, you feel two emotions at once.

The first is disappointment, the second is relief. They press down on you with almost equal force, and you’re not really sure which one weighs heavier.

Baby steps.

You blink when he pulls away, and he just smiles fondly at you as if he can read your mind.

“Goodnight, princess.”

You watch him until he’s in the elevator, until the doors close and the lift descends. Even when you know that he must be on his way to his car and that someone else is making their way up, you stand there, with your hand loosely wrapped around the door handle, your breathing slightly erratic as you process what just happened. 

Déjà vu? 

It’s oddly reminiscent.

You’ve been here before.

Part of you thinks he’ll burst through the elevator doors, or rush up the stairs if the lift is occupied, and come back to grab your face and kiss you senseless.

He doesn’t.

Jungkook knows you’re probably waiting for Yoongi.

He’s seen Yoongi pick you up after work almost daily over the past couple of weeks, and it’s driving him insane. Even on the days that Yoongi comes to the studio during the day, the guy is all over you, so much so that he doesn’t even bother being a nuisance to Jungkook anymore, which just makes him a thousand times more insufferable.

Something is happening.

He can’t weasel shit out of Jimin anymore because Jimin has been especially tight-lipped after accidentally spilling Yoongi’s confession to you.

Because that should be him in Yoongi’s place. Or should he say his place, and Yoongi is just a placeholder. An imposter.

Because it used to be him that you smiled shyly at.

Jimin’s words have been plaguing his every waking hour since he was forced to hear them. If she wants to choose Yoongi, let her do that too. It feels like he’s rewinding all of your memories, retracing them with cautious fingers only to find that his every footstep is being erased to make room for someone else.

An abandoned dirt road, while you walk down a flower-filled path holding someone else’s hand.

Like you’re stamping him out.

Like he was never there at all.

Not only are you denying him a chance, you’re giving it to someone else. When he tries to move at someone else’s pace, all he gets is left behind.

It’s not about Yoongi; or at least, it’s not just about him. Yoongi doesn’t even really matter to Jungkook in this equation. It’s about what Yoongi represents. An idea of a person that Jungkook can never be.

A bigger life. A stable present and an even brighter future. Yoongi is everything better than him.

And that’s his own problem to deal with, not anyone else’s. At the end of the day, no one has to live with his insecurities but himself.

But still, he can’t help it. Whenever he sees you with Yoongi, his eyes burn. Please don’t let him take my place, he wishes every time, you’re the only good thing about me.

It’s jealousy, sure, of course it’s there. 

But what if you realize what everyone else already knows? That Yoongi is better in every single way. That Yoongi is the person who really deserves you.

What if you start to see Jungkook the way he sees himself?

You hating him - despising him with every cell in your body - is a thousand times better than you deeming him unworthy.

“I talked to Jihyo,” he speaks up suddenly, when it’s only the two of you.

“Okay,” you answer, never taking your eyes off the page in front of you. You must have circled the words daisy a thousand times already, wracking your brain for anything that rhymes. “I don’t know why you’re telling me this, but good for you.”

At this point, you wonder if you should just avoid the studio for the time being. It’s empty here again. You resent Seokjin for drowning in concept photos. You resent Namjoon for leaving Jungkook here to fend for himself, but it’s only fair, because Namjoon was only supposed to give him a helping hand, not take over the whole thing. You even resent Yoongi a bit, for not being here right this second.

“I talked to her,” Jungkook says again, ignoring your sass. “She won’t give you a hard time anymore.”

This makes you look at him. You never asked him to do this. You never asked him to do anything. In fact, you have only ever implored him to sit still and leave things alone.

“She never gave me a hard time,” you say. Sure, you don’t appreciate being given the death glare first thing in the morning, but it’s not something that you can’t ignore. It doesn’t actively affect you, and the only reason Jihyo does it is because of Jungkook.

Because he broke things off with her?

Because he gives you more attention?

Ugh. Attention?

This is the stupidest and most childish thing you have had to think about in ages.

“You said she acts differently toward you.”

“And aren’t you the reason why?” you counter. “Because you two were fucking?”

Jungkook visibly winces at your words, like he did when you mentioned it the first time in the break room. You don’t mean to be snarky; you’re just stating the facts. They were hooking up. 

You don’t harbor any ill will toward any of his past lovers, and that includes Jihyo. You know she doesn’t have anything against you either, at least not on a personal level because you don’t know each other well enough to do so. She’s just someone you pass by every day on your way to the elevator.

“So why did things end?” you ask just for the sake of it, since he was the one who brought it up. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious.

He hesitates for a moment. “She wanted something more and it wasn’t the same for me.”

It’s stupid that the tiny voice in the back of your head resurfaces, hoping that you were the reason why he couldn’t pursue things with another woman.

Jihyo isn’t you, that much is clear. You never asked for anything more from him, not once from start to finish. He was always the first one to pour love into you. It’s arguable which one of you loved the other more - maybe you loved each other equally, just in different ways - but it was a fact that Jungkook always took the initiative. He made the first move so you wouldn’t have to. He gave you the option to match his affection, and never have to worry about being left out to dry.

He took initiative, right until the very end.

You bite your bottom lip, then give him a curt response, “Okay.”

Your phone vibrates with a text from Yoongi but you don’t open it just yet. You look at Jungkook, who only looks back at you. His lips part slightly as he searches for the right words, or any word at all. It’s like you’re asking him to navigate a minefield when all he has to do is be honest. Even if he told you that he fell out of love with you, it wouldn’t be that bad. You would be hurt, yes, but you wouldn’t blame him. You would understand. It would be a reason.

Silence fills the room, save for the continuous tapping of your pen on paper.

He says your name, pleading. “I’m trying here.”

At Jimin’s party, Jungkook said you were someone important to him. You don’t doubt that he meant it, and that’s what infuriates you the most. You’re important, but he keeps running circles around you and making your head spin. You’re important, but everything he’s done makes you think that you’re the opposite. You’re important, just not important enough to get an explanation.

You know he’s genuine about everything he says, but that’s not enough. You can’t sustain yourself on just his words alone.

It’s another cycle of the same conversation, running over and over and over again. He’s reaching out but he’s holding back. You’re still getting nowhere. You don’t know how many times he has to make you ask this, only to not give you any clarity at all.

If there is a trait of Jungkook’s that you both love and hate at the same time, it is that he doesn’t know when to quit.

He texts you every day even when you don’t reply - one for good morning, and one for goodnight. He gets you a chai latte every day, which doesn’t do shit for your concentration because there’s not enough caffeine in it. He gets the door for you whenever you go into the same room together. He hounds your every waking moment. He makes sure that he’s the first thing you see when you wake up, and the last thought that crosses your mind before you go to sleep.

I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.

You suppose this is him, showing up again. In a lot of ways, it’s selfish. But it’s an effort too. Now your phone is full of meaningless messages that remain unread.

You barely glance at him. It’s routine at this point. He tries in ways that you don’t bother acknowledging anymore, because you figured that the best course of action is to let him wear himself out.  When he has had enough of it, when he deems his efforts to be enough to absolve his guilt, he’ll stop. He has to.

But at what point does it stop?

At what point will you stop wanting to give in to him? Your mind rages wars with itself every time you feel his eyes on you, and you have to kill the urge to not turn your head and look at him too. At what point will you stop wanting to go to him and let him in again? At what point will you stop unconsciously making him a priority?

All of this, you supposed, is to say: Do you still love him?

You know that if you sit down and get to the root of it, you’ll find an answer you don’t like. Even in this moment, you want him to tell you just a fraction of the truth, because that would probably be enough to reel you back in.

Your own heart claws at your chest but this is how it has to be for a while. All you can do is take it one day at a time, gently nudge your heart in one direction like a child that needs to be goaded, until he doesn’t live on the forefront of your mind anymore.

Until someone else does.

“No, you’re not.” You stand up then, closing your notebook with more force than necessary. “If you’re really trying, then I wouldn’t still be wondering why I wasn’t enough to make you stay.”

