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OBSESSED: YUTA (PT. II)

A/N: Special grade lover boy finally has you, his dream girl, in his hands. Surely he’ll be able to handle it…right?

S/N: This one is for the anon(s), the Yuuta girlies. I hope this means I get to rush Yuta Phi Alpha next year!! 🤭 (you can read part I here )

C/W: Yandere themes, aged up characters (21+), Mature, 18+

Any minute now.

You should be calling, any minute now.

Yuuta rolls his favorite pair of your underwear into a cylinder.

Even. Perfect.

He tucks it next to the 14 other perfectly even cylinders he’s taken from you.

An impressive collection, considering that it’s been only 3 months since he’s been back from Morocco.

3 months since you eviscerated the barrier between fantasy and reality.

You touched him. You kissed him. His building blocks came crashing down at your feet.

And yet, you still don’t see him.

It’s been torture.

Purgatory.

Falling back into the platonic, easy insteps of friendship. Breathy giggles. Air tight hugs. Feather light kisses.

On his cheek.

Friendly gestures as thin as the air on the summit of Mount Everest.

Leaving Yuuta the same way, every time.

Desperately tugging his cock.

Filling your stolen lingerie with his seed. Marking you. Branding you as his over and over again. In the confines of his quiet, sterile apartment.

Sullied by his lewd coping mechanisms. Babbling your praises day in and day out. The paintings on his walls know you by name.

Because you’re his.

Yuuta has chosen to love you every minute between sunrise and sunset and sunrise again. Ever since his cold met your warmth.

From afar. In the dark. Meticulously crafting the blueprint of your future together. Where you love him, freely. Openly. Without input from your friends or exes.

You need him.

Why else would he be the first person you call after every date?

Agonizing about whether you said the right thing. Or wore the right thing. Leaving a long list of people Yuuta has to take care of.

Not that he minds. He loves helping you.

Beautiful, silly girl.

Can’t you see?

He’s already created a gorgeous life for you two. He’ll give you the stars. The moon. A whole galaxy if you want it.

True, mutual love.

He just has to make you see it.

See him.

“There you are.” Your ringtone is his personal call bell.

Yuuta was starting to think you were going to use your girlfriend’s shoulder to cry on instead of him.

You were supposed to be out on a third date tonight. But you’re not. When it comes to picking up the pieces after your frivolous little flings — Yuuta is always your go to.

“Hey you.”

His palm caresses the heavy bulge in his pants. Tone is steady. Unassuming.

“Yuuta?” Soft sobs intertwine with his name, and it’s decadent.

“Hey. Hey.” Yuuta’s fingers impatiently tug down his zipper. Adams Apple sliding down the column of his neck, swallowing a moan.

You sound so pretty like this.

“What’s wrong, beautiful?”

“Can I…can I just come over?”

“Yes..of course you can.” Each word rolls off his tongue carefully. A stark contrast to the storm winds rattling his heart around its cage.

Broken, teary whines kiss his ears and glide down his spine. Yuuta pulls his cock free. Smearing pearly beads of pre cum around his swollen head. His body is so well trained for you. Primed to your voice. Your touch. Your gaze.

“You’re the best, Yuu.”

A satisfied grin blooms across Yuuta’s face. He uncurls his long fingers from around his base.

No more self indulgence. Not yet.

Tonight is about you.

“See you soon.”

—-

Is this wrong?

This is wrong.

…right?

Your fingers plait together. Shifting weight between your feet.

Staring at Yuuta’s door, knowing your dark-haired, sleepy-eyed friend is probably watching the clock. Anticipating your arrival.

Maybe you shouldn’t vent to him about other guys.

Maybe you shouldn’t use him to soothe your broken heart.

But he’s so soft with you.

Patient. With open ears, open arms. His capacity for you seems limitless.

Always peering at you with those deep set, graphite eyes. Opaque, winter fog. Quick to muddle your sense of direction if you look into them long enough.

Kind, but so, so unsettling.

Before you can reason yourself away from his apartment, Yuuta pulls open his front door.

“Hey pretty,” his mellow greeting is a warm weighted blanket around your shoulders.

“Hi Yuu,” your arms snake around his neck. Because it’s comfortable. He’s comfortable.

His toned arms sink into your lower back. As if your waist was tailored to the contour of his muscle. A low sigh breezes against your neck.

“Come in.”

Yuuta is hushed. He always is. Perpetually whispering secrets for your ears only.

You follow the gentle sorcerer into his apartment. Low lit. Shadows from the candle wicks dancing along his walls. Beckoning you into his lair.

“I made you some tea, is that okay?”

Yuuta’s lithe fingers fidget against his thighs. Almost 4 years of friendship and he still hasn’t shaken his nervous ticks around you.

Sweet boy.

“Yes please,” your smile is already less gloomy.

Yuuta mirrors you with a lopsided smile of his own. Small dimples dusting a boyish charm over his otherwise haunting features. He shuffles to the kitchen. And you take in his broad shoulders. Lean, muscular physique.

He really is handsome.

Eerily beautiful.

Effervescent porcelain skin, deepened from the Moroccan sun. Acute, angular jaw line. High cheekbones. Thick, raven hair that’s always a little storm-tossed.

A crescent moon against a clear night sky. Watching over souls trapped in their own personal graveyards.

There’s something about him that always seems…heavy.

Constantly balancing the weight of the world on his back.

Or something.

You settle in the couch just as Yuuta materializes into the living room. Stealthy, quiet footsteps. If he wasn’t the one who let you in you could be convinced that you’re alone in his apartment.

“Be careful, it’s still hot.” Yuuta warns. His eyes linger on your lips. Memorizing each pucker.

He’s so close.

Sweet steam kisses his face with each blow. And he sits there. Perfectly opposite of your mug.

Unphased. Unblinking. Still.

Close enough to take a sip of his own.

“Thank you for letting me come over on short notice, Yuu.”

Your thighs startle beneath his wintry touch. Both palms, larger than you remember, knead the fleshiest part of your hips.

“Don’t thank me. I’m here for you.” His tone descends. A deep drawl laced with conviction.

“I’ll always be here for you.” Yuuta repeats, pads of his fingers indent into your skin.

Your eyes metronome between his.

Slowly evanescing into his firm, glacial touch. Hazy from his half lidded gaze. There’s no time space continuum between you two.

“Yuuta—“

“Tell me what happened.” Shards of glass rain down his dry windpipe. Willing with every cell in his body to remain neutral.

The gates open.

You’re so animated. It’s captivating. How you feel so many things.

The way your eyes flutter while telling him about how you were stood up. A call came out of the blue. A short, unsatisfying cancellation of your dinner date.

And Yuuta leans in. Nodding. Petting your mouth-fucking-watering thighs. Forcing himself to remember to move his eyebrows. And blink. And look away from Aphrodite every so often.

He knows the story.

He wrote the story.

And for the record, gorgeous. Your crush sounds pathetic when he’s begging for mercy.

Weak.

A man like that is beneath you.

Yuuta’s jaw loses tone.

Pretty crystals line your eyes. Your bottom lip is swollen. Red like Merlot stains on a bottle cork. Your mini skirt rides up a quarter inch higher by the second. Mostly from his fingers. Every time you gesticulate he caresses just a bit higher.

White noise fills the space between Yuuta’s ears. He’s inebriated. Incapacitated by the honey that seeps from your mouth every time you speak.

And he can’t keep ignoring the way his cock is thrashing against its barrier. Begging. Pleading for reprieve.

The Apple in the Garden of Eden.

And the consequences of his inevitable bite mean nothing to him.

“Please,” Yuuta interrupts. Barely above a whisper.

Your eyebrows crawl together at the center of your barbie doll face. So oblivious. Blissfully unaware of how you fuck his brain to nothing but smooth, empty, mush.

“I’m sorry I’m rambling—“

“No. No.”

Yuuta’s body moves before his mind can catch up. He slides off the couch to his knees. Nudging his hips between your legs. His muscular arms hook beneath your legs at lightening speed.

You have no time to gather words when he pulls you to the edge of the couch.

“Yuuta?” Delicate hands fly to his shoulders. Steadying yourself in this new, sudden position.

You’re heady. Shocked. Glassy eyed. Fully flushed from your button nose to ears.

You have no idea how addicting you are. Working sticky heat out of Yuuta’s needy length without even touching him.

He presses his lips into your inner thigh. Instinctively gripping your hips forward when you reflexively jump back.

“So perfect,” Goosebumps cascade along where his moist mouth traces.

“Y-yuuta, we...we’re friends.”

Yuuta drags his drunken gaze to meet yours. Resting his head in your lap. Feathering his icy hands up your butter soft skin.

“You’re so pretty.” He murmurs. Purposefully evading your observations.

He has some observations of his own.

Yuuta doesn’t miss the way his praise affects you. How your breath hitches. And your nails dig into his shoulders. Pupils blown to a full moon.

And the slow growing damp spot at the apex of your pink cotton panties. Yuuta can’t bring himself to stare at your precious rose. Not yet. He’ll cum in his pants if he looks now.

His slender nose traces up your quivering leg. And you bloom. Thighs drifting further apart. Making space for him. Inviting him in. Rewarding him.

“I can make you feel better.”

You gift him a pitiful little whine in response. Timid fingers travel into his nape. Yuuta’s heavy eyelids curtain his vision.

The room is spinning.

And Yuuta is kneeling at the only alter he will worship at. The only alter that will ever receive his devotion.

Those years of waiting. Wanting. Watching. Unsent love letters. Saved texts. Practiced conversations in the mirror. Stolen trinkets. Pieces of you he’s kept along the way.

It was all worth it.

Because the love of his life is spread open for him. Vulnerable. Needy. Melting beneath his touch like your body knows it belongs to him.

Yuuta couldn’t hold back if he wanted to.

“D..do you know how perfect you are?” Yuuta asks the warm, sore flesh beneath his lips. Admiring the trail of bruises he’s left up your inner thigh.

“Yuu, you don’t mean that.” You mewl and squirm like a brand new kitten. Mousing his hair between your fingers.

“I mean it. Y..you’re so…” his voice trails off when his trembling, pale digits finally press into your wet heat.

“S-soft. You’re so soft.” Drool pooling in his mouth chips away at his coherence.

Yuuta’s stormy eyes find the meeting point of his hand and your sex. The sight alone bucks his diamond hard shaft off of his leg. The friction from his damp boxers and rigid jean blurs his vision.

“Oh pretty girl.”

“Mmghhhh Y-Yuu..ah god.”

Both of your husky musings collide. Yuuta drives his long two fingers into your accepting, driveling opening.

He immediately curls up into your pleasure point. Eliciting the most dreamy, listless curve to your back. Tossing your head into the pillows behind you. Gripping his roots into your hand.

“Y-yuu, I need…please.”

Whimpers wrap around Yuuta’s cock and jerks him out of his fucked out state.

He didn’t realize he was open-mouth staring at how your cunt squeezes and tugs on his fingers. Leaking your dew onto your thighs. His fingers. His couch. Saliva streams down the corner of his mouth like he’s a starved animal.

He blinks up at you. Debauched. Lusty. Filthy in the way your hips are undulating against him. Taking your pleasure right out of his hands.

“I need…I need to hear you say it baby.”

Yuuta swipes his tongue against your clothed pussy. And you nearly buck off the couch.

“Please, y-yuu,” diamonds line your eyes again. So much pleasure in the pain of being teased.

“Say it, baby.” His breath kisses your swollen clit. “T-tell me what you need.”

“Lick..please, suck…Yuu,” He’s never heard a more beautiful plea. And his restraint was already teetering on a hair string.

Yuuta’s other free hand rips your panties away from your dewy folds. And his spine is set on fire.

The dull ache in his pelvis crashes into him like he’s at the deadly meeting point of the Atlantic, Pacific and Southern oceans.

“So..so pre..god.” Nonsensical words. Unintelligible noises.

Then his tongue circles your bud and he is gifted a taste of your elixir.

Somewhere between his pathetic sobs into your pussy, your gorgeous melody filling the room and how you grind your pretty petals along the length of his tongue — Yuuta isn’t sure he’ll be able to survive this.

At some point he pulled his cock free from its restraint. Spearing high and heavy in the air. Constant needy dribbles of pre cum staining his shirt, rolling down the length of his shaft. One or two drops even escaping to the floor between his knees.

He hasn’t stroked his length once. And he is this close to release.

And it is infuriating.

Yuuta hates how closely he is riding his peak right now.

Because he is not nearly done with you yet.

He wants you on his tongue. On his cock. For hours. He needs to coax orgasm after orgasm out of his one true love.

“Y-yuuta,” your right hand pulls at his head with all your strength. Yuuta has to bite back a whine.

His murky gaze meets your darkened one.

“Inside.” A clear, high-pitched command.

And Yuuta couldn’t dream of denying you. Of saying no to you, ever.

“O-okay, yes baby.”

He stumbles to his feet. Shakily working his jeans and boxers into a pile around his feet.

Your wide eyes and oh shaped mouth stains his face cherry red.

Why are you looking at him like that?

Is he not enough?

Were your other lovers bigger?

He’ll get rid of them if—

“Yuuta…will it fit?”

You shatter his spiral to stardust. He can breathe again for the first time since you came over.

Yuuta eagerly chases you up the length of the couch. Until he’s nestled comfortably in your legs. Your heat kissing along his drenched rod. Mixing your arousal with his.

“It’ll fit, because you’re made for me”

Yuuta rasps through tight lips. Burying his head into the gentle slope of your neck.

How is everything going exactly right and completely wrong at the same time?

He is more disciplined than this.

He is supposed to be in control.

But your warm, sweet petals sheath his length.

And you begin to circle your hips underneath him. Rubbing your nectar along his cock like you are marking him as yours.

Yuuta loses his sense of reality.

Unrelenting waves of heat ram into his groin. His cock stutters and beats against your precious cunt. He can’t bring himself to look you in the eye. Because everything dampens.

“No…n—no no wait!”

Yuuta smears protests into your neck. Hips rutting against your opening. Pressing you deep within the cushions. Rabid, uncontrolled movements. Ascending in pace faster than you can keep up.

“Fuck, fuck..”

“Yuuta? Are you cu—“

You have your answer the moment his hips hover over yours. Cupping his thick, blushing tip.

He fails to contain his explosion. Yuuta is mortified when stark white globs contrast your black mini skirt.

Air settles thick between you.

Circulating breaths between his clipped and your shocked ones. Decades pass between you before silence is broken.

“Don’t worry, Yuu! This doesn’t change anything.” Your smile is light and playful. Kind in the way that makes him fall in love with you again.

But…what do you mean?

Of course this changes everything.

He can please you.

He knows that.

This was just…

This was just one time.

The first time.

Amidst the cyclone of thoughts decimating Yuuta's brain, you’ve managed to wiggle around him. Currently lacing up your strappy heels.

Yuuta’s mouth lolls open but words fail to materialize.

Once you’re satisfied with your appearance, you prance over to his side. Still frozen on the couch with a handful of his cum. In the messy remnants of his unwanted peak.

Your lips meet his cheek. And your next words run his blood subzero.

“We’re still friends! We’ll always be friends, Yuu.”

Yuuta’s steely eyes laser into your retreating figure with sniper precision.

Beautiful, silly girl.

You two will never be just friends.

Dishonorably Discharged and Detained

Alpha Shark Man x Gender Neutral Omega Reader (CW: Dubcon, a/b/o, omega reader, DILF, size difference, shark man, merman, biting, marking, claiming, heat cycles, breeding, kidnapping, force fed reader, reader is briefly shocked by an electric fence, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 4.7k (18 minutes into March and already a fic is posted! This was written as a birthday gift for a friend, happy birthday, you know who you are, my longest friendship and trusted confidant. I hope you all enjoy this. Also I tagged this as a merman because I think it qualifies, even without a fish tail a person who is part fish counts. I will die on this hill.)

