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pucksandpower · 20 hours

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Prince of Monaco

Charles Leclerc x Princess of Monaco

Summary: what better way for the honorary Prince of Monaco to celebrate finally winning his home race than with the Princess of Monaco?

Warnings: 18+ content

The roar of the crowd is deafening as Charles brings his Ferrari across the finish line, finally winning his home race after years of heartbreak. His mechanics swarm the barriers, nearly delirious with excitement, but Charles just leans back in his seat, letting the accomplishment sink in.

He’s done it. He’s conquered the streets that have taunted him for so long.

As he’s ushered up to the iconic podium, Charles looks out at the sea of fans cheering his name and spots you, radiant in a summery yellow dress, beaming up at him.

For a moment, time seems to stop as your eyes meet. You give him a little wave and he nearly stumbles on his way to the top step, feeling lightheaded.

When you step forward with the winner’s trophy, Charles’ heart starts pounding. Your fingers brush against his ever so slightly as you hand it over and he swears he can feel an electric current pass between you. The sleek lines of the trophy blur before his eyes as he struggles to catch his breath.

“Félicitations, Charles,” you say warmly, resting a hand on his arm.

Charles blinks rapidly as his cheeks start to burn. Up close, you look like an honest-to-god angel descended to earth. How does one even speak to heavenly beings?

“Th-thanks,” he stammers out, mentally kicking himself for sounding like such an idiot. He needs to get it together. “I mean, merci, Your Serene Highness.”

You laugh, the warm sound instantly putting him at ease. “Please, just call me Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeats dumbly. It’s easily the most beautiful combination of letters he’s ever heard.

“You should celebrate your big win tonight,” you say, a playful glint in your eyes. “But maybe don’t get too carried away with the champagne.”

Charles frowns in confusion. Is that a royal decree to take it easy on the partying?

“I was hoping you could pick me up tomorrow evening,” you continue blithely. “For our date.”

Our … date? Charles’ eyes go wide as his jaw drops open. Is the most beautiful woman in the world really asking him out right now? In front of millions of people?

“Uh, I … we … huh?” He sputters inelegantly.

You just smile that radiant smile and lean in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “We do now,” you murmur against his skin, sending tingles down his spine. “I’ll see you at eight?”

Before Charles can formulate any kind of response, you give him one last brilliant grin and turn to congratulate Oscar Piastri on second place. He blinks down at the trophy in his hands, wondering if he’s dreaming all of this.

The rest of the podium celebration passes by in a blur. He holds up his trophy and waves to the crowd like he’s supposed to, but his mind is elsewhere, utterly consumed by the feeling of your lips on his skin and the knowledge that he has an actual date with the woman of his dreams.

As soon as the ceremonies conclude, his team is all over him, shouting congratulations and patting his back enthusiastically. Normally he’d be caught up in the revelry, basking in his victory, but now all Charles wants is to get out of there. He needs to chug about a gallon of water and take a very cold shower.

“Party tonight, eh mate?” Carlos calls out with a playful elbow to the ribs. “Got any special plans to celebrate?”

Charles feels the blush creeping back up his cheeks as he thinks about you — your warm laughter, your gentle touch, the promises of a date in your sparkling eyes. His lips tug up in a helpless smile.

“You could say that,” he murmurs, already counting down the hours until he gets to see you again.

The post-race celebrations kick into high gear, with champagne flowing freely and music thumping from every corner. Charles goes through the motions, reveling in his hard-won triumph but unable to fully let loose and enjoy himself. Not when a much bigger prize is waiting for him tomorrow night.

The hours drag by interminably as he waits for an acceptable time to make his excuses and leave the party behind. His friends rib him relentlessly for his uncharacteristic restraint.

“What’s got you so distracted, Calamar?” Pierre teases. “This isn’t like you at all!”

“Yeah, our boy’s got his eyes on something else tonight! Or would it be more accurate to say someone else?” Joris chimes in with an exaggerated wink.

Charles flushes but doesn’t deny it, fighting back a smile. If only they knew ...

It’s nearly 2 am by the time he extricates himself from the club, pleading an early morning commitment. No one believes his excuse for a second, but they let him go with plenty of cheers and well-meaning shoves.

As soon as Charles makes it back to his apartment, he starts feverishly getting ready for tomorrow, picking out the perfect outfit and incessantly checking the time. After tossing and turning fruitlessly for a couple of hours, he finally gives up on sleep, instead spending his morning going for a long run to burn off excess energy.

The day drags on at an excruciatingly slow pace. Every minute feels like an hour as he wills the clocks to move faster. He triple checks the address, runs through conversation starters in his head, and showers for the third time. This date has to go perfectly.

At 7:55 pm, Charles pulls up outside the royal palace, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as he tries to control his nerves. He takes one last steadying breath before getting out of the car and smoothing down his shirt.

Like an angel from on high, you suddenly appear in the palace doorway, looking impossibly radiant in a gauzy pink sundress that matches your warm smile perfectly.

“Y/N,” Charles breathes out reverently, drinking in your beauty. Up close, his heart is pounding so loudly he’s sure you must be able to hear it. “You look … wow.”

Your smile grows even brighter as you move towards him. “Well, you clean up pretty nicely yourself.”

There’s a brief, charged silence as you stand face to face, just drinking each other in. Then, seeming to make up your mind about something, you grab his hand and tug him close.

“Come on,” you murmur, eyes sparkling mischievously. “I’ve got the perfect date night planned for us.”

With your hand in his, Charles would follow you straight into the depths of hell itself. He manages an eager nod, unable to tear his eyes away from your face.

Whatever you have planned, he knows it will be perfect. So long as he gets to spend the evening by your side, he couldn’t care less what you do.

You lace your fingers through his, shooting him one last brilliant smile, and lead the way to what is undoubtedly going to be the best night of Charles’s life.

***

Warm rays of morning sunlight filter through the sheer curtains, gently rousing Charles from the most blissful sleep of his life. He blinks slowly, taking in the lavish bedchamber with its soaring ceilings and intricate moldings. Plush rugs cover the marble floors and the bed he’s cocooned in is easily the most luxurious he’s ever experienced, with soft Egyptian cotton sheets caressing his skin.

For a delirious moment, Charles thinks he might still be dreaming. But then his eyes drift to you, sleeping peacefully beside him, and his heart stutters in his chest. It all comes rushing back in a torrent of sense memories — your radiant smile, your tinkling laugh, the feeling of your hand in his as you led him out on the most magical night of his life.

The two of you stroll hand-in-hand through the winding alleyways of Monaco, ducking down tiny side streets to places only locals know. Charles is enchanted as you show him hidden corners of your city that he’s never seen before, sharing fascinating stories and anecdotes all the while.

“This little trattoria has been run by the same family for nearly a century,” you explain as you lead him into a tiny, unassuming restaurant positively dripping with old world charm. The smiling owner greets you like a beloved daughter, embracing you warmly.

Over a seemingly endless parade of rustic Italian delicacies and a hearty red wine, you and Charles talk for hours about everything and nothing - childhoods and ambitions, favorite books and movies, embarrassing stories that have you both crying with laughter.

When the owner sends over a giant slice of homemade tiramisu with a wink, you steal the first bite right off Charles’ fork with a cheeky grin. A bit of mascarpone clings to the corner of your mouth and without thinking, Charles leans in to kiss it away, savoring the sweet taste of you mingled with the rich dessert.

You make a soft noise of surprise against his lips before melting into the kiss, cupping his face tenderly. When you finally part, both a little breathless, there’s a new burning heat in your eyes that makes Charles’ heart skip a beat.

“Shall we go for a walk?” You murmur, already sliding out of the booth. Your hand finds his and you lace your fingers together as you lead him back out into the night ...

Just thinking about last night’s date makes Charles’ heart feel fit to burst. You had taken him on a romantic tour of Monaco unlike anything he’s ever experienced, showing him secret nooks and hidden gems even he didn’t know. He had been so entranced just drinking in the city through your eyes, hanging on your every word.

But those heated looks you started sending his way after that first electrifying kiss had made it clear the real night was only just beginning ...

You stroll along the moon-dappled harbor, pointing out your favorite super-yachts and regaling Charles with scandalous stories of the jetset lives of their owners. He laughs delightedly at your wicked sense of humor, tucking you against his side as you wander the lamp-lit cobblestone streets.

When you lead him up a winding path to an old stone overlook, his breath catches in his throat. Twinkling lights from the city and harbor spread out as far as the eye can see, the tiny pinpricks glittering like a million stars. You come up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist as you nuzzle against his back.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You murmur reverently. “This is my favorite view in all of Monaco.”

Charles turns in your embrace until you’re pressed flush together, hardly daring to breathe. “It is,” he rasps out, getting lost in the depths of your eyes. “But not as beautiful as you.”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes flicking down to his lips for a heated moment, before surging up on your tiptoes to capture his mouth in a searing kiss ...

Unbidden, a low groan slips from Charles’ throat as he remembers those heated kisses on the overlook, one thing inexorably leading to another in a heady rush of lust and longing until you were both feverishly tugging at clothes. He swallows hard, feeling himself start to stir beneath the sheets.

That was just the start of the longest, most incredible night of Charles’ life. Your romantic tour had eventually led you both back to the palace, where you scattered a trail of discarded garments across marble floors and lavish furnishings in your wake, completely consumed by your desire for one another.

You press Charles back against the door of your bedroom as soon as you stagger inside, hands roaming hungrily as you devour his mouth in a bruising kiss. Charles groans deeply, fingers tangling in your hair as he spins you both around to walk you back towards the bed ...

A warm weight suddenly drapes itself across Charles’ torso, jolting him from his reverie with a sharp intake of breath. You’re curled against his side, smiling at him with eyes still heavy-lidded from sleep. His heart kicks up a furious gallop as you scoot closer, trailing a path of featherlight kisses along his chest and shoulder.

“Good morning,” you murmur, voice still scratchy and deliciously rumpled sounding. Charles nearly swallows his tongue at the sound — not to mention the fact that he can now feel every luscious curve of your body pressed against his beneath the sheets.

“Morning,” he croaks out, throat gone instantly dry. How is it possible that you look even more beautiful than he remembers?

You laugh softly at his dazed expression as you work your way up the column of his neck, seemingly intent on covering every last inch of bare skin with those incredibly soft lips. “Sleep well?”

Charles manages a strangled noise of agreement just before you capture his mouth in a slow, smoldering kiss. He groans against your lips, looping an arm around your waist to pull you more fully on top of him. Every nerve-ending feels like it’s engulfed in flames.

When you finally break apart, you brace yourself up on your elbows, gazing down at him with bright, sparkling eyes. “Last night was incredible,” you say candidly, tracing the line of his cheekbone with a fingertip. “Thank you for such an amazing first date.”

A low rumble of laughter escapes Charles as he grins up at you, dizzy with happiness. “I should be thanking you. Last night was … just, wow.” He reaches up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear, marveling at how impossibly soft your skin is. “Have I mentioned yet how breathtakingly gorgeous you are?”

Your cheeks flush prettily even as you let out an adorably bashful little giggle that has Charles bewitched. “Charles Leclerc, you beautiful charmer,” you tease, dropping your head to nuzzle against the crook of his neck. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Mmm, I have a few ideas ...” Charles murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. He trails his fingertips up the delicate lines of your spine, reveling in the way it makes you shiver against him.

You lift your head again, pinning him with a look of pure want that steals the breath from Charles’ lungs. “Is that so?” You purr, rolling your hips ever so slightly against his in a way that has him biting back a groan.

“Oui,” he husks out, slipping a hand into your tousled hair to draw your mouth back to his. You melt against him instantly, the kiss rapidly becoming heated and desperate as you both come quickly undone.

With you pressed so tantalizingly close, Charles can feel the heat slowly building between you as he maps every inch of your body with eager hands. Your skin is so silky soft, he can scarcely believe you’re real. Last night’s passion comes roaring back in a tidal wave of desire so potent it nearly overwhelms him.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, clinging to him like a lifeline as you finally join your bodies in a fevered rush. Charles surges up to capture your lips again, unable to get enough of your addictive taste as you move together in perfect synchronicity. Slick skin sliding, breaths mingling, every sensation is heightened and electrified as you make love with an abandon unlike anything Charles has ever experienced ...

A strangled groan tears from Charles’ chest at the memory, his grip reflexively tightening on your hips and pulling you harder against him.

You let out a soft whimper against his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair as you grind deliciously against him in response. Charles feels utterly intoxicated by you — your taste, your scent, the exquisite softness of your skin pressed so enticingly to his.

With one fluid motion, he rolls you both until he’s caging you beneath him on the luxurious sheets. You gaze up at him with eyes gone molten and dark, chests heaving in tandem. The ferocious want simmering between you is nearly tangible.

“You’re so beautiful,” Charles rasps out in reverence, brushing the backs of his fingers along the elegant curve of your jaw. He leans down to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, feeling your rapid pulse fluttering beneath his lips. “Perfect ...”

A soft keen escapes you as you tilt your head back to allow him better access. Every nerve in Charles’ body feels electrified, like his skin is humming with unreleased energy. He’s drunk on you, body and soul.

As his lips blaze a path lower, nuzzling between the delicious swell of your breasts, your back arches sharply up off the bed with a gasp of longing. Your fingers clutch almost painfully at his shoulders as you struggle to pull him even closer.

“Charles … please,” you whimper, voice pitched low and heady with naked yearning.

He slides a hand up your silken thigh in answer, molding his palm to the flare of your hip as you shift restlessly beneath him. You’re warm and pliant and bewitching like this, coming slowly undone under his attentions.

With a ragged groan, Charles surrenders to the inescapable gravitational pull between you, fusing your mouths back together in a searing kiss that instantly turns all-consuming ...

Your nails score lines of delicious fire down his back as he drives into you with deep, powerful strokes, hips snapping together in a primal rhythm. It’s all heat and friction and tangled limbs, the world narrowing down to nothing but the places where your bodies join so intimately.

You keen out his name like a prayer, the sound sending hot shockwaves of lust ricocheting through Charles’s core. Every nerve feels simultaneously set alight and yet thrumming with a paradoxical electric chill, sensations somehow magnified tenfold.

He’ll never get enough of this feeling — of being completely consumed by you, your passion, your overwhelming desire for each other burning so bright that everything else fades away into glorious insignificance ...

A guttural groan is torn from deep in Charles’ throat as your hips roll sensuously against his in wanton invitation. His head drops into the tempting curve of your neck, lips tracing maddeningly along your overheated skin as he struggles to maintain the barest thread of control.

“Y/N,” he rumbles out, your name laced with pure, undisguised reverence. “Mon ange ...”

You cup his face in your hands, forcing his heated gaze back to yours. For a crystalline moment, everything hangs in breathless suspension before you surge up to claim his mouth in a searing, all-consuming kiss.

Like a switch being flipped, the tenuous grip Charles had on his restraint abruptly snaps. A low groan tears from his very soul as he lets the irresistible tide finally pull him under, lost in the relentless thrall of your passion.

Your urgent cries spike higher as Charles’ hips drive forward in a smooth, powerful glide, joining your bodies with exquisite friction. You clutch at him wildly, nails raking lines of delicious fire across his back as the room narrows to nothing but scorching skin and thunderous heartbeats.

At last, the spiraling tension reaches a blinding crescendo, your release crashing over you in shattering waves of pure ecstasy. Charles’ own climax follows swiftly, torn from his very depths with a hoarse shout of your name.

He collapses bonelessly on top of you, lungs heaving like he’s just run a marathon as you both simply cling to each other through the sizzling aftershocks. Sparks still seem to crackle across his nerve endings from your earth-shattering joining.

After an endless stretch of languid moments, Charles finally gathers enough strength to ease himself to the side, gathering you in against his chest. You come willingly, draping yourself over him as he nuzzles into the top of your head and just breathes you in.

“Wow ...” you murmur at last when you’ve recovered enough to speak. A breathless giggle escapes as you press a soft kiss to the hollow of his throat. “And I thought last night was incredible.”

Charles rumbles out a deep chuckle, pressing his smile against your hair as his arms tighten reflexively around you. “Last night was just the warm up, mon cœur,” he husks out, voice still gloriously ragged from your shared passion.

You pull back just enough to gaze at him through heavy-lidded eyes, cheeks delightfully flushed and hair wildly tousled in a way that has Charles’ heart clenching near to bursting. Brushing a knuckle along his jaw, you give him a look rich with teasing promise.

“Well then ... if this is what I give you for winning Monaco,” you trail off meaningfully, letting the words hang suspended as your fingertips trail down the ridges of his abdomen. “I can’t even imagine what you’ll earn when you win the World Championship.”

The low, sultry purr of your tone sends delicious little licks of heat swirling through Charles’ veins despite his delightfully sated state. A wicked grin tugs at his lips as pulls you more fully on top of him again, glorying in your lush curves molded so perfectly against his own.

“Is that a challenge, Princesse?” He rumbles out, dipping his head to nibble along the elegant column of your throat. You let out the most deliciously breathy giggle that has his blood absolutely simmering.

“Mmm, maybe,” you hum out coyly, deft fingers trailing through the short hair at his nape in a way that makes his toes curl. “Although I suppose you’ll just have to win it and find out for yourself ...”

Charles feels a possessive growl rising up from deep within his chest as he abruptly flips you both, pinning your breathless laughter beneath him on the luxurious sheets. Gazing down at you with unbridled adoration blazing in his eyes, he steals another scorching kiss that leaves you both gasping for air.

“Oh, I fully intend to,” he vows fervently, reveling in the way your eyes have gone molten and dark with renewed desire. His hands map every inch of your body with fervent devotion as he leans down to murmur hotly against the shell of your ear.

“And when I do, Princesse … I’m never letting you go.”

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 day

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not so different

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt ‘graduation’

rated t | 994 words | cw: mention of past character death, mention of alcohol, language | tags: childhood friends, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, good uncle Wayne Munson

🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦

Steve Harrington didn’t cry, not even when he fell off the slide at the playground and his knee bled for 15 minutes and his nanny had to call his mom.

But this was a special instance where he was allowed to be sad. His nanny even said so. He watched all the kids in his kindergarten class taking pictures with their moms and dads, uncles and aunts, grandpas and grandmas, and wondered why he didn’t have anyone here for him.

He found an empty classroom in the big kid hall as soon as the ceremony was done, sat behind the teacher’s desk, and cried into his knees.

“Did your daddy not show up either?” A voice asked from in front of him.

He lifted his head, vision blurry and face wet, to see Eddie.

Eddie had already done kindergarten once, but he had trouble with his phonics, so they kept him behind. He was the first kid to talk to Steve in class, but within a few days, Tommy and Carol and Heather had scared him away from Steve entirely.

“Um, no.”

“What about your mama?”

“She’s with my dad.”

“My mama is with God. Or that’s what a lot of people say. I dunno if she was friends with him or not, though. I think she just got buried in the ground and people are scared to tell me,” Eddie was sitting next to Steve now, his leg knocking against Steve’s.

Eddie didn’t sit still very well, and the teacher always said he had ants in his pants. Steve hoped he didn’t have them in there now; he didn’t want any ants on him.

“Where’s your dad?”

“He’s probably getting ‘rested again. He showed up being silly and my Uncle Wayne had to take him outside,” Eddie shrugged.

“Is he tired?” Steve asked, sniffling and leaning more against Eddie.

“No. Uncle Wayne says sometimes he has too much of the drinks in the bottles I’m not allowed to touch and it makes him act like he don’t got a brain,” Eddie didn’t sound that sad, but Steve still wanted to hug him. “So your daddy isn’t here?”

“No. I think he forgot.”

“Sorry he forgot. My Uncle Wayne never forgets. He even came to the lunch room for my birthday. He brought me a piece of pizza!” Eddie always sounded more excited than anyone else. Most of the kids in the class thought it was stupid, but Steve kind of liked the way his eyes got wide and his smile got so big it took up most of his face. “Maybe he can bring you a piece for your birthday next year.”

“He doesn’t even know me.”

“You can come meet him!”