Even then, you’re still hoping that he’d say something else. But when you’re only met with silence, the anticipated disappointment in you bubbles, boiling. His reluctance to clue you in makes it easier for you to decide.

There's someone else who's willing to give you things that you don't even need to ask for.

In your mind, it's clear who you should choose.

Jungkook clenches his teeth, holding his breath as he watches you shove your things into your bag. “Are you going home?” he asks after a minute.

You could say yes and let the conversation die a swift and simple death. But for some reason, you choose to kill it violently. You bite the inside of your cheek before you tell him, “I don’t know. Yoongi’s picking me up.”

The chagrinned look that takes over his features for a split second is one that you immediately catch. Maybe it’s because he wants to make sure you know how he feels about this, or maybe you still have a way of reading him somehow. Regardless of what his face tells you, he doesn’t prod any further.

Your phone vibrates on the table, the sound ten times more thunderous amidst the silence that’s befallen the both of you. You don’t need to check the screen to know who’s calling, and neither does he. When you leave, the sound of your fading footsteps ricochets off the walls. It shoots right through him.

He hears every word of that conversation ringing in his ears then. He recalls that afternoon’s sunset; it was the most beautiful sunset he saw that year, despite the sun overhead mocking him with every magnificent glint of light. He sees the look on your face when his words finally register in your mind, the Oh moment when you understood what he was saying, when the smile you wore sunk helplessly to the floor because even though you knew that love had an expiration date, you hoped your love would be the exception. 

That memory fades, only to be replaced by something much worse. He sits there with Jimin’s words, echoing in his mind, reverberating around the room.

Technically, you and Yoongi haven’t been on a second date. You think.

You’ve seen him almost every night since the dinner, when he picks you up at the studio. Sometimes, you two just drive around. Sometimes, you sit by the river in the cold, eating hot ramen cups and giggling over nothing. Sometimes, he just takes you straight to your home if he has a packed schedule the next day.

These days, you see Yoongi even more than you see Taehyung. Even though he hasn’t explicitly implied that any of these outings is a date, you know you aren’t hanging out as just friends anymore.

It feels good to be wanted. The feeling is reinforced tenfold because it’s been so long that it’s like you’re experiencing it for the first time in a new body, as a different person.

But even after all of that, you two can still go back to being friends like nothing ever happened. Because in a way, maybe nothing did happen. Maybe things have always been like this between you, the only difference is now you’re noticing the meaning behind his words and glances.

You two can still go back, because technically, no line has been crossed.

But tonight, something feels different. It’s colder, but Yoongi keeps you warm with all the looks he’s been giving you all night.

It feels like you’re both toeing that line right now. 

You know that once you cross it, things can’t revert back to the way they were anymore.

You know that it will happen eventually, because Yoongi isn’t doing this just to half-ass it. He won’t back out, and he has made it crystal clear from the start. 

Usually, this is the part where he tells you goodnight and you have to pretend not to freak out when he kisses you on the cheek in goodbye.

He takes a step closer, you take no step back. 

“You know what I’m about to do, right?”

You do. You could say you’re even hopeful.

“I might have an idea…”

“Okay,” he says easily. He takes your waist in his hands and brings you closer. The way the corner of his mouth tugs upward tells you that he’s pleased, that you know what’s about to come and you’re letting it happen. Still, he asks, “Can I?”

You nod. That glowing sensation washes over you in waves.

“Words, princess,” he reminds you. 

Your hands land on the lapel of his coat. “Yes, you can.”

He chuckles, and squeezes you a little tighter. 

Then it happens.

The line you clumsily drew in the sand has been erased.

Yoongi is kissing you.

You’re kissing him back. 

He’s soft and warm and he holds you like you’re delicate. His sincerity, you can feel it in his kiss, and it’s only a fraction of it. Regardless, there is still life that blooms this winter. Inside of you, small and fragile, but it’s there.

You sigh into his mouth, feeling completely limbless if not for him holding your body upright. One of his arms wounds itself tighter around your middle while his other hand tucks your hair behind your ear so he could cup your cheek more easily. Yoongi tilts his head further to one side to deepen the kiss. You feel something in his kiss that you have never heard in his words, something soft and pleading. Wanting but still contained. Out of fear that you might run away, perhaps? You can’t blame him though. You are a bit of a flight risk.

The wind dances past like a nosy bystander, pressing you further into him like it wants you to be more sure in the way you move, in how much of yourself you’re willing to give to him. Instead, the cold just makes you shiver.

When you break away, his hand on your face moves to hold the back of your head. Yoongi doesn’t look half as flushed as you think you do, though his cheeks are slightly rosy.

Through a thin veil of clouds, the moon still shines down on his profile. 

The chill in the air, the mesmerizing view of moonlight dancing across his features, and most of all, the way you’re still lost in the kiss, in the feeling of being wanted.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you up,” he says, after you stay silent for a beat too long, hooded eyes basking in the warmth of a heart chasing your own. You want to want him. You do want him, but there’s still something missing. It doesn’t feel entirely right, but for now, you try not to dwell on it too much. Just let it be. Maybe in time, that void will inevitably fill.

Yoongi holds your hand through the lobby and on the whole way up even if neither of you says anything, just shy glances in the elevator and bashful half-hidden smiles. You don’t invite him in once you get to your door - because an invite now insinuates something that you just aren’t ready for - but he does kiss you again. If the kiss you shared downstairs is a proper goodnight kiss, then this one means see you later and doesn’t last half as long, but it makes you tingle just the same.

He pulls back, only to dive in again, and again, and again, until one chaste kiss turns into five and you have to push him away with a giggle so you can breathe.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, eyes still set on your mouth. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Yoongi,” you say, a little breathily, like oxygen hasn’t sufficiently made its way into your lungs since downstairs.

He rests his forehead against yours. “You’ve never said my name like that before,” he sighs.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to kiss you again.”

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth and pretend to consider this even though you know you would like to be kissed again. “Maybe I do,” you say after a beat, bravely. “Just one more.”

He gives you your final kiss of the night then, one that lasts a second longer than the others, like he’s trying to memorize how you taste.

You head in once Yoongi is out of sight. You lean your body against the door the second you snap the lock shut. You touch your lips lightly, reliving those moments again even though they happened mere seconds ago. You’re buzzing with excitement like a schoolgirl, every feeling coursing through your body all at once. 

You’re familiar with this. It’s the stage right before every love song you listen to suddenly reminds you of that one person.

You go through your regular evening routine with a pep in your step, thanks to a certain person tonight. You take off your carefully applied makeup and take a nice, hot shower. You think the heat would help melt away the high that you’re riding - like you’ve had too much coffee to drink and now your senses are beyond heightened - but it doesn’t. Once you’re fresh and comfortable in your PJs, you still feel that jittery feeling seeping through your pores, keeping you awake. There’s a message from Yoongi that tells you he has made it home safely.

It’s still early, and you’re far too restless to go to bed. You decided to brew yourself a mug of chamomile tea, even though you don’t even like chamomile and you can’t remember why you even have it, but they say that apparently chamomile is good for sleep. You decide to take the mug into the living room to sort through your mini mountain of mail that should’ve been dealt with days ago.

Sitting underneath that pile of junk mail and letters addressed to the previous tenant even though you’ve lived here for nearly two years, is a cream-colored card addressed to you. The material feels smooth under your fingertips, like velvet if that’s even possible. Inside, there are two names - one you recognize and another you don’t - typed out in a fancy calligraphy font and encircled by pretty flowers, all pinks and whites and romantic.

The saccharine sensation associated with the thought of Yoongi dissipates instantly. Instead, your mind blanks, only to buzz to life again momentarily with a newfound sinking feeling dragging you down.

You suddenly realize that Jungkook hasn’t crossed your mind once tonight. Not until now. That crestfallen look in his eyes from the other night appears in your mind again, clear as day.

You are, quite literally, holding someone’s declaration of love and yet, it’s not joy that you feel, having been asked to join them on their special day. 