The dreadnought you were on sailed at a fair pace, ever forward, back to your base. It had been deployed to the front but the battle was over before you even had a chance to arrive, enemy presence in the area had been way overestimated and your unit had not been needed. The sea ahead of you lie calm and serene, the sun scintillating off the surface of the water and the salty breeze kissed your skin, feeling pleasant in your stuffy uniform. You were second in command of the ship directly behind Admiral Reeves, you were an omega but with hard work and perseverance you had managed to defy all expectations of what an omega could be, ranking higher than many alphas your age. This caused some issues when you had first achieved your current rank, but over time you had gained the respect and obedience of those under you as well as the respect of your superiors. You had become invaluable to Admiral Reeves both as a hard worker, a motivator of the troops, and even a strategist he could always call upon for a second opinion when planning on how to engage an enemy force or escape a harrowing situation. That wasn’t to say things were completely easy for you, whenever you were docked or dealing with other service members that were not in your unit you always had to stand strong against harassment and catcalls. And being constantly surrounded by so many alphas, and the pheromones that accompanied them, could sometimes make you more than a bit dizzy. Admiral Reeves’ pheromones were among the most potent, he was not a regular human like most of your peers. He was a shark man. A hybrid species that had been genetically engineered decades ago to help humans explore the seas and get an advantage in maritime combat. Reeves’ heritage was obvious. His sharp teeth, the fin on his back, webbed fingers, gills at the base of his neck, and pale blue skin giving him away to any who saw him. He was likely in his early fifties, it was slightly hard to tell though given he wasn’t completely human, but his short hair had an attractive peppering of grey. As mentioned previously his pheromones were much stronger than an average alpha’s. Probably because he was significantly larger than a normal human. It made being an omega near him all the time slightly difficult, but the main difficulty was that sometimes his cool headed handle on his instincts slipped a bit and he could be just a slight bit overprotective of you. He never disrespected you or questioned your ability to carry out your duties though. After enjoying a few minutes of sunlight and salty sea air you began to make your way back below deck to the dorsal side of the bow where the bridge was contained, you had to make contact with the mainland and give them your coordinates and estimated time of arrival. But before you could even leave the deck a sudden explosion sent you flying. You remained conscious just long enough to notice your right arm and leg were bleeding. You tried to get up but within seconds you collapsed. The next few weeks were a blur that you were almost entirely unconscious for, with only brief fragments of confused awareness. You remembered seeing medics above you, you remember a moment of being in the ship’s medical bay as the ship weaponry fired, and you remembered being awake several times briefly in a hospital bed. When you finally, REALLY, woke up you were in significant pain. Your arm and leg that you had seen bleeding were both in a cast with your leg suspended, your vision was a bit blurry, and your head was throbbing. You had great trouble concentrating, it took great effort to collect yourself and assess your situation. You were no longer in the ship’s medical bay and there were no windows in your room, it seemed very minimalist. Probably a military hospital on base. There was nothing really much you could do other than just try to relax and let yourself heal, eventually a nurse walked in and immediately rushed over to you to check your vitals and ask you a few questions to make sure you were fully aware and awake. After doing so she hurriedly rushed out, staff was under strict orders to notify Reeves the second that you were awake. Since the ship you had been stationed on, The Sentinel, was docked for repairs Reeves was currently at the naval base that you were receiving treatment from and it did not take long for him to be notified about your updated condition and come speeding to your side. You could tell immediately by his scent he had not been getting much sleep and he had been more than a bit anxious. Not surprising, probably lost some good soldiers in that battle and then having to wait as the ship was repaired or for him to get a new assignment was probably pretty stressful. You could have never imagined that the reason for his recent distress had actually been your hospitalization. But it had affected him in ways he would not have thought previously possible. He stood beside you with a huge grin on his face. On anyone and to anyone else it may have been frightful, given the sharp nature of his teeth, but you knew it was a good sign. “Nice to see you awake after you’ve been lazing about in bed for a few weeks, haha,” he joked with his typical sense of humor before his face got grim and he took on a more solemn tone, “But... in all seriousness… It’s good to see you’re okay. We lost some good ones in that attack. Sunk the bastards that did it though.” You took a moment of silence before breaking the tension. “Don’t worry, fish breath, after a short recovery I will be their worst nightmare. I will sink their entire navy myself.” Reeves hastily hid a worried expression at the thought of you returning to duty, you didn’t know what the expression was for but it was probably just a bit of stress piercing through that rough exterior of his. “Heh, yeah. I’m sure. The little pipsqueak is gonna have them all on the ropes. They’ll piss themselves,” he chuckled heartily, though it sounded just a wee bit forced. After some small talk and him telling you about the casualties and general condition of everything he reluctantly left, after the nurse shooed him away to let you rest. For the next 5 to 6 weeks it seemed like resting was all you could really do and by the time you were ready to be released and begin physical therapy to get back to tip top shape you were really ready to get out of bed. Over the course of your recovery Reeves continued to visit you, really just about everyday that he could, to see how you were progressing and he seemed to be increasingly anxious about you returning to duty. Now that you were out of bed that anxiety seemed too palpable for you to ignore and finally, after he had given you a nervous look when you mentioned your excitement to be seaworthy right as The Sentinel was nearly ready to depart, you decided to just ask him about it. “It may just be me but… it seems like you don’t really want me back on duty…” “What that’s crazy!” he said in a manner that had you wholly unconvinced. You crossed your arms, tilted your head slightly, and stared at him with an expression that said “really?” He sighed deeply before finally admitting outright what he had been thinking since the moment you had been taken to the ship’s med bay. “Look… I know you are a talented sailor but… are you sure you should keep doing this?” You were stunned, mouth agape in shock, but he took your silence as an opportunity to press forward with his line of logic. “I mean… you have a smaller frame than anyone else. The doctors did not know if you would survive at first and the doctors said that even a beta, let alone an alpha, with a larger body would not have been so damaged by the blast or so endangered by the blood loss,” once he started saying all this the words just seemed to spill out of his mouth, like he had been damming them up and it had finally burst allowing him to unleash a torrent of his thoughts on the matter. There was of course much more to it than that, he was in love with you, but even if he had been honest about not wanting you back in combat he could not be completely honest with you or with himself on why exactly he was so adamant. You were speechless a moment more before becoming absolutely indignant. “SEVERAL people passed away in that battle, and all of them were all alphas, war doesn’t spare anyone!” Normally someone speaking to their direct superior in such a manner would be reprimanded but you were beyond caring at this point. “That may be true, but being smaller and more fragile doesn’t help your chances. And you have always been a bit accident prone…” Not an entirely unwarranted criticism, you did tend to be a bit accident prone, though all of those were minor injuries, nothing serious until now, but having enemy ammunition go off near you was hardly your fault and anyone, regardless of body or constitution, would have been injured by such a situation. Incredulous at his comments you stormed off, he called out behind you but you kept going on. That night you didn’t get much rest and you were irritable the next morning. But that did not compare you to the anger you had when you reported in the next morning and had Reeves tell you that he did not want you working with him anymore, he wanted you off the ship working in a safer non-combat capacity. You just stormed off once again to get reassigned to another combat ship. It didn’t have to be glamorous, it could be a fucking submarine for all you cared. It hurt, and it hurt bad, that you would not be with your former crew, or with the leader you had grown to consider a friend, but in battle was where you were meant to be. You put in for reassignment and vacillated between anger, grief, and feelings of betrayal for the remainder of the day. As at the end of everyday you made your way to the omega barracks. You were the only one using them currently, unlike on the ships there were fresh recruits trained on site so separate sleeping arrangements were made. It was hard but eventually you managed to push your raging emotions aside and go to sleep. Reeves had heard about your reassignment, he figured you might be difficult. Instead of asking for a non-combative position you had of course just let them reassign you to another dreadnought. He couldn’t just tank your career to get you out of the front lines, you had too impeccable of a record for anyone to believe that and too many sailors that would vouch for you, no, he would have to instead use his ties to have you erased completely. The shark was a very high ranking admiral with ties to the intelligence agencies and it was within his power to do such a thing, considering you had no civilian friends or family to poke around, and anyone in the navy who might poke around could easily be brushed off or told that you had passed away in the line of duty. So in the dead of night you were disappeared. Operatives quickly snuck in and made their way to your sleeping form, quickly injecting you with a serum that would keep you completely unconscious for many hours and then shoving you into a black sack. You woke up from probably what could be described as the deepest and most fulfilling sleep you had ever known, and then you looked around and realized that you were most certainly not where you had gone to sleep. Gone were the rows of bunk beds that had filled the small omega barracks room, replaced by a small room without any windows, blank walls, and harsh lights. It all seemed very… antiseptic. Too clean. Too empty. You went to the door, which had a small barred hole window, and tried to open it, but it was completely sealed with no way to open it without the key. But you were stubborn and shouted a few curses while trying to force it open anyway. This proved to be a mistake, as it summoned your captor. Reeves. “Admiral!? What the fuck!?! Where are we? Why am I being detained?” He looked at you and with a regretful sigh said, “You just… wouldn’t listen to reason. And I couldn’t lose you.” “My god… You’re absolutely insane! You can’t just cage me up like I am some sort of animal just because I don’t want to live my life how you want me to!” “I AM NOT INSANE!! You refused to see reason! I love you and couldn’t have you in danger anymore and you just wanted to charge in and get hurt. Your injury was a sign that it needed to stop. YOU NEED TO BE SAFE!” You flinched back, unaccustomed to him being so loud and angry. At seeing you recoil his face softened and his tone became much more quiet. “Look, you’ll get used to it here okay? I know the room is a bit bare but we can put whatever you want in here, okay? The war will be over soon and I will be able to be home and then you can move in with me.” You looked down, angry and depressed and betrayed, unable to meet his gaze. Finally he sighed heavily and mumbled that he would have someone bring you some food but he had to go. That’s largely how life went for you there for roughly a year. Facility staff would take care of your day to day needs and every few months, or sometimes weeks, you would get a visit from Reeves. Each time he would offer you some gift or trinket, repeating his confessions of love and care for you. He gave you sweets, blankets, plushies, flowers, and various other things. The blankets and plushies were scented by him, in typical courting fashion, but no matter what the item was you shoved it in the farthest corner of the room. Except the sweets, they would have expired, so instead you would immediately throw them at him. Reeves was more than distraught, not only were his attempts to advance a relationship with you not succeeding, but the friendship you had before was totally eroded. Till, the most important thing above all else was that you remained safe, and once the war ended, which would be any day now, he would be able to move you to his house and take care of you daily himself. When the war was finally over and the time had come for you to be transported to your new happy home with your captor and the destroyer of your life you fought the personnel that were trying to put you in the transport van that had been loaded with all of your things tooth and claw. Literally. You clawed and bit everyone who got near you, you would rather live in a boring glorified cage for the rest of your life than be in a house with Reeves. Finally they had you held down by multiple men and once again injected with a sedative. And, just like a somewhat uncertain amount of months previously, you woke up in a strange room. This time on a couch though. A blanket had been lovingly put on top of you and a soft pillow placed behind your head. This was obviously Reeves’ house. Unlike last time you had been informed of your destination before being abducted. It appeared you were in a modified basement, you looked around, searching for anything that may be useful as a weapon. Sadly, it seemed the room had been left clear of anything you could use to fight Reeves with. There were tiny windows, but they were not only really high up but also really small. Even if you could somehow manage to eat them you would never manage to squeeze through them. There was really only one course of action left for you. You took the blanket that had been left down here for you and waited at the door for Reeves to come down and check on you. When he finally opened it you hid behind it until he took a few steps down. You then threw the blanket over his head and kicked his legs as hard as you could making him stumble, you took the opening to push him down the steps and flee out of the basement. You came up into a hallway that connected to the living room and rushed out the door. You were more than a bit shaky, you had no shoes, and your body was weak but pushed on by a potent mix of sheer force of will and a strong dose of adrenaline allowed you to propel yourself forward. You ran down the driveway and came to a fence that was entirely locked up. No problem. You could scale this with ease, flee into the woods that seemed to surround this area, and eventually find help on the other side. But the second you touched the fence and electric current ran through your body, causing you to twitch and fall down stunned. It was electrified. Because of course it was. For someone he was worried about dying in battle he sure as shit did not seem to underestimate you when it came to you trying to escape. It didn’t take long for him to come running, you had hoped you may have been lucky enough to at least have broken a leg or ankle as he fell, but it seems he was unperturbed by his recent push. You were too shaky at this point to do anything other than let him pick you up and hold you close. “It’s okay, I know you’re scared, I forgive you for pushing me. And sorry about the fence, can’t take any chances.” He carried you back down to the basement and sat you down gently on the couch, laying the blanket that you had formerly used as a weapon on top of you before kissing your forehead, which made you flinch away in disgust. “Now that we are living together I will be able to give you the non-stop attention you deserve. I am sure you will love it here eventually, okay?” “Not okay you absolute fucking idiot, there is no way in the world I will ever love you or even remotely tolerate your presence! Just let me go! The war is already over anyway.” “There is always another war eventually and I must keep you safe from yourself. I just can't risk losing you, can’t you understand that?” You just scoffed in response and pulled the cover over your face so you didn’t have to look at him. Reeves tried rubbing your arm comfortingly through the blanket, and you could do nothing to stop given how shaken up you still were, but he could smell in your scent that you were growing increasingly angry and even a bit anxious at his touch so he finally retreated upstairs to make you a nice dinner. He remembered from years of service with you that you got pretty cranky when you were hungry. When he came back he brought with him a bowl of delicious smelling crab bisque, something he thought was fairly light and easily digestible, but not too light and still full of nutrients. He sat the bowls down on the coffee table and sat on the opposite side of the couch from you. “Sorry about the furniture accommodations. I will move a table and bed down here for you eventually. At some point you will share my bed but I felt like an adjustment period might be good for you first.” “Yeah, so I don’t murder you in your sleep,” you said dryly and without any hint of it being a joke. “Y-you don’t mean that, you’re just a bit cranky because you need some foo-” **CRASH** He was interrupted by you using your hand to smack the bowl of bisque right the fuck off the table and into the hard concrete wall, not unlike a cat that had taken offense to a cup on a table. “It’s… okay… I made more than enough. I know this has been hard on you.” All you did was blankly stare at him as he went and procured another bowl. It smelled great and you were well and truly hungry, but you refused to give in. If you made sure not to eat too much your body would not trigger a heat because it would take too much energy. You also just wanted to piss him off, maybe get him so pissed off that he either lets you go or at least makes some mistakes that you can exploit. When he handed you the second bowl he had gotten for you it immediately met the same fate as its predecessor. He stared at you for a long moment that seemed to span an eternity before he angrily grabbed his bowl of food and pulled you close to him by his arm. He pinched your nose closed so you had to open your mouth and then he shoved a spoonful of food into your mouth, then he held his hand over your mouth so you had to swallow. Reeves continued this a couple times until you got the memo and ate the rest of the bowl willingly. Well… you had wanted him to be pissed. Over the course of weeks you had to accept that you just had to eat what you were given, but by no means did you just give up on making life inconvenient for him. Every gift tossed, any furniture he brought down here destroyed, blankets shredded, anytime he scented something it would be immediately quarantined to the closet after its destruction. The only thing you kept was clothing you deemed acceptable and without his smell on it, you needed clothes but would not accept any with his pheromones. That could be misconstrued as you accepting courtship. You were perfectly content with denying him any ounce of love, affection, or friendship and you were right in the middle of giving a nice silent treatment when finally the proper nutrition and your omega nature convened to ruin everything. You were in heat. Heats were very strong on a normal day, but this was not a normal heat, this was the first heat in a very long time. You had prevented them for a long time in the black site and when you were in the navy of course you took prescribed suppressants. You hadn’t had one in years. Tremors shook your body, you couldn’t stand and your body temperature was heightened. They didn’t call it a heat for nothing. Your brain was addled, you were dizzy and almost delirious, you could barely remember why you were here. You tossed off the covers and stripped down to your slick soaked underwear. Reeves was awoken by an amazing scent and knew immediately what it was, your pheromones beckoning him even from his bedroom, his darling needed him desperately. The smell demanded he come immediately to you and comfort you and take care of you in every way imaginable. Reeves saw you there before him, writhing in carnal need and so small and helpless in front of him. The couch wouldn’t do, he needed a bigger and more familiar space, he took you up to his room where he had actually made and maintained a nest made of things that smelled of the both of you. Despite a vague notion in the back of your mind telling you to avoid him, scratch him, and leave this situation, your instincts and the powerful consequences of having denied yourself your natural cycle DEMANDED that you bury your nose into the scent gland of his neck. So strong, such a strong mate. Reeves was elated, his brain was very much fogged too with lust and instinct but he didn’t have it as badly as you did. He was very much aware that his darling mate was finally accepting and even actively seeking out comfort from him. The shark man peeled off your slick saturated underwear, sniffing at your hole, breathing in the heavenly aroma you made, before your cries of desperation and something inside of him told him to slide his tongue right inside. Finally you began to feel the smallest amount of relief. It wasn’t enough, you needed a knot. A nice big knot from a nice big alpha, and this one smelled strong. You grinded yourself into his probing tongue, whimpering for much more. After several minutes of this he decided that was enough of getting your flavor and he was now ready to properly breed and mark his sweet little brat. He took off his clothes, revealing his large well muscled pecs, lightly scarred from years of combat, and his large cock. The musk coming from it made you drool. He wasted no time ramming into you, as caught up in the moment as he was he had little concern for going slow or for any possible discomfort. Fortunately there was none, you were perfectly primed for his large prick. It slid in you perfectly hitting all the right spots inside of you, causing you to squeal with delight when he bottomed out, deep within you. He moaned himself when he felt your heat and how every movement you made, every shudder, squirm, and all that writhing, he could feel on his cock. He started slow at first, but that was not what either of you wanted and soon it turned into a messy slamming of you, making hot wet sounds as he battered your innards with his cock pistoning in and out. It did not take long at all for his knot to start to swell within you and then reach its full size, sealing the two of you together whether or not you would want it when post heat clarity hit you. You clung to him tightly as he bred you, nails clawing at the skin of his back, as if trying to pull him deeper inside you. He nuzzled into your neck, his nose swimming in your scent as he breathed it in, this is what he had wanted for so long and now he knew he would never regret his actions, everything had been worth it. Reeves licked your neck and bit down on your scent gland, sharp teeth buried into your neck, you whimpered at the sensation and he licked your neck comfortingly, holding you close as you both shared a powerful orgasm. You both panted from the intensity, the heat that was burning up your will power and clarity fading a bit, but not enough to be yourself again. Reeves knew on some level that when things went back to normal you would still resist him, and your convictions would not be so altered in subsequent heats now that you had one after so long, but this was a good start to everything finally falling into place. Your heat would last days and there would be a lot of breeding and a lot of bonding. His instinct to protect you would only get stronger and you would be a bit more susceptible to his pheromones and would naturally seek him out for comfort when in distress. He may have been part fish, but it was you who were caught in his net.

YOU SAID YOU WERE IN LOVE, I’M NOT SURE YOU MEANT WITH ME THOUGH.

an: title from pretender by holden mcrae. hope you enjoy !! lmk every single thought 😁

pairing: logan sargeant x reader, oscar piastri x reader

wc: 1.4k

You were sat in a restaurant, a fancy one that you had chosen for the night, with Logan sat in front of you. You were sat at a rather large booth, which Logan thought was weird as it was only the two of you, and you’d usually head towards the hard-backed seats at the windows, neither of which were a feature for your choice today.

You had known him for as long as you could remember, and quickly became best friends, supporting him throughout his motorsport career and travelling everywhere you could with him.

However, you’d been hiding a secret from him, which was becoming harder and harder to keep and so you decided that you were finally going to tell him. You had invited him out under the false pretences of your normal friendship dates because otherwise you’d blurt everything out to him and there was never a good time for that.