The classroom door opened just as Eddie started to stand and reach for Steve’s hands to pull him up.

“There ya are, Ed! Been lookin’ everywhere. You want some ice cream?” An older man stood by the door, button up plaid shirt only half-tucked into his jeans.

“Can we bring Steve? He’s my friend.”

Steve’s head turned, shocked that Eddie would say that.

“We gotta ask his parents first, Ed.”

“His parents didn’t come.”

“Oh.” The man looked Steve up and down before seemingly settling on something. He gave a small smile and gestured for him to come closer. “What’s your favorite flavor, then?”

“I dunno. Never had anything except vanilla,” Steve admitted, afraid to look at the man who had to be Eddie’s Uncle Wayne.

“Well, that just won’t do, will it? Let’s go try every flavor at the diner. Benny just added a few new ones. Think there’s even a bubblegum one.”

Eddie clapped his hands and dragged Steve out the door by his arm.

“I bet you’ll like mint chip,” he said as Wayne followed behind them, fond smile on his face.

🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦

Steve Harrington had only cried a few times in his life, but this was the second time it was happening in front of Eddie.

Eddie wasn’t conscious this time, though.

“If you wake up, I’ll take you to the diner and we can have ice cream. They’ve got a new raspberry white chocolate flavor that you’d like. I could use some mint chip right now,” Steve said around the tears.

Wayne had left the hospital an hour ago to freshen up and grab one of his crossword puzzle books. Steve had been crying for most of that hour, holding Eddie’s hand and quietly begging him to wake up.

Two days without hearing his voice or watching his smile light up the room was too long, especially after having it for the last 13 years.

“How’re you gonna walk at graduation if you’re still asleep here, huh?” Steve closed his eyes and wiped at his cheeks.

“You can walk with me.”

Steve’s head shot up at Eddie’s quiet, but surprisingly strong voice.

“Eddie!”

“Hey, Stevie. Heard you’re takin’ me for ice cream,” Eddie’s smile was crooked, the bandage on his cheek covering one of his dimples.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for Eddie being awake, being alive, being okay.

“Yeah, Eds. Every day if you want,” Steve wanted to crawl into the bed with him, hold him close and feel him breathing and listen to his heartbeat, be sure he was there.

“Gonna hold you to that.”

“Soon as you can leave, that’ll be our first stop. Promise.”

Eddie closed his eyes, but the smile remained on his face. “You slept?”

“A bit.”

“So no.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “A bit.”

“C’mere.”

“Honey, you’re hurt-“

“Come here.”

Steve got in bed slowly, making sure he kept space between himself and Eddie’s injuries.

“Think I’ll graduate?”

Steve snorted. “They’d be stupid to hold you back after you saved everyone.”

“Yeah. ‘M a hero. Fuck Hawkins High.”

Steve could feel more tears trickle down his cheeks, but these were different.

These were relieved tears, happy tears.

“Yeah, honey. Fuck them.”

“Love you, though.”

“Love you so much.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #graduation #childhood friends #friends to lovers #wayne munson #hurt/comfort

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moonsaver · 2 days

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thinking about yan!sunday trying to improve things with his darling who almost completely shut off from him after being "taken away". trying to get them to communicate with him again, to lower their walls a little; even when they refuse to say a word while he's around, when they avoid meeting his gaze, when they recoil from his touch. in his mind, if he just makes enough of an "effort", his darling will come around and their dynamic can go back to the way it was before… but unfortunately, that "effort" will never extend as far as him giving them their freedom - the one thing they want and need more than anything

Honestly yes. Ive only briefly touched on this subject in a few of my works like the bathing with sunday one, but thats it. Im ashamed i never write the more affectionate parts of him as a yandere because i love those parts the most about yanderes.

Sunday is still such a deeply caring man. He hates having your freedom taken away, but it's safer. Your golden cage is a cage but he makes sure you don't even see the bars. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear when you wake up beside him. His hands are almost revering when he bathes you, touching your skin like it's precious golden thread in a weaver's skilled hands, feather light kisses trace your nape. He combs out your wet hair so lovingly, gently taking apart knots and drying it with a thick towel, asking you if you like the new shampoo. He tries so hard to make it more of a normal relationship than what it really is, because in the end he truly does love you so much.

And when you flinch, when you recoil, when you spit retorts back at him – he's not angry, or disappointed. He's hurt. His wings lower when you yell at him, he doesn't know what to do with his hands – you've denied them the sacrilege of your skin. What good are they now? And he's so heartbroken in a sense. You don't look at him, you stop talking to him, and he swears he'll go insane. The tremor in his voice is inaudible to you, but he's restraining himself from buckling down to his knees at your feet and begging you to let him love you and be loved. He doesn't want to force this. He wants normalcy. But it's extremely hypocritical of him to want that. He knows it.

He won't let you go, not after everything he's done to have you right where he wants you. And you know that. You know despite how hard he makes it for you to hate him, he won't ever truly love you unless he sets you free. He's afraid this dilemma is often one that parts relationships of all kind. That Charmony dove was beautiful. And so are you.

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livelaughlovesubs · 2 days

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My pretty doll

Dom!reader x sub!scara - reader is gender neutral

Warning: feminisation, lingerie, clothes sex, pegging (can be read as a dick), unprotected sex, belly bulge, dacryphilia

Dunno if you read this already, it’s from my old blog: so just a repost (was the only thing I had haha)

Scara was and had always been a brat, never listening to your commands unless he’s in sub-space. Though that was fine by you, because in the end, you both knew it will play out exactly how you want. No matter how much he tries to deny it, he was just your adorable doll after all. Which is why after convincing him, he eventually put on the set of white undergarments you bought him. The fabric was thin and almost transparent, since it was lace you could almost see everything. It felt itchy against his skin, he wasn’t used to these kinds of clothes. The bra was a bit big, or maybe he was too flat. One of the straps was hanging down his shoulder, so he crossed his arms in front of his chest. He also had a cute and small bulge in his panties, thighs clenched together after he noticed you staring.

“Of course you’d like this you pervert.” He mocked, turning around and showing you his shoulder, a pretty pathetic try to cover himself a little. First you made him wear such lewd stuff, and now all you are doing is stare? Not to mention how the loose strap was annoying him, it didn’t want to stay where he wanted it to. Even though he was still insulting you, his face was a flushed red now. Blushing furiously while averting his gaze. He was all bark after all, he could never say those things while looking at you, otherwise he’d fold immediately. “Yet it seems like someone enjoys this even more than me.” You teased while gazing up at him, until you waved him over to you.

The puppet hesitated a little, thinking about the best course of action before walking up to you. “What?” A firm and annoyed tone, a big show just to hide his excitement and nervousness. “Just wanted to have a better look at you, turn around.” “Who are you to tell me what to do?” You giggled, he was trying too hard to seem in control, but that is basically impossible when his face already looks like a mess, it was hilarious. “Come on, scara, do a little twirl for me.” He pouted, crossing his arms and looking away in defiance. Then turning around slowly, he always ends up doing what you want, so why keep making it difficult? Was it due to his pride?

When his back was facing you, you reached your hands out to grab his small waist. “Ugh?!” His body twitched, and he stopped in his track, looking over his shoulder to ask you, “What are yo-” “shhh, don’t make a fuss now.” Before he knew it, you pulled him closer to you, to the point his back was pressed against your body. Then you grind against his butt as you whispered into his ear, “can I stick it in?”

Such an indecent question! How could you- ugh, you really are the worst! “Do what you want, I don’t care.” Scaramouch said, hands grabbing your gently while he felt something rubbing against the downside of his crotch, basically making him grind on it. His breathing hitched, were you planning on..? No, no way, you two haven’t done it for so long, there is no way he could take you whole… right?

“Scara, you look adorable today, but I still think you look the cutest when getting fucked.” Ahh…what were you implying? Did you really want to..? Your fingers moved his panties to the side, not removing them, just out of the way. Enough that you could see his puffy pink hole. The other hand was already reaching for the bottle of lube. Poor boy couldn't even protest before you started preparing him roughly, sticking two fingers inside him. “MmhAa~!”He gasped at the feeling, body jerking forwards. “Oh dear, did I surprise you there?” You were definitely mocking him. He gritted his teeth, wanting to insult you. If only you didn't start pushing the tip against his entrance at that moment.

“UgHh! Ah-ahh.” His legs shook and went weak underneath him, if you weren't holding him, he would have crashed down in that moment. You were very gentle during the injecting though, taking your precious time bottoming out inside him. “Finally you learned how to shut up.” “ughh. fu-fuck you-!” Tsk, still running his foul little mouth however he wants. After many difficulties, you after managed to fit the whole length in, at this point he had his tongue hanging out and eyes rolled to the back to his skull. Like always, he was already getting addicted to this, such a dirty slut he was. “you seem to enjoy this quite a bit, scara.” You teased, and his rim clenched down on you at that. “S-Stop it, UhmM..” “Are you sure about that? You don't want me to continue?” He went quiet after that one, he didn’t know what to say. Of course he wants to keep going at it, but his pride would never allow him to give up this quickly.

You started moving because he didn't give you an answer, though only gently grinding your hips against him. “So? I have yet to hear your answer.” All it took was a few small moves for him to succumb to pleasure, “UgHhnN!! Da-damn it.. I to-old you do what you want.” At first you were still on the nicer side, after finally getting the consent you needed, you switched up to pounding him like an animal. He cried out after the first trust, gripping your hands even more tightly, until his nails dug into your skin. “AaGghhnn, oOhh! Mhm, oh-gahh!” In the matter of seconds, your lovely doll was reduced to a moaning mess. Your dick just felt so good inside him, hitting so many deep and pleasurable spots. All he felt was bliss and ecstasy.

Your chin was placed on his shoulder, looking over at his body. You couldn't help but smirk when you saw the small belly bulge on the tiny boy, commenting on it with a low voice, “do you see that right here?” Then you rubbed the bulge with your palm, he whined at that, “uhmMNN!” “Does this feel good? Having me so deep inside you?” He couldn’t even respond properly now, only squirming around in your embrace. “This belly bulge is so cute~” He heard you say. A belly bulge..? The thought of it was kind of scary, though he swore you were truly that deep inside him. Suddenly you went faster, making his muscles tense up. You just loved how erotic his body was, and how enticing it was to watch the bulge appear and disappear, this was truly your greatest joy. “GAAhh! AhhhH- cu-cumming! Mhm-ngh, i-i..!” He was on the verge of breaking now, everything was too much, the bra was hanging on his arms and about to fall off completely.

“Aww, does my baby want to cum? Then beg and tell me what a pretty doll you are for me.” Even now you were some mean to him, teasing him like this. Can't you tell how desperate he is? “GuhHh… please let me cu-cum.. hmm, please..I-I'm your aAhh.. pretty plaything!!” Right, him obeying your commands after being so rebellious just feels so good. And with that, he came while still wearing the lace underwear, soaking the panties with his semen. A slightly darker spot was visible from his bulge, then a white fluid was seeping out from beneath it. His thighs quivered while he gasped for air, his cum dripped all the way down his milky inner thighs too. Sweat was mixing with big, fat tears, cheeks redder than ever as he pulled a super adorable expression.

“My my, we forgot to take it off. Now you've defiled the lingerie set, what to do~?” You cooed at him in a faked sad manner, as if you were pitying him. A big grin spread on your lips afterwards, he knew you were planning something again. Well, you weren’t exactly hiding it after all. All he could hope for was that he won't end up too tired at the end of this session.

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yzzyhee · 13 hours

Text

HEARTBREAK GIRL - sjy

PAIRING: bff!sim jaeyun x yn

WARNING: pet name (angel, baby) lmk if i missed anything, slight angst..? a lot of feelings involved, kinda mean heeseung??

WC: ~5k more or less

SYNOPSIS: jake has always been there for you through thick and thin — he was always there to take away your hurt, as he was your cure, but when were you going to realise?

PLAYLIST: 5sos - heartbreak girl

A.N: hi everyone i just wanted to say quickly that it’s my first written fic, i have no idea what im doing tbf but i just really really liked the idea for a while and decided to give it a shot .. i truly accept any constructive criticism you might have idm this will probably be the first and last time i post something but ! do let me know what you guys think, it would mean a lot !!

ps. this one is dedicated to my wife @ja3yun seriously couldn’t have done it without ur advices so seriously tysm bb!!

I. “YOU CALL ME UP // IT’S LIKE A BROKEN RECORD // SAYING THAT YOUR HEART HURTS”

Jake sighs as his phone buzzes. Picking it up he sees your caller ID and for a split of a second he doesn’t want to pick up the call. As he glances at the phone he lets himself wonder what a different life would be like; if somehow in another life he could stop caring and ignore you.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath — that could never be a possibility. He’s sure that if that another life actually exists, the universe would somehow bring him together with you and all of this would eventually happen.

“Y/N?” he answers, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Jake…” you manag to say even though your friend can barely hear your voice. “He broke up with me.” you said as a sob escaped from you.

Jake feels like his own heart is shattering. Not for your and Heeseung’s relationship that was over for now but mostly for himself. He’d seen you go through this too many times, always falling for the wrong boys and always ending up heartbroken.

“It just hurts so bad, Jake..” you cry, your voice breaking.

As you continued crying and uttering words that made Jake’s heart drop at how you seem to hate yourself now, he feels like he could punch Heeseung if he were to see him now. Even though he has been there for you through many of your previous heartbreaks and also fights with Heeseung he never heard you cry so bad.

“Hey, Y/N.. Listen to me. Take deep breaths, stop crying, angel, please.” Jake says softly and it makes you stop crying over the phone for a bit.

“You’re more than just a pretty face, okay? Don’t listen to him. You’re smart, you’re kind and you’re wicked funny.. And I guarantee there’s a guy out there who will see what I see, okay?”

You take a sharp breath and nodd but quickly mutter a “Yes” as you realize he can’t see you through the phone.

“I just.. Why does this keep happening, Jake? Why are all the guys I end up with always such assholes?”

“It’s not you, angel. You’re really amazing, you know? Sometimes people like him… just don’t realize what they have right in front of them until it’s too late. He will definitely come crawling back to you in no time.” Jake says in a playful tone but his words held some truth — even through your fights Heeseung always came back.

You chuckle and it makes Jake smile. He hates seeing or hearing you cry, especially when it’s about your relationships and how you always deem yourself unworthy of love from anyone when it’s your boyfriends who just can’t appreciate you.

“Thank you, Jake. Thank you for being a friend. It’s so late right now..I’m sorry for bothering you.”

Jake chuckles as well. “You never bother me, angel.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow at 10.”

Then the phone call abruptly comes to an end and Jake sighs for the second time that night. He knows you won’t call, especially if Heeseung puts his ego aside and comes back to you tonight.

He takes the pillow from under his head and places it on top, muffling a scream as his own mind and especially you liked to play him in circles again and again.

II. HE TREATS YOU SO BAD AND I’M SO GOOD TO YOU, IT’S NOT FAIR

“Okay, enough.” Jake says as he looks away from you and Heeseung’s display of affection. “I’m seriously happy you got back together but I am still third-wheeling here…” he lies gritting his teeth.

To you it looks like he is actually happy for you and just annoyed by your public display of love with Heeseung but in reality? No, in reality he simply can’t stand seeing you act so in love with the boy when just three days ago he insulted you, called you mean words and broke it off. Just for him to come back to you, act all sad, say sorry and you forgive him just like that.

You push Heeseung slightly off you and lean closer to Jake to take his hand in yours, giving it a small squeeze. “I’m sorry, Heeseung just really wanted to come to the drive-in movie and I couldn’t say no..”

Heeseung drags you back into him and puts a hand over your shoulder while the other is sneaking between your thighs. You giggle and slap his hand away while muttering that “Jake is right here”. Jake quickly adverts his eyes, finding the movie on the playing suddenly interesting.

“Oh, it’s getting rather chilly…” you say after a few minutes and look longingly at your boyfriend, hoping for him to get the message and give you his jacket.

“I told you to bring a jacket, dummy.” Heeseung says, rolling his eyes but making no move of giving his jacket to his girlfriend. “How about you go get us some drinks, baby? Maybe if you move a bit you can get warm.”

Jake shakes his head at his words and scoffs. He takes off his jacket and puts it on your shoulders. “Here, Y/N.”

You smile gratefully at Jake, your eyes softening. “ Thank you, Jake. You’re the best.”

“Anytime,” Jake replies, his voice gentle. He glances at Heeseung, his expression hardening. “You should take better care of her, man.”

Heeseung shrugged, not even bothering to spare Jake a look. “She’s fine. She can handle herself.”

Jake clenches his jaw, resisting the urge to say something more. He hates how Heeseung keeps treating you, how he takes you for granted and never caring. He treats you so bad and he’s so good to you — it just wasn’t fair.

During the movie that Jake paid no attention to , he couldn’t help but compare himself to Heeseung. What does Heeseung have that he doesn’t? Is it the hair, the stupid leather jacket he always wears, the bambi eyes, the way he carries himself with such confidence or the way he seems to effortlessly attract attention wherever he goes?

Or maybe you just happen to like the way Heeseung makes you feel after all. The excitement of the chase, the push and pull, the high and low that came with every fight and every word in it, making it hurt but also giving you a rush feeling.

But he knows you. In the long run you don’t actually want all of that. As he steals a glance at the two of you, he feels like he could scream out right now that you could be with him now. He could offer you love, stability. He decides to push off that idea out of his mind as fast as it came. You are happy with Heeseung for now and that’s all that matters.

He feels a hand on his shoulder, a gentle touch that brings him back to the present. He looks up to see you, seeing your soft smile but when he looks into your eyes he sees sadness lingering behind them.

“Hey, we’re going to head out… Heeseung needs to meet up with some friends.” you say quietly to Jake, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jake frowns, feeling frustrated. “You can stay, can’t you? You love this movie!” he exclaims, his voice louder than he intends, hoping that Heeseung can hear the disappointment in his voice.

You purse your lips and shake your head. With a low voice you mutter an apology and start to take his jacket off to return it to him but he stops you.

“Keep it.” Jake tells you offering a smile that doesn’t quite reaches his eyes.

You nod, getting up quickly and follow Heeseung to leave the drive-in movie location. You take one look back to wave goodbye at Jake, seeing him standing there, his eyes locked on you.

Jake watches you leave, the weight of unspoken words heavy on his heart. He waves back, his smile fading as soon as you turn away.

He closes his eyes and looks up at the sky, the cool night air brushing against his skin. The stars twinkle above, indifferent to his inner turmoil. He takes a deep breath, the chilly air filling his lungs, and lets it out slowly, his breath visible in the night air.

In the silence of the drive-in, the sound of distant car engines and the murmur of people leaving fill the background, but Jake is lost in his thoughts. He thinks about all the moments he’s shared with you, the laughter, the tears, and the quiet times where just being near you was enough. He thinks about the way Heeseung treats you, and it makes his chest tighten with frustration and longing.

Jake opens his eyes, the stars still sparkling above, offering no answers, no solace. He knows he can’t keep this to himself much longer. The longer he waits, the more he sees you getting hurt, the more it eats away at him. But he can’t do it. He knows you need to know that someone out there loves you deeply but what if it his feelings would ruin everything for good? For now, all he can do is be there for you, as he always has been. He turns away from the screen, walking slowly to his car. As he gets in and starts the engine, he glances back at the empty space where you had been sitting, the memory of your sad smile etched in his mind.

III. SOMETIMES I’M SO CLOSE TO CONFESSION

Jake sits in his room, the soft glow of his desk lamp casting long shadows across the walls. His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, his heart heavy with the weight of unspoken words. For weeks now, he’s been wrestling with the idea of confessing his feelings to you, his best friend and the person he cares about most in the world. But every time he tries to gather the courage to tell you how he feels, his fears and insecurities hold him back, trapping him in a cycle of doubt and self-pity.

“Hey, Jake, are you listening?” your voice takes him out of his thoughts. You get up from the bed and go sit on the desk chair next to him.

“No, sorry.” Jake smile sheepishly. “You were saying?” he attempts to play it off.

