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biggest-stupidhead · 3 years

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more modern au levi x reader!! is it okay where reader makes petra jealous???

Just a reminder: WE DO NOT CONDONE PETRA SLANDER IN THIS HOUSE!!!

with that said, I will write this heavily focused on Petra to make it a lil angsty, hope you enjoy!

Summary: Petra watches her ex fall for another

Word Count: 1.7K

It had been two long years since Petra and Levi ended things. It wasn’t messy but it was painful, she had seen it coming from a mile away. He had grown just as distant as he had been when they first met. Staying late at work, texting her dryly, and using terrible excuses. Although she had known it was coming, she still was a wreck when he actually ended things. She spent the months following the break up drinking wine and crashing at Oluo’s place regularly. After two years she was finally feeling better, dare she say, ready to get back into the dating scene? Or at least that’s what she thought, she was scrolling through her instagram feed when she stumbled across Hange’s page. It was someone’s birthday, someone she wasn’t familiar with.

A woman with bight eyes and an even brighter smile was in the center of the group photo. On her right was Levi, who had an arm thrown casually over her shoulder, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. Petra pinched the screen to zoom into Levi’s side, where she saw a feminine hand on his waist. She stared stupidly at the image. She shouldn’t feel jealous, she had no right. It had been two long years since the break up. But the picture only dredged up old memories of times when she would hold Levi that same way. When that smile was directed to her. She then turned her attention to the caption, which read:

Happy Birthday (Y/n)! 24 never looked so good!

She then scrolled through the comments, many of them consisted of birthday wishes and support. She lost interest when she didn’t see Levi’s username and instead went back to the collection of photos, three of them in all. The group one that she assumed had just been taken, the second one was a picture of Hange and you on the beach, Petra felt a involuntary wave of self consciousness wash over her at the site of you in a swim suite. The final picture was the one that hurt the most though, it seemed to be a very old picture of you, maybe from your early years in college? You were sitting on a couch with younger versions of Hange, Erwin, Levi, and Moblit. Levi’s arm was casually thrown over your shoulders. Why had he never mentioned you before? Were you the reason that they broke up? No Levi had assured her that it wasn’t like that, said he wasn’t seeing anyone else. She tried to stop herself from going down that rabbit hole, but she couldn’t seem to. Before she really knew what she was doing, she had clicked on your profile which she was almost disappointed to find as public. This meant that there was nothing stopping her from judging every perfect image that was posted, and to her pleasant surprise, there was only one photo of you and Levi. The photo was posted the week prior, the two of you were hiking in the mountains, the dusty trial behind you. Your face was flushed from the exertion of the climb, Levi seemed cool as a cucumber, his face blank and void of emotion. She scrolled through the post and found a video, the sound of your shoes crunching and Levi talking behind you were clear as day.

“I mean come on, who uses fucking Lipton? Have some god damn class.” Levi spat, as you snorted in amusement. Petra found herself chuckling along with you at Levi’s little rant. She felt a rogue tear slide down her cheek when you showed the phone to Levi, who’s face fell from being mildly animated to apathetic once more. You cackled as he swiped the phone and the video ended abruptly. It was so innocent, it was clear from the rest of your page that you were a private person, much like Levi. With little indication that you were dating him, it left her wanting to know more. More about the girl that had taken her place, had managed to worm her way into Levi’s heart of stone and make herself comfortable. As soon as these thoughts crowded into her head, she deleted instagram all together and powered her phone down, determined to wipe her memory of the images she had seen.

The music was a nice distraction from the awkwardness that hung in the air. You had arrived uncharacteristically early to Hange’s party, and consequently meeting a whole group of people that you had never met before. The new people were about your age, three young men and one stunning young woman. It was early fall and Hange’s annual bonfire bash as you all had dubbed the event. Basically you lit a massive fire, when you were younger it was your past assignments from your pervious school year, then it became just regular old wood. You tapped your finger against the cool beer bottle as you leaned up against the counter, the men were laughing obnoxiously as they dropped the alcohol that they’d brought into one of the many coolers. The woman was looking at you almost nervously, she seemed extremely on edge, shifting her weight back and forth, eyes wandering around the room in a jittery manner. You frowned, wondering what was bothering her, but ultimately deciding that it was not really your business. Erwin shimmied behind you, his hands on your shoulders as he slide past you into the kitchen. You caught his arm, clinging to his familiar presence.

“Erwin.” you hissed as he stooped to reach your level.

“Who are these people?” you asked as you held his bicep firmly in your grasp. He pulled away and looked at you with a confused expression.

“You mean Levi didn’t tell you?” He said slowly, clearly he was unsure if it was his place to speak on the relationship between Levi and these people.

“No....” You said carefully, not wanting to make Erwin uncomfortable.

“Oh well they used to work in the same department before Levi switched.” He said, he looked over to the men and motioned for them to come over, they ambled over with curious expressions.

“What’s up Erwin?” the dark haired man asked as he looked between the two of you.

“Just thought I’d ought to introduce you to (Y/n) here, she’s an old friend of ours from high school.” Erwin explained, his hand still comfortingly placed on your mid back. You waved shyly and smiled at all of them, including the girl.

“Pleasure to meet you.” The blonde with a ponytail said, outstretching his hand to shake yours.

“I’m Eld, this is Gunther, Oluo, and that fine young lady over there is Petra.” He said, pointing at all of them respectively.