Logan’s leg hooked around yours under the table, holding some physical contact, a move he had been doing since you both were teenagers. You smiled at him, trying gently to pull away, but failing when he just did it again.

“Are you okay?” Logan questioned, noticing how you had barely looked at him once throughout the time you had been together, “You’re quiet- you can tell me anything, you know.”

You nodded, finally meeting his eyes, and swallowing hard, “There is something, actually, that I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

Logan hummed and subconsciously leaned forward, already engrossing himself in anything you’d have to say.

“I think I’m in love with-” you paused and noticed Logan’s body sagging down, with some sort of defeat, but ignored it, telling yourself you were reading into it too much, “- with- someone.”

“Oh? Someone?” his voice cracked and came out much higher pitched than he intended. He tried to sound excited, and it seemingly worked as it felt like you weren’t paying attention to him anymore, just frantic looking around.

You were both thrilled and nervous to continue, curious to how Logan would take it. Your voice came out shaky with frequent pauses yet still with an aura of enthusiasm, “You- you know him very well.”

Logan jumped up. It was the classic teenage boy line- everyone knew it. Surely you didn’t mean him, right? He was almost jumping up and down, giddiness running all through his blood. His smile was permanent, etched onto his face like a tattoo. You could see it from a mile away.

“I do?” he whispered. You noticed his smile and became more confident, ready to explode and tell him everything. Every feeling and moment that every made you smile, just as he was doing.

“Yeah. He’s a racer. Cute. Similar height to you. In F1 too. Similar-”

“A lot of similarities,” he butted in, radiating his joy around the room. For the first time ever, he was hopeful that he’d be able to tell you everything and know that everything he’s felt over the last almost decade was reciprocated.

He watched you laugh, scrunching his nose at how strained and unnatural it seemed, but ultimately blaming it on how nervous you must feel to admit it to him.

You didn’t say anything else, but Logan saw how you nodded towards the big glass windows. He turned around quickly, trying to see what you were nodding at, but couldn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. He shook it off and repositioned his gaze back onto you, who was still staring at your shoes and leg you had quickly untangled with his.

He kicked you playfully, grumbling about how you let go then watching another unnatural laugh come from you.

“Come on,” he teased, trying to get you to say what he wanted you so desperately to, “I think I know what you’re going to tell me. Just tell me, I know it’s reciprocated.”

You grinned for a moment, causing Logan to too, then dropping it.

“I-” you paused in your tracks, staring at the figure walking closer from behind Logan. Logan turned, seeing Oscar walk closer and closer, and waved at his friend, missing the way Oscar’s eyes were trained on you the whole time.

“Hi, mate. Listen, now might not be the best-” he stopped, staring at how Oscar just plopped down in the booth, right next to you, and his arm snaking around your waist with such ease and comfort, like he had done it millions of times before, “-time.”

He felt his heart stop and his breath hitch, both reflexes to stop him from throwing up. His eyes flicked around both of your figures, so close they had almost merged into one. The hand around your waist, the other on your thigh, the closeness to each other – all of it made him sick. His whole body went numb, except for his eyes which were so close to bursting a dam.

He blinked uncontrollably in an attempt to gain control of his body and eyes, and not showing how this affected him.

“This is what I wanted to tell you, Lo,” you smiled, your gaze on Oscar whilst his was on you, the whole time. You gestured between you, “I know that I should’ve told you, but it was all so quick. It hit me so fast, Lo. I really love him.”

“Sorry I didn’t tell you, mate. I just love her,” Oscar grinned, only flicking his eyes to Logan for a minute before returning to focus on you.

“No- no,” Logan chocked, his voice cracking and having to take a deep breath before continuing, “I’m happy for you both- really happy.”

You smiled so brightly, brighter than Logan had ever seen it, and he could feel himself breaking. He was slouching, unable to find the energy to sit upright, and he tried to focus on his shoes but after seeing you and Oscar play footsies, he found interest in the plain wood table instead.

“Me and my two favourite people,” you sighed, happily, giggling when you and Oscar locked eyes again, no longer paying attention to how everything you said seemed to attack Logan even more, “Let me head to the bathroom, quickly.” You jumped up, squeezing past Oscar and scurrying away, desperate to get back.

“Listen, Logan-” Oscar started, before being cut off by a sharp shake of Logan’s head.

“You knew I was in love with her,” Logan started, his eyes welling up but with no point in hiding it anymore.

“It just happened, I’m really sorry.”

“Does she know?” Logan whispered, trying to sound strong, but his voice cracking and becoming easier to tell he was about to cry.

“Know what?”

“That I’m in love with her- that you know I’m in love with her.”

“No,” Oscar mumbled, “I’m sorry it happened like this. It didn’t mean to happen- you know, it just did.”

“Right,” Logan sighed, his head resting on the table. Everything added up in his head, the recent secrecy, the looking around all dinner, the booth instead of a table for two and he felt it all in his stomach, “Why do you have to have everything?”

“I-”

“No. You have to one up me with everything, why with her too?” he sniffled, rubbing his head to try and think straight for a moment. He waited for a reply and got nothing, not even an apologetic look. “I’ll leave you both to it then,” he decided, grabbing his coat and standing up.

“Mate-” Oscar started then realised it was no use and watched Logan walk up, his feelings evident in every step.

You came back a minute later, squeezing by Oscar, immediately noticing one less presence, “Where’s Logan gone?”

“He said he wanted up to enjoy a nice date,” Oscar lied with ease, withholding any of Logan’s true feelings.

“Oh,” you uttered, disappointment evident. You had planned to spend the night with both of them, finally getting to act like a couple around Oscar, now your heart aching at the plan being ruined.

“Come on, he wanted us to have fun. I know you wanted him here, but he wanted us to have a romantic date so let’s do it,” he grinned, kissing the side of your head.

You nodded, eager to spend any time with Oscar and quickly forgetting Logan to captivate yourself in conversation with Oscar.

It makes me sad that it’s been a month since Michael Sheen has interacted with fans on Twitter (I don’t count the tweets for causes or charities). Except for the time some ten years ago when he got off twitter all together, I think this is the longest “hiatus” he’s taken. I’ve heard, “maybe he’s just too busy” and I’m sure that’s partly true but he’s been busy before and generally doesn’t stay away more than a few days at a time.

I think we all know the real reason he’s currently gone is because he was dogpiled over his statements not being pure enough about the current situation in Palestine according to the Twitter Foreign Policy Experts who thought they’d take it upon themselves to school a 54-year-old activist who’s been watching the shifting struggles of the world for decades. Anyone who’s been following him for the past few years should have noticed by now that he doesn’t take kindly to condescention or insults and he’ll readily block those who try. In their parasocial fantasies they forget that friendliness ≠ friendship and shit you can get away with saying to RL friends may not go down well with someone they don’t really know outside of their public persona.

I hope if he finally decides to start interacting with fans again they remember to show some goddam respect. He’s NOT your buddy. He’s a friendly stranger on the internet.

Addendum: if anyone tries to make this political I will block you, no exceptions. I don’t take kindly to condescension or insults, either.

PLEASE send in actual feedback to staff!

once again begging people to realize staff don't give one single iota of a shit about you reblogging a complaint post then immediately installing an add-on and "going back to normal" like nothing happened, you need to ACTUALLY SUBMIT A FEEDBACK TICKET (or more than one) for them to even lodge that anyone cares about them fucking over basic accessibility by removing icons or screwing artists out of credit on their own posts!

no one looks at the @'s for official accounts. they get pinged like five million times a day stop @ing staff and expecting it to do anything and actually go submit a ticket because otherwise they can just go "well no one complained that we removed avatars from posts so we're keeping it uwu go screw yourself"

it literally takes like twenty seconds. click feedback in the dropdown and either write your own couple lines or just copy paste the message I've written below idfc. ANYTHING is better than doing the equivalent of literally nothing!

the removal of icons from posts makes it impossible to tell who friends or mutuals are to those with reading disabilities, and it's aggressively anti-accessible. please revert this change! the text blends together instead of feeling like separate posts and is extremely distressing because it feels like you've been forcibly booted from the friendship and community that tumblr has fostered for over a decade. not only is this change inaccessible for many disabled persons, it is actively ANTI-accessible and is both extremely alarming and distressing to see even *get* to this stage of testing!

PLEASE. PLEASE SUBMIT FEEDBACK AND DON'T LET THEM SKATE BY BECAUSE "NO ONE CARES" ABOUT THIS

i need joel x f! reader friends to lovers 😩🫶🏻

i took this and ran with it

Birds of a Feather

joel miller x f!reader

joel masterlist

joel has met his match, and though he's trying to keep things platonic, his brother has other plans for him.

warnings | 18+ smut, drunk tommy miller requires his own warning, angst, and a little fluff

wordcount: 4.1K

................................

Joel Miller has finally met his match, and he knows it. He had balked at it initially, when Tommy assigned him to patrol with some woman. But it wasn’t just some woman. Folks around town call her Sunshine, a running joke since she’s anything but. He didn’t know anyone could be more standoffish than him, but that first shift together, the steel in her stare and the tick of her jaw had thrown any of his ideas about her right out the window. Is it any wonder they became friends so fast?

He doesn’t like to talk much, she doesn’t either.

He has a dry sense of humor, but hers has to be even drier. 

She refuses to suffer fools, and he enjoys watching her put men in their place.

He’s slow to thaw toward people, and so is she, both of them melting in each other’s presence.

Where he’s from Texas, she’s from Tennessee, the remnants of their drawls twining up in easy conversation.

He likes a stiff glass of whiskey at the end of the day, and she’s always game to join him.

But maybe one of the things he likes best is that while he’s good at pool, she’s fucking great at it, and he doesn’t mind getting his ass handed to him on Friday nights at the bar, not when it’s her doing the handing.

“Are you asleep, Miller? Or are you really just that bad at pool?” Her grin flickers under the dim lights of the Tipsy Bison, and he knows that it’s a sight not many people get to see. She cocks her head to the side, spinning her cue stick lightly in her hand as she smirks at him.

“Easy, darlin, gonna make you eat those words one of these days.” She’s not Sunshine, not to him, he refuses to call her what everybody else does. She had confessed to him once, on a long patrol shift, that she hated the nickname, but was too proud to ever say anything about it. In turn, Joel had told her about how growing up, Tommy managed to get everyone at their highschool to start calling him “Skip,” something he hadn’t told anyone in close to thirty years. His residual embarrassment had been worth it to see her smile in that moment, and it was about then that Joel realized he had made a certified friend. Though everyone else seems convinced that something a little more is going on.

“Shit.” He completely scratches his next turn, sending the cue ball right into one of the pockets as she snickers.

“What was that about me eating my words?” He’s distracted, just a little, but who could blame him when she’s wearing a pair of cut-offs that should be illegal and a tank top that turns downright obscene when she leans over the table for her own turn. So maybe there is something a little more going on, but it’s one sided, he reckons, and he’s not about to fuck up the first friendship he’s cared about in years just because he’s thinking with his dick. But, apparently, that’s not the only thing he has to worry about.

“Well, howdy, if it ain’t Jackson’s favorite tag team, frick and frack.” Joel hasn’t seen Tommy this drunk in decades. The town council had been celebrating that night, though he’s not quite sure what. Regardless, Tommy is sloshed as he loops and arm over Joel’s shoulders, a lazy grin on his face as he looks between him and her.

“Joel, Sunshine. How are we this fine evening?” While she snorts at his slurred-out question, Joel is less than amused, shrugging his brother off of him with a huff.

“Touchy, touchy, big brother. What’s got your panties in a twist? Did you break his heart already, Sunshine?” Joel can feel his face blanch at Tommy’s drawling words, glancing between him and her. While she’s still smiling, the crease between her brows suggests she’s as thrown off as Joel is.

“What’re you on about, little Miller?” Tommy lets out a hoot of a laugh at her question, leaning up against the pool table and grinning at her.

“What I’m on about is the sweet little crush this big guy right here has on you. It ain’t healthy, really, Joel’s got it bad for you.” If they weren’t related by blood, Tommy wouldn’t have teeth in his head by now, but instead, Joel settles for letting his jaw all but drop to the floor as he looks between his giggling brother and her. She doesn’t look so amused anymore.

“It’s true! Ain’t seen his eyes get like that in a long time, those big ol’ puppy dogs of his are for you and you only, Sunshine.” Before the horror of it all can really settle in, Tommy sighs, slapping Joel on his shoulder and shuffling off with a low murmured “where’s Maria?”

Her eyes are wide when he finally looks at her, lips parted, complete bewilderment splashed across her face. And before she can say anything, Joel is turning heel and booking it out of there before everything comes crumbling down around him.

…

She’s stunned. By the whole thing really. Tommy’s ridiculous musings, the way that Joel didn’t deny any of it, and then the way he booked it out of the bar like he wanted nothing to do with her. She wouldn’t have guessed in a million years that her night was going to turn out like this. Not that she would tell anyone, but she loves Friday nights, pool nights, when she gets to spend just a little more time with Joel than usual. So for it to turn so sour so fast, she finds herself at a loss, clutching her cue stick in her hands, stuck standing where Joel left her.

There’s no two ways about it, she likes him. Things feel easy around him. She hadn’t met anyone else in town who she could talk to like she can him. He gets it, being on the road, not always having a warm place to sleep, what it means to kill. They’ve both seen a far different life than the one they’re living now, and talking to him makes her feel a little less crazy. And yes, maybe she also likes the strong cut of his jaw, the way his deep brown eyes crinkle up when she talks to him, the broad span of his shoulders, and how he squares them up when she challenges him. You could call it a crush, but she’d call it stupid, something that would only ruin the friendship, the one big good in her life, that she has with him. 

But now all bets are off. She’s got nothing to lose, and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t get the truth from him.

She knows him well enough by now to have a pretty good idea of where he stomped off to, and she doesn’t waste any more time standing around with a dumb look on her face, heading out of the bar and into the hazy light of the summer evening.

There’s a bench tucked away behind the stables, partially hidden by a small thicket of trees. A while ago, they had set it as their meeting place before patrol shifts, always getting there a few minutes early to set a plan for the day, or just to talk quietly before they had to head out. She had caught him there a few times on their days off too, an easy slump in his posture, his arms stretched out over the back of the bench. He told her he liked the quiet of it, and when she attempted to apologize for intruding, he had said that she couldn’t bother him if she even tried. It’s where she finds him now, his elbows on his thighs and his head in his hands, though his eyes jerk up when she clears her throat.

“We gonna talk about what just happened?” He lets out a long sigh, sitting back on the bench and squinting up at her.

“I’d rather not.”

“Oh, c’mon, Joel. You know I’m not gonna let this go, not until you talk to me.” With that, he gets up from the bench with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Don’t have anything to say, except I’m sorry that my brother is such a fucking idiot.” She calls after him as he trudges away, but it’s no use, he doesn’t so much as look back over his shoulder at her. Knowing him as well as she does, she can easily tell when it’s time to stop prodding, when he’s shutting down and she won’t be able to get anything out of him, so she drops it, at least for now. 

She knows that they’re going to have to face whatever this is eventually, most likely the next morning when they’re set for a patrol shift together. With the hope of a clearer conversation on the horizon, she goes home, her mind still spinning from the strange evening. She lays awake in bed with her thoughts, the only conclusion she reaches being that she just wants the truth now, knowing that there will be no going back to the way things were, regardless of what he has to say.

When she gets to the bench the next morning, eyes bleary from a night without sleep, it becomes clear that Joel is going to make this more difficult than it has to be, as he is nowhere to be found. And he doesn’t show up either, not even when it’s time for their shift and she’s mounting up at the stables. She lets out a bitter laugh, though, when she sees who does show up.

“Did he send you down here?” Tommy huffs, leaning up against the door to the stables with a sheepish grin.

“Would you be less pissed at him if I said he didn’t?” 

“What? He ask for a new patrol partner already?” She knows it sounds harsh, but she doesn’t care, anger starting to feel like the appropriate response for how childish Joel seems to be acting. Tommy just sighs.

“Look, Sunshine, I feel awful for what I said last night. I was so fucking drunk I didn’t know up from down. But it’s true what I said. Reckon he thinks you hung the moon in the sky or some shit.” That makes her pause, but she stifles the kick of her heart with another scoff.

“What’s your point, Tommy? I have a shift to cover.” 

“No you don’t.” 

“Huh?” Tommy lets out a breathy laugh at her furrowed look.

“I’m covering your shift– figure I owe you both for messing shit up so bad. I got a buddy of mine coming down in a few to patrol with me, but you’re off the hook. And I think you oughta go talk to him.” 

“Joel made it pretty clear last night that he didn’t have anything else to say.” Tommy’s frown deepens at her clipped words, and he takes a few steps into the stables, leveling a surprisingly serious look at her.

“My brother is a stubborn ass, I won’t deny that. He doesn’t really like people, or feelings for that matter. But I know him well enough to see that he’s different around you. And maybe it’s selfish of me to say this, but you’re good for him, and I’ll be damned if the only reason you two don’t wind up together is my big fucking mouth.” His words stun her silent long enough for him to step forward and place a hand on her shoulder.

“Just go talk to him, please? If anyone can get through to him it’s you.”

…

He has to admit to himself that he was hoping, just a little bit, that it’d be her knocking on his front door, his chest tightening when he sees that it is. Though she doesn’t seem all too pleased to be looking at him, her arms crossed over her chest and an edgy arch to her brow.

“We gonna talk like adults now? Or are you gonna keep sending little Miller to do your bidding?” He knows this tone of voice. It’s the way she speaks to people, usually men, that she’d rather not give the time of day to. He’s always been amused by it, the stiff jerk of her chin, the eerie calm of her words. But it’s never been directed at him before, and suddenly there’s nothing amusing about it. 

“I– yeah, yes. Let’s talk.” Real smooth, dumbass. She doesn’t wait for him to open the door any wider, brushing right past him and into his living room before turning on her heel to look at him.