You roll your eyes. “I was talking about this new book coming up…” you trail off, talking about the upcoming release of your favourite author.

Jake can’t help but let himself watch you. He thinks about the way you smile, the way your soft giggle fills the room and makes his heart skip a beat and the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you’re passionate about just like now.

And as he listens to you talk, he can’t help but feel a sense of longing wash over him, a longing to tell you how he feels, to lay his heart bare and risk it all for the chance at something more.

“Y/N I-“ Jake suddenly interrupts you but his bravery doesn’t last long.

As the moment passes, the words stick in his throat, suffocating him with their weight. He wants to tell you, he really does, but the fear of rejection holds him back, paralyzing him with its grip.

“Yes? Did you want to say something?” you ask him and look up to him just to see him shake his head and motioning for you to continue talking about the book.

And so he sits there, silent and still, watching you with a mixture of adoration and regret, wishing he could find the courage to take the leap and tell you how he feels.

As you continue to talk, oblivious to the turmoil raging within him, Jake can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to hold you in his arms, to kiss you under the stars, to whisper words of love into your ear. But for now, all he can do is watch and wait, hoping that one day, he’ll find the strength to confess his feelings and take a chance on love.

“You will come with me, right?” you say to him suddenly. “To the book release? Heeseung doesn’t want to come, he thinks it’s silly..”

Jake's heart skips a beat at your words, his mind racing with a mixture of excitement and nervousness but also anger towards Heeseung — how could he think your passion, your hobby is something silly and telling you that to your face nonetheless? Jake keeps those thoughts of your boyfriend to himself. However the thought of spending time alone with you again, of being by your side as you indulge in something you love and hanging out just like old times, fills him with a sense of warmth and anticipation.

“Of course, Y/N,” he says, his voice soft.“I’d love to come with you.”

A smile spreads across your face, and Jake feels his heart swell with happiness at the sight. For a moment, everything else fades away, leaving just the two of you, lost in the moment together.

And as you talk excitedly about the upcoming event, Jake can't help but feel a sense of hope stir within him. Maybe this is his chance, his opportunity to finally confess his feelings and take a chance on love. And as he looks into your eyes, he knows that no matter what happens, he'll always be there for you, ready to support you and cherish every moment you share together.

IV. I’M RIGHT HERE, WHEN YOU GONNA REALISE // THAT I’M YOUR CURE?

“Heeseung, what’s gotten into you?” you ask, frustration clear in your tone as you watch him pace around your living room.

Heeseung stops and scoffs. “Are you serious?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Ever since he tagged along to the the drive-in movie hang out between you and Jake and then found out you went with Jake to your book release event he started to act out. He rejects your ideas to go out on a date, he rejects initiating any kind of intimacy to you — even refusing to hold your hand, something he’s never done in your 6 months relationship.

You can’t help but feel confused and hurt by his sudden change in behaviour. He used to be so affectionate even if you had a fight and was always eager to show you off on dates and such but now he seems like a completely different person.

“Seriously, Heeseung. Talk to me, what’s going on?” you press, your voice tinged with worry.

Heeseung looks at you and steps closer. “You’re in love, baby.” he says while putting a strand of your hair behind your ear, smiling softly. “But not with me.”

“What?” you say, your mind racing as you try to process what he just said.

“I think you should give Jake a call.” Heeseung continues, his expression earnest though you can’t help but feel puzzled by his sudden insight. Heeseung chuckles. “C’mon, baby. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? How your eyes always light up when he’s around or how you always talk about him when he’s not and bring him up whenever there’s an opportunity? Or how you always compare what I do with what he does?”

You part your lips slightly, caught off guard by his observations. His words hit you like a bolt of lightning, sparking a flurry of emotions within you.

“But… I…” you stammer, struggling to find the words to express the tumultuous thoughts swirling in your mind.

Heeseung reaches out, gently cupping your face in his hands. “It’s okay, Y/N,” he says softly. “I understand. Hell, I’d fall in love with the guy too if he were to always drop everything and be at my beck and call. How did you not realise everything sooner? I swear, he has been so obvious the past weeks.” he chuckles. “Actually, did you know he had a presentation on the day you went with him to the book release? He talked with his professor to present it earlier so he could come with you.”

Heeseung’s words hit you like a sudden gust of winter wind, cutting through the air with their sharpness and leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. His observations about Jake’s actions leave you reeling, the realization sinking in like a heavy weight on your chest.

“I… I didn’t know,” you whisper, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggle to process the information. “I didn’t realize he was going out of his way for me…”

Heeseung’s hands drop from your face, his expression softening with understanding. “It’s okay, Y/N,” he says gently, his voice a comforting presence in the midst of the storm raging inside you. “Sometimes, it’s hard to see things clearly when you’re too close to them.”

You nod slowly, feeling a sense of guilt wash over you at the thought of all the times you may have overlooked Jake’s gestures of affection. How could you have been so blind to his feelings, so oblivious to the depth of his love for you?

Heeseung leans in closer and kisses your forehead. It’s a tender, lingering kiss, filled with a mixture of sadness and acceptance. He pulls back, looking into your eyes one last time with a strained smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. The weight of the moment hangs heavy between you, and you can feel the finality in his actions. He turns and walks towards the door.

You watch him leave, your heart aching as he steps out of your apartment. The door closes behind him with a soft click, and you stand there, feeling a profound sense of loss. Part of you wants to run after him, to call him back and somehow make everything right. But you know that some things can’t be fixed with a few words.

You move to the window and peer out, hoping to catch a glimpse of Heeseung, hoping he would turn back and give you one last look. But the street below is empty, and the cold night air feels like a reflection of the unresting feeling inside you.

For the first time after a break-up, you don’t call Jake. You take the night to yourself, the silence of your apartment enveloping you like a cold winter's night. Your mind is a whirlwind of confusion and heartache, the echoes of Heeseung's words lingering like a biting chill.

As you sit alone, wrapped in a blanket on the couch, your thoughts turn to Jake. The realisation that he might have deeper feelings for you sends a shiver down your spine. You’ve always seen him as your rock, your dependable best friend, but now, faced with the possibility that his feelings might run deeper, you feel an icy grip of uncertainty and fear tighten around your heart.

You think about all the moments you’ve shared with Jake, the late-night conversations, the inside jokes, the way he’s always been there for you. How could you have been so blind to his feelings? The thought of potentially hurting him, of disrupting the comfortable dynamic you’ve always shared, fills you with a sense of dread. It’s like stepping out into the harsh winter wind, unsure if you’ll be able to find your way back to the warmth and safety you’ve known.

You wrap the blanket tighter around yourself, seeking comfort in its embrace, but your mind continues to spiral. What if you don’t feel the same way? What if your feelings for Jake are merely a reflection of your gratitude and dependence on his unwavering support? The thought of leading him on, of giving him false hope, sends a pang of guilt through you. The guilt eats at you for not noticing sooner, for being so wrapped up in your own relationships and dramas that you missed the quiet, steady love that Jake might have been offering all along. It’s a chilling thought, realizing how much you might have overlooked in your pursuit of fleeting romances with others.

Your heart and mind feel like a frozen landscape, barren and cold, with no clear path forward. You can’t deny the flutter of something more when you think of Jake, but it’s buried under layers of confusion and fear. You’ve been through so much heartache, and the idea of risking your most cherished friendship for a chance at something more feels like walking on thin ice, fragile and treacherous.

The night wears on, and the cold, empty silence of your apartment presses down on you. You long for the warmth of Jake’s presence, his soothing voice and reassuring words, but you know you can’t run to him this time. You need to sort through your feelings, to understand what’s real and what’s born out of loneliness and a desire for comfort.

As the hours pass, you come to a bittersweet realization. You need to protect Jake from potential heartbreak, to shield him from the uncertainty that’s freezing your heart. You care for him too much to risk his happiness on your unresolved feelings. And so, for the first time, you decide to face this winter storm on your own, hoping that in the process, you’ll find clarity and the strength to either embrace or gently let go of what could be.

Tomorrow, you’ll see him, and maybe the warmth of his smile will melt some of the ice around your heart. But tonight, you wrap yourself tighter in your blanket and let the winter winds of your emotions rage on, knowing that some answers can only be found in the stillness of the cold.

You don’t see him tomorrow. Instead, you chose to run from him, from his feelings and your own. The weight of your confusion and fear makes you retreat further into yourself, wrapping the cold, comforting solitude around you like a protective cloak. You bury yourself in college work, books and anything that can keep your mind occupied. Yet, in the quiet moments — those still, silent spaces between the busyness — your thoughts inevitably drift back to Jake.

The look in Jake’s eyes when he’s with you haunts you. It’s a look filled with warmth and unspoken words. A look that now seems so painfully clear in hindsight. It’s as if he’s always been there, offering you a love as constant and reassuring as the summer sun, yet you were too caught up in the fleeting, cold winter winds of other relationships to notice.

Jake’s feelings for you feel like a warm summer day. They’re gentle and persistent, bringing light and comfort into your life without demanding anything in return. His love is the kind that warms you from the inside out, melting away the icy barriers you’ve built around your heart. But now, the fear of stepping into that warmth, of risking the friendship you hold so dear, keeps you trapped in a winter of your own making.

Meanwhile, Jake is left adrift, confused and hurt by your sudden withdrawal. He tries to seek you out, to understand why you’re avoiding him, but every attempt is met with distance. He feels like he’s chasing shadows, reaching out for something that slips further away with each passing day. He even tried to talk with Heeseung, hoping that the man knows something of why you’re acting this way towards him but much like you, Heeseung avoided him.

As the days turn into a week, the winter storm within you begins to show signs of weakening. The relentless busyness that you’ve thrown yourself into can’t keep the feelings at bay forever. In those quiet moments, when you’re alone with your thoughts, you start to feel the warmth of Jake’s love seeping through the cracks in your icy defenses.

You remember the way he looked at you, the gentle, unspoken promises in his eyes. The realization that you’ve been running from something so genuine, so pure, starts to thaw the fear and confusion that have held you captive. The warmth of Jake’s love begins to melt the ice around your heart, and you start to see things more clearly.

You know you can’t avoid him forever. The thought of hurting Jake, of causing him pain with your indecision, is unbearable. You decide that it’s time to face your feelings, to confront the truth that you’ve been so afraid of. You owe it to Jake, and to yourself, to be honest about what’s in your heart.

With a deep breath, you pick up your phone and send him a message, asking to meet. The anticipation of seeing him again fills you with a mix of dread and hope. You know the conversation ahead will be difficult, but it’s the only way to move forward.

As you wait for his response, you feel a sense of clarity. The journey ahead might be uncertain, but you’re ready to step into the light, to embrace the summer warmth that Jake’s love promises. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find that the path you’re most afraid of is the one that leads you to the happiness you’ve been searching for.

“Ofcourse. When and where?”

His response is immediate, no hesitation, no hint of the confusion and hurt you know he must be feeling. The simplicity of his words, the readiness to meet despite everything, brings a small, bittersweet smile to your face. You suggest a quiet café near campus, a place you both know well, and set a time for the next afternoon.

The next day, as you make your way to the café, your mind is a whirlwind of emotions. The warmth of the spring sun on your face feels like a promise, a gentle reassurance that everything might just be okay. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, and step inside.

Jake is already there, sitting at a corner table. The sight of him sends a rush of emotions through you — relief, nervousness and a profound sense of familiarity. He looks up as you approach, and his puppy like smile is like a beacon of warmth cutting through your lingering uncertainty.

“Hey,” he says softly, standing up to greet you.

“Hey,” you reply, your voice a little shaky. You both sit down, and for a moment, there’s an awkward silence. Jake’s eyes search your face, and you can see the questions and concern in them.

“I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you,” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just needed some time to think.”

Jake nods, his expression understanding but guarded. “I’ve been worried about you,” he admits. “I didn’t know what was going on, and I… I missed you.”

His words hit you like a gentle breeze, warm and reassuring, but also filled with a depth of emotion that makes your heart ache. “I missed you too,” you confess. “I needed to figure out some things… about us, about my feelings.”

Jake’s eyes widen slightly, a flicker of hope and fear crossing his face. “Us?Your feelings?” he echoes, his voice tense with anticipation.

You take a deep breath, gathering your courage. “Jake, you’ve always been there for me. You’ve been my rock, my best friend, and… I’ve realized that maybe, I’ve been blind to something that’s been right in front of me all along.”

His eyes are locked onto yours, and you can see the hope growing, the warmth in his gaze like the sun breaking through the clouds after a cold cold winter day. “What do you mean?” he asks softly.

“I mean…” you struggle to find the right words, the right way to express the tumult of emotions inside you. “I think I’ve been so caught up in my own fears and insecurities that I didn’t see what was right in front of me. You’ve always been there, and I’ve come to realize that… that I care about you, Jake. More than just as a friend.”

There, it’s out. You think as you let the words out of your mouth. The words hang in the air between you, a confession that feels both terrifying and liberating. Jake’s expression softens, a mixture of relief and overwhelming emotion flooding his face.

“I’ve cared about you for a long time.. I’m surprised you didn’t notice sooner,” he admits, his voice shaking slightly. “I didn’t know how to tell you without risking what we have. But hearing you say that… it means everything to me.”

You reach across the table, taking his hand in yours. The simple touch feels like a lifeline, grounding you in this moment of vulnerability and honesty. “I’m scared, Jake,” you confess. “I’m scared of losing what we have, but I’m more scared of never knowing what we could be.”

Jake squeezes your hand, his grip warm and reassuring. “We’ll figure it out together,” he promises. “We’ve always been there for each other, and that won’t change. I want to be with you, Y/N. Not just as your friend, but as someone who loves you.”

His words are like the first true warmth of summer, melting away the last of your fears. You smile, a genuine, hopeful smile, and nod. “I want that too, Jake. I want to see where this goes, with you.”

As you sit there, hand in hand, you feel the ice around your heart finally melt away, replaced by the warmth and promise of a new beginning. The journey ahead might be uncertain, but with Jake by your side, you know you’ll face it together, one step at a time.

#— 💭 mars ; written work #i had no idea what i was doing its 2am #enhypen jake fic #jake x reader #jake sim x reader #sim jaeyun x reader #enha x reader #enha angst #enha fluff #enha imagines #enhypen imagines #jake imagines

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thisapplepielife · 23 hours

Text

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles pop-up Graduation challenge.

What's A Little Grand Theft Auto Between Friends?

Prompt: Graduation | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Nudity for Comedy, Smoking, Brief Mention of Underage Drinking | Tags: Post S2, Class of '85 Graduation Party at the Quarry, Randomly Teaming Up, And Then Having Fun Together, Steve Gets an Alternate Introduction to Eddie's Hot-Wiring Skills, Steve Ain't Body Shy, He Spent Too Many Years in Locker Rooms, Pre-Steddie

Coming tonight was a mistake, he's realized, because Steve isn't comfortable with this crowd, not anymore.

Decision made: He's leaving.

He places his plastic cup down on the open tailgate of a truck he's passing by.

"Thanks for the trash, Harrington," comes the snapping snarl, and Steve stops. He hadn't realized there was anyone sitting in the back of the truck. But there's Munson, in all black, blending into the night. The only thing visible, the cherry on the end of his lit cigarette.

"Sorry, man," Steve says, leaning up against the side of the pickup, "I didn't want to just, you know, throw it on the ground."

"How noble," Munson says, dripping with sarcasm.

Steve's too tired for another snotty showdown. Graduation party at the quarry sounded neutral enough, but he was wrong. He's done dealing with everyone, and everything, from Hawkins High.

Except Henderson and the kids. But they haven't started HHS yet, so they totally don't count, and tonight he can hate everything about the place.

Including the crown prince of shitty attitudes, Eddie "The Freak" Munson.

Steve takes the few steps back, grabs the cup, slings the beer that was mostly untouched into the grass. Holding up the empty cup to show Munson he's corrected this horrible offense.

"That's more like it," Munson says, cigarette dangling from his lip.

"Well, that's my cue," Steve says, and keeps walking.

"Wait! Wait a second," Munson asks, no demands, and Steve has no idea why he even thinks about going back, let alone does it.

But he does.

Backpedaling the few steps until he can almost see Munson again.

"What?" Steve asks.

"You leaving already?" Munson questions, and Steve just bobbles his head, because yeah, obviously.

"Can I get a ride back to town?" Munson asks, and Steve arches an eyebrow.

"Is this not your truck?" Steve asks.

"Nope," Munson answers, and Steve's hand flies up to toss the empty cup right at Munson's forehead.

Munson bats it away, laughing, as it clatters around noisily in the truck bed.

"You're a dickhead," Steve says, but then just wheels his arm around, silently telling Munson to hurry up if he's coming. Munson grins, wide and wolfish, hopping over the side with ease, landing on both feet with a resounding thud.

Then he holds out his arm in a sweeping after you gesture. Steve shakes his head and starts walking back to his car, hoping like hell he's not blocked in.

He is.

"Well, shit."

"I got this," Munson says, trying the doors of both cars boxing them in, nearly touching bumper. Billy and Tommy, of fucking course.

The Camaro is locked, but Tommy's isn't, and Munson slides into the driver's seat. Curious, Steve sinks into the passenger seat.

Munson pulls out a multi-tool of some kind, and before Steve has a chance to realize exactly what he's doing, Munson has the cables pulled out from under the dash.

"Holy shit," Steve says, leaning closer, "where'd you learn to do that?"

"Well, when the other dads were teaching their kids how to fish or play ball, my old man was teaching me how to hot-wire. Now, I swore I wouldn't wind up like he did, but they wanna be dickheads? We'll all be dickheads. What's a little grand theft auto between friends?"

Friends. They aren't friends, and Steve's aware of that fact, acutely. But he'd be lying if it didn't feel kinda nice to hear from someone, even as a lie.

So, Steve grins, "Not a thing. Friend."

Eddie backs up Tommy's car, then pulls the wires, killing the engine. Afterwards, he stuffs everything back up under the dash.

"Won't that-" Steve starts.

"Yup," Eddie answers, "gonna be deader than shit and he's gonna have no idea why."

"My man," Steve says, holding up his fist, and Eddie eyes him, but eventually bumps it back. "Thanks. This is hilarious, and he'll never suspect me. Like, I can't do that, and Tommy knows it."

"That's why it's good to have shady characters on your side, Harrington."

"Guess so," Steve agrees, and once they're back in Steve's car, Steve backs up, pulling away, easily.

Eddie digs his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket, "Can I?"

"Only if you light me one," Steve answers, watching as Eddie slides the cigarette along his own bottom lip, into his mouth, puffing as he lights it, then reaches over to place it between Steve's parted lips.

Steve feels funny about it, in a way he doesn't exactly understand, just for a second, before shaking it off.

"So, why was King Steve bailing so early tonight?" Eddie asks.

"Eh, I don't know. Guess I realized I'd graduated and had no interest in seeing any of those assholes again."

"Well, I didn't graduate, but same."

"You didn't graduate?"

"Nah, maybe the third time will be the charm," Eddie answers. "Going from King Steve, to running as fast as you can. I'm proud of you, big boy."

It's so unexpected, Steve's sure he looks stupid, before he busts out laughing, "Well, that's a new one."

"Really? Are the rumors not true? I'll be so disappointed," Eddie asks, looking dramatic, feet now resting on Steve's dashboard. Steve doesn't have the energy to tell him no.

"What rumors?"

"About your big dick, man. Girls talk. I listen."

What? That's. What?

"Well, I gotta piss, so you can take a gander for yourself, I guess," Steve banters, parking and hopping out of the car along the dirt road.

He knows Eddie doesn't actually wanna look, but two can play this game.

So, Steve doesn't go to the trunk, to the cover of darkness. No, he heads right up front, illuminated by headlights, and takes his dick into his hand. Lays it on his palm, like he's presenting it.

He looks through the windshield, but can't really see Eddie's reaction. Bummer.

But, then Eddie's hand pops out of the passenger window, giving him a big thumbs up.