You never thought you would see Jungkook’s family again - even though you always adored his parents and you felt that they loved you too - let alone receive an invitation to his brother’s wedding.

remember when y'all said u wanted a wedding?? well u didn't say whose wedding 😌

— all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted march 27, 2023]

[itslottiehere]

mors tua, vita mea — h.s

hello beautiful people 🤍 welcome back! i know, i know, it’s been a while, but i truly hope this story makes up for the lack of writing! i’ve had so much fun while writing this, and i hope you’ll like it as much as i do <3 please, let me know what you think! you can do so in your reblog, in your tags, or in my asks! if you enjoy the story, please consider reblogging! it really helps me and also make me want to keep going!! without further ado, happy reading! <3

— inspired by “getaway car” by taylor swift.

cw: angst, a bit of kissing, some swear words

word count: 6.5k

gif by @londonharry

masterlist | leave your feedback or requests here

—

the backstreet was dark, a few spots of light showing her the way to the car she hid before the heist took place. before chris could know that there was only one way that night could have ended, and that was with him locked up. 

she had been planning this for months now: their biggest heist, her biggest betrayal. 

she wasn’t sentimental about it at all, it was just pure business: she knew the cops were closing in on them, so she had to leave before shit hit the fan. simple as that. 

also, chris was becoming way too attached to her as it was, so it was really a two birds with one stone deal for her: she had always made it clear that their “relationship” was nothing more than work, but sometimes the nights in the safe house got boring and lonely, and the company was appreciated. 

still, a few nights of sex didn’t mean there were feelings involved or anything of that sort, and no matter how much chris said that he “got it”, she noticed the changes in his attitude, how protective of her he became, how his touch would linger for a second longer, how he would double and triple check with her if she got wounded, how he would always make sure she was safe before worrying about his own safety.

how he made it so easy for her to manipulate him.

the poor thing never saw it coming. the pink lenses of infatuation making him painfully oblivious to the fact that he was never gonna see her again. 

both her and the outside world, from her calculations: the cops would find plenty of evidence on him, in the safe house, that would tie him up with a pretty little bow and send him off to prison for god’s know how long, all the while making him the perfect scapegoat for her. 

she couldn’t know if chris would rat her out, — although she thought it not likely, given the lovesick puppy look he had ever since they slept together, — but even if he tried to, she made sure not to leave any trace of her identity in any document, in anything that had to do with any illegal activity. 

and even if she did, they wouldn’t have found her: the identity she used wasn’t hers, and she was gonna stop being the person chris knew as soon as she drove away, her new id card safely stored in the pocket of her jacket, the old one burnt to a crisp.

the soles of her shoes were scraping against the gravel, the ground wet from the light november rain, while she jogged to what would bring her into a new life, a new start. she had to get out of there, immediately. 

what she wasn’t expecting was a dark silhouette appearing on the other side of the alley, seemingly jogging towards her. 

fuck, fuck, fuck.

she was so sure she had locked the exit door on the back, so how did chris manage to get out? he would have had to figure out she was planning on framing him. 

if that was the case, this wasn’t gonna end well.

she opened up the door to her car, ready to bolt, when the unknown figure spoke slowly: “wait.”

that was not chris. the voice was deep, rough, and the way he pronounced just one single word made chills run through her body. 

or maybe that was just the adrenaline of it all, the fear of getting caught betraying her partner by said partner. 

“wait.” the figure spoke once more, getting closer to the car. “i need a lift.”

what the actual fuck? did he take her for an uber driver or something? 

she scoffed and got in the car, keys inside the ignition, ready to drive off.

which couldn’t be done since the tall figure decided to stand in the middle of the alley. 

she couldn’t really honk, not when the alarms inside the building were about to go off and the place was about to be stormed by cops. she had to leave, and if she had to run over him, then so be it.

she put her foot on the gas, put in the first gear and was very much convinced that the man would decide to move out of the way. 

but she had no such luck.

his hands hit the hood of her car, hard, while she pressed on the breaks with all her strength in order to not make him flat on the ground. 

so much for survival instincts, she thought.

“were you really about to run me over?” the man spoke — his figure now becoming clearer since he was nearer than before. a lazy smirk cut his face. “mmh. i like you.” 

and just like that he was opening the passenger’s door, seating down and buckling his seatbelt. 

she was utterly shocked, what the hell was going on, why was he- “who the fuck are you? and what the actual fuck do you think you’re doing in my car?”

the man chuckled lowly, casting two deep indents in his cheeks. “oh wow, they didn’t tell me the owl had such a filthy mouth.”

the name made her eyes go wide: the owl. working in the darkest hours of the night was her distinctive trait, hence the nickname she chose for herself while doing business. 

“‘m harry, by the way. don’t have a cool nickname like yours yet, but perhaps i should find one. what about the puma? what do you think?”

she scoffed, looking straight and finally driving away. “well, harry or the puma or whatever you wanna be called-”

“harry is just fine.”

“alright, harry, would you mind telling me why the fuck are you here?” her patience was wearing thin and she really didn’t want to lose any more time on this.

“oh right, sort of forgot to tell you, didn’t i? okay, well, my dear owl- hold up, don’t i get to know your name? i told you mine.” he turned his body to face her. 

judging by the deep frown of her eyebrows and how set her eyes were on the road in front of them, he assumed he wouldn’t get it that easily. 

“well, doesn’t matter for now. so, back to where i was: i have been checking you out for a while, saw your latest works and was very impressed. i’m in need of a partner, and from what i saw tonight, so do you.” he spoke, and in the far distance they could hear the police sirens and spot the blue and red lights: everything was about to go down.

harry coming to bother her on that particular night was really somewhat karmic, wasn’t it? she screwed over her partner, so fate had to bring an annoying man in her plans, once again. she cleared her throat, her tone dry.

“how did you know what i would do?”

harry turned once again towards the road. “i knew the police was closing in on you, so i thought that if you played your cards right you may have the chance to get away, and the better escape plan would have been to ditch your partner.” the man in her passenger seat stretched his legs, his arms raised up, his voice coming out a bit strained. “word on the street was that tonight something was going down, i thought to check it out to see if it was actually gonna be you. my lucky night, i’d say.”

harry had heard plenty about the owl’s operations and was extremely intrigued by her. the plans were intricate, but incredibly well thought out, and often went down without a hitch, and the chosen artworks to be stolen being invaluable masterpieces made it all the more admirable. he knew as soon as he saw one of her biggest heists go down so smoothly that he desperately wanted to be in business with her, so he began keeping tabs on her, which brought him in that alley, that precise night.

he didn’t expect to be so entranced to her. 

sure, he was in awe of her plans and the way she carried on her business, but he was struck by her. even more than her looks, it was the confidence she radiated from her stance, her set gaze, her clenched jaw, that was what drew him in immediately. 

he knew she was trouble, especially given her line of work. but it seemed like he couldn’t help himself to fall under her spell, and that was saying something, since she tried to run him over not even 20 minutes prior. 

oh, poor harry didn’t know what he was getting into.

she wasn’t dumb, nor blind: harry was a treat for the eyes, and obviously way more prepared than chris ever was. still to that day she couldn’t believe he didn’t see it coming, it was all so clear to her. she was sneaky, of course, but he must’ve had some clue, right? or well, she guessed that what people say is true: love makes you dumb. 

harry was another league, though. he kept track of her, which must’ve not been easy since she always took so many precautions to keep everything on the down low; he discovered her plan and also understood that the better route for her was to ditch her partner. 

he definitely had more experience than chris, and that could be an advantage: for once, she could have someone to bounce ideas off of, and since harry managed to find out her ironclad plans, it means that something wasn’t as hidden as she would’ve liked, and having him could help with that.

when she started her business, she swore that she had to be the one calling all the shots: being the perfectionist she is, she couldn’t relegate the responsibility of something so important like a heist to someone who wasn’t herself. she decided to get a partner — enter, chris — just because sometimes it was physically impossible to do it all on her own. that didn’t change the fact that he was merely a mean to an end, he had no voice whatsoever in planning anything, and not once had he complained about it, nor he had any reason to: the money was good, and once he even got to win her affection — or well, what he thought could’ve turned into something more — he was good with doing whatever she wanted.

she had the feeling it wasn’t gonna be like this with harry. 

or well, at least not that easy. 