“Well, there’s no real way around this, is there?” Her question hangs between them, a drooping thread threatening to snap, though even now, they still move comfortably around each other, sitting down on opposite ends of the couch and mirroring each other’s posture, elbows on thighs, heads tilted toward the other. 

“Where do you wanna start, darlin?” She huffs out a laugh, more like an exasperated sigh as she looks at him, the steel gone, only a quirked worry left in its place.

“The truth– I want you to tell me the truth, Joel– about what Tommy said last night.” He figures he’s got nothing to lose at this point. That either way, whether he’s straight with her or not, their friendship isn’t ever going to be the same, so he takes a deep breath, and lets the words come rushing out. 

“He wasn’t wrong– I mean, what he said? It’s true, I feel– I, uh– I like the way I feel? When I’m around you? And, um– Jesus christ, what I’m trying to say is– I feel very– fondly toward you.” He’d like to disappear now, to dissolve and slip down beneath the floorboards so she’ll stop smiling at him like he just made a complete fool of himself, because he did. 

“You feel fondly toward me, huh?” And now she’s making fun of him, a light laugh on her lips as he grumbles at her question. But she’s quick to catch his despairing spiral, scooting over and placing a hand on his knee. 

“I’m sorry, Joel. I don’t mean to tease. But for the record, the feeling’s mutual.” Oh. He can feel his eyebrows shoot up at her words, and her grin broadens at his reaction.

“You mean– you– what’s that word? You mean platoni–” She’s kissing him. She’s kissing him and his brain is going blank but he doesn’t need to think, not really, moving like he knows, like he’s been waiting for this. She’s as stubborn as he is, and it shows in the way they struggle against each other, pulling on clothes to get closer, teeth clashing just a bit as she slips into his lap, pushing him back against the couch as he drags her as close as he can. When she does pull away, he doesn’t let her go far, his hand holding her steady by the hilt of her neck, breathless and smiling.

“No, I don’t mean platonically. Not at all.” And then she’s kissing him again, and it’s quickly becoming his favorite feeling, though the way her hips are pressed up against his is a close second. Joel is starting to realize that they share a few other things in common as well.

They both have a hard time keeping quiet, his low groans mixing and mingling with the pitchy sighs she looses in between kisses.

And they both seem to want to get impossibly closer, his nose mashing up against the slope of her cheek as she winds her arms over his shoulder blades, holding him chest to chest.

Where he tries to get the upper hand, licking into her mouth, squeezing at the swell of her thighs, she just does the same, tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck to hold him just how she wants him as she ducks down to mouth at the arc of his neck.

Where he demands more, she’s happy to give, and to take in turn.

How they make it up the stairs and into his bedroom is beyond him, greedy hands peeling away clothes on the way up, leaving a trail of desire that they’ll have to trace later. 

She’s strong, just as strong as him, and she likes control, just as much as him, handily flipping them around on the bed so that she’s straddling him once again, leaving him wide-eyed and breathless at the sight of her. He’s got scars, and she does too, their hands running over the silvery marks, prayers that there won’t have to be anymore. Her bare cunt is a hot drag over his pelvis, and he’d like more than anything for her to shift her hips just a little lower, a little closer. But instead she ducks her head down, eyes flickering up to his as she lays a smear of kisses over his chest that begin to trail lower until she’s kneeling between his spread thighs. Joel thinks he just might die as he watches her spit into her hand before wrapping her palm around his throbbing cock, a hiss spilling between his teeth as she deftly sweeps her wrist up, her thumb swiping over his slit to smear the pooling pre-come there down his length.

“S’pretty, Joel. Prettier than I imagined.” He can’t help but groan at her words, scrunching his eyes shut and pressing his head back into the sheets.

“You– fuck– you thought about this, darlin? About me?” She smiles at his question, her lips just grazing the underside of him.

“Mmhmm, thought about you a lot. About this. We’re so alike, you and I. I couldn’t help but think that if anyone would be able to handle me, it’d be you.” And with that, she licks a salacious stripe up his length before taking him into the heat of her mouth.

“Christ– I  can– can handle you, darlin. Handle you however you want me to– fuck, that mouth of yours is a dream.” She hums at his praise, the vibration shooting straight down his cock as she bobs her head. It’s messy as hell, the slick sound of spit, her palm pressed flat against his stomach to hold him still, the drag of her tongue along his length, and the way her eyes stay on him, hooded and hazy under her lashes. 

“Thought about you too, y’know, like-like this.” His words make her stop for a moment, pulling off of him with a sigh, her hand picking up where she left off.

“And? Am I living up to your expectations?” Her words are lilted by her grin, and the sight of her lazily stroking his cock, her head tilted as she looks at him is nearly too obscene to be real.

“S’better– you’re so much better– fucking perfect.” It’s like he realizes all of a sudden how bad he wants to touch her, and then it’s all he wants, all he needs, coaxing her back up to meet in a kiss before rolling them over, swallowing the peel of laughter she lets out as he hovers over her. 

He wants to be the only one who gets her like this, the only one to hear her sighs, soft and melty in his sheets, sweet only for him as he swipes his fingers through her folds, dragging her pooling slick up to draw circles over her clit.

“So wet for me, darlin. S’just for me, huh?” Her chin jerks in a nod, whatever control she had now held in his hands, her hips canting up into his palm. 

“Just for you, Joel. All for you– please.” She doesn’t have to say anymore, he knows what she wants because it’s what he wants too. More. He presses two fingers inside of her, unable to stifle the groan he lets out at the feel of her cunt clenching around him, muffling the sound with a drag of kisses across her chest. She keens up into his touch, back arching when he takes one of her nipples into his mouth, tongue laving over the peak before letting his teeth just barely graze the delicate skin. And he learns her, all of her, the dips and swells of her body, the spot he can press against inside her that makes her brow crumple, the scrape of her nails down his back, the little whimpers she tries to silence, biting down on her lip, the way she tightens around his fingers when she’s close, and the broken sound of his name on her lips when she finally unravels for him, panting and twisting in pleasure. 

“That’s it, darlin. Feels good, huh? I did good for you?” Maybe it’s a little selfish, what he asks, but she’s happy to answer anyways.

“So good– did so good for me, Joel. Fuck, I really want you, baby.” He can feel the heat flushing up his face at her words, his mind going dizzy with the praise, and all he can do is give her what she wants, slotting his hips against hers and notching his leaking tip at her entrance. 

It’s unreal, it’s gotta be, the way she spreads open around him, close and pliant, her knee hitched up along his waist as he presses into her, both of them sighing at the stretch. For a moment, they’re still, just feeling each other, pressed so close, sweat-damp skin sticking from the contact, choppy exhales cooling down their shared heat. And then, Joel learns that they have something else in common. They both like their pleasure with just a tinge of pain.

It starts slow, the rock of his hips into hers, but she makes it clear with the press of her heel into his low back and her hand tugging in his hair that slow is the last thing she wants, and Joel is more than happy to oblige. The thump of the headboard against the wall, the slap of skin, harsh grunts and crackling moans twine around them, wrapping them up in a desperate symphony with each harsh grind of his hips against hers. 

He wants to leave marks, wants her to remember this when she runs her hands over the bruises he leaves, a purple and blue mosaic of where he touched her, where he wanted her most. And she seems intent on the same goal, nails scratching down his shuddering back, pulling him closer so she can mouth at his neck, her teeth nipping just a touch unkindly, making his eyes roll back from the sharp suggestion of pain. 

“Fuck, darlin– made just for me, huh? So good like this– wanna feel you like this– want you to gimme another one. Be so good for me, honey, c’mon.” 

…

All she wants is him. The hot drag of his cock inside her, his hips mashing up against hers, the heavy grip of his hand cupping her ass, pulling her hips up to meet his. His scruff, scraping against her chest, lips a smudge against her skin, each grunt a vibration that runs through her bones. The way he keeps her head from hitting the headboard with his forearm protectively curled there, holding himself up just enough to move his hips against hers, to look at her when she comes for a second time, spasming around him.

She feels like liquid beneath him, undone by pleasure, only vaguely aware of the breathy chant of please, please leaving her lips with each exhale. But he knows what she’s asking for, and Joel gives it to her, pulling out with a groan, his spend smearing across her heaving stomach as he pants over her. He flops down onto his stomach next to her with a sigh, one arm slung heavy over her waist, turned on his cheek to look at her. 

“Get you cleaned up in a minute– just need to not move right now– shit.” She has to laugh at his breathless exclamation, catching the crook of his grin out of the corner of her eye before turning onto her side to get a better look at him. Hair wild, sticking up all which ways, and cheeks flushed under his altogether boyish smile, she can’t help but lean in for a kiss that he gives up willingly to her. 

“Remind me again why we waited so long to do that?” That makes him laugh, squeezing her hip to pull her closer as he turns onto his side

“Because I was an idiot.” She hums at his answer, brushing his hair back out of his face before letting her palm settle along his scruff.

“It takes two, we were both idiots.” 

“Some pair we make, huh, darlin?” 

Some pair indeed.

first and second and third kisses

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'idiots to lovers' rated: T wc: 602 tags: idiots to lovers, frustrating levels of obliviousness, first kiss gone horribly wrong followed by first kiss gone perfect

💏💏💏💏💏💏💏💏💏💏💏💏

He could sit on the couch, where it was comfortable, where it was warm, where it made sense to sit.

Or he could sit on the floor, where the kids had all piled on top of every pillow in the house, looking for a comfort they really only found with each other.

But Eddie was on the couch and he'd been weird all night.

Not with everyone.

In fact, he'd been totally normal and fun and silly with everyone.

Except Steve.

They'd been great. Hanging out all the time, joking around. Steve went to his gigs, got high with him in his van after, usually ended up with his head on his shoulder while Eddie told him made up stories of heroes with bats and kids with hearts of gold.

Eddie sat with him after nightmares, made sure he wasn't alone in his empty house with too many bad memories to keep track of.

They took turns driving the kids everywhere, usually still finding excuses to meet each other at the destination.

And just this morning they'd had breakfast together, pancakes made by Steve, coffee made by Eddie.

Steve had hugged him when he left, like he always did.

He dug his nose into the curve of Eddie's neck like he always did.

But he hadn't pulled away first like usual.

Something had made him purse his lips, something had made him linger, and something had made Eddie tense in his arms before awkwardly pulling away.

Now, hours later, Steve had to wonder if he'd ruined their entire friendship because he was seeking more comfort than Eddie could provide.

Eddie didn't look at him as he chose the couch, the only available spot being the cushion between Eddie and Argyle, who had already fallen asleep with his head on Nancy's shoulder.

Steve could feel the warmth of Eddie despite his cool attitude, but kept his head down, avoiding any potential accidental touch by curling into himself as much as possible.

"Think I need some fresh air," Eddie said suddenly, standing up and leaving before Steve could stop him.

Erica, the only person still awake enough to notice anything, glared at Steve.

"You gonna follow him or are you both just gonna pout about your feelings for the next decade?"

Steve stood up, not even quite sure why, or what he was actually going to do once he was with Eddie.

Eddie was smoking when he joined him, silently sitting next to him on the same pool chair.

"Why'd you do it?" Eddie finally asked, leaning down to put out the cigarette.

"I-" Steve shrugged. "It just felt right. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, man."

He was met with silence.

And then a hand on his cheek, guiding him to look over.

"You should've gone all in," Eddie said before pulling Steve in for a kiss.

Their teeth clashed together painfully, immediately forcing them to break apart with loud groans.

Steve let out a small laugh.

"Slower," he said, cupping the side of Eddie's neck as he leaned in.

His lips ghosted over Eddie's, a small smile breaking across their faces at the same time.

This time, when Steve pulled away, Eddie tugged him back to his resting place, his nose in the curve of Eddie's neck.

He smiled and pursed his lips, leaving the soft kiss he'd intended to earlier.

"We've been kinda stupid," Eddie suggested.

"Today?"

"For months, apparently."

Steve pulled back and frowned.

Then it hit him.

"Erica."

Eddie nodded.

"She's...intuitive."

"She means well."

"I don't think she does, but in this case, it worked out fine anyway."

head over skates · jjk ; part iii.

··· SUMMARY; jeon jungkook is the captain of the hockey team and one of the biggest fuckboys on campus. you happen to have known him for as long as you can remember but he is not who he used to be and you simply can’t stand it.

so what happens when you’re suddenly stuck doing a project with him for three weeks?

SERIES MASTERLIST · # TAG · MOOD BOARDS · PLAYLIST

PAIRING; hockey player!jungkook x f. reader

GENRE; fwb au, childhood friends to enemies to lovers au, college au

WORDCOUNT; 1,255

RATING; 18+

WARNINGS; swearing, a teeny tiny little tension but also, jk is being very sweet :(

a/n; part 3!!! i love doing this little series bc it's so easy to write when the chapters aren't so long <3 i hope all of you enjoy it too despite the fact that it's not a very long read! lmk what you think! ty for reading xx

You didn’t text Jungkook back.

No matter how tempted you were when he tried to bribe you with iced americano – your favorite (which he remembered).

Instead you took it upon yourself and started working on the project without him. Your gut is telling you that he won’t be adding much to the group work nor will he invest the time and energy in it. There’s no reason to wait around for him to actually care about the project when you know that ‘caring’ isn’t one of his primary traits. It used to be but not anymore – if he still cared, he wouldn’t have abandoned your friendship the way he did.

Besides, it’s not like you mind. 

You’ll gladly put his name on the finished product if it means you’ll be rid of him and his flirty, cocky behavior. It’ll only make the process easier and you’ll be able to do it just the way you want. If anything, Jungkook should be grateful that you’re willing to do this on your own and just add his name. Normally you wouldn’t do something like this but you just can’t stand being stuck doing group work with him for three weeks.

Jihyo is right though – it is time to move past it but you can’t. Not yet.

You haven’t spoken to Jungkook in 5 years – that’s sixty months of spite and aggravation that has affected you way more than you would’ve liked. Like you said, you’re not one to hold grudges against people but this particular grudge has been sitting in the back of your mind for half a decade and while you’d love to be able to just let it go, you can’t.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when your phone buzzes due to an incoming text. You reach for it to take a look, your face instantly twisting in annoyance when you realize who’s texting you.

[11:07 AM] Jeon🤬👊🏼: whatcha doing? ;)

You swipe it, removing it from your lock screen before returning your focus to your laptop and the project at hand. You let out a soft sigh and rest your chin in your palm as you play around with the font of the text – Times New Roman suddenly has a whole other meaning after Jungkook’s name was written next to yours the other day.

"It’s good to know your phone works.”

“Oh my god!”

Startled by the low and deep voice right next to your ear, you jump in your seat and turn around with widened eyes. Dark brown eyes with a mischievous glint in them are staring back at you, an amused grin on pink lips as well. You take notice of the two iced americanos in his hand before you’re scowling at your former friend turned stranger.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to do the project,” Jungkook tells you and holds up the beverages. “I brought drinks.”

“How did you know I was here?” You can’t help but ask, wondering how he managed to locate you. The library isn’t exactly one of the places on campus Jeon Jungkook frequents the most. You’d know since you spent a lot of time here. 

He shrugs, “I saw you when I walked by, went and got these,” he places the iced americanos onto the table, “and came back to join you.”

You gape at him for a moment as he pulls a chair out and takes a seat next to you, not a word of protest leaving you because you’re simply speechless once again. He actually got you iced americano and he genuinely wants to do the project. 

Something doesn’t seem right.

Jungkook glances at you with a smirk when he’s met by silence, “what? Surprised that I actually do my school work?”

You shake yourself off your speechlessness and shrug as nonchalantly as possible, “something like that.”

“I see you took a head start,” he nods to your laptop with a chuckle as he pulls his own out of his backpack. That fucking chunky, black backpack he’s had since high school. Back then you wondered what he carried around in it and every time you asked him, he would only shrug and grin. 

Teen boys and their mysterious behavior.

And just for a brief moment, you see your best friend from high school in front of you, sitting here next to you like back in the day – boyish grin and that same glint in his eye. He looks the same and it’s messing with your head because back then you were crushing hard on him. Jungkook has always dominated that casual, boyish charm and look and today is no different. He’s wearing an oversized white Nike t-shirt and black track pants from the same brand. There’s a yellow beanie on top of his head to tame his messy hair. For all you know, he could’ve gotten straight out of bed and gone to campus after throwing on the first outfit he could find – simple, casual, flattering.

The only difference is the two lip rings and the full sleeve of tattoos.

“Yeah, about that,” you start, shooting him a fake, over-friendly smile. “Don't worry about it – I’ll do the project and just add your name before handing it in.”

Jungkook blinks at you for a moment before recovering, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “why? You're scared I’ll fuck it up or some shit?”

You shake your head, “no, I just prefer working alone.”

“You always do projects with Jihyo though,” he points out, squinting his eyes at you.

“That’s different.”

“Is it? Or are you just saying that because I’m your partner?” He challenges.

How do you tell a guy who’s so used to getting his way and having people go out of their way to make sure he’s happy that you don’t want him as your project partner? That you’d rather do an important project that’s meant to be done in pairs by yourself and risk the possibility of getting stressed out just because you got paired up with him? 

“If I’m being honest, yes,” you tell him, not taking a moment to rethink your choice to confront him but just blurting it out instead. “I would rather work myself into the ground than do group work with you. So if you don’t mind…”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow as you do a gesture with your hands as if to shoo him away. He looks rather unbothered though, not moving an inch either. He stares at you for a second and if you didn’t know any better, you would almost assume he’s silently challenging you to try again, to tell him off and ‘shoo’ him away like a fucking bird. 

You don’t.

You stare back at him, your face not showing an ounce of anything as you patiently wait for him to get up and leave.

He doesn’t.

Instead the corners of his mouth curls into a faint smirk as he reaches for one of the iced americanos and slides it towards you. He then grabs the other one and turns to his laptop, silently sipping on his beverage while getting to work on the project.