And Steve tosses his head back, laughing.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

#steddieholidaydrabbles #graduation #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddieholidaydrabbles

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ao3commentoftheday · 8 hours

Note

On a whim and because I was momentarily taken by a new fandom I had made a requests accepted fic where I took in requests. From a few requests I wrote I got two requests from the same person and wrote them but they were so annoying because all the response I got was "I want this to be longer"

That was something that added to me eventually not being as into the fandom anymore and so I haven't written the other requests for a long while.

It's part many things and is also because the fandom is very very new so the characters' personalities aren't that known yet so I'm not quite sure how to characterize them in my writing. So I feel a bit guilty about not writing the other requests and regret completing the request of the disrespectful person first, I didn't know they'd be like that until they commented that reaction to what I wrote.

Sorry for the ramble but TLDR how does a writer handle feelings of guilt from not completing requests quickly? Like I think it's been months now.

... and it's been even more months since you dropped this ask in my inbox, sorry!

To start with, I'm just going to flag for folks that you should not post "I'm taking requests" works on AO3. It's against the Terms of Service, so if it gets reported, the PAC team will ask you to remove it. You don't say here where you posted yours, but I just wanted to give everyone a heads up on that count.

I'm really sorry that your experience with writing for requests went kind of sour on you. That's never a fun time. I can see how it would sour you on the practice, especially in conjunction with the fandom being new and the characters still not very fleshed out.

When it comes to disappointing people, you kind of have to pick your battles. Human beings these days encounter thousands of people in any given week, thanks to the internet, and we can't hold ourselves to the same standards of caring for a person we've interacted with one via a screen and the people we've built up relationships with.

That isn't to say it's alright to be a dick to people. Wil Wheaton has been very clear about that. It's just that carrying guilt over something you haven't done for a stranger is very different from carrying guilt over something you haven't done for your partner or your best friend.

In my experience, the best way to move forward is just to reply to the message that gave you the request and say, "I'm sorry, I don't think I can work on this right now. Please feel free to share it with another author." You can add in that you hope they find someone. You can change the "right now" to "after all". You can make the message as long or as short as you want, but just include those 2 ideas:

I'm not going to fulfill this request

if you're still wanting to read this thing, ask someone else to write it (or write it yourself)

The guilt is because you know that someone wanted a story and they haven't received it. What you don't know is whether they still want that story, whether they specifically want it from you and only you, and to what degree they were invested in the idea versus just throwing something out there on a whim.

If you do still want to write the stories, remember that fandom is a hobby not a job. Fic requests aren't assignments. You don't have any due dates. Inspiration comes and goes as it pleases, and sometimes we bite off more than we can chew.

Be kind to yourself, anon. Write the stories that interest you. Give away the ones that don't. Allow yourself the time you need to finish what you want to do. 💗

#asks and answers

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a-court-of-fics-and-errors · 2 days

Text

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 9

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 1.2K

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

You sat there, unmoving, your eyes fixed ahead of you as you tried to push down the raging thoughts that You sat there, unmoving, your eyes fixed ahead of you as you tried to push down the raging thoughts that bubbled within you and whispered their vile taunts in your head. How would there be anything after this? You had watched someone die, someone you could have helped. How could there be a morning where you woke up feeling normal? Did you even know what normal meant anymore?

Feyre knocked on the door, and without prompting, the fae lights in the room grew slightly, illuminating your surroundings. The door in the right-hand corner was dark oak with a golden brass handle shaped like a branch. Above it, a small stained glass window depicted a constellation, the whites of the stars contrasting sharply with the midnight blues. The wooden floor was barely visible through the dark blue carpeting, adorned with intricate silver swirls. The rightmost wall had the door to the bathroom, and the bed now revealed tall pillars of brown oak, intricately carved to look as though they were swirling in on themselves. The soft silver sheets and the dark blue blanket matched the carpet. To your left was a desk with a chair, both the same oak color as the bed and the door, and the wall featured large blue curtains, likely concealing floor-to-ceiling windows or doors.

Feyre crossed the room, setting the neatly folded pile of clothes on the bed. “These are for you, whenever you’re ready,” she said, flashing a calm, collected smile. She stood for a moment, her hands clasped in front of her as you ran your fingers over the soft fabrics, much softer than the ratty clothes you currently wore.

You peered up at her. “Thank you,” you said.

She smiled again and then gestured to the end of the bed. “Can I sit?” she asked.

You nodded, and she took her place near the edge, smoothing her dress under her as she did so, pulling one leg up to rest next to her as she turned to face you. She seemed to be searching for words. “Thank you,” you said again, “for everything you’ve done.”

Feyre chuckled a bit. “You’re more than welcome. Considering everything that happened, it’s the least we could do.”

You looked down at your hands, covered in dried blood and brown stains. Feyre appeared to be looking for something to fill the silence as well. “I don’t want to intrude,” you started, and Feyre immediately started shaking her head.

“No,” she said, interrupting you. “Don’t even worry about that.”

You smiled back at her and continued, “I don’t mean to overstay my welcome.”

“It isn’t like we don’t have the room,” Feyre gestured around.

“Even still, I can’t imagine that I’m not at least a bit of a hindrance.”

Feyre reached her hand towards yours, lightly grasping it. “Not a bit.”

“I’ll be on my way as soon as I can get myself together,” you continued. Feyre’s brows furrowed slightly. She paused, shaking her head.

“Why will you not accept help?” she finally asked. You were stunned by her words, more forward than you would have said.

“I’m sorry?” you asked.

Feyre shook her head. “No, I’m sorry, I just—” she paused, looking towards the ceiling as though the answer might be there. “Azriel shared with us, with me, what had happened before, and I just want you to know that we aren’t like that here.”

You looked at her, puzzled. “I mean like the camps,” she clarified. “We aren’t like them.”

You paused, considering her statement. Who was the “we” to which she referred? And the “them”? You asked, “What do you mean?”

“We aren’t like the Illyrians,” Feyre clarified.

“But Azriel—” you started, but Feyre raised her hand slightly to pause you.

“Azriel is an Illyrian, but he is not like the others, or like those you met in Frostvale.”

You asked, “Because he isn’t a soldier.”

Feyre paused, smiling a bit. “Because he is different.”

You scoffed slightly, but Feyre continued, “He isn’t like them, and I can’t explain it, but he just isn’t. He’s kinder, more gentle, less—”

You cut her off, “Of a predator.”

Feyre seemed a bit taken aback by your comment, her eyes widening as you glared at her, before she dropped her gaze, smoothing out a wrinkle in the sheets. “Yes,” she finally said.

You swallowed down your own fear as you thought about what you had witnessed the last few days. “I’m not saying you need to trust him,” Feyre said, “Or even speak to him if you don’t want to.” She placed her hand over yours. “But you don’t need to run from here. You’re safe. We can protect you.”

“Who is we?” you asked.

“The Night Court.”

“That isn’t an answer,” you responded. “The Night Court is a place.”

“I mean, the court members,” Feyre clarified.

“You don’t know me,” you spat back.

“I know enough to know you are a citizen of the court, and therefore it is our duty to help you.”

Suddenly, in a moment of anger, you shot out, “Does the Night Court pick and choose which members it protects?”

Feyre went stone-faced, pulling her lip between her teeth slightly and letting out a slow breath. “I am deeply sorry for what happened, and if Azriel had known what was going on, he would have—” but you cut her off.

“I’m not talking about that.” You stopped her. You paused, shaking your head slightly, feeling foolish for saying such things. “I’m sorry.”

Feyre’s face softened slightly. “You don’t need to apologize.” You swallowed back your anger. “Take all the time you need. I’m sure you have a lot of questions, so,” Feyre rose from her spot, “when you’re ready, just let me know, or come out. I’ll be down around the corner.”

Feyre then took her leave, leaving you alone again in the room. You glanced down at your clothing, sure that you smelled of vomit, but the idea of the shower made a sour taste rise in your mouth. You rose and made your way back into the bathroom, turning the handle of the shower. The water cascaded down onto the floor as you let your hand run under the already steaming stream. The water from your hand drained down onto the floor in a wave of brown, muddy liquid. When you pulled your hand back, the brown still left behind smeared onto your wet skin. You were filthy. While you felt as though you didn’t deserve to take a shower, your discomfort about continuing to dirty the home, or whatever this place was, of the someone who had been so kind overtook that discomfort.

You stripped off your clothing, catching a glimpse of your dismal reflection in the mirror. Your eyes were sunken and lined with deep purple, and your body was covered in countless bruises, cuts, and stains from dirt and gods knew what else. You looked feral and shied away from your own image. Stepping into the shower, you turned the heat up to a temperature you almost couldn’t bear, allowing the water to cascade down your shoulders. The filth ran in rivers down your body as you closed your eyes and breathed in the steam.

You hadn’t had a proper shower in a very long time, relying only on baths in your small cabin up in the mountains, where the water had to be boiled by hand. The unending stream of hot water was a luxury, and you relished the feeling as it dripped onto you. You let your face fall beneath the spray, its heat turning your skin a slight pink as the water ran down your eyelashes and through your hair, smoothing it down to the base of your scalp. You held your hands behind your neck, directly in the stream, breathing deeply into your stomach and chest and releasing the air in wavering, stunted breaths.

You took the bar of soap, which appeared to be new, from the little alcove on the side of the shower, along with a fresh white washcloth, and began to scrub at your skin. You scrubbed most of your body raw, taking extra time to scrub viciously at the spots where Darian had touched you. Try as you might, you couldn’t scrub away the feeling of his hands on your body. You let the water run through your hair as you worked some sweet-smelling shampoo into it, untangling the knots despite the pain as they washed down the drain. When you were finished and as clean as you could get, you sat on the floor in the corner of the shower, the room now fully steamed, and let yourself be shrouded by the mist around you, trying again to take deep, stabilizing breaths.

You must have been in there for over half an hour before you finally turned the shower off and wrapped your red body in a fluffy white towel. Your reflection was slightly more palatable than before, though your bruises still patterned your body in an array of blues, purples, and greens. You made your way back into the bedroom and noticed that the bed had been remade, suddenly concerned that someone had entered your room without your knowledge. You went to the door and locked it behind you before returning to the bed, your fingers sliding over the clothing laid out for you: a long-sleeved green shirt and a pair of black linen pants, similar to the ones you had met Feyre in.

You carefully pulled on the shirt, wincing as pain spread through your midsection when you raised your arms over your head, and slid the pants on. You allowed your hair to dry down before braiding it back with the ribbon Anthea had given you, which you washed in the sink, scrubbing to get all the filth out of it.

You debated opening the door to the hallway, but instead, decided to open the large curtains, revealing two large glass doors. With a shove, you pushed them open, and a blast of cool spring air filled the room, sending the curtains whooshing back behind you. Your eyes instinctively closed as you breathed in the clean, clear air of the mountains. You took a tentative step onto the white marble balcony, your fingertips brushing through the doorway. The cool air bit at your skin through your shirt, but you welcomed it, feeling the breeze blow your hair from your shoulders.

When you opened your eyes, you were met with the familiar sight of the Velaris skyline, nestled at the base of Ramiel. Memories flooded back as you walked to the edge of the balcony, resting your forearms on the marble railing. Laid out before you was that wondrous city, with the Sidra River winding through it as canal boats and shipping freighters slowly labored in the morning drift. The spires of the buildings jutted sharply into the sky. Looking down towards the city streets, you could see the first signs of life: market vendors bringing their wares into the squares, hauling out carts, and swinging open their windows. Citizens paced leisurely by the riverside, children running freely by their sides. From high above, you couldn’t make out their faces or voices, but the chatter and rumblings of the city brought you back to a feeling of home.

It was strange how many memories you had of this place, feeling so close to it even though you had only spent a few years within its walls. Yet, you felt as though you could walk it blindfolded.

You remembered how your mother would wake you early in the morning, her kind, warm face greeting you well before the sun, her hair already done up as though she had been awake for hours. She would shower you with kisses as you rolled out of the bed you shared, racing towards the bathroom where she would wash your face and lovingly brush your hair, singing sweet songs you two had made together. She would braid your hair, tying ribbons at the ends, and smile at you in the mirror. Though the memories were faded, you could still recall the soft pink of her cheeks, the red of her lips, and her eyes—almost the same color as yours. But most vividly, you remembered her smell: cinnamon and vanilla, like a baked pastry.

You and she would walk through the streets together, and she would buy you a pastry from the market. While you always offered to share, she would always decline, telling you that sweet treats were reserved for sweet little girls. She would spend the whole day with you, wandering the streets, playing by the riverside, and exploring the nearby mountain forests. Always singing, she made you feel free. She would always tuck you in at night, promising to see you the next morning. Your mother never had much money, and you always lived in apartments with other females, sometimes with their children as well. You didn’t mind; you always had playmates, and the other females knew you well enough that you felt as though they were extra mothers, but none were your mother. Some nights, when you woke up in search of her, another female would comfort you back to sleep, but your mother would always be there in the morning to kiss you awake.

You smiled to yourself, your fingers tracing the cold marble as you took in the city. You looked over your shoulder to the two chaise lounge chairs positioned near the door, you made your way to them, laying down on one, pulling you knee upwards, letting the sun beat down on your face as you took in the world around you, and for the first time in a long time, you did not feel afraid.

To my lovely tagged readers, this one is for you:

@thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @romantacyreader28 @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2

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heyidkyay · 3 days

Text

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Twenty-Five (The End)

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Authors note: The ending! The final chapter of Matty and Mouse's story, my heart is actually breaking. Honestly loved writing these two, as well as baby Teds, and I hope you lot loved them too because all the love this series has gotten means so much, it feels surreal. Hopefully I can write a few blurbs of them or something in the future but this is it for now. So thank you for all the support!

Warnings: EMOTIONS, Matty and Mouse way of thinking, little bit of angst, referencing to past hurts (such as not making it to a certain age), smut, unprotected sex, self-conscious characters?

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

Matty wouldn’t have been able to say what the time must have been if anyone had dared ask. He’d been propped up against the headboard, still in his t-shirt and jeans, his hand never having fallen from the top of her head even after she’d finally worn herself out and drifted to sleep.

His stomach churned pitifully at the reminder, at how hard she had cried. Gasping and sobbing into that fucking pillow she still held onto, all whilst clinging to the skin of his wrist with an unforeseen strength. As though she’d been pleading in her grip of him, asking him not to go just yet.

That hold had diminished a tad during the night, she’d always been a fitful sleeper– had kneed him one too many times between the legs for him to not know that fact– but this time around… She’d been almost deathly still, aside from the frowning expressions that clouded her face whilst she’d dreamt.

He continued to sit there though, watching on as the moon sunk so that the sun could slowly climb its way into the irradiating sky, giving way to that first hint of morning.

He hadn’t slept a wink, not really. Nodded off for a second or two once or twice before he’d found himself jerking awake again. Couldn’t seem to stay down for much longer than that.

And why would he? When he’d all but destroyed the woman laying beside him. This proud, strong and resilient woman that he’d been so idolised by, so enraptured with. The one person in his fucking forsaken life that had appeared so utterly invincible.

She was a survivor. A mother. A friend.

And she was kind. Funny. Resilient.

Then she’d gone and met him, hadn’t she?

And he’d ruined her like he did everything else.

Practically broken her.

Torn the last pieces of her further apart.

The thought alone made him feel sick to his stomach. Aching with this unbound need to grovel and cry at her very feet, to make her see enough sense so that she could understand just how much she didn’t need someone like him. That she was strong enough to do it all alone. That she didn’t need to cling to him as she had, like rust to a buoy long lost at sea.

Guilt.

That was what that sticky feeling growing in his gut was. That overwhelming malady that was eating him up from the inside out, making him feel so utterly sick.

He had come over to see her. So that they might be able to talk things out. He’d come to apologise. To make things right between them. But instead, what had he done?

Pushed.

He’d pushed and fucking pushed, forcing her hand enough so that she had cracked and he’d been able to slip past those high guarded walls of hers.

And now here they were.

He couldn’t bring himself to regret it though– not all of it at least.

To have held her again… It had calmed some sick twisted part of him.

To have just seen her and heard her voice, no matter how pained and angry it had been. It was like the world around him had softened for a split second. Become all grainy.

Matty glanced back over to her sleeping form, to the way she had bundled the duvet high up over her head so that the tip of her nose could bury itself in the slight curve it made, her chin tucked away.

His hand was still lost somewhere in her hair, thumb cascading out over her temple every now and then, but he didn’t dare pull away. Not until he had no other choice in the matter.

So he carried on, staying there and lying awake. Thinking over the night before. Thinking back to her devastated expression, to the wary look her eyes had held. To the way she hadn’t spoken a word. To how she had simply forced her cries into silent sobs.

Suddenly, he was stuck on the very realisation that she hadn’t been reacting to it all, to everything she’d been feeling, to what had happened, but rather retreating. Hiding away whilst, somehow, still allowing him to be near. To stay. To watch over her.

A soft sniff had him blinking, regaining composure quick enough so that he could catch the scene play out before him.

…

I was embarrassed by the previous night's events. By the fact that I had been so determined to keep Matty at arms length and then failed entirely. That he had seen me so weak and well– broken.

But it had all come to a head, I supposed.

I’d been keeping up appearances ever since everything had fallen out, putting on a brave face and a smile for anyone and everyone who could see. It was only ironic, I guessed, for Matty to have been the one to shatter that image completely.

Still, I swallowed at the sight of him still sitting there beside me the next morning, seeming as though he hadn’t moved an inch throughout the whole night, and shoved all that shame back down.

“Thought you’d be gone by now.” I heard myself say as I flipped over onto my back so that I could stare up at the ceiling and at the sun drawn lines that stretched out across it.

I listened to his quiet laugh, to the way he shuffled slightly on the mattress, though I didn’t dare look back at him. It was too early and I already felt as though he’d seen enough of me. “Was just hoping for a chance at one of your brews, is all.”

Something in me shifted at his easy words. At the fact that he’d chosen to try and make me smile, instead of calling me out on all my messy bullshit.

“And if I’ve got no milk?” I replied, just because this was easier than arguing anymore.

I felt him shift, probably shrugging if I knew him as well as I thought I did. “Shops open soon enough.”

The corner of my mouth twitched, although I continued my staring contest with the blank space sat high above us.

“Who says I’ll let you back in?”

He did laugh then, a deep rumble of a chuckle that was rough from disuse and a lack of sleep. Matty sniffed, “Just gonna have to try my luck then, I ‘spose.”

It was only in that next second that I realised something, something that had me inhaling sharply as Matty’s fingers dragged their way through my hair to tuck a frizzy strand behind my ear, before then pulling away entirely.

My eyes slipped closed at the sudden loss and my hands curled into tight fists beneath the duvet at the very thought of him having stayed that way throughout the night. Of having held me in the only way he’d been able to, as though he believed it might have kept some small part of me together. Only pulling away now that he could see that I wasn’t going to crack beneath the weight of everything I still held.

The bed shifted and the sound of his feet hit the floor.

From the corner of my eye, I watched him as he stood.

Matty moved throughout my bedroom with an ease I didn’t even own, picking up the hoodie he’d thrown over my desk chair all those days ago, the same one I hadn’t allowed myself to touch, let alone wear.

I almost told him not to take it, but withheld. Only just managing to bite down on my tongue as I watched him shrug it on. It was his afterall.

“Gonna nick your keys,” He told me whilst he shook the hood out around his neck and dragged it up over his tousled curls, “Only be about ten minutes. You can shower or whatever, not worry about letting me back in.”

I could only nod in return and he smiled, pausing in the doorway to look back at me for a second or two before he nodded, almost fretfully, and turned away.

I waited, lying there still enough that I was surprised I didn’t go stiff from how tightly I was wound, until I heard the familiar rattle of keys and then the squeaking hinges of the front door. It closed behind him so quietly that had I not been holding my breath I might not have even heard it.

I was rubbing at my face not a minute later, hauling back tears leftover from last night's show, before I heaved an anguished scream that was more air than actual sound from my lungs.

Forcing myself to calm– and not dissolve into fucking hysterics– I willed myself up, noting that I was still naked as I kicked the covers away. Another thing I’d gone and bared for him, I supposed. As though it wasn’t enough that I had already cried myself to sleep with him just sitting a hand’s stretch away, but that we’d actually gone and slept together. After everything.