“that was impressive, not going to lie. it mustn’t have been easy to keep track of my movements. so, bravo.” she spoke, her eyes quickly glancing towards him.

a smirk took place on harry’s face, the praise of such a pro stroking his ego. “it was, but very much worth it.” 

his voice was smooth like silk, and even the dumbest person walking on earth could’ve felt the flirty undertones of his words from miles away. 

she quickly thought about it, a new plan. a new, better plan.

“okay, pretty boy. if you can keep up, i can think about being partners. that is, if you prove worthy of my time.”

“deal.” he smiled, and again the dimples on his cheeks made an appearance. “pretty boy, huh? should that be my badass nickname?”

“still better than the puma.”

that night marked the beginning of a new era, four years of the most lucrative, crazy, exciting heists the both of them could have ever imagined.

and over the course of those years, the inevitable and not so unexpected happened: they fell for each other, and they fell hard.

endless night of planning, scheming, and building trust with each other turned them into real life bonnie and clyde, absolutely drunk on adrenaline and love. 

it was definitely not something she had planned, not something she had wanted either, but there was no denying chemistry: sometimes, things just happen, and you have no choice but to let them run their course.

harry was just as smitten: he was hooked from the beginning, and fought hard to win her over from day one. 

it started as a ‘business partners with benefits’ kind of deal, a way to ‘pass the time’, — at least for her, harry was already harboring feelings for the woman — but it bloomed into something more, somewhat organically. 

he still teased her that she became soft for him when he got injured during an escape: the rope attached to the top of the building didn’t hold up harry, who suffered a bad fall. his shoulder was dislocated, and she had to be the one who had to put it back in place, since hospitals weren’t really an option, and harry couldn’t ignore the look she held in her eyes, as if even just the thought of hurting him was physically hurting her.

he didn’t expect it, definitely not from someone like the infamous owl: she showed no remorse for her actions, no feelings for the first six months of them working together, and he made peace with the fact that that was just the way it was gonna be, but was pleasantly surprised when that revealed not to be the case. 

the world knew her as a scheming, logical woman, but harry had the privilege of being her soft spot.

he was always a pretty open guy, not scared of having big feelings or of falling in love. he had already felt it in the past, he just wasn’t prepared to experience how powerful it could feel with the right person: what he felt for her was something out of a novel, a perfect mixture of infatuation, almost obsession, adrenaline and maybe insanity, and it was so incredibly addicting.

the last heist was a perfect success, their biggest bag as a matter of fact. the artwork they managed to steal had taken months upon months of planning, but it all went down incredibly smoothly: 7 minutes, in and out, exactly like they had wanted. they were already far when the police arrived, harry behind the wheel, driving their getaway car.

with chris, she had never let him drive, ever: she had to be in control of everything, of every little aspect, probably because she never fully trusted him. but she did trust harry, wholeheartedly so. 

the drive to the dingy motel wasn’t too long, the night chill enveloping them thanks to the lack of a roof on their car. the adrenaline was running high still, and she couldn’t stop herself from leaning in and leaving a kiss on harry’s smiling lips, their grins quite too big to properly kiss each other. but it didn’t matter, the feeling was all the same, the rush quite impossible to describe to someone who never felt it.

harry disconnected their lips, not before leaving a quick peck once again, and looked back to the barely lit country road ahead of them. 

“very risky to distract me like that right now, sweetheart.”

“couldn’t help it, pretty boy. you’re just too damn good-looking.” she smiled at the nickname, and harry did too: it stuck ever since that first night, and harry definitely never complained. 

“c’mon, we’re almost at the motel.” harry’s hand took its rightful place on her left thigh, softly squeezing the flesh, awakening a storm of butterflies and inviting them to bat their wings in her stomach. she rested her hand on top of his, gently toying with his rings.

the motel neon sign was missing a few letters, its occupants nothing less than unsavory, but she didn’t care: she wasn’t one to be scared in the first place, much less with harry by her side.

once they got to their room, she locked the door and quickly found her back pressed into it, harry’s lips straight on hers. she knew what was coming, it happened every single time after a hit: the euphoria of a successful heist was a very powerful aphrodisiac.

harry’s lips pressed slowly against her own, he was in no hurry now. after he felt her body relaxing in his hold, he moved onto her neck, and smiled against her skin when he heard a shaky breath falling from her lips after he sucked lightly on the spot he knew would drive her crazy. 

her hand went immediately into his hair, tugging on the curls she loved to play with at every chance she got, while the other travelled down his torso, heading towards his belt.

knowing where she was going, harry detached his lips from her neck and looked at her: flushed cheeks, her eyes — his favorite feature of hers — slightly glazed over, her lips full and a raspberry colour. he smiled at the sight.

“sweetheart,” he murmured. “sweetheart, hey.”

“mmh?” she hummed, her hands roaming under his shirt, feeling the expanse of his tummy and chest, pressing her lips in the dip of his throat. 

harry hated to have to tear himself away from her and her touch, but a shower was in order, and also making her wait made the whole situation way more intriguing, her getting antsy waiting for him really did a number on him.

her forehead rested on his chest, a small whine falling from her lips when he felt him trying to move away from her, which made harry chuckle. he softly pressed a kiss to the top of her head, slowly walking backwards towards the restroom, but her arms refused to leave his body, so she was stumbling along with him, her cheek still smushed against his chest.

harry reached behind his back to untangle her arms from his waist, not without her protesting. he leaned in and planted a wet kiss on her cheek, murmuring a low “be right back”, before leaving the room.

she felt drunk, as she usually did whenever harry was in near proximity, but there was nothing she could do about it.

she laid down on the dingy bed, eagerly waiting for her lover to be back and, to kill the time, she decided to turn on the tv.

what she saw sobered her up real quick.

the news were reporting a robbery at a famous gallery, two figures with their dark hoodies up filmed from a camera at the end of the alley.

a camera both she and harry failed to notice.

they were lucky the camera was at the opposite end of the dark and unlit alley, and caught just a glimpse of their backs, but this wasn’t good. this was not supposed to happen. 

never, in all her years of planning, had she forgot to notice a camera, and the fact that this happened with their biggest heist made the blood drain from her face. 

she tried her hardest to lower her heart rate and to focus on what the newscaster was saying: two suspects, no faces identified, probably left by car, all the other cameras in the block were somehow off during the escape — somehow actually being the work of one of harry’s acquaintances — and the police had no leads for the moment.

all things considered, it wasn’t bad at all.

so why couldn’t she seem to catch her breath?

the bathroom door creaked open, a bit of steam filling the room. harry stepped out, a towel hanging on his lower half, his body glistening with little droplets of water, hair matted and still dripping a little. 

he had a dopey smile on his lips, which soon fell once he noticed that she wasn’t ogling at him as she usually would when he stepped out of a shower.

“hey,” he called out to her, “something wrong?”

she didn’t even notice that harry had walked back into the room, so she slightly jumped at the sound of his voice. her head quickly turned towards him, as she just as quickly turned the tv off.

“of course, yeah.” she smiled. “missed you.”

“could’ve joined me, you know?” he grinned, “never would refuse a beautiful lady like you.” he got closer to her and pressed his lips softly against hers.

she reciprocated the kiss, disconnecting it quite a bit earlier than harry would’ve liked, and murmured still close to his lips, “can we cuddle for a bit?”

harry’s hands cupped her cheeks, his thumbs slowly stroking the apples, “yeah, of course. want my shirt to sleep in?”

she excitedly nodded, staring at his back while he retrieved a shirt from his luggage.

sleep came quickly to harry, his arm holding her tightly against his chest, comforted by the feeling of having her safe in his arms.

she still couldn’t quite catch her breath.