You feel your blood starting to boil a little but you don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, you pointedly snatch up the iced americano, once again turning your focus to the project at hand. You feel his eyes on you but you keep your eyes on your laptop screen, acting as if his presence isn’t affecting you or bothering you in any way.

You then give in and take a sip of the coffee.

Damn it… 

It’s a really good iced americano.

lust for life ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ kang taehyun

kang taehyun x fem!reader (choi yeonjun x fem!reader) , tags: non idol au , friends to lovers , one-sided crushes , pining , fluff , nsfw , angst , friend!taehyun , bff!yeonjun , roommate!yeonjun , college au , one-sided crushes , angst , pink-haired taehyun because why not, reader is a little ditzy but you mean well!! , pwp

warnings: smut (minors dni) , cursing , fingering , drinking , service top!taehyun (i need to spread this agenda please hear me out) , unprotected sex (reader is on the pill) , sane and consensual! , car sex (i have an obsession) , reader is going thru it

"in these stolen moments, the world is mine. there's nobody here—just us together. keepin' me hot like july forever."

a/n: hiii it's been a while! i've had this in the drafts for a little bit and i finally finished it yayyyy!! also happy 520+ in just a little over a month??? ily guys with all of my heart :,,,) i hope u enjoy!!! (this has only been proofread once so plz excuse any mistakes!)

wc: 8.17k

you’ve never been a fan of pancakes. in fact, you had even won an online debate about how waffles are the better breakfast food back in middle school on some weird forum site. pancakes are just too starchy, too flimsy, and way too bland. you’d rather eat sand than willingly go out of your way to devour a plate of pancakes.

but as yeonjun hand feeds you a bite of the blueberry pancakes he made for your “friendiversary” (the friendship anniversary that you guys celebrate every year), you decide right then and there that you have become a pancake connoisseur—a devotee… a fanatic, if you will.

you hum in delight, clapping your hands in appreciation as you chew the slice of doughy goodness. yeonjun watches your reaction with hopeful eyes—those fox-like eyes, shining as the daylight from the kitchen window hits his irises, a chocolate brown ring hidden in the center. you think you can get lost in them forever: the way they bunch up when he smiles widely, the way his eyelashes frame them beautifully, the way they seem to display any and every emotion he feels. those captivating, enchanting eyes.

“does it taste okay?” yeonjun asks, his soft voice snapping you back into reality. you’re nodding quickly before you even realize it, giving him two thumbs up as you swallow the food. 

“i didn’t know you were a pancake expert,” you joke, picking up your own fork to grab a strawberry off of your plate. yeonjun shakes his head with a faint smile, pushing around the food on his plate as he watches you eat.

“i just threw some things together. guess i’m just a natural, huh?” his voice is filled with feign cockiness and you find yourself giggling at the way he leans back in his seat with his arms behind his head like some 90s chick-flick jock.

he looks especially good today—you don’t know if it’s just the warm feelings surrounding your friendiversary, or if it’s the way the sun rays frame his figure, creating a halo effect around his body. he’s perfect in your eyes; his black hair falls beautifully around his face, and his cheeks are naturally flushed pink from the warm air of your shared apartment. his lips are glossy with some syrup residue and you wish for nothing more than to kiss it off of him, tasting the sweetness of his mouth as your hands find their way to his—

“—ift today, so i have to go in. i’m really sorry, y/n.”

you blink, tilting your head a bit as you rip your attention from his lips. “sorry, what did you say?”

yeonjun sighs with a small, apologetic smile, bouncing his fork in his hands. “there was no one who could cover my shift for our friendiversary, so i still have to work today.”

his voice is filled with so much guilt, and despite the deep disappointment you feel in your chest, you don’t want to make him feel any worse. he doesn’t deserve to feel that way. you guys have celebrated your friendiversary every single year for the past decade and a half. from visiting the aquarium in sixth grade, to go-karting in ninth, to climbing onto the rooftop of your apartment complex to stargaze last year; you guys have done it all. there’s nothing wrong with cutting one short, right?

“oh, that’s okay! i… i still have some cramming i need to do, so that’ll definitely keep me busy.” you wave your hand to dismiss him with a small smile before quickly spooning another strawberry into your mouth to cover up the falter of your lips. yeonjun’s shoulders untense with relief, nudging your foot under the table—the action is quick to summon butterflies in your stomach, a small warmth rising to your face from the short contact. 

“i promise i’ll make it up to you, okay?” and any hint of dismay in your body dissipates with the lopsided smile he sends your way, too distracted by the fluttery stuttering of your heart and the way those eyes glimmer in the morning sunlight.

“i’m going to die.”

“you’re not going to die.”

“yes, i am. i’m going to die and it’ll be all your fault.”

taehyun deadpans you as you dramatically drape yourself across the library table, whining with your cheek pressed against the cool wood. today was supposed to be your friendiversary, and now here you are, face to face with your friend (and calculus tutor) in your stuffy campus library.

you mentally curse the current recession—yeonjun could’ve had the day off to cuddle and watch movies with you, but now he’s holed up in a dumb, understaffed clothing store. 

on top of it all, calculus seems to always have the ability to literally melt your brain through your ears, feeling yourself growing more and more delirious with every number and formula you write down. there’s a reason why you’re an english major.

taehyun simply watches you throw your contained fit, his demeanor blank with the slightest hint of amusement—he’s definitely used to it by now. with one final huff, you lift your head up, grabbing your pencil with vigor as you straighten your back.

“okay, let’s do this.”

a tiny puff of laughter fills the space around you as taehyun’s lips quirk up at your immediate change of pace, his eyebrows raised with entertainment.

“you sure you don’t need another minute?” he teases you with a sly smile and you give him a tiny glare in return.

“not everyone is a mathematical nerd like you, kang,” you retort, but the words are light and airy—it’s easy to banter with taehyun. you’ve known him since your freshman year, meeting him by chance at this exact library during exam season. you approached him first—he had on a t-shirt of a band you like a little too much and with your extroverted nature, you cracked through his shell quickly. 

you two would be complete opposites if it weren’t for the fact that you have so much in common with each other. he’s like the less talkative, “critically thinking”’version of you—he balances you out perfectly and you’re incredibly thankful to have a friend like him. he’s always open to listen to your rambling, help you out when you’re struggling in one of your classes, and provide silent company when you don’t want to be alone. 

you’re especially grateful that he willingly offered to help you prepare for your upcoming exams, knowing how scatterbrained you get when it comes to studying—and by the time it hits 5 p.m, you’re officially burnt out, unable to intake any more explanations of radians and whatnot. 

taehyun notices your attention drifting as you chew on the end of your pen, a tiny and fond smile falling onto his face. 

“how about we call it a day?” taehyun asks as he closes his textbook. you immediately brighten up, nodding aggressively—taehyun quietly laughs at your enthusiasm.

“wanna get something to eat? i think i’m actually going to die after all of this now.” you motion to the mess of paper and notes in front of you, hearing taehyun hum in agreement. you pack up quickly as you randomly stuff your papers into their proper (see: random) folders, ready to get some food in your stomach as you tell taehyun about this new show you’ve started watching. he listens intently, nodding along to your breakdown of the plot—you speak way too fast for anything to be even the slightest bit comprehensible, but your eagerness makes up for any lost translations.

the air is warm on your skin when you exit the library, soaking up the heat as you fall into step with taehyun next to you. as brutal as finals season is on you, it does leave one positive in your mind—summer is coming. 

you had planned a trip with yeonjun to your hometown for the first few weeks of summer—just the two of you with no distractions of work and assignments. alone. together. you were going to confess during this trip; you had promised yourself that you wouldn’t chicken out this time. you have liked yeonjun for years, ever since middle school, but you’ve been too afraid of losing him to actually tell him the truth about your feelings—but this is it. this will be the summer you tell him everything. you beam at the thought, already feeling giddy at just the idea. 

“watcha thinking about?” 

taehyun’s inquisitive voice enters your ears and you turn your head to look over at him. he’s already watching you, his big eyes focused on the goofy smile on your face. your neck heats up with embarrassment at the prospect of being caught daydreaming about your best friend, shaking your head.

“nothing, really. i just love when the sun’s out,” you speak, looking up to the clear sky as you silently applaud yourself for that on-the-spot excuse. you can still feel taehyun’s eyes on your face, but you brush it off as your phone rings in your hand. 

you look down at the caller i.d., your heart jumping at the giant display of letters that spell out “junnie bug”. his contact photo takes up your entire screen and you’re sure taehyun sees it as well—it’s a selfie yeonjun took when he used one of your hello kitty headbands to wash his face, his lips puckered up in a kissy face with a v by his eyes, winking at the camera. god, he’s so cute. 

quick to answer the phone, you press the device to your ear with a small smile on your lips, muttering out a quiet hello.

“hey, where are you right now?”

you scan the area, realizing you’re closing in on one of the campus restaurants, one you and yeonjun frequent weekly. 

“i’m about to grab dinner. why?” the line is quiet for a beat as you hear some shuffling and jingling before yeonjun finally responds.

“i got off early! come eat with me. i brought your favorite~” yeonjun sing-songs through the speaker of your phone. you pout a bit, glancing up at taehyun whose hands are shoved in his pocket as he looks off into the distance, giving you privacy to speak.

“i’m actually with taehyun right now…”

yeonjun makes a small, whiny sound, quick to intervene. “but it’s our friendiversary! plus, i have something i’ve been waiting to tell you.”

your heart stops in your chest for a moment as the words reach your ears, feeling the world around you slow down.

yeonjun has something to tell you.

he has something he's been waiting to tell you.

you try not to overthink it, but you can’t stop the conclusion from jumping into your head.

he’s going to confess. he’s going to confess!

you bite back a small squeal as you gain your composure, your eyes flickering over to taehyun once again. he’s a few steps behind you and you already feel bad for what you’re about to do—but yeonjun has something to tell you and your best friend always comes first.

(especially when he’s going to confess to you!)

“okay, i’ll be there soon! love you, junnie.”

“love you too. see you in a bit.”

and then the line goes silent. you try to hide your wide grin as you turn on your heel towards taehyun who stops in his tracks, his head cocking to the side at your excited demeanor. 

“hey, can we make a reign check? i’m really sorry,” you pout as you speak, but taehyun doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest, nodding his head.

“yea, that’s okay. seems like you have somewhere important to be.” the small smile he gives you seems a little forced, but you’re too blinded by the excitement pooling in your gut to linger on it. you make a small happy noise, reaching out to pat taehyun’s arm softly.

“i’ll pay for dinner next time—pinky promise.” you hold out your pinky and taehyun’s eyes follow your hand, smiling a bit at the action.

“what, are we twelve?” he teases and you huff, gently jabbing your pinky into his arm. 

“pinky promises are the ultimate form of trust and commitment!” you declare with a self-assured nod. taehyun hesitates for a moment as he gives you an unreadable look before his warm pinky hooks onto yours, your thumbs pressing together in a silent seal. 

“thank you, kind sir,” you say in a horrible british accent and the corners of taehyun’s eyes crinkle in that darling way they do when he smiles. “i’ll see you tomorrow. bye, bye!”

if taehyun watches your figure retreat until you’ve disappeared around the corner of the communications building, and a short while after you’re already gone—well, that’s for only him to know.

you’re nervous, you realize as you wipe your sweaty palms on your skirt, taking in a deep breath as you stand outside of your apartment. one would think you’d be prepared for this, considering how many sleepless nights you’ve tossed and turned imagining this exact moment. the exact moment when yeonjun tells you, to your face, that he has been in love with you for years—and you would confirm that you feel the same way, and all would be well and dandy and you’d finally be able to breathe.

but your breath gets caught in your lungs the moment you see yeonjun sitting on the couch with a movie paused on the screen, all of your favored dishes from your favorite takeout place laid out in an array on the glass coffee table in the middle of the living room. time moves in slow motion when his head turns towards you as you walk through the front door, those butterflies making their way back to your belly the moment his eyes lock onto yours.

he’s always so gorgeous—even after being on his feet for hours due to his long shift, he still manages to look positively effortless. his plush lips are slightly parted in a wide smile as he beckons you over, his hair bouncing on his forehead at the movement. he’s shining, the sunset casting a wonderful glow over the living room, making his pristine skin look even more angelic than it usually does.

you’re in love. you’re absolutely, absolutely enamored with the man in front of you. 

it’s like a scene in a movie as you take a seat on the couch next to him, his arm coming to rest over your shoulders, pulling you into a tight side hug and… oh goodness, he smells so amazing. he’s had the same signature scent for years—a sweet grapefruit with hints of cedar and black currant. intoxicating, alluring. you subtly inhale as you bury your face in his shoulder, letting yourself bask in his warmth. his comfort.

you feel his body rumble with quiet laughter at the way you cling to him, his free hand coming up to pinch your cheek fondly. 

“hello to you too,” he speaks and you pop your head up to smile at him.

“i missed you. i think i lost half of my sanity after that study session,” you mumble as you pull your knees up to your chest, pressing yourself closer to yeonjun’s side.

“wasn’t taehyun there to help, though?” yeonjun questions as he massages the back of your neck. you hum in response, your eyes slipping shut as your body relaxes.

“he’s the only reason i didn’t actually go insane,” you groan and yeonjun laughs a bit at your theatrics. “but enough of that. it’s friendiversary time!”

you try to ignore the anticipation bubbling in your chest as the night goes on. yeonjun seems to have pushed the “something” he’s been “waiting” to tell you to the back burner of his mind, laughing and joking around as per usual as some corny 2000s chick flick plays on the t.v. screen. you’re painfully aware though, your eyes glancing over at him during every bout of prolonged silence, trying to egg him on with subtle words—and by the time the movie finally ends, you think he’s forgotten completely.

but then he turns his body towards you, and if you weren’t already hyperfocused on his entire presence, you would’ve missed the way he takes a subtle deep breath, silently preparing himself for whatever he’s about to tell you. naturally, your body faces him as well, your hands in your lap as you dismiss the rapid pounding of your heart in your chest. 

it’s finally happening.

yeonjun cracks a small smile to break the growing tension in the room and you swoon at the way his cheeks bunch up in that adorable way they do.

“soooo,” he starts and you can’t help but to smile a bit at his unusually awkward demeanor—choi yeonjun, you’re choi yeonjun, is actually nervous right now. something about it makes you feel a little fluttery; just the sight of his face reddening makes your stomach flip. he’s so cute.

“soooo…?” you echo, nudging his knee with yours. he chuckles a bit, one of his hands coming up to rub the back of his neck.

“remember how i said there’s something i’ve been waiting to tell you?” he speaks slowly as if he’s thinking of every word he says before they exit his mouth. you nod, trying to hide your growing grin. “so, um…”

this is it. this is it. your days of pining are finally over. you’ll be able to kiss, hug, and love yeonjun all you want, as loudly as you want. you’ll finally be his.

“i think i’m going to throw up from the suspense,” you blurt out and your words help to lighten the mood, yeonjun laughing again as his hand drops back down to his lap. 

“i guess i’ll just say it then,” he inhales once before his next sentence tumbles off of his lips like an avalanche, destroying your world with every passing millisecond. you’re dunked underwater as your breath hitches in your throat, your hearing muffled as you watch yeonjun’s lips move, but none of it reaches your ears.

you can’t think. you don’t want to think. it’s all too sudden and you feel your hands tremble slightly in your lap as yeonjun’s eyes fill with adoration as he talks about the girl from his fashion department. 

“we’re official. me and eunbin… we’re dating.”

he’s so happy as he lulls on about the exact moment everything happened; the way her eyes lit up, the way she jumped into his arms, the way she kissed him on the lips. how she’s so smart and mature. how she’s beautiful and confident and charming in every way. how she’s exactly what he needs at this point in his life. 

how she isn’t you.

you have always kind of been aware of the fact that the girl had a crush on yeonjun. she’d always be by his side walking through campus, hanging off his arm like a koala, overly affectionate with skinship. but yeonjun was friendly too, and he’s touchy with all of his friends—it’s his love language. you’ve never thought too much of it seeing as yeonjun always returns home to you. cuddling you at night when you can’t sleep. cooking you breakfast and dinner almost every day. matching outfits with you. staying up late to talk with you. 

you were just too stupid—too naive… too blinded by your own infatuation with the man to realize that his eyes weren’t set on you this entire time. you were just his comfort. his roommate. his best friend. and nothing more.

you aren’t sure if you’re still present in your body—it feels as if you’re watching the entire scene from afar, somewhere high up in the clouds. away from yeonjun. away from yourself. 

you want to cry, already feeling a lump form in your throat as your waterline burns with tears, but yeonjun’s smile is the widest you’ve seen it be in a while, and those eyes… those same eyes you’ve found yourself getting lost in one too many times… they’re so big and bright tonight as he rambles on about this girl. this girl who is everything you’re not. 

it feels as if your heart shrivels up and falls into your stomach right then, fighting to make a smile form on your trembling lips. you want to be joyful for your best friend—you really do—but it just hurts so, so much and you’re about to break at any second.

“i’m so happy for you, junnie,” you mumble out quietly, positive that if you speak any louder, your voice will crack and give it all away. yeonjun directs that endearing smile your way and you feel your heart break even more.

“thank you, y/n. you’re… you’re the first person i’ve told so i was a little nervous. thank you, really.” yeonjun lets out a sigh of relief as he pulls you into a hug. it should’ve been warm and cherished, filling you with nothing but precious feelings—but you can’t help that ice-cold feeling that washes over you as you inhale his citrusy cologne, patting his back with a shaky hand. when he pulls away, he has this little dazed smile on his face—he’s definitely thinking about her—and your gut churns with the ickiest feeling you’ve ever felt. 

“you know it’s hard for me to open up to people,” he continues, and you aren’t sure how much longer you can sit here while holding in your tears. “but with her, it’s just like… it’s so natural and easy. she reminds me of you, actually. she always understands me in the way that you do.”

no, she doesn’t. 