My head was warring with my heart as I dragged myself up out of the dirtied sheets, throwing on an old tee so that I could shove them into the washer before he got back. I forced myself into the shower quickly after, letting the hot water roll off my skin.

I must’ve been stood there for a long while, drowning under the heavy spray, because it was the sound of the door that broke me from the faraway place I’d found myself in whilst staring at the tiled walls.

Blinking, I wiped the water from out of my eyes and forced myself to wash, lathering up my hair and going through the motions, before I finally stepped out.

I didn’t dare peer into the mirror, not all too desperate to see the state I’d worked myself into on my way out. Choosing to head back into the bedroom instead, padding over towards the dresser to pull out some clean clothes and only noticing the fresh sheets that had been pulled onto the bed when I’d finally dressed.

The towel I’d been holding to lightly dry my hair slowly dropped to my side at the sight. I opened my mouth to call out and probably ask– But I stopped myself before I could. Ask what? I wondered. Why? Then shook my head at the very idea.

Doing the smart thing by shutting my mouth, I dumped the towel in the hamper and pulled on a pair of socks, taking a deep breath before deciding to venture further out into the flat.

I found him in the kitchen.

He didn’t peer over his shoulder but he must’ve heard me putter in because he greeted me: “I know I said I’d be quick but I passed by that little bakery on my way back– that hidden gem we liked that one time? Anyway, it just smelt fuckin’ devine.” He accentuated that last bit, making me smile slightly, “And I just couldn’t not, you know? Been a while, but they had those danishes you like in the window. Got a couple to share as well as some other bits.” Matty explained, head still halfway in the bag he’d obviously brought back with him, a pint of milk sat alone on the side, “And a sausage roll for Teds– kid was eating them like he was gonna starve a while ago. So I just thought...”

Matty shrugged, as though that in itself was no big deal, him thinking of my son, and turned around to glance my way with a display case of baked-goods now lining my kitchen counter.

I snorted softly at the sight, jerking my chin out towards the lot of them, “Just thought you’d bring back half the shop?” I teased and was all too pleased when he chuckled around the beginnings of a smirk.

He was quick with his quip, “So I’m guessin’ you don’t want one of these danishes then?”

I narrowed my eyes at the sheer nerve. “I never said that.”

Matty’s nose scrunched with his next shrug before he moved to snap one up for himself. “Sort of sounded like it, sweetheart.”

I shook my head, biting down on my growing grin as I slid across the kitchen to grab at one too.

I hummed around the first bite I took and all but moaned at the flavour of it, blinking my eyes back open only to find Matty wearing the most delighted little grin. I rolled my eyes but didn’t grant him the gift of an actual reply, though it didn’t seem to waver him either way.

We seemed to move seamlessly around one another after that; him filling up the kettle whilst I placed two mugs down on the countertop; the clink of a teaspoon being shot into one cup as I moved to grab the tin of tea bags; Matty switching the radio on like it was second nature and me smiling away to myself as I poured the milk.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek once we’d finally settled, he’d chosen to take up room at the table whilst I carefully stored the remaining pastries away for later.

I wanted to talk, to try and hash things out again, because this felt right to me. Him being here. In my dingy little kitchen, small but still so crowded with all sorts of bits and bobs, as well as a plethora of crayon coloured drawings. And he just, well, Matty just fit here. Or maybe that was just me hoping. Ignoring the bigger warning signs so that I wouldn’t have to feel so alone again.

Was he lying to me?

Had he relapsed?

Did he cheat?

It didn’t seem like he’d done any of those things. There was no guilt in his gaze and yesterday… I’d never seen him like that. Even whilst stressed or overwhelmed, Matty had never cried. He’d never looked at me like that either, as though he was slowly breaking before my eyes.

He’d said his piece, he’d promised, and then he’d apologised.

But.

What if I was just making a bigger mug of myself here?

Letting him back in. Giving him my forgiveness. Having him in my bed.

Was I saying that it was okay? Was that the impression I’d be giving? That he could lie and walk all over me and that everything would still be fine.

It left the world feeling a little more tilted than it had been only moments before. It left me questioning everything, once again.

…

“What are we doing, Matty?”

Matty was slow in looking back over at her, fingers tapping aimlessly away on the kitchen table to some song that had been playing on the radio.

“What do you mean?”

She huffed, a quiet chuckle full of disbelief rippling through the air, “I mean, what are we doing here?”

“The fuck if I know.” Matty replied, just as soft as that laughter she’d given him, shrugging at her from across the kitchen. Because what was he meant to say to that?

She just shook her head in turn though, completely unaware to the way he was now watching her. Taking her all in. The way the outline of her body glowed whilst bathed in the morning light that shone in through the windows. Of how her slowly drying hair curled at parts in the easy breeze that crept by. And how endeared he was by the way she never failed to tuck her joggers, or pyjama bottoms, or whatever else she’d decided to throw on whilst at home into her socks. It made her who she was, all these mindless little tidbits that he’d gathered over the last year, that he had observed.

“We can’t just– move on. Carry on like nothing’s happened.” She sounded frustrated. Sad.

“Why not?” It was almost sarcastic, the way he said it, but his voice held a whole lot of truth to it. He wanted this and he wanted her. And he’d be a fucking fool to deny it.

And what would the world make of the two of them anyway? Cause she’d gone and claimed the very same thing last night, hadn’t she?

The pair of them, fools.

“‘Cause everything’s a mess.” She answered back, staring at him now, almost defeated.

Her shoulders were slumped and she wore that sad smile she often favoured when she was at a loss, slowly being eaten away by a horde of thoughts she couldn’t seem to control.

He watched her fidget with the hem of her sleeve, peering down at it.

“Because after everything, Matty,” She breathed, voice soft even in the quiet of the kitchen, “I know that I love you and I don’t want to lose what we have left here. I don’t want that ruined.”

Matty’s mouth worked itself into a small smile as his eyes dragged between her own, trailing over the short scar that crossed the bridge of her nose, remembering the night she’d teared up when he’d reached out to caress it.

“I’d rather be ruined by you than not have you at all, Mouse.”

She blew air from out of her nose in a soundless chuckle, cheeks rounding around an amused grin for the briefest of seconds before her eyes skittered away from him again. “That meant to be all poetic?”

He gave her a curt nod and then just grinned, legs fanned out before him. “In the job description. Musician, remember?”

“Oh, do I.” She quipped back just as sarkily, leaning against the counter as she continued to watch him from under dark lashes. Matty reckoned he’d let her shove him under a microscope if it got her to let him stick around. If only for a while longer.

A silence passed between them.

“I love you.” Matty murmured, so sure of that fact, “That much I know. But I won’t ask you for anything more than I already have, you make the choice. You can hold the cards. And whatever you decide, I’ll accept.”

Her face hardened a fraction, as though she were steeling herself for an argument or something other. Hiding how underprepared she’d been for his words perhaps. Matty only hoped that she’d heard the truth in them.

“No fight? You’ll just accept it and leave?”

Matty didn’t dare blink but dipped his head in slight acknowledgement. “If that’s what you want.”

The woman before him just continued to stare him down and for once, Matty couldn’t read her face. Had no idea what the hell she might’ve been thinking. Or feeling. Or what plans she was currently devising in that clever head of hers.

“Okay.”

It took all of his sheer effort not to react to that one simple word, even though she had practically just gone and ripped his fucking heart out of his chest.

Actually, he supposed that was another lie he’d told. She’d done that months ago, on the day they’d met and went and ruined him for good.

I’d rather be ruined by you.

It’s what he’d said.

He couldn’t go back on it now.

“Okay.” He answered her, voice just barely above a whisper that he wasn’t sure she heard over the squeaking of his chair legs.

And then he was standing in her kitchen for what he supposed would be the last time. He saw her grip the edge of the counter, knuckles whitening, gaze unstraying, but she didn’t say another word.

They stared at one another for what felt like the longest minute on Earth and Matty could practically feel the ground shifting beneath the soles of his feet as he realised that now everything would really change.

His breath caught, the thought hitting him like a shit ton of bricks and he knew then that he had to leave before he broke down and took it all back. Before he was a fucking mess of a man on her kitchen floor.

He turned on his heel and made for the door.

“Where’re you going?”

Matty froze, entirely rooted to the floor.

He continued to stare resolutely ahead, scared to move in case she had changed her mind. In case she was saying what he thought she was.

“Your tea’s gonna go cold… and I thought you could pick Teds up with me later.” She was going for nonchalant, aiming and almost hitting, but she missed the mark by just a hair. “He was with Ads yesterday, you know, and she dropped him off at nursery this morning for me. Just figured.”

Matty pivoted on his heel, slow going and hardly daring to steal a breath as he did, before he was looking straight at her. At the way her teeth had sunk into her lower lip, the careful sheen her eyes had taken on, and then the singular strand of hair which had fallen from behind her ear. He was across the room and on her in a second.

Firm hands held her face, thumbs guarding either cheek as he bored everything he couldn’t seem to say into the next look he gave to her. Wanting her to see it all. To know, or simply understand.

“You’re gonna kill me.”

She laughed.

“Wanna bet…” Her words trailed off into a heavy breath and Matty could feel the strength of his grin as he leaned in close, nose bumping against hers, his eyes flickering over the entirety of her face, attempting to take her in all at once.

There was buzzing under his skin, he could feel it in the tips of his fingers, all the way down to his toes, and heard the way it hummed throughout his chest.

It was then that he realised he couldn’t see an end without her in it.

He wanted everything with this woman.

Everything.

And that should’ve been the most terrifying thought.

Because once he had believed he would never see the end of sixteen, puking into the bushes outside his bedroom window and not having the strength to make it that extra mile. To let mum know that he was alright.

Then it had been nineteen, that first real stint in hospital. He’d been scared to shit and alone, the darkness hiding all the groans and upset of the other patients with real issues.

But nineteen had come and gone, so then he figured twenty-one. Maybe twenty-two? Definitely twenty-five… Had to be.

Twenty-eight had been both the end and the beginning for him.

But even without everything that had been holding him back after that, the drugs, the people, the money. After he’d gotten clean– proper clean– he’d never really thought far enough ahead.

To a point where he might feel settled or want to start building a place for himself in the world. A real place, one amongst family and friends, not just amongst admiration and music– as much as it had helped shape him.

He’d never once pictured this. A person.

Girlfriends? Yeah. Flings and one night stands? Sure. But a person that would be his. Completely. That he could share half of himself with?

No, he couldn’t say that he’d ever seen that coming, that something like this would have one day been in the cards for him.

And Matty wanted so badly to sink his claws in and cling on for as long as he possibly could, for as long as she’d be willing, and then even more so. Until somebody else came along and inevitably unhooked him. But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t dare. Because this was too perfect to go and destroy like that.

He’d always claimed to be a selfish man, but in this regard, all the love he had worth giving would be spent on her. On the days they’d spend together. On meals and dates. On flowers and apologies for when he eventually messed up again, because he knew himself too well to deny that fact. He’d spend it on giving her security, on rebuilding her trust. He’d spend it on her son. On the little boy he’d become so besotted by.

And if it ruined him, if it killed him? He reckoned he’d be okay with that.

He’d be content. Finally having something to be proud of.

“What are you waiting for?”

Matty eyes tracked the length of her face, fingers tangled in her hair whilst his thumbs pressed into the grooves of her temples. What was he waiting for?

As soon as he thought it, Matty was pressing against her once more, stealing all the breath from her lungs in his haste to answer her.

It was slow, the kiss; soft in the way his lips captured hers for only a few seconds before he was pulling away again, hands shaking where he still cupped her cheeks.

He wanted to make sure that this was what she wanted, but he could see it in her face, that surety, the warmth. And he wouldn’t question that, maybe in some regards he’d be willing to give her anything, but here and now, with this, with wanting her, he would as selfish as he fucking could be. He’d take all that she would give him.

The next kiss was full and deep– urgent.

Matty’s tongue slid into her mouth, hands falling aimlessly away from her face to whatever part of her he could touch, feeling no ounce of remorse over it seeing as she was on the exact same journey, her fingers winding their way up and over every inch of him.

She kissed back with just as much force, colliding with him in a way that almost felt tortured, as though trying to make up for all the time they had wasted. Not just over the past few days, but the weeks and months they’d spent dancing around one another, pushing and pulling. Despairing this game of tug of war they had started.

It ended here.

Matty continued to lean up into her, pressing her into the counter as she clawed at the hoodie he wore. Matty felt her nails catch on the skin of his back, whilst he wrapped his arms around her hips.

“Baby,” He whispered breathlessly and then moaned when her mouth closed around his bottom lip, teeth grazing against the flesh before they then bit down. She rocked into him and Matty swore his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

He reached up a hand to cup the back of her neck so that he could mouth his way across her jaw and down her collar, favouring the skin just beneath her ear. “Need you.”

It was both an admission and a plea.

And then she was grabbing at his face too, forcing his mouth back up to meet hers, breath sweeping over the cut of his jaw. She tangled her fingers in his curls and Matty had the barest second to register that he was actually staying. That she was letting him back in.

His body jolted forward on impulse, arms snaking their way around her waist to splay out over her lower back, pulling her that much closer. Her hold tightened too, hand moving down his neck, thumb pressing lightly against the pulse point there.

Matty stepped nearer and she welcomed him in, legs parting to let him step between them, kiss turning hungrier as she arched her back up and away from the countertop. He wanted all of her.

She let go of his hair to press in harder, pulling back only so that she could lick his mouth back open and drive her tongue inside. She murmured his name against his lips, once, twice. And then Matty’s hand was between the blades of her shoulders and holding fast. He moved, spinning them outwards, over towards the kitchen door.

She let out a sharp sound that was half gasp and half moan, but all love and desire when they knocked into the arm of the sofa in the living-room and fell back against the soft cushions.

When they broke apart it was only out of necessity, the need to catch back the breath that had been forced out of them on their tumble down. They shared an airy chuckle.

Then he watched on as she stretched out further up the settee, fingers caught on his wrist so that she could tug him along with her. Their hips aligned as Matty crowded her again, elbow digging into the chair's arm to hold him up above her. He hovered there, their faces and foreheads pressed together, noses lined up side by side. Matty wished to savour every detail of her.

He kissed her again, slower, softer. His lips moved against hers so gently that it was almost reverent, worship-like, and she matched him toe for toe, pouring her whole soul into it, gifting him all the sweetness that she possibly could.

Matty prayed to whoever might’ve been listening that he could have this.

He supposed someone must’ve heard him because she said, “Stay,” in this careless whisper, in a tone that was more breath than anything else. And his heart stopped.

And then he was nodding. Almost frantically.

He kissed her, the tip of his nose brushing the underneath of hers as he lifted his head to nod one more time. “Long as you’ll let me.”

She whimpered and he groaned, forehead pushing against hers once more as she lifted her hips up to meet his.

Then they were both lunging for clothes in the same instant, nearly laughing at their clumsy eagerness to get undressed, the sofa being of no help.

Matty pushed back to sit up for a moment, luring her up gently with him so that he could slide her shirt off over her head. She returned the favour, letting him trail a finger over the curve of her shoulder and down her arm once they were done before she was on her back once more.

“So beautiful.” He felt the need to whisper, even though there was no one else around to hear it. She glanced away.

Matty wouldn’t have that though, a careful hand coming up to coax her eyes back to him, hoping that she would hear the sincerity in his words. She was the best thing he’d ever seen, no matter the time of day. No matter how horrible she felt. He’d never been so enamoured by another person, or so utterly lost in his desperate need to make it known.

His thumb caught on the corner of her mouth and he smiled. “I meant it.” He assured her and felt her shiver beneath him as his words fanned the skin of her cheek, “Beautiful.”

She swallowed thickly, he saw the bob of her throat before he slid his palms down her sides to unhook her bra, dropping it off to the side so that he could mouth along the length of her torso.

He continued to murmur, tone so full of admiration as he attempted to press the words into her skin, hoping that this way they would somehow sink in.

By the time he reached the hem of her trousers she was writhing beneath him, eyes pleading, so Matty made quick work of ridding them, allowing himself to look her over for just a second. She truly was beautiful.

“Matty,” The sound of his name forced his eyes back up and he was thrown by the dazzling smile she then wore. She took one of his hands in hers, linking their fingers, “I don't have all day, baby.”

He merely shook his head and laughed, figuring that she must’ve seen the many emotions that played out across his face afterwards because she tightened her hold on his hand and motioned him closer so that she could kiss him again.

He took her there on the settee. Worked her over slow and hard, his gaze only ever wavering when they slipped shut or he buried his face alongside the skin of her neck. His hands wandered whilst hers clung tight, leaving him marked and gasping. She murmured the whole while, legs wrapped around his middle to keep him as close as she possibly could, so that he could drive that bit deeper. Matty had never heard her so vocal, just muttering on and on, only ever stopping to cry out or jolt. But even then her words would either come out all warped or in a sharp shout. It only proved to spur him on though, fingers digging in and bruising the soft sides of her hips and thighs.

He could hardly think, listening to her pleads and commands. Such a demanding little thing.

The heels of her feet dug into his flesh as her arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders, holding on, sinking her nails into his skin deep enough to have him hissing. He didn’t dare tell her to let up, just attempted to pick up his pace, hand falling away from the crease of her thigh to drag along her folds, needing her to let go before he could.

“Close?”

He was met with a choked gasp: “Yeah.” Followed by a cascade of assent, breath wetting the cut of his jaw as her hands jumped up to curl themselves along his shoulders.

Matt felt himself nod, but was hardly even aware of it, gaze trained on her face, the watering of her eyes, the pink swell of her lips. “So good for me. Don’t deserve you.”

His words just made her strengthen her already too tight hold and then she was writhing beneath him, tear sliding down the side of her face just as her head tilted far back against the cushions and she moaned.

He wasn’t far behind her, but she continued to work her hips to the best of her ability whilst his thrusts became more and more desperate. He only noticed that he was clenching his teeth when her fingers came up to thread through his hair, slackening the muscles there in his face just as his head fell forward, hovering a centimetre or two above the dip in her collar.

Matty felt lips press against the side of his head, soft but there. “I love you.” She said, and he couldn’t even respond, lost in the sensations that overwhelmed him as he jolted forward, every muscle in his legs tensing as his eyes slammed close.

His breathing was harsh and laboured when he finally managed to pull out, falling into the little space she created for him on the side of the sofa. He draped an arm over her middle, not giving much thought to the damp sheen on their skin or the mess between her thighs. They could have this for a little while longer.

Matty hid a smile, nosing along her shoulder as he better settled into his position before he kissed the sweet skin there. Her back was to him now, him wrapped up around her body, their legs entangled, and he thought back to those few words of hers.

Back to that night she’d first said them.

To when she had last said them.

He started to trail a finger over her side, up and then down before he decided to trace each letter one by one. He heard her huff a laugh when she finally caught on, but he pressed on, writing more.

When she patted his hand and shifted, he frowned, wondering if he’d pushed too far, too quickly, even though she’d been the one to say it first. But she just rolled around to face him and grinned at the face he must’ve worn.

“You’re an idiot.”

His brow pinched but he still felt himself smile, “What?”

She laughed all lovelylike and he blinked at the sweetness of it, wondering when he’d gotten so used to hearing such a pretty fucking sound.

He poked at her side, prodding, “Go on, tell me.”

With a fond roll of her eyes, Matty watched the stretch of her smile soften before he stilled slightly at her slow touch, the drag of her finger which trailed over his stubbled cheek. “Just such a you thing to do.” She teased him quietly, fingertip reaching up to skim over the bridge of his nose and then his eyelids.

Matty shrugged, narrowing his eyes a tad but unable to truly hide the small smirk he was wearing. He moved his hand back to her hip, tracing another word that had her huffing and shaking her head in sudden exasperation. Then another. And another.

Her eyes were wide when he chanced a glance up at her and she swallowed at the earnest expression he gifted her. “I mean it.” He whispered into the tiny slot of space that rested between their heads.