.

harry woke up to an empty bed: the creamy rays of sun beamed through the worn blinds, rousing him awake. as he did every morning, he reached for her, looking forward to hooking his arm around her waist and feel her snuggle against his chest. but that day, his hand touched a cold piece of comforter instead of the warm, soft body of his girl.

his eyes opened immediately, trying to adapt to the light, his brows furrowed as he knuckled his eyes, trying to blink away the sleepiness. his slightly startled heart stopped once he saw her seated at the little desk the room provided, typing away on her computer, wrapped in his sweatshirt with her hair still damp from the shower she probably had just taken.

way too focused on adjusting the last details of the meetup with the buyer for that same night, she jumped when she felt two strong arms engulfing her.

“morning, love.” his morning voice was a gift straight from heaven, it never failed to make her feel warm and cozy. “don’t like it when i wake up without you.”

she could hear the pout on his face, and she smiled at the notion that he was so affected by her absence. “good morning, pretty boy. just had to take a shower and finalize the details for the drop off with the buyer tonight.” she turned around and looked at his still half closed eyes. she tilted her head up, puckering her lips a little, “kiss?”

harry didn’t miss a beat and laid his mouth on hers, moaning softly at the contact.

she hadn’t lied per se, she had to do all of what she said, but she also couldn’t stand lying awake in that bed for one more second: she had barely gotten any sleep the previous night, the video of them on the news flashing continuously in her mind. 

so she tried to focus on work, to get things right before they could go wrong. 

the day went by as usual, the two of them laying low, preparing for the meetup with this anonymous buyer. the sum of money this person was offering was definitely mind blowing, and there was no way they could turn it down. 

in the late afternoon, they left the motel to reach the location given to them: it was a rundown warehouse, obviously abandoned, and they were under strict orders to arrive at 8pm on the dot, to leave the car outside the main gate, and proceed by feet till they arrived to the container with the number 258: that was where they’d find an employee of the buyer. 

it was all routine, they almost never handled a deal with the buyer directly, and they understood the reason. she and harry never exchanged names as well, for safety reasons, or any other details, just informations about the drop. 

at 7:50pm, they were parked outside the warehouse. the chill of the desert air made the hair on her arms stand, a shiver running down her spine. 

“cold?” harry asked, after he noticed her shudder. it wasn’t that cold at the moment for him, and it was probably gonna be worse once the sun was set all the way, but nonetheless he put his jacket on her shoulders, his big hands running up and down her upper arms to give her some warmth. 

she smiled at the gesture, and tilted her head up, “thank you.”

he reciprocated the smile and took her hand, in the other one holding the bag containing the stolen piece of art. “of course, darling. now let’s go, wanna be back in that motel bed as soon as possible,” he cheekily remarked.

they walked hand in hand till they found the container 258, and knocked three times, as instructed. the shutter was pulled up, a man dressed in a suit, who looked to be in his forties, appearing behind it.

“welcome, you must be the sellers. please, come in.” the unknown man spoke, and she and harry made their way inside.

harry laid the bag carefully on the table, beside a briefcase, previously set down.

“thank you, sir. as per your request by email, the-”

“actually,” harry interrupted, “you didn’t speak with me. she,” he pointed to the girl beside him, who had a stony expression, “is the head of the whole operation, so if you want to explain something to someone, you can do so with her.”

this was also something they were both used to, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. if only they knew they were actually talking to the owl, they’d probably kiss the her shoes.

the deal was over in 5 minutes, the majority of which was spent with the two of them counting the money, making sure every penny was in that briefcase. after confirming so, they barely said goodbye to that sexist prick, and went back to their car.

the drive to the motel was quiet, but not uncomfortably so: harry’s right hand took place on her left thigh as usual, while her arm was stretched behind his headrest, playing mindlessly with his curls, scratching his scalp lightly. 

“hey, pretty boy.” she called, a soft smile on her lips.

harry smirked at the nickname, he couldn’t help it, “yes?”

“i really love you,” she softly said, taking her hand away from his hair and moving it to stroke his cheekbone, “you know that?”

harry couldn’t help but feel his tummy warm up at her words, his cheeks getting a bit flushed. “i do know, darling, but thank you for the reminder.” he snickered, “i love you too.” he said, and took his right hand off her leg to grab her hand, planting a soft kiss to her palm, and to every knuckle. 

once they finally reached the motel, harry turned off the ignition and turned to face her. his hand took a hold of her jaw, and pressed a kiss against her pouty lips. she sighed into the kiss, a thing that drove harry absolutely crazy. 

“what if-” she tried to talk, but was quickly interrupted by harry kissing her again, “we go to the room to-” another kiss, “put down our things and-”, yet another kiss, “then we have a drink at the bar?” she put her hand on harry’s chest to push him a bit further, or else she wouldn’t be able to finish the sentence. “if i’m not mistaken it’s right by the reception. sounds good?”

harry nodded, and to seal his agreement he kissed her once again.

after making their way down from their room into the motel bar, they sat down at the counter, harry’s hand on her back while she climbed on the stool. 

the bar was definitely empty, just a couple of old men sat in the corner of the room, a deck of cards between them. 

“two old fashioned, please.” harry asked the man behind the counter.

it was a sort of a tradition, getting that drink after a deal: the first time they did a deal together, he was the one suggesting going for a drink, which she — surprisingly to him — did not turn down. once they reached the pub nearby, she ordered an old fashioned, and asked harry what he wanted, to which he answered “the same”, and it became a tradition ever since then.

“oh wait-” she said all of a sudden, which made harry turn his head towards her.

“oh i’m sorry, did you want something else?” he asked, unsure of even his question, since she had never ordered something else.

she quickly shook her head, “no no, don’t worry, i just realized i forgot my phone in our room.” she stood from the stool, “i’m gonna go get it and i’ll be right back, alright?” after she spoke, she left a lingering kiss on his cheek.

harry hummed and with a little smile, he playfully said, “be quick, i’m gonna miss you.”

she returned his smile, and opened the motel bar door, “i’m gonna miss you too, pretty boy.” 

.

harry didn’t think any of it after ten minutes, she probably got caught up on something online, or had to answer to an email right away and couldn’t wait.

he didn’t think any of it after twenty minutes, thinking she may have had a call to make and it was taking a bit longer than usual. he settled on shooting her a message, asking if she was fine. the message was left on delivered.

but after thirty minutes, he needed to check on her. what if she was sick and he was there waiting for her at the bar like an idiot? what if there was a problem and she needed his help, even if she would most likely never admit it?

he left some banknotes on the counter, and rushed his way upstairs.

once he stood in front of the door, his blood run cold: the door was ajar. 

something was wrong, very wrong.

carefully, he pushed the door, reaching for his pocket knife; once it was open, his eyes darted around the room, looking for something out of place.

the thing is, it wasn’t that something was out of place, it was that something was missing: her bag, her clothes, her laptop, herself, they were all missing. there was no trace of her, as if she had never been there.

“what-” he rushed in, the door left slightly open behind him. he hastily opened the bathroom door, checking if maybe she was there, but, alas, she was not.

“what the fuck is going on?” harry muttered to himself, so confused that he was sure that his movements weren’t even making sense. his head kept turning from side to side, trying to find something, anything to help him understand what was going on.

he was never one to panic, always been a pretty clearheaded guy in every situation he’s found himself in, but not when his girl was involved, and especially when he was totally in the dark about what had happened. 

his eyes finally zeroed in on a piece of paper on the desk.

of course, of course she’d be smart and leave him some sort of trace, so he could find her and get her back.

he stumbled on his steps, his legs wobbling as if made of jelly and with frantic fingers, he opened the piece of paper, which showed just four, short words.

mors tua, vita mea.