“i’m glad,” you mutter out and he doesn’t even process your short response, too busy lost in thought as he smiles down at his lap. 

you can’t. you can’t. 

“‘m gonna go to the bathroom,” you speak, standing before he even acknowledges your words. your tears are already falling down your cheeks as soon as you turn your back to him, your legs moving quicker than the speed of light as you shut the bathroom door behind you, letting it all rush out. 

you muffle your quick breathing with the sleeve of your sweater so yeonjun can’t hear—you don’t want to ruin this moment for him. he’s still your best friend, and he deserves all of the happiness in the world. but you’re selfish and your heart hurts a little too much; all of those years of pining and chasing… 

this truly sucks.

you don’t know how long you sit in there, but it must’ve been long enough for yeonjun to become worried seeing as a knock soon sounds from the door.

“y/n, you okay?”

you quickly pat your cheeks dry with your palm, nodding your head before remembering he can’t see you from the other side of the wall.

“yeah, ‘m just getting ready for bed!” you call out, cringing slightly at your hoarse voice. hearing an affirmative hum from yeonjun in the hallway, you turn on the sink to wash the tear tracks from your face. 

now this is definitely a friendiversary to remember.

taehyun has always had a knack for being incredibly perceptive—you like to call it his “kitty senses”, the way his nose twitches cutely when he spots something in the distance, or the way he perks up when he hears something interesting. he always seems to be aware of the space and those around him, noticing the little things, and paying close attention to detail. maybe that’s the reason why he blinks so little; he’s always keeping an eye out for the minuscule things people usually overlook.

so when your laugh isn’t quite as full as it usually is, and your smile doesn’t fully reach your eyes, and your fingers keep fidgeting with the zipper of your jacket—taehyun knows something is up.

it’s not like you’re not trying to hide it. you had made sure to put on extra concealer that morning to hide your sleepy eyes from your lack of sleep, which is useless because already sure you’ll be crying it off by the end of the day. you try to joke around with taehyun as usual, but you can’t seem to stop your mind from drifting. 

it hurts—it hurts so bad, and as much as you wish to just accept reality and move on, some part of you still wants to believe that this is all a dream. some horrible, horrible joke the universe decided to play on you. you just want it to all be over.

taehyun’s over at your place today. yeonjun has work until 6 and you really don’t think you can bring yourself to leave the dark, brooding coven that has become your bedroom, so you came up with a flimsy excuse of the library being too hot to study in today.

“let’s take a break,” taehyun’s voice sounds from your desk, successfully making you look up from where you’re laid stomach down on your bed. in all honesty, you’ve been repeatedly reading the same sentence for the past ten minutes, drawing the conclusion that you’re definitely not going to get anything done today. 

you sigh with a small nod, moving to sit crisscross as you shut your laptop, feeling your shoulders slump. taehyun’s watching you—you can feel his eyes follow your movement as you move your laptop to your bedside table, your lips adorning a permanent frown. 

you don’t even bother to check your phone as you flop backward onto your bed; it’s not yeonjun’s fault that you feel this way—you know that. he’s not responsible for the way your stomach swoops when he smiles, or the way your skin tingles when his hand lingers on your face for a little too long. it’s your fault for jumping to conclusions, for seeing everything through rose-tinted glasses.

it’s your fault for falling for him so hard. 

and here comes that feeling again; that lump in your throat, the churning of your insides, the sting behind your eyes. too caught up in your own thoughts, you don’t process the dip in your bed as taehyun takes a seat next to you.

“are you alright?”

his voice is oh so soft as you turn your head to look at him—those big eyes scan over your body as he tries to read what’s wrong, seeing his kitty senses working a thousand miles a second. you catch the way his fingers twitch as if he wants to touch you, but his body is stiff with uncertainty.

you almost want to cry simply at the way he so obviously cares, his brows knit together, eyes searching yours for an answer you aren’t giving him. he’s lovely, you render, as you scoot over to give him some space to slip in next to you as you curl up to his side. it’s nothing new; you’re used to sharing a bed with taehyun to get in quick power naps during cramming, or to scroll through your phones in silence, just enjoying each other’s company. 

but something feels different this time as he wraps his arm around you, his fingers tickling your arm. your head rests on his shoulder while your index finger draws random patterns on his chest, his black t-shirt bunching and scrunching up with the movement. it’s quiet as he strokes your arm, the pads of his fingers making goosebumps rise to your sensitive skin. you don’t realize how bad you need this—the warmth of his body is so nice and you can already feel your walls coming down as you sniffle, a few tears escaping your eyes.

“‘m gonna get your shirt all wet,” you mumble, and taehyun just laughs a bit, resting his head on top of yours.

“i don’t mind,” he replies quietly and you immediately break, the dam collapsing as your tears soak into his shirt, accepting all of the untamed emotions running wild inside of your body. taehyun holds you silently and gently, his thumb brushing over your skin in an attempt at solace. 

heartbreak is a weird, weird thing. it feels like you’re yearning for something that you know you’ll never have. craving the touch of someone you’ll never be able to hug and kiss and love in the way you want to. you don’t believe you’ve ever felt anything like this before.

so you let yourself cry, and cry, and cry as taehyun nuzzles his cheek into your hair—a silent reminder that he’s still right here next to you.

he doesn’t ask any questions, and in a way, you’re thankful for that. what would you even say? your bestfriend broke your heart even though you guys were never together in the first place? it sounds ridiculous in any way you can think of wording it, so you bask in the silence as you let everything out.

by the time your tears slow down, your fingers are clenching the front of taehyun’s shirt like a lifeline… and he lets you hold onto him for as long as you need. you don’t know what you have ever done to deserve a friend like him. always ready to catch you when you fall, giving reassurance when you need it, and always prepared to lend a helping hand. 

you find yourself lifting your head to find taehyun’s eyes already on you, his hand slipping from your arm to your waist at your movement. his eyes are clouded with apprehension, and you’re sure you look an absolute mess right now with your swollen eyes and tear-stained skin. but there is something left unsaid in the air as your eyes trail down to his pink lips; his hand grips your waist a little tighter, his big eyes flickering quickly between yours.

his eyes are different than yeonjun’s—while yeonjun’s are filled with memories of home and familiarity, taehyun’s are present and swirling with unadulterated want. he wants to be here with you. 

everything is muted save for your air conditioning, the quiet hum from the fan of taehyun’s laptop sitting on your desk, and the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears.

you shouldn’t do it. you know this is a bad, bad, bad idea. you’re still not over yeonjun—you’re not ready to move on yet. but that feeling of heartbreak and pure longing wraps around your brain and you just need something, someone to make it all pause. the feeling of taehyun’s hand on your waist is grounding as his thumb brushes over your your clothed skin, his dark brown irises still fixated on you, waiting. and waiting. and waiting.

your lips are on his before you can give anything another thought. 

he kisses you as delicately as he holds you, giving you the lead, and allowing you to take whatever you want from him. his lips are incredibly soft—you taste his vanilla and peppermint chapstick on your tongue, getting lost in the slightly tingly sensation. your mind is hazy as your hand trails up from his chest to the side of his neck, feeling his pulse under the pads of your fingers, pressing closer to him to deepen the kiss.

his tongue swipes across your bottom lip in silent permission and you gladly give in, parting your lips for him. a quiet moan slips out as his free hand tugs your thigh over his waist, moving you to straddle him. his body is firm and sturdy underneath you, your hands falling to his shoulders as you steady yourself.

it should end here… it really should—but then taehyun tilts his head and takes your bottom lip in between his teeth and his hands are so heavy and pleasant on your waist and you’re reminded of citrus and home and…

he pulls away slowly, his chest rising and falling quickly as he stares up at your figure.

“y/n…”

his breathy voice quickly makes you come to your senses.

guilt overrides your body as you realize—you just took advantage of your friend’s kindness and company, all because of your own stupid feelings. a grave emotion washes over you as you shake your head, quickly moving off of his body as taehyun sits up.

because only then does it dawn on you that you were pretending taehyun’s lips were yeonjun’s.

“hey, hey, it’s okay—”

“no, i can’t—fuck, i’m so sorry, taehyun,” you spill out as you climb off of him, creating distance between the two of you, unable to meet his hurt eyes. you don’t want to cry again, but the stinging behind your eyes comes back in full force. the shame is too much; taehyun is so kind and you just—you used him for temporary validation. “you should… you should go.”

taehyun is silent and you see him nod in the peripheral of your vision, lingering for a second before he slips off of your bed. he’s quiet and quick as he collects his things, and your eyes only watch his figure once his back is turned toward you. you try to pretend you don’t notice the weighted gaze he gives you before leaving. 

it’ll give you one less thing to cry about tonight.

you need another drink.

the slight buzz in your body is not enough to blur out the sight in front of you as you lean against the wall holding a plastic cup tightly in your hand. you’ve never really had a problem with pda—if couples want to show their admiration for each other in public, then so be it. it isn’t any of your business, truly.

but now, your stomach seems to lurch as you watch eunbin kiss up yeonjun’s neck, sitting prettily in his lap on the living room couch as yeonjun smiles that perfect smile at something she whispers in his ear. theoretically, you can simply look away, or walk away, even—but your feet stay planted where they are as your hands shake slightly. 

you aren’t sure how long heartbreak is supposed to linger, or how long it should take before you stop thinking about how that could’ve been you… should’ve been you. jealousy is one hell of an emotion, and you try your absolute best to keep it at bay; yeonjun owes you nothing, but the spite eats away at you as you bring your nearly empty drink back up to your lips. 

a body shuffles up next to you, but you don’t pay them any mind, your ears ringing with the pulse of the music reverberating through the walls. you’re definitely not drunk enough to enjoy the atmosphere, too hyperfocused on the way yeonjun’s head tips back in a hearty laugh as eunbin swats at his chest playfully. 

“you look like you need some air.”

your head whips to the side at the words, coming face-to-face with taehyun, his eyes holding a type of intensity you’ve never seen before. a dejected laugh leaves your lips as you tilt your head back, nodding slightly in response. 

“yeah, i probably do.”

taehyun’s hand is slipping into yours before you can even process his grip, tugging you towards the front door of the house. there aren’t too many people in the front yard—just a small group passing a blunt on the porch, someone in an intense argument on the phone, and a few people loitering by their cars. 

you follow taehyun to the steps of the porch, taking a seat on the cement. it’s dark out, but the air is still slightly humid, making your skin feel sticky and warm. taehyun’s hand is still in yours as you scoot closer to him to allow some people to walk up the other half of the steps, your thigh pressing against his. 

he’s silent as he looks ahead, and you can feel tension filling in the space around you both. it’s been a couple of weeks since you two have spoken—you’ve felt too guilty to face him after that kiss, but now you find yourself looking over at his figure. maybe the alcohol is working better than you thought.

his brows are slightly furrowed, one of his legs bouncing up and down incessantly. the low glow of the porch light illuminates him in a way that makes it impossible to look away, your eyes trailing from his cat-like eyes, to the slope of his nose, to his soft lips. 

his soft lips.

you rip your eyes away from them. you aren’t going to make the same mistake twice.

“y/n, did i do something wrong?” taehyun questions quietly, his eyes finally landing on your face. there’s something cloudy and uncertain behind them, something that you can’t quite put a name to.

“no, taehyun, you didn’t—it’s not your fault. i’m just…” you sigh, your gaze focusing on the way his thumb brushes over the back of your hand. “there’s a lot on my mind right now.”

taehyun nods slowly, turning his head away from you again. 

“is there anything i can do to help?”

he doesn’t mention the kiss. he doesn’t mention the way you’ve practically been avoiding his existence. 

you don’t know if it’s your tipsy state, or if it’s the way his body heat radiates onto you or the way his eyes flicker back up to yours when you’re quiet for a second—but then you catch the way they travel down to your lips and you’re in the backseat of his car in the blink of an eye.

it’s warm, too warm, as you straddle his lap, your hands tangled into his hair as he kisses down your neck, hands on your hips to steady you. you don’t want to think anymore—you don’t want to hang onto something you’ll never have.

so you let taehyun distract you at this moment.

“you can use me however you’d like,” he breathes out heavily as your hands come to rest on his chest. “use me to get over him.”

your body stiffens as the words slip out of his mouth, meeting his eyes in the darkness of the car. 

“how… how did you…?” your voice is breathless as you trail off, the corners of his lips quirking up into a sad smile.

“i’ve always noticed the way you look at him, y/n.”

your eyes are unfocused in the low light as you gaze at taehyun’s state, his pupils blown wide in the darkness of the car, only a side of his face lit up golden from the street lights outside. his lips are bright pink and bitten raw, his fading pink hair messy and falling onto his forehead in fluffy waves. he’s always been gorgeous, a fact you could never deny, but in this moment, he looks absolutely unreal.

sudden guilt fills your chest at the thought, shaking your head quickly.

“i can’t do that to you, taehyun,” you replied weakly. he’s shaking his head now, his big hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing your soft skin delicately.

“i want you to. i hate seeing you like this,” his hand drops down to cover one of yours, feeling his chest rise and fall under your palm. “i’ll do anything you want me to, y/n. you just have to say the words.”

his voice is low and faint, gazing at you with his pretty brown eyes. they flicker in between yours, trying to read the emotions on your face in the limited light. you nibble on your lip as you feel his rapid heartbeat through his shirt, your mind scattered and dizzy.

“please. let me help you.”

a hot flash courses through your body at the pure desperation in his voice—and something in you snaps at that exact moment, your lips crashing onto his vanilla and peppermint ones. the kiss is messy and feverish as your hands run up and down his torso, teeth clashing with the vehemence of it all. you feel his hands drop to your hips, holding you down onto him as his tongue explores your mouth, running across your teeth, swiping across your lips. he tastes like cheap liquor, and you’re sure you do too, but it doesn’t matter at this moment.

you press down on him, your hands running over his toned stomach, up to his pecs, over his shoulders; anything you can reach. you shut your mind off, not letting yourself focus on anything other than taehyun taehyun taehyun taehyun.

he’s moving you, you realize as your back presses against the cool leather of his back seat. he doesn’t break the kiss once as he hovers over you, hiking your skirt up to run his hand up your leg, running his nails over the sensitive skin of your thigh. you allow your legs to fall open so he can comfortably slot himself in between them, feeling his bulge press against your pulsing core just right. 

a faint gasp leaves your lips as he grinds against your clothed cunt, already feeling yourself leaking through the thin fabric. one of your legs wraps around him to pull him even closer to you, drowning out all of your senses with the scent of his cologne, his hair tickling your cheek as he kisses down your neck. his hand leaves your thigh to slip under your top before his fingers dance over your stomach, brushing over your bra—admiring every inch of you as you arch up into his touch.

“tell me what you want, baby,” he pants against your neck, nipping the flesh there. you stifle a moan as his fingers brush over the wet spot on your panties. “come on, use your words.”

“i want… fuck—i want your fingers in me.” 

he’s quick to obey, pushing your panties to the side to rub his middle finger up and down your dripping slit, a low groan leaving his lips as your hand finds its way to his hair, tugging at the pink strands to hurry him up.

you moan softly as he slips his first finger in, curling it upwards as he pumps in and out of your clenching hole. the car is filled with the sounds of your soaked cunt, his heavy pants, and your moans as he finger fucks you, slipping in another two easily with how wet you are. his fingers are incredibly long and slender, reaching parts of you that you’ve never been able to hit by yourself. 

when his lips find yours again, it’s much slower, his fingers matching the restrained pace as he kisses you deeply, devouring all of your little noises. your hips buck up as his thumb rubs circles onto your swollen clit, your fingers tightening in his hair.

he seems to be in no rush as he takes you apart slowly, hitting that spot inside of you perfectly as you leak onto his seat, body shaking with pleasure. there’s a small smile resting on his lips when he pulls back to peer down at you, taking in the way your lips part and your brows furrow as he speeds up, pressing down on your clit just right.

you can’t control the noises leaving your lips as you grind onto his hand, chasing your high as he pumps into you. his actions don’t slow down when he moves up to capture your lips again, curling his fingers inside of you as his thumb rubs your clit. you grab his biceps, needing something to ground you as you feel your impending orgasm rushing upon you. 

“taehyun—fuck, ‘m cumming…”

he swallows all of your moans as you tip over the edge, your back arching up into his hold as white fills your vision. you can hear the gentle praise leaving his lips through the ringing of your ears, your body left feeling fuzzy and warm as his fingers slow before gradually pulling out of your sensitive hole. 

“so good for me,” he mutters against your lips, his own traveling down your jaw. you feel dizzy as you catch your breath, leaning into his touch.

“i need you,” you mumble as he lifts his head to catch your gaze. he looks completely enamored, his big eyes glossy, reflecting the light from the street lamps outside.  “i need you in me. fuck me, taehyun.”

 he smiles before sitting back to undo his pants. “anything you want, baby.”

it’s all a blur as he’s back on top of you again, his length hard and throbbing against his stomach as he captures your lips again. his hands roam every piece of your skin he can touch, sucking marks onto your collarbone. claiming you.

you reach down to grab his heavy dick in your hand, stroking him a few times. he sighs lowly in your ear, whispering praise and encouragement that just turns you on even more. it’s hard to be patient when taehyun is bucking up into your hand, your mind clouding up by his hot tongue trailing over your skin. he seems to sense your urgency, placing one last kiss on your lips before lining up with your entrance.