He watched as her stare tracked along his face, flicking from one eye to the other. “How can you be so sure?”

Matty shrugged the shoulder that wasn’t pressed up against the settee, a small smile dancing on his mouth. “Never been sure of much, but I know this.”

She quirked an eyebrow, “This your way of askin’?”

Chuckling lightly, he shook his head in turn. “Nah, gotta think of something good. Big.” He grinned at the snort she gave, but continued on anyway, fingers simply brushing against her hip now, “Figure we need time to get there again, sort through this mess.”

“Again?”

Matty hummed, thinking back to the bout of songs he’d been working on over the last few months, to the days G had smirked and asked about some of the lyrics he’d written down. “Been playing on my mind.”

There was a small curve to her brow now, an almost frown but not, Matty knew her well enough to know that she was just a little thrown by his answer.

“How long?”

Her whispered ask had him thinking, but he couldn’t really give her an exact time span. He’d hardly even realised it himself. “I don’t know, but for a while.”

She breathed out a quiet little laugh, eyes darting between his own once more, “So one day then?”

Matty hummed happily, face breaking into a slow going grin as one of his hands came up to cup her face, thumb soothing her cheek. “One day, Squeaks,” He murmured to her, “I’m gonna marry the shit out of you.”

Her cheek warmed beneath his touch but she laughed, shaking her head ever so slightly whilst her eyes looked down before shooting right back up again. “You’re gonna regret that.”

Wrinkling his nose a tad and curling his upper lip, Matty just shook his head, “Nah, don’t reckon so.”

“You say that,” She all but sang before she was kicking up a storm in his hold, quickly trying to get away from the hand that had come up to run a rhythm down her side, tickling her into shutting that daft mouth of hers.

“Yeah, I do fuckin’ say.” Matty chuckled, grinning madly as he continued to grab at her, teasing her bare skin with his tormenting touch. It was with that in which Mouse went sailing, rolling away from him in an attempt to escape, and dragging Matty with, him still so caught up in her that the pair of them went tumbling to the living-room floor.

Matty felt as though all the air in his lungs had been kicked from his chest once the world had stopped spinning and finally righted itself. He realised all too quickly what had happened, a heap of hair splayed over his face as he spluttered.

“Fuck.” He managed to drag out, forcing a huffy laugh from his chest.

He watched on as she struggled for a second, him having cushioned her fall, and she pushed up onto her palms so that she could glare down at him, not entirely unhappy. Matty snorted and raised his arms in defence.

“Don’t blame me.”

If it was at all possible, her eyes cut sharper. “The fuck I won’t! Why’d you start tickling me?”

“Because you never know when to shut up!” Matty laughed, wheezing a little as he did and bending a knee so that he could plant one foot firmly on the floor, his hand rested on his chest.

She just rolled her eyes though as she battled to sit up, spine curving once she had. Matty reached out to trail the length of it, pulse jumping at the shiver he watched run through her.

“How’d we even go from you being such a sap to us on the floor?” Mouse huffed, reaching up to grab at a throw that had been resting on the nearby armchair. Matty watched through a lazy gaze as she bundled it into an oddly shaped ball of sorts before turning back to him. “Fucking all sticky now too.”

He smiled stupidly, folding his hands behind his head, unashamed as he was, to better protect it from the hardwood floors.

She stood with a roll of her eyes, on unsteady legs mind– something Matty felt all too pleased with– and caught sight of his smirk, and before he could even see it coming the bundled blanket was being thrown at his head. He yelped girlishly and floundered to shield himself from it but it still managed to catch the side of his face with just enough force.

He listened to her hearty laugh as he tossed the thing back at her legs, frowning when it missed and her footsteps began to trail away. “Oi, where do you think you’re goin’?”

“To shower!” She called out from over her shoulder just before she could disappear through the doorway, “Again!”

Matty huffed a small snicker to himself and resorted to simply staring up at the ceiling whilst he waited, but before he could get too comfortable there she was calling out to him again.

“So you coming or what, Healy?”

And fuck if that didn’t have him scrambling up off of the floor to join her. He smiled when she merely laughed at the eager sight of him rounding the hallway and he found himself wondering how the fuck he’d managed this as she turned on the tap and pulled him under the water with her.

He must’ve seemed a little out of it though because she was tilting her head at him when he peered over at her, her hands at his hips. “You good?”

Matty hummed quietly, dipping his head to kiss her once more because he could. “Yeah, just happy.”

And wasn’t that a thought. Him happy.

Mouse grinned at him, eyes lighting up with it as he stepped on closer. Her hold tightened, “Me too.”

Me too.

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kookslastbutton · 9 hours

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Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter iii

✑ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader (not poly)

genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love

Word count: 5.3k+

Warnings: some time skips (none too huge), oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, lots of introspection, tornado of emotions, morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of broken home/families, themes of abandonment, mention of love bombing, reoccurring nightmares, sleep paralysis, mentions of therapy, struggles of self-blame, regret, guilt, etc., mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world, death (minor character), life-threatening accident (major character)

playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.

a/n: ANGST ANGST ANGST...don't say I never warned you hahaha. Anyway, once again, I had an amazing time writing this! (although nervous af 👉🏼 👈🏼) Just FYI, there are some time skips as this starts a few weeks after the gala! So to clarify, it’s now 3 months since oc’s divorce was officially finalized, as in done (the process itself took way longer). The chapter continues from there and yeah, the pace is picked up. Okay, let’s go! Enjoy! 🥰

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Fresh linen. Warm breeze. The smell and sound of the ocean.

You know this place too well, like a memory you hoped to have forgotten. Why are you here now? You glance around, taking in the familiar details—the blank ceiling above, the soft comforter that curls around your body like silk against your skin, and delicate rose petals scattered at the foot of the bed. It’s exactly as it was before — it feels exactly the same; too quiet, too peaceful, and too good to be true.

The sunlight streaming through the window is blinding, yet it draws you in with a force you can't resist. Carefully, you stand up, your feet meeting the cool wood floor, and you shiver. Each step you take towards the window feels heavier, like wading through water. When you reach the window, you see the sandy beach below, the waves beating rhythmically against the shore. It’s beautiful, but the painful kind.

To the left, a young couple, not much older than yourself, their hands tightly intertwined, as if afraid to let go. To the right, an older couple sitting further up the beach, comfortably silent as they take in the horizon, reminiscent of their many years together. You always dreamt of achieving the latter, yet here you stand, having neither, and the chances of ever obtaining it growing dimmer with each passing day.

For many, this was supposed to be a place of happiness, a symbol of love, promises, and new beginnings, but not for you. For you, it was a cocoon, trapping you in a deceptive comfort. You close your eyes, trying to steady your rapid breathing, yet it doesn’t prove to be of much help. Images from your past that you’ve tried blocking out of your mind time and time again suddenly resurface — the arguments, the tears, the feeling of everything and nothing at the same time.

“You’re up early,” His voice startles you, causing you to spin around in a panic. At that moment, your heart tightens in your chest, and a cold sweat forms on your brow. You thought you were alone. You’re certain of it. Yet the sight of your ex-husband standing only a few feet away, his hair still damp from his morning shower, is enough to leave you completely speechless.

"Why are you here?" you whisper, your voice trembling.

"Why are you here?" he counters, his dark eyes piercing into yours. "Isn't this what you wanted? To remember us, to remember how it felt to be together?”

What? This isn't making any sense. Why is he talking to you as if he were a ghost? Your eyes search frantically around the room until you spot it—the wedding band on his finger. No, not again. You hear yourself plead, but the words don't leave your lips. All at once, the room begins to feel smaller, the walls closing in on you. You're stuck in another manifestation of your past, this time reliving your honeymoon, three years ago in Greece.

"I didn't want this," you say, your voice barely audible. "I wanted to forget this."

"But you can't forget, can you?" he says, stepping closer. “You remember this view. You remember the floors and the walls. You remember that we had our first time together here and promised our devotion to each other."

“That’s not fair, Jungkook," you reply, taking a step back, "it's not fair at all, you left me. You don't get to patronize me like this."

“We both know our marriage came with stipulations, __. So when did I ever give you a reason to stay? Or to love me?”

You’re back in the bed, the sheets now suffocating rather than comforting. The sound of the ocean is louder, more insistent, drowning out your thoughts. You want to scream, to run, but you’re paralyzed by the fear, the guilt, the regret.

"This isn’t real,” you say to yourself, tears streaming down your face. “I’m dreaming, none of this is happening.”

“You can't escape what we had, or what we lost. We’ll always be here, together __, in this place,” he says softly, reaching out to touch your hand.

"No," you whisper, pulling your hand away. "I need to wake up. I need to let go...of you."

The room fades, his figure dissolving into the shadows. The sound of the ocean becomes a distant murmur as you fight to open your eyes. Wake up, please wake up. It's your own pleads chanting in your head. Finally, with a gasp, you awake, the nightmare diminishing like vapor.

“Fuck,” you curse, fingers gripping your sheets, “just another damn dream.” Rolling onto your back, you take a deep breath before reaching out for the glass of water on your nightstand. Its coolness soothes your dry throat. You reach for your phone next, checking the time—4:47 AM. Too early to start the day, too late to attempt falling back to sleep.

Your thumb hovers over Jimin’s name in your text threads. It would be 10 AM where he is. You consider sending a message, but you find yourself at a loss for words. Forget it, you lock your phone and rise from your bed, you’ll go for a walk instead. Yeah, it’s brisk outside, but the fresh air will help clear your mind.

After tossing on your warmest coat and scarf, you head outside, the sun beginning to break over the horizon. At first, you wander aimlessly, lost in thought as you pass the odd person or two on the sidewalk. One individual accidentally knocks into you, yet he's quick to apologize. You easily understand their rush; perhaps they've just finished the night shift and are eager to reach the comfort of home.

You imagine their loved ones who must be waiting for them. You could be wrong, and maybe you're biased, but the image you depict is a future you once envisioned for yourself—one of laughter, love, and a warm family. It’s a dream you secretly carried as a child, amidst your unstable upbringing. But as the years passed, what was once a lifelong aspiration felt more and more elusive, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. It seems, in the end, it was just a dream…nothing more.

Of course, you've achieved other goals instead, success in your career for one. It's what you wanted most the more you became an adult. Even before Jungkook came in the picture you were thriving. Yes, you needed investors to expand, but you had already made a strong name for yourself, hence the reason his company even reached out to you for a partnership in the first place.

The second, and more formidable goal you’ve achieved was saving your company. You built your business with an earnest heart, good morals, and an ambition to serve a community. You couldn’t let it all be washed out by a larger, greedier industry giant. You had to do something. Too bad your judgment was skewed the day you saw a similar ambition in Jungkook’s eyes; he was just as determined as you to save what was his.

For a while you got what you wanted, stability for your business. But you got too invested, too short-sighted to anticipate that one day, it would all feel hollow without someone proper to share it with. Alas, your prior hopes, the ones you thought were buried long ago, began returning to you as if they were an overwhelming tsunami.

You wanted warmth.

You wanted intimacy.

You wanted a home.

You sought companionship with Jungkook but no, you read the signs all wrong. Once you dropped the L word, his attentiveness towards you skyrocketed. He began calling you while you were apart, surprising you with little gifts, and setting more time aside so you could both take Bam to the dog park on free days. But then it all stopped. After months of showering you with attention, his efforts exhausted him, so he looked for the first exit out.

You remember getting the text one afternoon— When will you be home tonight? We need to talk about something. Selfishly, you hoped he was going to tell you that you could take that trip to Fiji together. You had been hinting at it for the last two weeks. Of course, you were wrong because the last time you checked, trip itineraries didn’t come with divorce papers. At that moment, you realized that Jungkook didn’t try to love you in the slightest, he tried loving at you; love bombing 101. Your ties are now completely severed.

Yesterday marked three months since your divorce was finalized. You didn’t cry like you thought you would, but you did meet with Melody that day. As your therapist, she offered you her empathy, validation, and perspective. You feel you’ve gotten better since you started meeting with her, finally beginning to heal. Yet the unsettling dream that haunted your sleep last night shows you there are many things still left to resolve, feelings you need to confront, but where to start?

You love your ex-husband, but why?

Can it even be called love?

And do you really need him to love you back?

While you can only offer fragments of an answer for the first two, you seem to have a better-formed answer for the last.

No, you don’t need Jungkook to love you. He’s proven to you time and time again that you are not the one he can bear his heart to. He’s always reiterating that he wants you to find someone else, someone more deserving of you, whatever that means. Likely, it’s all projection. Out of the two of you, he’s the one more likely to re-marry.

As for you, you’ll always love him, at least a semblance of it. After all, he was once a part of you. But what was once a part of you, doesn’t need to be anymore. You have to let him go...though you wish you didn't have to.

You continue walking straight until you find yourself drawn to a small park overlooking the city skyline. It's fairly empty, with only a few people nearby. As you settle onto a weathered bench, you take in the view before you. It stretches endlessly. Sunrises have always held a special place in your heart—the amber glow breaking through the abyss of darkness as if a beacon of hope.

"You'll get through this __," you reassure yourself, “one day at a time.”

“Happy six months, boss!”

A goofy, boxy smile graces the man’s lips as he leans against the doorframe of your office. You take in his appearance: crème-colored sweater paired with dark brown slacks, the fabric impeccably tailored to his tall, lean frame. His ebony hair is perfectly parted down the center and feathered out to either side of his face, giving him a soft, approachable look. The glasses are new though, round with a hint of gold. Though a minor accessory, they seem to tie the rest of the look together.

Classy, yet cozy, you hum silently, it suits him.

Everything about the way he’s dressed today complements his features—not that it could be any other way, as Taehyung could never not look good in something. You learned that the hard way when you opted against a gaudy shirt and pant set your stylists suggested he wear for a commercial. Taehyung, being a free spirit, decided to try it on for kicks, and yeah, it strangely worked. He ended up shooting the entire commercial with it on. That video’s gotten your business the highest engagement rate across all your media platforms to this day.

“Mr. Kim, does six months of working together really merit a celebratory drop-in?” You lean back in your desk chair, arms folded as you narrow your eyes at the man. You're taunting him, not that he minds.

“Please,__,” he starts, stepping further into the room, his presence effortlessly filling the space. “The only person that still calls me that is the intern who works on set with us. Makes me feel old, like I’m double my real age.”

“Well, you are older than both of us.”

Taehyung gives you the look, a mix of amusement and mild aggravation.

“Two years is hardly considered older, but if you’re done trying to prod me, I’d like to ask you a series of serious questions.”

“Okay, what?” You straighten your back, curious to know what he’s thinking.

“Red or white wine?” He waits for your response, eyes seemingly hopeful. You're unsure where he's going with this, so you delay your response, suspicious of the spontaneity of the inquiry.

“Red,” you respond, cautiously. Taehyung seems pleased.

“Strawberries or blueberries?”

“Strawberries, though I prefer cherries most."

“Science or literature?"

"Literature." You surprise him with this one. "I like books, vintage ones."

"Do a lot of reading in your spare time?" he asks.

"When I get some, yes."

"Me too. Tolstoy?"

"Occasionally," you answer. "Where are you going with this, Taehyung?"

He shrugs. "Just making conversation." He pauses before continuing, “I also happen to know a place that offers all those things plus private bookings. How about you and I go for dinner tonight, as colleagues? If you hate the wine, I’ll drink it for you.”

The weight of his request hits you like a ton of bricks. Apart from a handful of social events, you and Taehyung haven't exactly mingled outside of the office. His sudden invitation to go out for dinner takes you by surprise, especially considering the nature of your professional relationship. However, you can't deny the subtle shifts in his behavior, the way he's been checking in on you more often, especially since the Winter Gala. Weeks have passed since then, but, no doubt, the memory of that night still lingers in both your minds—the shaming from a bitter business competitor, the unwanted press shining a light on your divorce, and your ex-husband who so easily approached you like it was nothing.

Taehyung suggested for you to slip away through the back door with him, offering to drive you home himself rather than leaving you with your limo driver. But you declined, feeling embarrassed that he wasn't merely a witness to the night's events, but also made to be a spectacle himself. You never wanted him to feel like he had to pity you or coax you through your personal trials. Being a good colleague is one thing, but he didn't need to go above and beyond.

“I don’t know if I can join you tonight, I'm sorry. I have a lot to do,” you say, your voice wavering slightly. It's not far from the truth with the mountain of business reports and budget plans to look over. Though your business remains functioning, it's a lot to maintain, especially with the number of investors having withdrawn their support once news got out about your marital separation. It's unfortunate how much a person's situation and the things they've built can change on someone else's dime.

“You sure?" Taehyung tries again, careful not to sound pushy. "The place isn’t overly posh, but we could go elsewhere if you’d prefer."

“I’m sorry, Taehyung, maybe another time?” you say, fingers fidgeting with a few documents on your desk, a nervous habit you developed ages ago. “I-"

“I understand,” he says, his expression softening, a hint of disappointment flickering in his eyes before he masks it with a gentle smile. "I have a film shoot that might go late anyway. Speaking of which, I'm expected on set in about half an hour so I'm going to head out, but if you change your mind, you know how to reach me."

You nod, recalling having his contact in your phone. The two of you agreed it would be easier to coordinate meetings and schedules this way. "I will, thank you. Good luck with your filming."

As you watch him leave, a twinge of guilt tugs at your conscience. Perhaps you shouldn't have dismissed him so quickly, considering how insistent he seemed. It's as if he was genuinely looking forward to the affair.

No, you can't entertain it any further. You have no way of knowing how far the night might've led—it's best to leave Kim Taehyung alone.

When you declined Taehyung's invitation to get dinner, you didn’t expect it to result in not seeing or hearing from him for the next week and a half. As an endorser, he doesn't work at the office regularly, coming and going as needed and since you hadn’t had any promotional projects for him recently, his absence seemed normal at first.

But this was Kim Taehyung. The same Taehyung who loved making spontaneous visits to the company, especially towards the end of the week. He often came in once, twice, sometimes three times a week to talk with Namjoon, your secretary, in particular. Somehow, the pair had become friends, and since Namjoon’s desk was near yours, Taehyung would drop by whenever he saw your door open. So, not hearing from him for 11 days straight was strange, like he'd vanished.

It was now Friday evening, the clock pushing 5 pm. You consider texting him to make sure he's okay, but wouldn’t that be hypocritical? You had agreed with yourself to leave him alone. Maybe he was on vacation, perhaps at a vineyard, or had taken on another film project. Being a highly talented actor, Taehyung had no shortage of casting directors contacting him for their movies and TV shows.

Embarrassingly, you hadn’t actually seen any of his movies. You enjoyed a good rom-com now and then, like the ones Taehyung starred in, but you usually opted for something more mindless when you had the time to watch anything.

You can imagine the loyal following he has though, as Taehyung was the epitome of a "dream boat" with his natural good looks and expressive eyes. He must be good at kiss scenes, which must be especially difficult for anyone dating him. You know you'd have a hard time accepting it at least, the fact that your flawless actor boyfriend was off making out with equally beautiful co-stars on set, that is. Anyway, as your endorser, maybe you should try supporting his films a bit more. There had to be one that would catch your eye.

Curious, you open a new tab on your phone and search for him.

"Holy fuck," the curse leaves your lips the minute the search returns. Dozens of articles display on your phone screen at once, all covering South Korean actor Kim Taehyung's recent motorcycle accident. You checked the publishing date—six hours ago. “Taehyung’s in the hospital. He’s in the fucking hospital!”

Panicked, you leave your office to speak with your secretary.

“Ms. __,” Namjoon greets you immediately, a trace of hesitation in his tone upon seeing your frazzled state. “Is everything alright?”

“Joon,” you refer to him by his pet name, “Did you know that Taehyung’s in the hospital?”

“What?” He seems as shocked as you, his eyebrows shooting up in alarm.

“It happened this morning around eleven or something. It was a collision, a motorcycle accident. Oh god, he’s—he’s been taken to the ER,” you choke out the words, struggling to maintain your composure as you try recalling one of the articles you skimmed. “We have to go. I have to go right now.”