“wh-what, no-”, he rambled, shaking his head energetically, choosing not to believe the reality that was downing on him. “no, no, it can’t-” he kept chanting, over and over, but his rambling was cut short.

in his peripherals, he saw the red and blue lights bouncing off the dirty white walls of the motel room, the sound of the police car doors closing and of the steps of the officers coming up the stairs, but the sounds were almost muted, the shock making his ears ring.

the door was pushed open, three officers coming in first, guns blazing, while the others were surely waiting all around the motel, pointing their guns at him through the windows. 

“put your hands up! over your head!”

harry robotically obliged, not in control of his body anymore. 

“harry styles, you’re under arrest. you have the right to remain silent, anything you say…”.

he didn’t hear the rest of the miranda rights over the sound of the faith he had in her shattering, puncturing his lungs and making it hard to breathe.

—

18 months later.

“styles, you have a visitor.”

harry’s eyes opened at the voice of the guard, the ceiling of his cell staring back at him. those were words he didn’t get to hear often, only two other times, and both times it was always a nosy journalist wanting to write a story about a pretty successful art thief. he laid still, pondering whether to go or stay in his shoe box of a cell for the rest of the day.

“styles, get up. i don’t have all day.”

harry dragged his feet along the corridor, and once he arrived to the designated room, he headed towards the seat the officer pointed. once he sat down, he grabbed the black phone receiver, and didn’t even bother looking at the person standing in front of him, his eyes closed already in annoyance.

“look, if you’re another fucking journalist, i’m not gonna say a word to you, so you wasted your time coming here and i’m asking you to leave.”

the person in front of him hesitated, as he heard a shallow breathe on the other end of the receiver.

“hi, pretty boy.”

harry’s eyes had never opened so fast, and his heart skipped a beat. 

no, no, this wasn’t real, this was just his mind playing tricks on him: stupid, fucking horrible and cruel tricks.

the voice didn’t match the exterior: the person in front of him had another haircut, a whole other hair colour, the eyes — the feature he most loved about her — covered by large sunglasses. 

but he knew. he knew it was her: the way her lips were set in her natural pout, the shape of her face, the freckle she had at the right corner of her bottom lip. 

the way his heart was going out of his chest trying to reach for her.

he was supposed to hate her — and he did, he so did — but the way his nickname fell from her lips lit up something in him, something that no matter how much he wanted it to be dormant, it was still there. 

his brain could only manage to ask her the one question that nagged at him ever since that day.

“why.”

he stared at her through the glass, green tired eyes boring into her soul. she knew it was risky, showing up at a prison under yet another false identity, but she knew she couldn’t leave without saying goodbye one last time. one real last time.

so she swallowed harshly, and opened her mouth, keeping her answers short in order not to break down.

“think about the place where you first met me, harry.” she murmured, while his stony expression was staring back at her. “i had no other choice.”

harry chuckled darkly, a grin so deranged that she felt her blood run cold. this answer of hers opened the gate to all the hatred that had been boiling in him for 18 long months.

“that’s such bullshit, and you know it. you had a choice — you  fucking did — and you made it. you chose to tip-off the police, you chose to leave your name out of every document, you chose to use a fake identity with me as well, and make it impossible to track you; you chose to pack your bags and steal the car, you chose to leave me behind and letting me take the blame for it.” his voice was laced with venom. “i spent 18 fucking months in this cell, with just one question running through my mind, all day, all night, every day: why did you choose to do this to me.”

“harry, i told you, i had-”

“bullshit!” he screamed, a prominent vein on his neck, while smashing his fist against the plastic glass, over and over again. “you ruined my fucking life, and you have the gall to give me that as the reason why you did it? tell me the truth! tell me the fucking truth! you owe me at least that.” 

the volume of his voice and the violence he was hitting the glass with made her stand up and hang up the receiver, scrambling to get away from him before his actions brought too much attention on her as well. three officers had to come in to stop harry from smashing down the glass and jumping on the other side of the window, and had to drag him away whilst he was still fighting with all his strength, his legs kicking and arms flailing trying to be freed, his voice repeatedly shouting just one word, over and over: why.

nine days later, harry found himself moved to a facility of a higher security rank: his violent act during the visit wasn’t an isolated episode, and basically opened the door to a side of harry that he never knew. he never knew such anger in his life.

the guard guiding him stopped in front of the nth same looking cell. 

“bradford, your new roomie is here.” the guard sarcastically said, making harry want to punch his face in, but unable to do so because of the cuffs on his wrists.

the man laying in the bunk barely scoffed and glanced at harry while he was walking into his new “home”.

once the guard went away, bradford turned to harry and looked him up and down, then returned to stare at the ceiling. harry could perhaps even manage to put up with the guy, if he always kept this quiet, but he felt like at least an introduction was to be done, to be the least civil. “‘m harry, harry styles. and you are?” 

his new cellmate groaned softly while standing up, putting his legs down from the bunk.

“i’m bradford, chris bradford. and i know exactly who you are.”

harry was definitely dumbfounded, “what? how do you-?”

“your case was all over the news, even inmates got to know about it. but most of all, i know you because i’ve been you.”

harry’s confusion must’ve been displayed clearly on his face, because chris just scoffed and kept on talking.

“we’ve been framed by the same person." he murmured, "and we’re gonna take her down together.”

—

the latin phrase mors tua vita mea, of medieval origin, means “your death, my life” (or: “your death (is) my life”).

beyond the dramatic tone of the literal sense, this expression is used when within a competition or in the attempt to reach a goal there can be only one winner: the saying indicates that the failure of one is an indispensable prerequisite for the success of another.

—

taglist: @a-strange-familiar @stilesissaved @harrysonlylover @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @kittenhere @neverstaisfied

–

please, let me know what you think and please, please reblog! thank you so much for being here, it means the world <3 also, just a little fyi, there's no plan for a part 2!

[gh0vtzb1og]

It’s not abusive if you like it. VENT WRITING, GHOST X FEM READER

So I decided I was gonna write something that matches me and my not so good bfs situation. My bf is playing as ghost in this and I’ll be trying to get it as realistic as possible. Me and him are online, which seems silly over the fact all this can happen but it did. But for entertainment purposes this relationship in the story will be irl.

Notes; Eating disorders, fat shaming, homophobic slurs, threats of abuse, threats of murder, toxicity, mental abuse, attempted overdose and suicide, manipulation, isolation, cheating, threats of leaving, yelling, victim blaming, playing the victim, mocking of a dead relative, abuse, etc.

This is in no way meant to be enjoyed sexually, even if it is included with a character you might find attractive. This is a real story that I am writing to get out of my system and to share my personal story.

You were walking down an empty road in the middle of October, your mind wondering to the new friend you had made, he was certainly attractive and a sweetheart to you! He was always so kind and caring towards you and never made you feel bad, I mean how could he, he was your perfect man! Always there to pick you up when you needed it the most, your heart raced when he talked to you.

You were head over heels for devil in disguise. He had this charm, always talking to you about how lonely and single he was, you felt so bad! He was such a dreamy guy, and he’d been through so much. Ghost told you about his abusive exs, the way one threatened to rape and kill him, it was fucking awful. He seemed to wrap you right up in his fingers, whispering soft ‘I love yous’ that you thought were platonic, he found it cute how you never could tell he was giving you a sign.

Ghost made you feel like you were on cloud nine, he had moved you into his home. Deciding you’d be safer there, you were always waiting for him every day to get back from work, he seemed so excited to see you. To see his pretty pretty doll. Your legs squeezed together excitedly whenever you saw him. He liked exciting you, he loved that innocent look in your eye, one that just wanted a friend. You didn’t see ghost as anything more, that was the problem, that was what ached him each night.

He always saw you texting others, you were so friendly, he hated it. If you were his lover he’d snap your phone, you didn’t need to talk to anyone? That’s why you had him! He didn’t want to house you as you texted others, you shouldn’t even look at other men. Ghost rubbed your shoulders lovingly, he’d make everyone hate you, he’d make you regret living.

“Soo I was wondering, if you’d wanna go try something out, since we’re so close.” He placed a hand on your thigh, his rough and scarred fingers brushing over your leg and up your thigh. He knew what he wanted, he was gonna get it, like it or not. He’d have you wrapped around his ring finger. Whispering soft things to you.