“i’ve got you,” he whispers as if his voice was only made for you to hear. you nod quickly, wrapping your arms around his neck as he presses his forehead against yours. the heat radiating from his body manages to make your clothed, scorching skin even warmer, moaning out softly once you feel him push into you. his eyes flutter shut as you clench around him. “fuck—you feel so good.”

you bite your lip to keep quiet as he slowly thrusts into you, wrapping your other leg around his waist as if it would bring you impossibly closer to him. your fingers tangle gently in his hair, tugging slightly in a way that drives him absolutely crazy.

soft grunts leave his lips once he speeds up, the sound of skin on skin drowning out the muffled music in the distance. your eyes are half-lidded as you strain to keep them open, wanting to watch the way his jaw clenches and his brows furrow. it’s all too much as you take in the fluttery tickles of his lips on your cheek and jaw, the way he stretches you out with his thick cock, the way his hands tightly grip onto your waist as if you could disappear at any moment. 

every thrust into your heat makes your stomach flip with pleasure, getting lost in the feeling of his hips snapping against yours perfectly. he kisses you once more before he leans back, hands slipping down your hips to fuck you even harder, the car rocking with his strokes. you can’t control your sounds anymore, getting closer and closer to the edge with every move. you can tell he’s getting close too by the way his rhythm falters — his grip on you is tight, and you know there would be marks to cover up by the morning. 

“‘m so close,” you squeak out as he intertwines one of your hands, his other forearm resting by your head to lean down to kiss your lips again. 

“me too, baby,” he speaks against your lips, his hips stuttering. “you’re so perfect, y/n, fuck.”

you can already feel your high crashing upon you with one last stroke, your own whimpers falling deaf to your ears as his words tip you over the edge. your body buzzes with electricity as you clench around him, feeling him pump his thick ropes of cum into you at the action, his moans high and breathy in your ear as you cum together.

it takes you a second to come back to your surroundings, blinking your eyes open to see taehyun watching you, silently stroking your hair. he’s still nestled inside of you, but you don’t really mind. he leans down to capture your lips again—it’s passionate and unrushed as he tries to convey every single emotion he’s feeling, his hands coming up to cradle your face. 

you can’t think of anything other than the way your heart flutters as he breaks the kiss to rest his forehead against yours, his breathing still uneven as his eyes open to gaze into yours. 

“thank you,” you whisper, your stomach swooping as he smiles, that dimple on his right cheek peeking out in the darkness.

“don’t thank me,” and his voice is dripping with so much sincerity, you find yourself unable to look away from his eyes, your hand coming up to rest on top of his. with a small giggle, you glance down at your intertwined bodies.

“i think we should clean up,” you speak light-heartedly as your nose brushes taehyun’s, and he lets out a small puff of laughter, nodding in agreement.

you don’t know what any of this means anymore—how your heart flutters at the way taehyun gently cleans you up before pulling you back in his lap to kiss you silly, how he drives you home, walking you up to your door with your fingers interlaced with his. how you linger for a moment, not wanting to leave his side so soon even though you can barely keep your eyes open long enough to unlock the front door.

but all you know is that yeonjun doesn’t cross your mind again for the rest of the night.

reblogs are very much appreciated!

masterlist

©️BEOM-PYU

Please ramble about the Au I’m so curious

Well, since you asked so nicely~

(This isn't proof read. Forgive the incoherence)

I've just been calling this Traveling Companions Au. So basically, Odile meets Siffrin way before the events of the story, not long after the whole Island thing. So, when they're about eleven-ish and she's in her 30s.

And now Odile has this child on her hands who

Can barely communicate. (Going off the assumption that Siffrin was already taught some Vaugardian when he was young since the countries were so close)

Remembers nothing about where their from.

And seemingly just showed up out of the mist.

At this point, Odile has already begun traveling the world. So even if she was in the mood to take a random child in (which, she very much isn't) she isn't in any position to give them a stable home. So, she leaves them at the first orphanage she finds and that's that, isn't it?

Of course not. Because Siffrin just. Keeps. Finding her, having latched onto her like a duckling to the first thing it sees. And eventually she just kind of caves and stops trying to get rid of them. She understands what it's like to feel like you don't belong anywhere, after all.

She's not their mother, never tries to be their mother. She probably just calls them her ward until their old enough to reasonably be called a travel companion. Obviously she cares about him. She just. Never tells him how much she cares about him. In direct words.

And yes, while cute kid Siffrin stuff is all well and good. What I really wanna explore with this AU is how it affects the main story.

Sif grows up with a drier sense of humor. Though puns are still a thing. Odile will never be free from the puns.

Siffrin probably? Learns about her whole Familytale quest, but never pries into the context until the Friendship quests arc.

Self-esteem issues are still a thing, just in a different flavor.

He's definitely a lot more comfortable with making fun of Odile than he is in canon. Though it goes both ways. They've got over a decades worth of dirt on each other.

And if Odile was perceptive before, imagine how much easier to read Siffrin is going to be now? She's known them for like 2/3s of their life she's definitely going to notice somethings going on in most of their loops.

Mirabelle and Isabeau get two party members for the price of one in this AU! And with the way Odile and Siffrin behave around each other they assume they've been traveling together for a while.

One day, Mirabelle actually thinks to ask how long they've known each other. And when Odile casually replies, "oh... fourteen years? Fifteen?" She and Isabeau are baffled because ??? Siffrin's in his mid-20s????

At one point, Mirabelle or Isabeau mentions that Odile must be like a mother to Siffrin, and the absolutely disconcerted look Siffrin gives them in response is enough to make them never bring it up ever again.

So yeahhhhhh those are my rambles. Maybe I'll write a fic about this. Maybe I'll just release this into the wild and let people do what they want with it. Who knows?

🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow

24 min. ago

time sensitive question how flirt boy

🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow

2 min. ago

thanks guys

#the fucking radio demon parody account replied to my post #with extremely UNHELPFUL advice #and charlie #is ur advice unisex? #bcuz if thats how you got vaggie #im judging you both #irl source

( 697 notes )

⚪️ Anonymous said

r u dead?

📻 real-radio-demon Follow

4 hr. ago

Ha! Bold of you to assume I can be killed :)

📻 real-radio-demon Follow

4 hr. ago

Show your face and per’’haps,’,’. I’ll come~.to you

🎀 charlies-angel Follow

32 min. ago

This account is fake. Nobody knows where Alastor is, anon. Stop wasting your time.

#this parody account is in really poor taste

( 14,581 notes )

🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow

Jul 1

if I make it outta this alive, I’m gonna tell my crush I’m in love with him.

🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow

Jul 1

fuck

🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow

1 hr. ago

ya know, I don’t think I’ve confessed to someone and meant it in over a decade?

🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow

53 min. ago

haha would it be crazy if I said I forgot how?

#its literally part of my job to flirt with people #then i catch feelings and suddenly #i get all tongue-tied #i cant fall back on my old scripts either #he hates bullshit #he wants me #the real me #but the real me doesnt know how to do this!!!

( 268 notes )

💀 be-gay-do-crym Follow

2 hr. ago

apparently people are canceling @.niffty-lady ? wtf?

🌕 m00nlight-h0wling Follow

1 hr. ago

they are and it’s actually the stupidest thing i’ve ever seen

#and the bar was really fucking low #considering the amount of dumb chaotic bullshit my dad gets into ↯ #niffty lady

( 22 notes )

👓 creepz0 Follow

3 hr. ago

It’s time to CANCEL @.niffty-lady

Here’s why:

Niffty LITERALLY KILLED a man in cold blood and now PROFITS off of his death

This so-called “lady” is INCREDIBLY rude to fans, ignoring requests leaving fans on read and answering asks with a NASTY attitude. NOT very lady-like if you ask me

Is associated with the VERY PROBLEMATIC @.real-radio-demon (self explanatory)

Writes TOXIC and PROBLEMATIC ships (spidermoth, radiohusk, reylo 🤢)

Writes NSFW when she herself is CHILD-CODED

PROOF is under the cut ⬇️

. Keep reading

#callout post ↯ #niffty lady #anti niffty lady #niffty critical

( 5,101 notes )

📻 real-radio-demon Follow

3 hr. ago

Despite popular belief, I am not dead!

Well, not any deader than I’ve been since 1933! Hahaha!

↯ #is alastor dead? #ha! no ↯ #alastor the radio demon #real radio demon broadcasts

( 147,381 notes )

⚪️ Anonymous said

isn’t it disrespectful to write fics about someone you killed irl?

🪡 niffty-lady Follow

4 hr. ago

I have no respect for Adam. Hope this helps! <3

#answered ask #anon ask

( 136,247 notes )

📺 voxblr4k Follow

5 hr. ago

Is the radio demon dead?

. 96,460 votes • remaining time 6 days, 19 hours

#polls ↯ #alastor the radio demon ↯ #is alastor dead?

( 19,292 notes )

🪡 niffty-lady Follow

6 hr. ago

Forbidden Fruit

Adam x Reader | 10k words | Rated E

⚠️ Major Character Death

Tags: Smut, Whump, Sinner Reader, Forbidden Love, Bad Ending

After a night of reckless passion, you quickly became Archangel Adam’s favorite sin. Your love, as forbidden as the fruit of Eden, was destined to end in tragedy.

https://archiveofoursouls.hell/works/63595697

#niffty lady fic #adam x reader #angel x sinner #sinner reader #smut #whump #forbidden love #bad ending #rpf #aoos link #aoos fanfic

( 49,933 notes )

📻 real-radio-demon Follow

6 hr. ago

Well, it looks like I’ve got some time on my hands!

I’m sure many of you have burning questions you’d like answered

So, ask. me. any’,thing. :)

#ask me anything #ama ↯ #alastor the radio demon #real radio demon broadcasts

( 16,628 notes )

🐍 x-hiss-lord-x Follow

Dec 12, 2019

i can't have beef with the power of friendship trope because if someone wanted to hang out with me i'd probably reconsider my stance on turning the city into the 10th circle of hell

🐍 x-hiss-lord-x Follow

Dec 12, 2019

besides i can always just redirect my dark urges towards being violently protective of my new friends. there's no rule that says you can't do that.

🌈 hells-disney-princess Follow

7 hr. ago

I found Sir Pentious’s old voxblr blog, and I think I’m gonna cry

🌈 hells-disney-princess Follow

7 hr. ago

He made the ultimate sacrifice to protect his friends and the hotel during the extermination. He did exactly what he said he would in this post.

I wish I could thank him for everything he did for us. And I wish I could’ve done a better job of protecting him.

I don’t know where Souls go when they get erased; I don’t know if they go anywhere at all. But I hope that wherever Sir Pentious is now, he’s with people that he considers his friends.

#rip Sir Pentious #we miss you #irl source

( 348 notes )

📻 real-radio-demon Follow

8 hr. ago

↯ #alastor the radio demon #real radio demon broadcasts #the ink spots #we’ll meet again #Voxify

( 4,102 notes )

⬜️ voxblr-meta Follow

9 hr. ago

Fanby’s Fake Dash Masterpost

#meta #fake tumblr dash

( 3 notes )

Hi, Niel. I’ve been a fan of your work for a long time now. I appreciate everything you do, as an artist and as an activist. I’m writing you about a problem I’m having with one of your works. It’s nothing to do with the work itself but my own personal context surrounding it.

My best friend of ten years loved Coraline. It was probably her favorite thing of all the things in the world. She had no idea there was a book, only that she loved the movie. I gave her my childhood copy of Coraline to read and, though she wasn’t much of a reader, she loved it. From there, I encouraged her to read more of your work. As much as she like Sandman or the Graveyard Book, she always came back to Coraline.

Cut to today. My friend of ten years has abandoned me. To make a long, painful story short, she turned her back on me after my mother’s murder, a time when I needed her most. She made sure to tell me that she never loved me, that she never wanted to be my friend all these years, that she did it because she felt sorry for me and that I’ve always been an annoyance and a burden to her.

It was hard to take, to say the least. This leads me to the problem I’m having.

I can’t stand to look at anything related to Coraline anymore. As much as I love it too, it fills me with dread to see it, because all I can think about is how badly I want to share it with my friend. I love giving gifts to the people that are important to me. I would gift my friend every Coraline related item I would see. And now, seeing the dolls, the bags and pins, and of course watching anything from the movie, makes me want to break down all over again.

It’s been almost a year since this happened but my heart still hurts when I see that yellow rain coat. I guess I’m telling you all of this because I want to know if you have any advice. I can never see my old friend again. She’s gone from my life completely but, pieces of her still haunt me.

I want to be able to watch Coraline again without crying. I want to read the book and not feel like I’m this tremendously horrible person that doesn’t deserve anyone’s friendship. I just don’t know how to go about healing that.

Thank you for your time, Niel. I hope that you’re well.

You aren't a horrible person.

I'm sorry that your friend wasn't worthy of your friendship. Friendships that fade and end often hurt worse than romantic heartbreak, because they don't end cleanly, because decades later you still aren't sure why a friendship ended.

I'm sorry about the fallout, too. As you say, the ghosts of the friends we once had still haunt us.

Coraline will always be there, when you need it, when you need her.

𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒, 𝐀𝐀𝟐𝟑 + 𝐆𝐑𝟔𝟑

part two

revenge always tastes better when celebrated with your right hand and his lover

warnings: mafia topics such as planned murder, coarse language, cheating on reader, unnamed fiance because I couldn't think of a fitting name, sex mentioned, sexual acts (fingering)

a whimper climbed up your throat, treating to surface into the cold air of the storage hall lined with supercars, pricey motorcycles and vintage cars, and bitter tears welled in your half closed eyes but you did remember your promise to your little self years ago that no man was granted to see them spill over, not even the man who had claimed to love you for a lifetime. alas his understanding of love was different to yours, sickly twisted — if he held the love he repeatedly said to have, why did he cozy up to a woman who wasn't you?

he knew you were a busy woman and he enjoyed the perks of your success even though he didn't exactly know what you worked as nor how much you made in a year; since the beginning of your relationship you both shared an unsaid understanding that he hadn't to task and he was absolutely fine with it. the beautiful man was more or less an armcandy, or as your right hand alex used to say your sugar babe; eventually your partner proposed which wasn't as romantic as you had hoped for but it was your fault, you could've shared that side of yourself to him.

you had been in a negotiation with leclerc, head of the monegasque mafia, aswell as verstappen and hamilton, respective heads of the dutch and british mafia when clement, your man responsible to observe certain people and media outlets, signalled you with a touch to his watch that something was up. the french leaned against the wall next to armstrong, a guy of hamilton. the pair of them were kind of friends in that sense of joining each other on social gathering, they might have fucked too because the air between them screamed like sexual tension.

as the negotiation came to an end and the tension left the room, small talkes between various people raised — only hamilton stood up, stretched his hand to each of the heads still sitting at the large wooden table, claiming he was awaited home for dinner.

after walking him out yourself and returning to you other guests you noticed the closeness between charles and max. they had a lot of history, fighting when they were under training as young boys which then blossomed into a friendship, or more. you wouldn't ask, observe their actions whilst minding your business.

you didn't sit down, letting arthur, charles' younger brother take your seat because your mind was focused on clem's new information. slowly you made your way across the room to him, coming to an halt with a raised eyebrow at the kiwi standing next to him. he nodded at you and made space so you could exchange a private moment.

"what is it, novalak?", you mumbled, eyes roaming the room.

he wordlessly gave you his phone, one you had given him specifically to research. opened was a chat between himself and one of his team, plainly showing off a series of pictues where your fiance sat with a woman on his lap in a fancy club where you once partied together. no guilt showed on his face causing your cheeks to heat up.

"that bastard."

alex, ever present, meet your eyes. the thai clearly read your expression, the embarrassment and fury printed on your face — not that anyone else could observe that as you had only pinched your eyebrows together but he knew you for a decade. there wasn't an emotion and situation he couldn't read.

clem put his phone away without commenting on the situation; he knew his place and he also knew that only alex and george were allowed to joke with you.

the rest of the day you entertained your guest, presenting them traditional cuisine and showing the eager arthur your car park. in the morning all traces of guests were gone, leaving you with your problem at hand.

tuesday arrived, the date you and your partner had set last week went painfully long and you had only one thing on your mind: murder.

"want to come over at my place?", you sweetly asked, making doe eyes at him. his once stunning blue icy eyes looked awfully disgusting, the hair too long and the beard unkempt. you didn't know what you saw in him and why you thought he'd be the right man on your side.

a cooky smirk etched on his lips as he leaned forward. "sure whenever. want daddy to fuck you good?", he whispered, trying to look seductive but failing miserably.

you stood up, hand sloting in his sweaty one, lulling him to your cherry red ferrari charles had gifted you on your birthday, claiming that it was a missing piece in your collection which in fact was true and you had happily accepted the gift.

the drive was smooth, your passenger way to concentrated on his phone to notice the new route; if you were to throw away trash than it had to happen somewhere you wouldn't have to clean up much. ideal for your plans was your car park as the ground was easy to clean; you pitied the man a bit for the trust he held in a jug to notice that his secret wasn't one anymore.

he looked up, taking in the trees aligning the narrow bumby road. "Where are we going?"

keeping the eyes on the road, your left hand touched his thigh. "Oh babe, you see I purchased a new house and I thought we could christening it", you purred. you felt his cook grow under your fingertips and smiled; he made it so easy for you, you could watch a series after the finished job.

arriving at the gates, one of your men behind the counter of the small cabin that where to your right, let you easily drive through and you ran up the car to the storage hall, parking it in its designated spot.

as soon as the motor's smooth purrs stopped, your partner opened his door, leaving you alone as he walked up to a rolls royce silver shadow. he touched the car without a thought in the word, to absorbed in a fantasy to even notice two man walking in, one opening the door of the ferrari you sat in, giving a hand to pull you out of it while the other pulled out a gun, resting it against his side.

george waited for the man to move back in the aisle; no one wanted to clean the cars and the liar wasnt worthy to leave a nasty damage in one of your cars — dennis, young mechanic and passionate car lover, would surely have your head if there was only a hair on the hood of one of them. you wouldn't want to see the norwegian truly angry, he was more on the softer side, a reason why you took him in and kept him away from the dirty business.