“I’m coming with you.” Namjoon leaps from his chair, grabbing his keys from his desk drawer. “I’ll drive.”

“No,” you stop him, “I don’t know how long this’ll be and you usually work until 5:30, so I don't want you to have to be stuck at the hospital with me. I want you to be able to call it an early night if you want. We'll take separate cars over.”

“Okay,” he nods. “I’ll meet you over there then?”

“Yeah.” You nod back, clutching your keys harder in your palm. “Yeah, sounds good.” You turn around to head for the nearest exit, but your secretary stops you mid-step.

“__,” he calls you by your name, having known you for the past decade permits him to do so. He softens his eyes when he sees the worry in your own clear as day. “He’s gonna be okay. We have to believe that. Please drive safe.”

“You too,” you say, then disappear from his sight.

When you arrive, it’s a madhouse. Sirens blare as ambulances rush into the hospital parking lot, doctors and nurses race from room to room, and fans—so many fans—crowd outside, all waving signs of comfort and support.

“I'm here to see Kim Taehyung,” you say urgently to the charge nurse. She recognizes you immediately and throws you a look of distaste, but you’re too focused on the emergency at hand to care. “I’m sure you know who I am, but I need to see him. We work together, we're colleagues.”

“Ms. __,” she replies, surprisingly calm and collected amidst her obvious dislike of you. “I’m afraid he’s currently receiving serious medical attention and won’t be able to have any visitors at the moment.”

“I’ll wait,” you blurt out the words faster than you anticipate. You feel like you're eating your words from earlier about leaving him alone, but this is different—his life is on the line. "I can wait for him.”

“Visiting hours are only until 8 pm. I really don’t think—”

“Please,” you interrupt, your voice stern and urgent. “He's part of my team. He's my...friend. I have to know if he’s okay.”

The nurse hesitates, her expression softening slightly as she sees the genuine concern in your eyes. “Alright,” she finally says, her tone firm but kinder. “You can wait in the family lounge, but I can’t promise you’ll be able to see him anytime soon."

“Thank you,” you say, relief flooding through you. She directs you to a quiet room down the hall, away from the commotion where you're better able to calm your racing thoughts. You find a seat in the far corner immediately and send a quick text to Namjoon, letting him know where you are.

As you wait, the minutes drag by painfully slow. You can’t stop replaying the articles in your mind from earlier, the words “motorcycle accident” echoing like a mantra. How did this even happen? How bad was his condition? How much strain is this going to put on his acting career? You wish you knew.

A handful of nurses enter the lounge occasionally, calling out names and providing updates, but none of them are Taehyung’s. You find your ears burning every time the door opens, heart racing, only to sink back into your seat when it’s not about him.

Finally, you catch sight of Namjoon, his face mirroring your concern. He spots you immediately and rushes over, taking a seat in the chair beside you. “Any news?” he asks, his voice low and urgent.

“Not yet,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “They said he’s receiving serious medical attention and don't know when we'll be able to see him. We have to leave by 8.”

Namjoon nods, his expression grim but unwavering “We’ll wait together.”

"If you need to leave sooner than—"

"I know," he interrupts. "I appreciate it, but please let me be here too."

You sit in silence from then on, exhaustion beginning to weigh heavy on both your shoulders. It's not until 7:35 when a doctor walks into the lounge, his tired eyes scan the room until they land on you and Namjoon.

“Are you here for Kim Taehyung?” he asks. "I'm Dr. Min."

You nod, your heart in your throat.

“He’s stable for now,” Dr. Min explains, “but he's still in critical condition. We’re doing everything we can.”

“Can we see him?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He sighs. “Only for a few minutes. And you need to be prepared—he’s heavily sedated and has sustained significant injuries.”

“I understand,” you reply, mentally preparing yourself for what’s to come.

Dr. Min leads you through a maze of hallways until you reach the ICU. As you enter Taehyung’s room, the sight of him hooked up to machines and covered in bandages nearly breaks you. You take a deep breath and step closer, Namjoon right next to you.

“Taehyung,” you whisper, but he remains motionless, his breathing steady and rhythmic. The severity of his injuries is evident in the way he lies.

“We're here, Taehyung,” Namjoon continues, noticing your slightly frozen state. “We’re both here for you. Please, fight through this. You and I, we're good pals, remember? Like brothers. You have to—"

Although the more collected one before, Namjoon begins to struggle with his words. You place a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. Having known him for 10 years, you know that despite his strong exterior, he has one of the softest souls you know.

"I think I have to go, __. It'll be better if I see him when he's awake. I want to stay longer, but I just don't know if I can."

"I understand, we can't stay much longer anyway. Go home and get some rest. Dr. Min will call us when he's awake and able to talk."

After you give him a hug, Namjoon leaves the room, leaving you alone with Taehyung. You end up pulling up a chair beside his bed and slowly reach out to touch his hand. It's instinctive for you, the need to feel his heartbeat overpowering any other thought.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you, Taehyung," you start, your voice a mere murmur. "You'll push through this, right? Like in the movies you film. I confess I haven't seen any of them yet, but—but I will! That's how I found out about all this actually. We hadn't seen you for nearly two weeks, so I searched you up. Not in a weird way though, okay? Not like...anyway, I'm sorry I said no to you that day. When you asked to go for dinner, it threw me off. This whole thing with my ex-husband just has my mind in fifty million directions, so I promise it wasn't you. I hope you didn't think that."

"You've always seemed to show up for me, whether it's for the good of the company or even a little emotionally in some aspects. With the reputation I have these days, I'll always be grateful that you chose to work with me. You have a good heart, Taehyung, so much that I think if we ever got close, I think it might be unbearable for me," you pause, a couple of tears slipping down your face.

Just then, a creaking of the room's door momentarily pulls your attention away. Dr. Min stands a few feet away, clearing his throat—a gentle but firm signal that it's time for you to leave.

"I have to go soon, but I'll be back tomorrow, okay? Even if you're still asleep or not, I'll stop in and sit with you for a while because...because I need to be sure that you'll be alright. Namjoon will come see you too when he's ready. But I'll see you in the morning, alright Kim?"

You squeeze Taehyung's hand gently before heading out of the room, thanking the medical staff along the way.

When you get home, the first thing you do is head straight for the bathroom. Your whole body feels riddled with stress and exhaustion, and you know that the only thing that can offer even the slightest amount of solace is the warmth of water.

Yet not four minutes after immersing yourself in your tub does your phone ring, demanding your attention. Being this late into the evening, you figure it has to be Jimin.

But you're wrong.

When you reach to answer the call, it's actually an unrecognizable number that's flashing on the screen. You hesitate for a moment, debating whether to answer or let it go to voicemail.

"Hello?" you answer cautiously, curiosity getting the best of you.

There's a brief pause on the other end before his voice comes through, words slightly muddled. "Hey, it's me," he says, his tone soft. "I've been...I've been thinking about my life, you know? About everything.

"J-Jungkook?" Your heart sinks as you quickly decipher the owner of the voice, but then it hardens. It's obvious from the slurring of his words that he's been drinking. "Why on earth are you calling me? And at this godforsaken hour too."

"I told you...I've been thinking about my life."

"I'm hanging up."

"No, please, stay on the line for five minutes. Please, I have to tell you...what I've been thinking."

"You have three minutes," you sigh, ready for anything (except what he was about to spring on you).

"I wanted to save my company," he continues, his voice wavering slightly. "For my mom's sake, you know? My dad owned it and stuff but she was the one who was behind all the technology...and that's why I married you. You...reminded me of her."

Your breath catches in your throat as he reveals the truth behind his actions, the raw honesty of his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. You knew very little of Jungkook's mother, too, as he didn't speak of her often.

"And then...then there's the real reason I divorced you," he admits, his voice breaking slightly. "My parents had a terrible marriage, you know? My mom...she had to manage my dad's temper for years...he didn't love her at all. He just married her because she was smart and could make him rich. It made her so unhappy, but you know she loved him so much. She...she passed away when I was 16, and...and I didn't want that for you. I didn't want you to be trapped like she was, because I'm like my dad you know? My feelings are...weird... I never know what the hell I'm...feeling. I'm probably not making a lot of sense am I?"

"I'm trying to understand." You want to hang up here and now but every time he speaks, you cant bring yourself to do it. The pain in his voice cuts through you like a knife, and it's a side of him that you've rarely seen before.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice thick with regret. "I'm sorry for being such a dumbass that day I got my stuff. That was like, six months ago and I still hate myself for it. I shouldn't have made an advance on you like that. I was...I was immature, and I wasn't thinking."

"After the gala," he continues, his words becoming more coherent as he speaks. "I...I felt even more guilty, you know? Because, I still have a photo of you and Bam on my dresser. It's small, but I've tried to put it away over and over and over again, but I can't do it. I don't know what's wrong with me...it's almost a year since we lived under the same goddam roof and I can still smell your perfume, I can still remember how you laugh with both your lips and your eyes...the way you scrunch you nose when—"

"What are you trying to say Jungkook?" You interrupt. "That you're sorry and can't get me out of your head, so you need my forgiveness to move on?"

"No! That's...that's not it at all. I mean, I do want your forgiveness but—"

"Well, what the fuck is it?" You hate how aggressive your voice is sounding, but the obscene amount of incoherent information he's revealing to you is overwhelming. "It's 10 freaking pm at night, I had a long day, I'm sleep deprived, and Taehyung's in the fucking hospital which is so distressing, so I'm sorry, but I can't handle any more of your cryptic messages!"

"I think I might love you," he finally says, his voice raising as well. "I know I'm...I'm being a dumbass, but I...I think I love you. I love you __, fuck!"

a/n: So....how are we feeling about Jungkook rn? Also, my darling Taehyung is taking one for the team here 😭 🤍 LMK what you think! Lastly, I understand the timeline of events is a bit tricky to follow, so if it helps I can put something in the series masterlist to help.

Masterlist | Requests: closed | Taglist | Fic Recs

Tags:

@jksjx @lovingkoalaface @junecat18 @babystarcandyjk97 @wobblewobble822 @a-gayish-unicorn @neverthefirstchoice @whipwhoops @hubbytaehyung @jalexad @cassies-cookies @llallaaa @marshieeeemallow @baechugff @lovemazespluto @eegyo @iwanttobecalledaurora @harmonyflora @francheskarm34 @sftlrmin @saba-ya @11thenightwemet11 @yoursnixni @zafirowwa2909 @btsffreader92 @junniesoleilkth @iamcamlb @bangctans @lilliankoo @talyaaas-blog @blackswan18 @appleh4ad @hoseokteardrop @613tannies @whoa-jo @borahaeb1ch @getougf @chimmisbae @kookcobain @miniekookiegucci @purplelanterns @eegyo @inthemiddleofsomething22-blog @darkuni63 @bibimboppin19 @phanniefoo @chieftoadturkeynickel @existenciosa @dasommwa @minayas1998 @sumzysworld @pwd54gr54 @jellycake2109 @sigxx123 @00frenchfries00 @importantperfectionmiracle @stigma93 @lpgirl2324 @youremyjinearth @moonups-stuff @bubblyyz @hvnnibvni @ttanniett @secfir @urlovelily @iknowhistouch3 @nadzzzblog @itsmina29 @mochibites00 @syazzzlisa @ash07128

side note: I tried tagging readers in comments but most of them didn't go through, so i'm sorry about the clutter here...😬

#jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook imagines #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #bts smut #bts angst #bts au #bts imagines #bts fanfics #bts x reader #fic:guiltypleasures #kookslastbutton

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yanderemommabean · 8 hours

Note

Drider Mahito please mama I am begging on my hands and knees

The spider crawls forward, humming and tilting his head as he examines a few spots of his surroundings. A small bush here, a skittering critter over there, and of course a terrified bounding deer that’s trying to avoid the fate of the current one dangling and bleeding in the creature's mouth.

He’s so excited,the electricity thrumming over his skin. He wants to catch as many meals as he can, he’s sure if he catches the most then things will go just as planned!

Mahito was positive that all he needed to do was show he could hunt, gather, and track to be able to win your heart. He’s kept an eye on you for about a month now, watched you celebrate a holiday here and there, and was just in awe. You’re so intriguing. Most humans have boring and too bland of a life for him to care for, but you…You have a way about you. The way you carry yourself, the way you stand up to people despite their rank in your nest, the way you favor one thing yet despise another.

He wonders if you’re the kind to appreciate the beauties of eating one's family members. He could scoop up that pesky relative who questions too much, you seem to have an ire of sorts towards them.

Ah, maybe as a first courting sort of gift. For now he has to at least get his feet in the door!

Maybe you’d like that street cat as well? You cuddle the other ones though…mmm…No, best to leave it be. You humans have weird ways to show some creatures affection, and others horror and disdain.

Though, he supposes that's every creature.

Trudging around in the trees, he hums a small tune and waves to the other Driders and Nagas, finding their meals and their bones to chew on. Some wave with a smile, others move on with their eyes down or a soured look on their faces.

They’re smart. They see the markings that Mahito bears and know to stay a good distance. He has a reputation for mauling and using his venom just because some dare to look him in the eye. But that doesn't mean he’s a monster! What? He can’t have fun and play around?!

A crackle of leaves and twins makes everyone alert, and a wide, almost manic smile grows on Mahitos face. It's you! That scent, that heart beat, the heat he can see on your flesh-It’s you! Oh he can't wait! He can’t wait!

He scurries forward, blood and meat dripping down his chin and chest as he hurries toward you, pupils wide and wild as he manages to pinpoint exactly where you are. Ah! Now that he’s this close, he’s suddenly nervous!

But you look so pretty, so delicate, so easy to break and eat and devour if you were more of his prey….

Thankfully you’re his mate! Or, well, you will be! See, he isn’t keen on being told no to something he desperately wants. Be it food, territory, or a way to be with you every single day for the rest of his life.

You’ll accept, you’ll come home with him, learn his name and learn to stay inside at all times when he isn’t beside you. You’ll kiss and laugh and you’ll tell him how much you love him, how he’s such a good boy for you, how he’s such a hard working hunter who deserves your attention and love and-

He’s so lost in his excitement he doesn't hear the horrified screams you make as he drops the raw meat and bones at your feet. He just grins, a large tongue coming to swipe at his blood stained teeth as he waits like a dog for your answer and your praise. Surely you see how hard he’s worked on this right?!

Oh…you’re…scurrying away again?

Well that’s rather ungrateful don’t you think?

After everything he’s done?

His expression sours, but he doesn’t let you get away as he easily gets ahead of you, lifting you up with ease as you dangle in his grasp, begging for your life and terrified of the creature holding your life in his hands, literally.

“Insolent little wretch. I swear. I did all of this and you’re just going to turn away?!” he hisses, teeth coming close to nipping your skin as you feel your heart seize in your chest. Your voice, quivering and weak, speaks out as he dangles you higher, wanting to see the fear in your eyes for denying him your courtship.

“Please don’t kill me”. What? What the fuck are you talking about?! Why would you assume-

It clicks. You see him as a predator on the hunt rather than a mate to be loved by. Huh. How did you ever come to that conclusion? It’s like you think he’d eat your bone marrow or something!

Then there’s a simple solution to this! He just holds you in his hand, tight and firm, carrying you and your wriggling body away to the dark edges of his territory as he explains how he’ll prove himself.

It’s easy! You just have to let him show you how much he wants you! Well, it's more of a need at this point. He went feral just thinking of you with some other mate, human or not. And if those Naga's want their tails intact they’ll know to keep their distance.

-Mommabean (I hope you enjoyed!)

#yandere drider #yandere Mahito #yandere jjk #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere exophilia #yandere x reader #yandere male #Mommabean

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bisexual-apocalypse · 3 days

Text

Stressful Situations

Hello! The fic below the cut was written by the lovely @suueeeeeee ! They messaged me asking if I would be willing to edit and post this for them and after reading this delightful fic I had to say yes!

To the 2 people who requested fics! They are in the works but may take a little longer as I'm leaving for the weekend! Thank you so much for the love and support y'all!!

It was yet another day, another rehearsal and another stressful session of Andrew and the band trying their best to make sure they’re all set for today’s concert.

Ever since (y/n) had started to accompany Andrew on tour, she’s been nothing but a delight in everyone’s eyes. She made sure they all ate, stayed hydrated, and well-rested and genuinely cared for them as if she was their mother.

She sat down on the side watching them with those eyes that said ‘I’m so fucking proud’. She enjoyed every part of this tour, everything about it made her happy. She loved Andrew and therefore watching him do what really makes him happy tickled her insides and made her all giddy.

She noticed how on edge he was today, and how he was taking it out on everyone else. She felt bad for everyone but she bad for him specifically. Poor lad’s been extremely tired and exhausted. Anyone would be the same if they’d been touring nonstop for almost 2 months now, and having to put so much energy into shows every couple of days.

She felt bad for Andrew but also for the band, they were trying their best but for some reason something was messed up every now and then which resulted in Andrew cursing loudly, not at anyone in particular but just out of frustration.

She sighed and got up, heading towards him. She placed a hand on his back, stroking it softly.

“Love, take it easy, don’t stress yourself much, it’ll be okay.”

She says with a soft smile attempting to comfort him and calm him down a little bit. She felt a vein was about to pop in his forehead and he’d get a headache from frowning so much. He looked up at her with a blank expression.

“(Y/n), please. The last thing I need is distractions. Don’t tell me what to do, we have shit to get done.”

He snapped at her and this was the first time within their 9 month relationship that he had done something like this. She was taken back a little. This attitude definitely was weird cause Andrew never behaved this way even in times he was stressed out the most. She gulped and nodded her head, fighting off the tears.

“Yes yes, of course. I apologize, ehm- I’ll just wait in one of the dressing rooms, sorry guys.”

She looks at them with a sad smile and Alex turns to Andrew with the angriest glare.

“The fuck is wrong with you?”

Alex spit at Andrew and slung off his guitar then followed her immediately. They weren’t particularly close but he appreciated her taking care of Andrew and of the whole band. The woman was sweet and kind and it hurt him to see Andrew speak to her that way. He ran after her and he could see her shoulders shaking which confirmed his thoughts that she was crying.

“(Y/n/n), wait.”

He calls for her by her nickname and places a hand on her shoulder. She turns around to look at him with teary eyes and a wet face. She wipes her eyes quickly and sniffs not wanting to seem weak or like a crybaby. He just takes her in for a hug.

“He didn’t mean it, you know he’s crazy about you, but he’s just stressed. It’s not an excuse though. You have every right to be upset just don’t take it to seriously, okay? I’ll kick his ass.”

She pulls back, chuckling a little then nods her head with a sigh.

“I know, Alex. I’m not upset with him, I’m just upset for him. He’s been so exhausted and it’s starting to take a toll on him. I’ll just give him some time. Maybe after tonight’s show he’ll feel a little less stressed.”

Alex blinks at her and wonders how the fuck someone could be this peaceful and kind. Now, Alex was 10x angrier with Andrew for hurting her feelings and he intended to give him a piece of his mind but after tonight’s show. He softly rubs her shoulder.

“Just go get yourself something to drink and don’t think about it much, I’m sure he’ll apologize in no time.”

She nodded and thanked Alex and walks away, but it was obvious she was still upset. He sighed and walked back to the main stage area to find Andrew still strumming the guitar with the same frown except it was now deeper. The tension was too thick and the vibes were really bad unlike how it would normally be. He picked up his guitar again and when Andrew noticed they started rehearsing again.

———————————————————-

One time while performing, Andrew finished his water bottle and he kept on looking around for someone to refill it for him but for some reason everyone was busy with technical difficulties going on so she took it upon herself to get him another water bottle. She didn’t think much of walking on stage as she just wanted to get Andrew his water cause poor thing’s vocal cords must’ve been screaming for help.

When she walked on stage, everyone was confused, including Andrew himself. She handed him the water bottle, took the empty one with a smile. His heart exploded at that moment and he instantly reached out and hugged her which caused her to blush deeply. He was openly hugging her in front of everyone, which was something she wasn’t used to, which also caused the fans to go crazy for that moment. After he let go, she ran backstage, but ever since that moment, (Y/n) made an appearance every concert when handing Andy his water bottle which was always thanked by a side hug.