-

Screaming echoed throughout your shared home, the sounds of anger booming from ghosts voice and fear echoing out of yours.

“SORRY IM NOT FUCKING ABUSIVE LIKE YOU ARE?” He shouted in your face, his hand gripping your wrist to the point where he could break it. His eyes were narrowed at you, teeth grit in an uncomfortable expression. “You should’ve just overdosed that night. I wish I never fucking helped you.” He let go of your wrist, watching you stumble back with tears in your eyes. You weren’t abusive, ghost just needed you to feel awful about yourself. Recently you had made some friends, they were considered on your boyfriend’s actions and often brought them up to you. You just shook it off and responded with things like ‘that’s just how he is’ or ‘it was my fault.’

You suffered because of him, all he wanted to do was use you for his anger. A personal punching bag.

-

He noticed you had gotten distant recently, scratches and scars littering your arms as you stare blankly down at your legs. He drained you of the person you were before, the one who talked to others and was happy. Now you were just an object in his home, something to place on his mantle and stare at as he sips a bourbon. You had become cold like porcelain, your body felt exhausted, empty.

Every day it felt like the same, he would tell and you’d just take it. You couldn’t defend yourself or that was abusive behavior. You watched as him and his buddies made fun of you. Prodding at your weight or at the way you looked, he smiled brightly when him and his friends uncovered each and every part of you. Watching when the words you dreaded rolled off his tongue. “She’s so damn fat, like a fuckin whale.” (Reminder guys I’m like 102 pounds idk why he was talking like that..), or “I wish she’d get herself re do, such a sight for sore eyes.” His words stung like poison, your bottom lip quivered as you sat on a couch nearby them, listening as his ego got bigger and bigger. You tried to make yourself as little as possible, if you stayed out of his way he couldn’t hurt you right?

-

“Shh baby you ain’t a bad person. Bad people don’t admit their bad honey, you know that right?” Ghost murmured into your ear. He had finally broke everything you had, just letting you lay your head on his chest and mumble how bad of a person you are, how your a monster and nobody will ever love you. How your a failed mother, how you’ll never please him. “You know I didn’t mean that stuff about your weight. Or your face, you know I don’t care right?” He rubbed your back, smiling proudly as he heard your sobs of agony, you didn’t wanna be a monster. You wanted to be a good girlfriend.

“Ah ah. I know you’re hurting so bad aren’t you dear. I just need to help you become a better person don’t I hm? You’ll learn to be good, I know you will.” A kiss was placed onto your forehead as you cried into his chest, terrified of the fact you were a failed person.

-

“I SHOULD FUCKING KILL YOU, YOU KNOW THAT?” He shouted, a bottle smashing against a countertop as he moved more towards you. “Get out of my fucking house. We’re done.” He grabbed your shirt and shoved you out of the nearest door, watching as you scrambled back nervously, you had nowhere else to go. You cut contact with everyone in your life because they upset him. All you knew how to do was wait by his door like a puppy. You scrambled to your feet and sat outside of it, your bruised cheek resting against the wood of the door, he was all you had.

Your hands dug into your leg as you pulled out a razor from your pocket, chewing on your lip and dragging the cold blade against your skin, watching the crimson liquid that oozed out. You always did this after he threw you out, it was a reminder to be better. That you weren’t enough nor would you ever be enough.

-

Ughhh just some of the worst stories I can remember, I try my hardest to forget my experiences with him.

[sinkingteethinwhitenoise]

Loving You Easy - Nick Folio (18+)

Pairing: Nick Folio x fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI, Fluff, Kissing, Fingering, Nipple Play, Unprotected p in v

Word Count: 1.6k

Notes: This is just a late ass Valentine's Day one shot. Sorry it's so late. ): Credit to @cafekitsune for the dividers.

It wasn’t Nick’s fault. You knew that. But you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. What person in a relationship wouldn’t be if they had to spend Valentine’s Day alone? You knew he couldn’t control when the tour ended, travel time, and unexpected flight delays. That didn’t mean you weren’t allowed to be upset, though. 

The plan for your very lonely Valentine’s Day was originally to just rot in bed, watch movies, and order takeout. However, your friends seemed to have other plans. About halfway through your first movie of the day, the group chat you had with your friends started blowing up as they began to plan a Galentines outing. They decided on a plan in record time, and then began to practically beg you to come out with them. You figured that it would be better to get out and hang out with your friends instead of wallowing in your own self pity; so you agreed.

Apparently, one of your friends managed to score a 6 o’clock reservation at one of the best Italian restaurants in town. You decided not to question how they managed that on such short notice, instead finishing your movie and watching a few episodes of your comfort show to kill time until you had to get ready. 

By the time 5:30 rolled around, you were all dolled up in your cutest little red dress. Your hair and makeup were done to perfection. Well, as close to perfection as you could get it. After a quick once over in the mirror to make sure nothing was out of place, you were off. You made it to the restaurant about ten minutes early. Strangely, there was no sign of your friends when you arrived. They had said they would wait outside of the restaurant, and while there were people waiting outside, you didn’t know any of them. 

As you scanned the crowd with your eyes, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Expecting to see one of your friends, you spun around. When your eyes met the person before you, your jaw dropped and your eyes welled up with tears. There before you stood Nick, who wasn’t supposed to be back until sometime tomorrow, in slacks and a dress shirt, holding a single red rose. Without saying anything, you wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tight. He held you close with a nearly suffocating grip. 

“How are you here?” you asked him, in awe. “I thought your flight got delayed.”

“I was able to get on a different flight,” he explained, pulling back from the hug. “I had your friends cover for me so I could surprise you.”

You held his face in your hands. “I missed you so much,” you breathed, leaning in to kiss him. 

“I missed you too, darlin’,” he murmured against your lips. 

The kiss was slow, sweet, and soft. It was filled with so much love that you started to feel like you were floating. When you pulled away, you delicately dabbed at your eyes so as to not ruin your makeup with unshed happy tears. Nick finally handed you the red rose he’d brought for you and you took it with a smile. He then wrapped an arm around you and led you into the restaurant.

The moment the two of you got home, your hands were all over each other. Nick’s lips moved against yours eagerly. His hands gripped your ass and began to knead at the flesh through the fabric of your dress as you worked to unbutton his dress shirt. Once it was unbuttoned, you slid it down his shoulders. He moved his hands to shrug it the rest of the way off, then his hands were right back on you. They started at your hips this time and moved their way up and onto your back until his fingertips hit the zipper of your dress. 

“This dress is fucking beautiful,” he murmured. “But it would look so much better on the floor.” With that, he unzipped the garment and you let it fall to the floor. The cool air hit your bare breasts and caused your nipples to pebble. He took a moment to look over your body, fully take in the sight of you standing only in your panties in front of him. A groan sounded from the back of his throat. “Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re so fucking beautiful. I missed you so much.” He pulled you flush to him and kissed you again, all eagerness and need. 

You whimpered against his lips as your nipples brushed up against his warm, flushed chest. Your hands found their way into his hair, gripping it as he sucked on your tongue. You felt his hands slide to the backs of your thighs. “Jump,” he mumbled on your lips. You did as he said, your legs wrapping around his waist as he held you up and carried you to the bedroom. 

Nick placed you on the bed gently and kissed down your neck. He sucked at the spot that he knew would get you squirming, reveling in your whimpers and the way your breath hitched. Once there was a deep purple mark decorating your neck, he kissed down to your chest. He took one of your pert nipples into his mouth and sucked at it, running his tongue around it. He used his hand to play with and pinch at the other. Your back arched and soft moans escaped your lips. 

He looked up at you as he released your nipple with a soft pop and ran his tongue across it. “So sensitive,” he teased. “That feel good, baby?” 

“Mhm,” you whined, nodding your head, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth.