"why don't we fuck in one of these cars, maybe the aston, before taking it to the bedroom, sugar?", your fiance asked, turning around to walk in the middle of the aisle where you wanted him to be, gaze fixed on another supercar.

the brunette brit raised his gun, pointing it to the other man's head, blue eyes flitting to you, waiting for his timing.

you sent him a smile, relaxing the shoulders. simultaneously alex stepped up to you, one hand resting comfortably against the small of your back, resulting in you grabbing his hand and placing it lower to lay against your rear.

his eyes widened at your bold gesture; back when you were teenagers you used to fuck around but then you were appointed head of the family and the sex stopped. he pinched your ass through the silky blush coloured dress you wore before gliding down to cup your pussy which was already wet, getting a silent moan out of you.

it wasn't a normal day; you were about to see george murder your scumbag of a partner in a fitted dress pants which graced you with the delicious sight of his well trained thighs and the dark half opened shirt clung to the muscles of his back. and then there was alex, dressed the same, hair fluffy and lips slightly swollen, indicating that george must have kissed him stupid prior. you also hadn't had sex for weeks and the self love only could do so much.

all things combined you were desperate and you were ready to move onto the next man or in this case men.

"sorry mate, we already fucked in the aston", alex spoke into the silence, frightening the man. the thai pushed a finger between your plush lips, gathering the wetness on the tip to tap it against your mouth, intensly watching as you sucked his finger. your head fell onto his shoulder, eyes interlocked with his; you hallowed your cheeks and ran your tongue up and down his finger, letting him decide the pace.

"You're such a pretty little slut, y/n", he groaned.

your fiancé let out an angry scream, ready to throw his fist but he didn't get a chance to take a step. george already pulled the trigger, shoting right in the forehead.

"what an idiot", the brunette muttered. you giggled at his words, pulling alex' hand away. someone else would clean up the mess in the morning.

"you both joining me in the bedroom tonight? wanna celebrate a new chapter. "

Art by @shes-an-iso – commissioned by me and posted here with permission

Realization.

It is ten years ago and I am watching Frozen.

It is ten years ago and I am watching Elsa transform herself into her truest self, watching her spin threads of blue around herself, seizing power for herself – radical self-actualization.

The glint of Elsa’s ice dress reflects in my eyes as I watch Elsa strut into the sunlight – and I do not have words for why I am so moved.

I do not have words, but the shimmer stays.

It is ten years ago and I am choosing to become a part of the Frozen fandom.

I have lurked in fandom circles before, but never posted a thing, never made an account.

It is my first time being part of an online fan community – and, as awful as fandoms can be at times, this fandom – for me – ten years ago – is truly a community.

I begin to make friends in the Frozen fandom.

Some of these friends are trans.

The gleam of Elsa’s hair in the rose-gold dawn shines again in my eyes, and shyly, I begin asking questions of my friends.

Realization is nothing without the words to process it – and my friends give me words, my friends help me to understand.

I am a trans woman.

It is in this online space that I first take the name Liza for myself, since this online space is the only place that I can allow myself to be.

I build for myself. My blog is my own ice palace. What I cannot sculpt in daily life, I carve within online spaces – offering my writing, my thoughts, my edits, my soul to the world.

Everyone here knows me as Liza.

Even as I’m in the closet to my family for years, in here, I am Liza. My friends know me as I am, and as Liza is all they will ever know me.

But I am in the closet. For years.

(It’s why Do You Want to Build a Snowman still breaks me.)

In the closet more out of some misplaced sense of duty to my family than out of dread, though I am scared. Always scared. And then in the closet because I feel it’s better if I bury this. Not better for me, but for them. If I’m bleeding inside, it doesn’t matter. I can put on a show. I have fine-woven gloves. Well-taught decorum. Be the good girl you always have to be, etc.

(Maybe it’s my fault I’m in the closet for years. Anons on this site have told me that in the past. I don’t have it as bad as others in the closet, I’m just a coward, the fault is mine, the fault is mine…)

Fuck off.

(People blame Elsa for the thirteen years in the same way, placing the blame on her and not the tutelage that trained her, because her parents loved her, you see, and love becomes a convenient means of shifting blame to the victim.)

In June 2016, after the Pulse shooting, I make a post about how I’m never going to come out. I am terrified, heartbroken, mangled by grief – but my friends are there for me. My friends send me messages of support, of compassion.

I still cherish the memory of those.

Years pass. When I finally come out to my father, I can barely say the words, barely look him in the eye.

It is ten years since Frozen and I have come out to my family – far too late. I have been on HRT more than a year now.

(My dad still misgenders me when he thinks I’m out of earshot. He resents when I get frustrated with him over this.)

It is ten years since Frozen and I am Elsa on the North Mountain, staring into the whirlwind of an uncertain future, defiant and scared.

And I know – I know – that I didn’t process I was trans because of the film – it was because of the friendship of fellow trans people, trans people who happened to be Frozen fans a decade ago – but my journey of self-realization, my time in the closet, my creation of a sense of self, are so entwined with memories of Frozen that I can’t help but think of it when thinking about my own transition…

Can’t help but think of Elsa, hips swaying, arms outstretched, flashing, radiant –

Happy tenth anniversary, Frozen.

And thank you. Thank you.

(This is okay to reblog. In fact, please do. It is a sliver of my soul that I offer to the world.)

A little 2.7k words long Dreamling drabble I wrote for @samsalami66​, using the prompt ‘please, never apologise for wanting to be loved’ from this prompt list

Edit: Now also on Ao3!

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He found out on their third meeting in as many months.

(Three meetings. In three months. Hob was…well, he was having a bit of a hard time believing that, even if he was present during those meetings. Three meetings in three months, after one hundred and thirty three years of silence and what he thought to be avoidance. Three meetings in three months, when the two of them had only seen each other once a century.

Once a century. Every one hundred years. How had he ever been content with that?)

(He hadn’t. He remembered how it felt, before. The crushing weight of loneliness with every day that came after their centennial meetings, prompted by the knowledge that the only person who truly knew him for what he was, instead of what he was that century, was what prompted him to call his Stranger a friend in the first place.

Still. While he certainly yearned for contact outside of their centennial meetings—he was mostly content. He was alright, to sit and wait. That was what he did.

Now—now, he had monthly meetings. Monthly meetings with his Stranger, who he knows now as Dream. With Dream, his friend. He didn’t know how he’d ever coped with anything less.)

Found out perhaps wasn’t the right word. Hob…didn’t have anything to do with it, really. He didn’t go digging for information. He merely invited his friend inside for a drink, some food if he felt like it, without expectation.

Dream looked tense, the day he brought it up. Shoulders coiled tightly, jaw clenched so much it looked almost painful, eyes somewhat distant. That was enough to worry Hob, who had never seen his friend distant before. At least, not that he could recall.

And in the end, Dream merely turned to him without prompting and told him, voice severe and terribly serious, “I would’ve returned to you. In 1989.”

And—and that made something in Hob ache. He waited so long, the day of their meeting, only to be met with silence and absence. And then he waited another thirty three years, because what else could he do? He was Hob Gadling, with almost seven centuries to his name and therefore far more patience than any typical human. Waiting felt like the only natural response at the time, and, indeed, it paid off, because Dream sat beside him. Because Dream returned to him, walked across the threshold of The New Inn and called Hob a friend.

Such a simple word, that. Enough to change the rest of his day, though. The rest of his century, even—friendship with Dream was a high he knew he’d ride for decades to come.

He’d tilted his head, curious and somewhat terrified. I would’ve returned to you, Dream said. And yet he had not. And yet Hob Gadling spent that day alone, drinking away his sorrows and waiting for a friend who wouldn’t return for three decades later.

”Then why didn’t you?” Hob asked, his heart in his throat. His eyes stung and he scowled, blinking the tears away. Truthfully, he thought he was over that by this point. It had been thirty three years. More than enough time to nurse the wounds of being thoroughly abandoned on the 7th June, 1989. The sting lessened even further when Dream called him friend, when he apologised for his absence.

(It returned on occasion, usually when he least expected it. It liked to…to wait in the wings, until the moment Dream turned his back on Hob to leave. He’ll return, Hob told himself, because he would now. All he saw in his head was the sight of Dream’s back turned away from him in 1889, though, as the rainfall fell around them both but didn’t touch his friend in the slightest.

It came back in those moments, and he often found himself swallowing a question. You’ll come back, right? or Would you stay a little longer? or Might I be selfish and request more of your company tonight?

Dream would not abandon him again. He knew that much. His heart and his stomach seemed to be taking a little longer to get the memo, however, and the dread that accompanied Dream’s leavings was often irrational.)

Ocean deep eyes stared at him. They were shadowed, those eyes, full of ghosts Hob couldn’t hope to understand. He could drown in those depths easily, and even then wouldn’t understand his friend in his entirety. “I was…captured,” he said, after some hesitation. “By a magician named Roderick Burgess.”

There were many things Hob could’ve said in response to that small and ugly revelation, and all of them would’ve been appropriate. All of them no doubt would’ve been various ways of saying What the fuck, are you alright? and Do you want me to kill the bastard? Because I will.

In the end, Hob didn’t say any of that. Instead, he focused on the frustration that hid underneath the layers of forced calm, the rage that lurked beneath the surface of Dream’s voice, and he ached. He ached, because Dream had been captured.

He didn’t need to know anything more than that to pull Dream into a hug.

A light one, because captured echoed inside his head like it was an empty cavern. It was the only thought he found himself capable of thinking. He didn’t know what it entailed, but—captured. God.

They could’ve hurt him. Hob wasn’t sure Dream could be hurt—Endless seemed rather important, even if he didn’t know what it meant properly—but the idea was terrible enough that he had to force himself to keep his arms around Dream loose, had to force himself to concentrate on his friend instead of the anger bubbling in his veins on his friend’s behalf.

In his arms, Dream tensed further. Hob…hadn’t thought that possible, after seeing how tense he was before this. Immediately, guilt struck him like a blow. His friend had been captured, and he didn’t bother to ask if a hug would even be alright.

Before he could pull away, apologies and pleas for forgiveness ready to spill from his tongue, Dream moved faster than Hob thought should’ve been possible. His arms found themselves around Hob’s waist, clinging tight enough it knocked the air right out of his lungs, but that was alright. He didn’t mind, not when Dream clung on so tightly. Not when he seemed like he needed it desperately, like he hadn’t been offered such a thing before.

He ignored that thought, for it made him ache with a desperation he hadn’t felt before, a desire to make sure his friend knew he was loved, and ran a soothing hand down his friend’s back. He pretended he couldn’t count the knobs of his friend’s spine even through his coat. Dream had always been lithe, yes, all elegant limbs and graceful movements—but this. This, he thought, was tangible proof of his friend’s hurt. This was what captured meant.

After—after Dream released him, slowly and carefully like he truly didn’t want to, like he wished to remain in the circle of Hob’s arms for the foreseeable future, which Hob wouldn’t have had a problem with, not at all—this, somehow, became a regular thing.

Dream continued to appear once each month. The day and the week varied, but it was always once a month. Hob didn’t know when to expect him, but that certainly wasn’t a problem—Dream didn’t turn up when he was teaching, and every other second he had to his name was his to take up. He could take up all of Hob’s time, and Hob thought he wouldn’t even care. Not if it was Dream.

And, with each month, Dream would touch him. Hug him. Tentatively, at first, like the motions were unfamiliar. Like gentle brushes of skin against skin and little nudges, touches so casual that they were easily a part of Hob’s every day life, were strange to him. Like he didn’t know what to do with it, with touches that were made for the sake of contact.

Even after a couple more months, the touches were still hesitant. Always, always, there was something holding Dream back, some of that old reserve returning and keeping him from taking what he wanted.

Hob didn’t push.

He wanted to. God, he did. He wanted to lay everything he had—time, the ability to provide contact, conversation and space and every amount of money he had to his name—at Dream’s feet and announce, Yours, it’s yours if you want it. If you want to take it, you can. It’s yours.

That—that would be too much. He refrained. He kept the questions at bay—refused to say the words Is this enough? and Do you want more? and You know I’ll gladly give you everything you ask, you know?—and he continued to tell stories in an attempt to make Dream smile faintly, to perhaps make things…easier to deal with. And, gradually, the hesitance bled away into something a little more like confidence, and Hob was glad for it.

After all of that, Hob somehow found himself sat on his couch a year later, with Dream’s head in his lap as the two of them watched a movie. Lord of the Rings, naturally—Sorry, you haven’t seen it? Hob had said last month, and despite Dream’s protests that usually took the shape of I am the Prince of Stories, I do not need to watch it to know the story, he decided they’d watch it together the next time Dream appeared.

He tried not to think too hard on the way Dream appeared so comfortable. He took up the rest of Hob’s sofa, boots and coats abandoned, loose-limbed as though this was where he belonged. There was no tension in his body, at least that Hob could see, and a part of him ached at that knowledge. He did that. He made his friend comfortable, gave him a safe space to take up room. He was the one who Dream let himself relax with, and wasn’t that a fucking thing? A glorious, wonderful thing. Tangible and real proof of their friendship.

Hob…Hob didn’t know how they got to this point, not really. He didn’t know how he managed to bridge the distance that always felt so terribly large so easily, to the point where Dream felt comfortable enough to use his thigh as a pillow. He didn’t know when the idea of threading his fingers through the strands of his friend’s raven hair became a temptation he had to resist, but he wouldn’t change it for the world.

At some point, Dream ended up sitting up. Hob missed him immediately, the absence of his weight on Hob’s thigh almost a physical pain.

A frown tugged at Dream’s lips slightly, and his eyes narrowed. “You are…thinking. Loudly.”

Hob, who still wasn’t sure Dream couldn’t read his mind—he didn’t ask questions, for all he really wanted was a name—blinked at him and offered a small smile. “Sorry,” he said with a shrug. “It is just. Strange. To see you like this. After we spent so long meeting only once a century.”

This, naturally, had the undesired affect of making Dream tense. All of that loose-limbed ease disappeared as though it was never there in the first place, only for his lips to purse and for Dream to look away from him. “I. Apologise,” he said slowly, carefully, as though he’s committed some terrible offence. “I did not mean to make you. Uncomfortable, in any way, or to take more than you were willing to give.”

He almost laughed at that, but managed to hold it back. His heart was a thing of yearning and daydreams of finding out of Dream would kiss him softly or with fire, if Dream’s fingertips would caress his skin gently or a little rougher, if Dream’s voice would sound just as lovely and velvet-soft uttering the words I love you as it did anything else. ‘More than you were willing to give’ didn’t exist to him, not for Dream. Never for Dream, who owned his heart entirely.

What he did instead was shake his head. He made to take Dream’s hand but thought better of it, letting his own fall onto the sofa between them. An invitation, if Dream felt like taking it. “Dream,” he said gently, and his friend’s eyes flooded with silver tears he didn’t allow to fall. “What are you apologising for? You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I don’t have a problem with any of this, I promise. The opposite, in fact. I would’ve told you, if I did.”

Dream didn’t look at him again. He said, voice low and carefully even, though that wasn’t enough to disguise the pain underneath it, “I have often been deemed. Too much. When it comes to offering affection.”

Affection, Hob thought, I am worthy of Dream’s affection. “You’re not too much.” He never could be.

This time, his gaze did return to Hob’s, ocean eyes cutting like steel. “I am,” he announced, and the heaviness, the certainty, with which he said it made Hob ache anew. “And I. Apologise. For inflicting my own desires upon you.”

”Oh, Christ, love,” Hob said helplessly. He did take Dream’s hand this time, clinging on for dear life, and was thankful when Dream didn’t pull away. He thought about the way Dream seemed so surprised when Hob hugged him the first time, the way he continued to hesitantly continue with small and casual contact over the last year. He thought about the way he seemed comfortable with such things, the way he seemed to need that first hug so much. Did he have nobody else who would offer him a fucking hug?

Surely he did. Surely Hob was not his only friend. As much of an achievement as that would be, he couldn’t cope with that idea. His friend deserved to love and to be able to love without—without worrying about being too much. “Please,” he said softly, and Dream stared at him with an expression he’d call blank if he wasn’t aware of how much sorrow there was in his gaze, “never apologise for wanting to be loved, Dream. This—hugs, you laying on me, whatever the fuck else you’d want—all of that, you can have. I don’t mind. I offer it freely, because I want to. Because you deserve to have that, okay? You’re not too much for wanting to be touched, especially after everything.”

Dream tensed further, somehow. His brow furrowed, as if this baffled him entirely. Christ, and Hob thought he made himself and his feelings towards Dream obvious. “You. Do not mind,” he repeated slowly, like that was a foreign concept.

Hob had half a mind to find whoever made him decide that wanting something as human as contact and ask them a couple of questions. With his fists. And maybe a knife.

For now, he just shook his head. “Not one bit,” he promised. “You can lay on me any time you like. Understood?”

For a couple more moments, Dream simply continued to stare, before he swallowed audibly. Hob thought he didn’t need to do that. He wondered if that small play at humanity was another product of his capture. “I believe,” he said slowly, voice hardly loud enough to be heard over the movie still playing in the background, “that I might be. Beginning. To understand.”

Hob smiled, relieved. This, he thought, wasn’t the end of it. And it didn’t have to be—he would assure Dream that he was never too much time and time again, if he had to. “Good. Good. I’m glad, love.”

And after another momentum’s hesitation, Dream wound his arms around Hob’s shoulders. His movements were stiff, almost awkward, but Hob hardly cared.

Perhaps he’d have to bring it up later. He’d like to. He’d like to bring this up again, to show Dream that Hob could be just as much when it came to his own affections, that he had been exercising every amount of self control he had over this last year. He’d like to show Dream that, for Hob, he—he was it. His closest, oldest friend. His longest love. Dream could take as much as he wanted, and Hob still wouldn’t care. It was all for him anyway.

For now, Dream pressed himself against Hob’s side and sighed softly. He didn’t unwind his arms from around Hob’s neck.

For now, that was enough.

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Edit: find a part two here :)