Andrew was thinking to himself, would she do their ritual tonight even though he was a total ass towards her? He openly admitted to himself that he was mean and rude towards her, but his energy lately had been so low. He’s starting to get exhausted from the constant traveling and performing. Therefore, he decided to get her some flowers and take her out for dinner after they’re done with the show. However, he was upset at the fact that there’ll be no water bottle from her tonight which will get the fans talking and it’ll just create a hassle he’s in no mood for.

Much to his surprise, amidst his performance, he heard loud screams and cheers which confused until he felt someone place a water bottle down on the floor in front of him and he looked and saw his beautiful partner. She looked up at him with a tight smile then walked back. At this point, his heart exploded with so much love for that woman and his love for her grew a million times.

——————————————————-

The show was an absolute success, the vibes were very nice despite everything happening prior to the performance and everyone was happy with how everything came out.

Everyone was putting their things back in place and was making sure they’re all set to retire to their rooms to relax after a long, stressful and emotionally draining day.

Meanwhile, (y/n) was in the tour bus, packing a small backpack to spend the night in a hotel. She kept reminding herself that he never meant it and it was his tired mind talking but she just couldn’t accept the fact that someone spoke to her that way in front of the whole band. Had they been alone, she would have just ignored it, joked about it and teased him until he became less grumpy but the fact that he snapped at her like that, for some, reason felt humiliating.

She walked out of the tour bus when Alex was going in. He saw her bag then frowned.

“Where are you going? It’s late.”

He asked her, feeling genuinely worried. He started thinking the worst. Is she going to leave Andrew? Is she going to fly back to Dublin for a break? She was the one mostly keeping their times fun on this exhausting tour leg and particularly keeping Andrew’s strength to keep going despite the exhaustion.

She sighs, looking away, not really knowing what to say.

“I’m spending the night in the hotel around the corner, Alex. I don’t think I could be around Andrew tonight. I might say something I regret and make things worse.”

“Did you at least let him know?” He knows he can’t change her mind but he also thought this was a good solution cause as chill as they both seemed to be. When they get angry, they’re monsters.

“Well- that’s going to be your job. Don’t you dare tell him where I am, Alex. Just tell him I’m fine. Let me torture him a little.”

She grins evilly and Alex lets out a laugh. That was her typical behavior, managing to make fun and humor out of dark situations.

“Alright, but let me know when you check in and come back first thing in the morning.” He pulls her in for hug then lets her go before watching her walk away.

————————————————————

She got settled in and changed into her night shirt, getting into bed. She decided to scroll down through instagram for a little, seeing that Andrew posted snippets from today’s concert as he does every time. She liked them but it was obvious to her that he wasn’t really in his normal state. She pouted, starting to feel guilty for leaving him when he’s feeling like this. She was supposed to support him through everything and the first time he does something like this, she reacts like this? Then again, he was rude towards her in front of other people. Her mind was racing with thoughts and she was feeling as if she was drowning in this dilemma when she heard knocking at the door.

She curses to herself, knowing it’s probably Andrew, cause Alex couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Deep inside, she was hoping he’d come to her. When she peaked through the door, it indeed was the one and only Andre Hozier-Byrne. She sighs, opening the door and steps to the side, nodding for him to come inside.

He walks in silently and she sees the flowers in his hands. He got her Verbenas, her favorite. He clears his throat and hands them to her.

“Ehm- I got you these.”

Truth be told, he didn’t know what to say, as the situation was awkward and it was the first time they'd dealt with something like this. They both were really chill and peaceful, when they disagree about something they just leave it and agree to disagree without forcing their own views on each other or anything like that. They both always treated each other with respect whether they were alone or with other people. She accepts the flowers, placing them on the bed next to her where she sits as he takes a seat in front of her on the small sofa.

“Love, I’m incredibly sorry. I know what I did was wrong, but I’m just so down, exhausted. I don’t feel the best. I know that this isn’t an excuse and you have every right to be mad, but please, don’t leave me.”

She could hear the desperation in his voice and she looks at him, surprised.

“Andrew, are you insane? Why the fuck would I leave you? Yes, I’m upset. I understand your point, but still upset. For you to apologise and acknowledge your mistake is more than enough. It’d take much much more than this for me to leave you. You’re stuck with me.”

She grins, sitting next him and taking him into her arms. He cuddles against her, resting his head on her chest, enjoying the feeling of her fingers combing through his hair. This was the only thing he needed. To be alone with his beloved after a long day, wrapped around each other.

#hozier #hozier fluff #hozier x reader #andrew hozier byrne #the hoziest #andrew hozier byrne x reader #hozier fanfiction

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gallavichthings · 1 day

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Gallavich Week 2024 - bingo edition

Hello, lovelies! It's time for another Gallavich Week. This time: bingo edition!

The 2024 Gallavich Week will be held between June 24th and June 30th. As this time it's a bingo, there will be no assigned theme for each day, meaning you can post your works on any day during that week.

Guidelines and cards after the read more because this post ended up way too long. ^_^

Some general rules:

There are four cards (at the end of this post): one/two-word prompts, dialogue prompts, tropes, and art and other medias. You can post something from just one or all of them. You can also use more than one prompt in the same work. There's no minimum or limit to the number of works you can post.

All kinds of fanworks are accepted (fic, art, videos, gifs, analysis, crafts... anything), as long as they're original. (Unless they're a re-imagining of another work, in which case please also mention it when you post and get authorization first if the original isn't yours.)

AI is not accepted!

No sign-ups required. Just post and tag me. :)

Here is the AO3 community, for those who wish to use it.

Don't forget to tag me using @ at the body of the post so that I can see it and reblog it (you can do it after a read more or by reblogging if you wish to "hide" it). Also, please indicate clearly which prompt(s) was/were used.

Some suggestions, which are not rules but do help with posting:

If you're posting a long fic in its entirety here on Tumblr, please use a read more and/or tag it "long post".

If you're posting nsfw art here, please use the community guidelines to inform so.

If you post more than one work on AO3, I suggest making different works, and not just different chapters of one single work. This helps with tagging, both for those who want to find your work and for those who might want to avoid something. It also helps when people don't have to comb through several chapters to find what they're looking for. If you want to connect your works, you can put them all under a series. And yes, this is also valid for drabbles and art.

There are no prizes for this bingo, but those who make a bingo get bragging rights (and a special shout out - just let me know you've done it because I'm likely to miss it).

BINGO: 3 cells in a row (vertically, horizontally, or diagonally).

SUPER BINGO: 3 cells in a row in two cards.

ULTRA BINGO: 3 cells in a row in three or four cards (are you ok?).

UBER BINGO: All the 9 cells of the same card.

SUPREME BINGO: All 9 cells of the same card in two different cards (good luck with that).

EXTREME BINGO: All 9 cells of the same card in three different cards (seriously, are you ok? Is this worth it?).

ULTIMATE BINGO: All 9 cells of the same card in ALL of the four different cards (you get ALL the bragging rights!!! But also, please rest).

And now, the cards:

EDIT: forgot to mention, by Taste of Chicago I mean this: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taste_of_Chicago

And Starry Night is, indeed Van Gogh's painting. And yes, Final Fantasy the video game.

I think the rest is quite obvious, but let me know if you have any questions.

#Gallavich #Ian x Mickey #Shameless #Shameless US #events #GW2024 #mod post #long post #Yes there's a typo in card C - please ignore it

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cosmerelists · 1 day

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Adolin asks: "Would you still love me if I was a cremling?"

A direct sequel to that time Kaladin asked that same question.

[Some Stormlight spoilers in this!]

1. Renarin

Renarin: Yes. Ever since Kaladin asked me this question, I've been contemplating it. Renarin: I would definitely still love my cremling brother, and I've already done some research into cremling diets and habitats so you'll be well taken care of! Adolin: Great! Uh.......your answer doesn't relate at all to your future sight thing, right? Renarin: [smiles beatifically]

2. Elhokar

Elhokar: No. You'd be ugly. Adolin: You wouldn't love me just because I'm an ugly bug?? Elhokar: Oh, suddenly this isn't safe space.

3. Dalinar

Dalinar: Of course. Dalinar: I will love you on any stage of your journey, cremling or otherwise. This has long been my philosophy. Adolin: You have a philosophy about me being a cremling? Dalinar: I meant--more the journey thing, but--

4. Sadeas

Sadeas: I would love you exactly the same amount as I do now. Dalinar: Awww! Sadeas: [glaring at Adolin] Adolin: [glaring at Sadeas] Adolin (hissing): I'll kill you! Sadeas: (hissing): Not as a cremling you won't!

5. Shallan

Shallan: Of course, Adolin. In fact, did you know that some male cremlings fight for territory? Adolin: Uh... Shallan: That means you can still duel! Adolin: Isn't that kind of...unfair, though? I mean, I would be a super-intelligent cremling, as cremlings go. Shalln: Hmmm...I could ask Sja-anat if she knows any enlightened spren currently inhabiting the body of a cremling who want to thrown down? Adolin: You would do that...for me? Adolin: That IS love!

6. Navani

Navani: If I can love a woman who is a crab, I can love a son who is a bug. Adolin: Awww, thank you!! Adolin: Wait what was that first part? Navani: Let's not spoil this moment.

7. Jakamav

Jakamav: Honestly, I would crush you immediately and with prejudice. Adolin: Still mad about the duel, huh? Jakamav: YES I AM STILL MAD ABOUT THE DUEL

8. Danlan

Danlan: Yes!! Adolin: Wow! Your enthusiasm is...touching? A tad suspicious? Danlan: You'll be able to get into SO many spaces in secret! With you on my side, I'll be the greatest spy EVER! Adolin: ...you're a spy? Danlan: I hope you'll be faster on the uptake as a cremling.

9. Jasnah

Jasnah: Do I have any way of knowing that it's you? Adolin: Yeah, you know it's me. Jasnah: How? Adolin: Uh...you just do? Jasnah: I just do? Really? Adolin: What if you...watch the transformation happen in real time and then you, like, ask me ten yes-no questions relating to little-known aspects of my history that a fake-Adolin would be unlikely to get completely right by chance, and I, like, dance back and forth for no and hop forwards and backwards for yes? Jasnah: In that case yes I would continue to love you. Adolin: I'm exhausted! Jasnah: That's just how love is.

10. Kaladin

Kaladin: Yes...but I won't be happy about it. Adolin: Meaning?? Kaladin: It would be SO much harder to protect you if you're a cremling! You'd be so small! So crushable! Kaladin: I guess I'd keep you in my pocket. Adolin: I am NOT living in your pocket. Kaladin: I'm your bodyguard! You'll live in my pocket if I SAY you live in my pocket! Adolin: I will BITE you. Kaladin: Cremling don't have TEETH probably! Adolin: I'LL FIND A WAY

#cosmere #cosmerelists #I woke up in a cold sweat with the Elhokar dialogue in my brain and had to write this #Adolin #Stormlight Archive #Stormlight Archive spoilers

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yanderepuck · 3 days

Text

THIS???? THIS RIGHT HERE?????

I'm writing this. Meet you down below you horny shits.

School is dismissed for the day but you stated after to get homework done. It's much easier to concentrate in the library than it is at home.

As you are walking through the aisles of books singing catches your eye. You reach out for a book on a higher shelf when you suddenly get your sides grabbed.

"Ahh!" you scream, jumping, and swatting at whoever is behind you. You turn and pout. "Charles!"

He has a big smile on his face. "Not too loud, princess," he teased you. He grabbed the book for you and handed it to you. "What are you staying after for? Shouldn't you be headed home?"

You take the book and hold it against your chest. "I stayed to work on my essay. It's quieter here. Why are you still here?"

"I have to study for a test but I really don't feel like it," he let out a sigh and steps closer to you. "Maybe you could help me."

"My grades might be good but they aren't that good," you start walking back to the table your stuff is at, Charles following behind you.

You sit down and open your laptop to start your paper. Charles sits right next to you as if he's going to watch you type this whole thing.

"What's the essay on?"

"Charles... we're in the same literature class."

"Oh right."

You sigh and start typing. He watches for a few minutes, saying nothing and also doing nothing. He really doesn't want to study for his test.

Finishing your first paragraph, you feel something against your shoulder. You turn your head and just see fluffy dusty pink hair.

Your cheeks start to heat up. "Charles. Shouldn't you be working on something."

"But I don't want to," he pouts.

You two share a few classes, but you aren't particularly close. Youve done a few group projects together but that's all. So why is he being so clingy to you?

During group projects he did tend to stay close to you, and when then you thought it was odd. It's not like he isn't a social person so she had no reason to act shy with others.

You look back at your laptop and try to relax. Your heart is most definitely racing. Charles is cute, he's funny, he's very kind, but it's also very flirty with everyone.

"I need to work," you hope it'll get him to back off. You really did need to get this done.

"Can't we just talk?"

"Talk about what?"

Charles sets his chin on your shoulder. You look at him again. But he's really close. Very close. Maybe too close for someone you are just classmates with.

"How cute you are?" He smiles while your face goes all red. You? Cute? Compared to him? No no no. If you held a baby kitten up to him you aren't sure if you could say who was cuter.

You can't get your lips to move to get him to stop. He puts an arm over your shoulder and you think you just felt his hand rest on your thigh.

"I keep catching myself staring at you in class. Maybe that's why I'm doing bad. Since you're the reason you should help me study."

His voice changed. At first it was all cute and bubbly, but now it's deepened and gotten softer so you're the only one who could possibly hear.

"Charles I don't think-" he cuts you off his voice sounding a bit more bubbly, he sounds curious.

"Do you think I'm cute?" His head tilts.

What kind of question is that? He's beautiful. Gorgeous. You could get lost in his eyes so easily. Everything about his looks is literally perfect.

But you hesitate. Mainly because you are confused. Your head and heart are going a thousand miles a minute.

Charles starts to frown when you don't answer, snapping you out of it.

"You're beautiful!" You say that a little louder than you meant to and cover your mouth. Do they really have to be doing this in the library. There's not many others there, but you aren't alone.

"Awe. Tell me more," his voice got softer again, going back to being flirty.

You bite your lip not knowing what to say. Do you have a crush on him? Maybe. But who wouldn't? How could you look at him and not have your heart flutter.

"Do you like me?" Could he read your thoughts? This has to be a prank. There's no way someone like him could like you. "Because I like you."

He gets closer. Close enough to kiss.

He what? No no. You had to have heard that wrong. "W-what?"

"I like you," his fingers brush a lock of hair behind your ear.

Could you be any redder? Any more anxious?

"Do you like me back?"

You are hoping no one is watching you. He is practically on your lap, his hands on you. Is he trying to make a move? You wouldn't be upset if he was.

You start by nodding your head "I-I do. I really like you," your voice is so low, a little raspy, almost scared to say it out loud in case someone hears and it turns out this is all fake.

Charles just smiles. He's not blushing at all but seems very happy. "Do you really?"

You guess you didn't sound too confident when saying it. "Yes. You're very kind to everyone and you're really attractive."

"Why don't we find an empty classroom so I can show you how much I like you," he purrs.

You freeze up again. He wasn't just saying all that to get you to go off with him was he? "I-I don't think that's a good idea."

"Aww, why not?" he starts to play with your hair again. "Don't tell me you would rather me kiss you in front of every one here. You're naughty," he chuckles.

You push your chair back to force space between the two of you. "I-I need to get my paper done," you try to say it as firmly as you can.

He starts to frown. Oh no. Why does he look so cute when he frowns? He's got cute puppy dog eyes. No! Don't let him try to convince you otherwise. You need to get this done.

"Fine... I'll leave you alone," he gets up from his seat and starts walking to the door to leave.

You watch him, not sure if you feel more guilty or more curious. You do in fact like him. He's beautiful, he's kind, he's so gentle. Maybe he really has been hiding his feelings about you like you have about him.

You look at your laptop and see the little bit that you've written and quickly shut it. You gather up your notebook and papers and shove them into your backpack and rush after him.

"Charles!" He was just walking into the hallway. You get next to him and immediately held his hand in yours. "I know the one math teacher never locks his door."

He smirks and pulls you along. "Let's go then!"

You're sitting on top of a desk, Charles standing between your legs kissing you. He has one hand on your thigh and another massaging your boob. Your legs wrap around him to keep him there. You have one hand on his cheek and another on his waist.

Both of you moan as the kiss gets messier. His hand slides up further, squeezing your thigh and the other is trying to get your shirt open. Your hand slides up into his hair while your other reaches around to grab his ass.

The kiss hasn't been broken yet. You haven't had a chance to breathe. You don't want to think about what you're doing. There's no way you could say no to someone as beautiful as Charles. You wouldn't have given anyone else the time of day.

Charles gets your shirt open and yanks your bra down to get a firmer grip on your tit. You moan louder and grab his hair to keep his face close as you kissed harder. Both of your lips were going to be bruised after this.

He moves your skirt further up and presses himself against you. The harder his erection is pressing against you the wetter you get. Your hand on his ass moves to the front, palming him through his clothes.

The gasp he made nearly broke your kiss, good thing you're holding him there. The last thing you want is to come to the realization that this is a horrible idea.

The more you touch him the harder of a time he has keeping up. He whines and starts rubbing you between your underwear. Your body jerks and then you moan.

Letting his hair go, you use both hands to get his pants open, taking his cock out to rub.

Having your skin on his he breaks the kiss to whine.

"Ahh-hh," you both pant. You rub his tip and he follows with sliding two fingers into you

"I need you," he whines and starts to kiss your neck. Your moans hitch and he takes his fingers out of you. "I promise I won't get your uniform dirty."

You move closer to the edge and let go of his cock. He pulls your underwear to the side and slowly slides into you. You hold onto his shoulder, biting your lip as he stretches you.

He gives you a moment to adjust before he thrusts into you.

"Ahh!"

He starts kissing you again and holds your legs apart so he can get deeper. You grip his hair, tugging it, moaning into his mouth.

The more he moves the easier it gets for him. Your hole is stretching to the perfect size to fit him inside you.

The kissing gets rougher so that neither of your moans escape. People are still in the school so you can't be too loud.

It seems that the harder you tug his hair the harder he slams into you.

The desk under you is shaking. It would have been better to have you bend over but that would have meant the kissing would have had to stop.

He squeezes your thighs before moving them to grab your ass, slightly lifting you off the desk. You wrap a leg around him and feel him get deeper.

Now you don't know what's worse. How loud your moans are getting, or how loud your skin is hitting against each other. If anyone walks by they are going to hear.

Your nails dig into him as you are edging closer until you finally break the kiss to yell. "Charles!"

The feeling of you tightening gives him the push he needed to speed up to get himself close.

He pulls out just in time, leaving a thick stream of cum on your thigh. Both of you pant heavily, pressing your foreheads against each other. He makes sure to keep your skirt pulled up so it doesn't get dirty.

After a few moments he stands up straight.

"Hold your skirt," once you take it he fixes his pants and goes to the other side of the room to grab some paper towels.

He comes back and wipes your leg clean, making sure to get it all. As he does you fix your shirt. He helps you down from the desk and makes sure you're okay to stand before going to the trash and burying the paper towels at the bottom.

You fix your skirt, making sure it's laying flat, then run your fingers through your hair. Charles messes with his hair when he comes back over to you, kissing you again. You straighten his shirt and make sure everything on him looks fine.

"Now I really won't be able to concentrate in class," he purrs.

"You better! I'm not going to help you with studying," you huff and grab your backpack. Guess you're going to have to write your essay at home after all.

Tag list~

@kissmetwicekissmedeadly @fang-and-feather @xalxtusxiao @namine-somebodies-nobody @ana-thedaydreamer @evil-quartett @ameyoruakiikemenseries @yrenesposts @tele86 @damekathearasi @lokis-laugh @candied-boys @breadmercury @aquagirl1978 @xenokiryu @nightghoul381 @vampiricpancake @lulu-the-smol-floof @tako-cafe @floydsteeth

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp charles #smut smut smut

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