He switched to your other breast and swirled his tongue around the nipple. “How about we use our words?” he hummed before taking your other nipple in his mouth, sucking just like he did to the other. 

“Feels s’good,” you whined, involuntarily grinding your hips upwards. 

He groaned into your skin and began to move his hand from your breast down your body, his fingertips ghosting down your stomach on their way to where you needed him most. He ran a finger through your folds and immediately moaned, popping off of your nipple once again. “Baby,” he groaned. “You’re fucking soaked.” Before you could even respond, he plunged two fingers inside of you. 

You gasped and let out a trembling moan as he immediately started to scissor and curl his fingers inside of you. He pressed his lips to yours and sloppily kissed you as his fingers worked inside of you. You mewled into his mouth as his palm continuously bumped against your clit. He swallowed every sound you made while you clenched around his fingers. 

“You close, doll?” he murmured on your lips. 

“Mhm,” you whined into his mouth. 

“Go ‘head,” he whispered. “Come all over my fingers. You can do it, baby.”

You clamped down on his fingers like a vice, nearly sobbing as you reached your peak. Your back arched off the bed and he slowed his pace to let you ride out your orgasm. “There ya go,” he hummed. “Good job, doll.”

You whimpered when he finally removed his fingers. He brought them up to his mouth and sucked them clean, moaning at the taste. “You wanna taste yourself?” he asked with a smirk. When you nodded in response, he pressed his lips to yours once more, slowly kissing you and slipping his tongue into your mouth. When he pulled away he rested his forehead against yours. “Tastes good, huh?” he murmured, lips turned up into a small smile. 

“Yeah,” you breathed out, staring into those big brown eyes. “Nick,” you whispered. “I need you inside of me. Please.” 

“Yeah? You want it?” 

“I need it.” 

He sat up enough to get his pants and boxers off, then he lined himself up at your entrance. He slowly began to push inside, groaning once he was all the way in. “Fuuuck,” he moaned. He leaned down to capture your lips in another kiss as he began to thrust, deep and slow. 

Your back arched off of the bed as he buried himself inside of you, his hips flush to your ass. He began to grind into you while staying completely inside of you, hitting that deepest spot with each movement. He pressed his forehead to yours, “Look at me, doll.” 

You opened your eyes to look into his, whimpering with each thrust of his hips and forcing your eyes to stay open. “S’good,” you whined breathlessly. “I love you s’much.”

“Fuck,” he grunted. “I love you too, baby. So fucking much.” He began to pant as he got closer and closer to his peak, which was coming a lot faster than it would have had he not been away from you for so long. 

His rhythm began to falter and you wrapped your legs around his waist, keeping him in place. “Want you to come in me,” you breathed. You were close to your own orgasm as well, your walls fluttering around him. 

“Oh fuck,” he nearly whimpered. “I-I’m coming, oh fuck.” He made sure he was as deep as he could be as he spilled rope after rope of hot cum inside of you, moaning throughout his climax. “Fuck, I love you,” he moaned out. 

The feeling of him coming undone inside of you triggered your second orgasm of the night. Your nails raked down his back and your eyes rolled back, chanting his name as you spasmed around him, milking him dry. Once he pulled out, he quickly went to get something to clean you both up and hurried back. He gently cleaned you, careful not to do anything that would overstimulate you. Then, he laid next to you and pulled you close. You felt at home in each other's arms. And fell asleep feeling safe and loved.

[freddiemercurylegendabovelegends]

Today, on September 2nd, 1985

Freddie Mercury released ‘Living On My Own’ bw ‘Love Is Dangerous’ (4th solo single), taken from 'Mr. Bad Guy', first solo album 1985

🔸Freddie Mercury: Well, that is ‘Living on my own’. Yes, that’s like… Basically if you listen to ‘Living on my own’ that is very me, it’s living on my own but having fun. There’s a bit in the middle where I do my scat singing and I’m just going… When you think about somebody like me, I mean my life-style, I mean I have to sort of go around the world and live in hotels and that can be very lonely but then… I look upon it and I don’t want people to say ‘Oh…’ you know, I just say that’s my life, it can be a very lonely life, but I mean I chose it and so, that song, it’s not dealing with people who are living on their own in sort of basement flats, or things like that. It’s my living on my own, and they are going to say ‘Oh my God, how can he live on his own ?’ But I mean, you can have a whole… a shoal of people you know looking after you, but you can be still living on your own because in the end they all go away and you live, you know, you live in a hotel on your own. And so basically what I’ve got to say is that I’m living on my own but I’m not complaining. I’m just saying I’m living on my own and I’m having a bogey time. Does that make sense, honey ?

Interviewer : It does, yes it does.

Freddie: It’s a different kind of living on my own, but I’m just saying that people in my.. with my success can be lonely and can live on their own as well.

Interviewer : So how do you hold on to real friends ?

Freddie: I don’t, I discard them. I don’t have any real friends. I don’t think I do. People tell me though they’re my friends.

Interviewer : Don’t you believe them ?

Freddie: No, no. Yes and no, I mean, I think what happens is when… I’m not afraid of them, but it is frightening, that’s the difference. Sometimes when they get too close I think they seem to destroy me, I don’t know, may be it’s my nature or whatever. When they get too close they seem to tread all over me, and when I lay myself bare on the floor it just seems to be my downfall. Maybe that’s my role in life and so I don’t… Yea, I’m very skeptical in terms of that. I seem to be at this point in time I think, I seem to be… make fewer and fewer friends, but life goes on…

Interviewer : So do you live for today rather than for the future or…

Freddie: No, I live for tomorrow. Quite different too, fuck today, it’s tomorrow. Oh, that’s nice…

Interviewer : That must have been a controversial remark.

Freddie: Somebody didn’t like what I’ve just said ? !

Interviewer : Shall we carry on ? In view of that, Freddie, surely there comes a time when you want to share your life with someone one day ?

Freddie: Yes, but nobody wants to share their life with me. Yes, I do, of course I do. But I think it’s… not easy living with me and I think at maybe I’m trying too hard you know, something… Of course, I think about that and in one way I think the more mishaps I have the better the songs are going to be, you know. Once I find somebody, I can find a long lasting relationship, bong goes all the research for wonderful songs. At the end I’m sort of you know, I’m sort of living on past mishaps. Well, anyway having said that, I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know what’s in store for me.

Interviewer : So we can take it that your songs reflect the state of your life ?

Freddie: I think so, I think so, yes.

Interviewer : And that’s why on your songs there is always quite a diverse selection of moods, isn’t it ?

Freddie: Yes, it is because that’s my character too, you know. How boring to just be, you know, to have just one side of your character coming across in everything you do, you know, I just gather information… I’m a man of extremes, you know, I sort of change from day to day like a chameleon and each day is different to me and I look forward to that, you know. I don’t want to be the same person everyday and who knows ?, the way this Album has turned out it’s just a whole spectrum of what my life is, to be honest. But I was not ‘made in heaven’. A lightening bolt suddenly goes ‘crack.

Interviewer : You talk a lot about love on the Album.

Freddie: Yes, I know, I don’t know why.

Interviewer : It obviously means a lot to you.

Freddie: I’m possessed by love, isn’t everybody though ?

Interviewer : Yes, I suppose they are. Deep down there in spite of the tough fade you put on, are you a romantic at heart ?

Freddie: Well, I guess so, you know. Well i think, yes I just… I like writing songs about love, because I mean there’s so much scope and also they have so much to do with me and you can talk about your kind of lover. It’s something that maybe I’m striving for. I’m trying to say that I can be somebody’s lover, you know, a good lover, that’s another aspect of me too. I expect something different now, come on

- Freddie Mercury

Extract from interview 1985

👉 In 1993 Freddie Mercury received in memoriam Ivor Novello award for 'Living On My Own'

📸 Pic: September 1985, Henderson Nightclub, Munich, Germany - Peter Straker, Freddie Mercury and Jo Dare on the set of promotional video 'Living On My Own'

👉 Jo Dare (died in 2024) remembers meeting with Freddie Mercury