“It’s so nice to meet you guys!” you said sweetly as you struck up a conversation with Oluo about what they thought about the department that they worked in. It didn’t go unnoticed that Petra remained nearly silent, her amber eyes wide and a bit fearful. When the interns arrived, the men were quick to go help them carry in the alcohol that they brought, leaving you and Petra alone in the kitchen. You cocked your head at her as you poured some pretzels into a large bowl. The warm glow of the setting sun cast a halo over her head and you couldn’t help but voice your admiration for her.

“You’re really pretty.” you gushed as she blushed at your words and turned to look at you with wide eyes.

“So are you...” She returned the compliment and you smiled, feeling more at ease now that the two of you were alone.

“So how long have you known Hange?” You asked conversationally as you crumpled up the bag and tossed it into the trash.

“Hm let’s see...about four years now?” She responded with a bit of a wistful tone.

“Really? I’m surprised we haven’t met sooner!” you chuckled as the two of you opened a bottle of wine and poured it into two large glasses. The two of you strolled out into the bark yard, where Hange and Moblit were chucking large pallets of wood onto the fire pit. You and Petra sat down in two lawn chairs watching as Hange and Moblit bickered over if it was safe enough to light the fire with gasoline.

“I am too, you seem....like a really nice girl.” Petra said a bit downcast as she looked deeply into her wine.

“So do you! We should grab breakfast ooo or maybe even brunch sometime!” You said excitedly and Petra sat there in awe, wondering if there was even a mean bone in your body. Or if you had any clue that she had dated Levi.

“Yeah...this is kind of random but...are you dating Levi?” She blurted out, her face turning to look at you with a flushed expression. You nodded nonchalantly and took another sip of your wine.

“Yeah we just started dating about a year ago.” You said with a shrug, Petra inhaled, readying herself for the next words that would either make or break the future relationship between the two of you.

“Did...you know we dated?” she said, cringing when the words left her mouth. She sounded crazy and she knew it, but she felt obligated to clear the air between you before it got bad.

“Hm I think he mentioned it once or twice, and Hange told me about you when you first started dating.” You said looking up thoughtfully, your tone held no malice or any sign of ill will.

“You’re not...”

“Insecure? Nah, and don’t take that like I’m being cocky! I just mean that...”

“No, no let’s just not do this. I’m sorry for bringing it up. God I’m such a bitch.” Petra went to stand and you followed her, catching her wrist.

“It’s alright really, I don’t care about what happened between you and Levi. It’s frankly none of my business, I just...wanna be friends with you.” you smiled at her sheepishly as she looked at you with wide eyes.

“Oh” She managed to say dumbly.

“That is if you want to be friends.” You said, letting go of her hand and giving her some space.

“Yeah...I think that I’d like that very much.” Petra said with a bright smile.

In honor of Women’s History month, I couldn’t bare to write something that was a stereotypical jealous ex, so I did the next best thing and wrote this more geared towards the reader and Petra bringing each other up instead of tearing one another down. As someone who was apart of the fandom back in like 2014 I am way too familiar with writers turning Petra into a psycho bitch, and I don’t like that. SO I hope that this is good enough to fit the prompt!

#levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi x you #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman #jealous petra ral #modern au #erwin smith #hange zoe #moblit #aot fanfiction #aot fandom #light angst #fluff #women supporting women #no petra slander allowed #womens history month

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inkskinned · 4 years

Text

When the honey showed up, we all just took it inside. That was one of the things about it - it was always a little warm, always in the same simple jar and the nice plaid bow. Handmade-like. Most of us put it in our pantries or in the back of our cabinets, some put it in the fridge. we just thought to ourselves: gee, what a wonderful present.

I don’t know how long it took before we all had one. For a while, the most that would happen was two-minute feel-good op ed pieces in local newspapers. People would run little letters to the editor to find out the “culprit”. Sometimes there were faux-serious “investigations” when that parent freaked out about the possibility of drugs in honey. Most of the time, it ended quickly. After all, it was a nice gift from a neighbor, and it was yours. that was another thing. A house could be 122 people, and we’d all find our own jar on the doorstep, one at a time. we would know when it was ours and when it wasn’t, no matter how alike they looked. nobody ate it, at first. It was yours, and you wouldn’t eat it, and you couldn’t eat another person’s. it just wasn’t done. and the thing is - in that imaginary house, of 122 people? we’d all buy other honey. it was both there and took up space - but none of us thought of it as actually existing. we’d put down our storebought honey right next to it and think - why did i buy another? i’ve wanted to try this one for a while. and then the thought would simply be out of our head, because this is our third bag of baby carrots we have bought to let spoil again.

it was that one person who mentioned it on youtube. actually i think it was a vimeo “urban legends” series. some person with 6 followers who deleted like instantly. but then 6 people said something similar: everyone they knew had this one specific honey story. and then 12. and then all of a sudden we all woke up to “#honeyonthedoorstep” globally trending. we all posted our pictures of our honey and called each other liars and got into discourse fights with vegans and people without a sweet tooth. In 24 hours, it was running the media. 9-at-night serious news anchors leaned over to each other and said “now john, did you hear about this?” and despite their disbelief, they’d admit: i got the honey too. I think somewhere in march. maybe around the 5th. but i never ate it or thought anything of it. i just thought - what a nice gift.

By the end of the week, there were YouTube challenges and instagram memes and a netflix miniseries in the works. Lots of people tried to eat their honey, and most who “succeeded” were deemed a hoax - but truth be told? it’s not good tv to watch someone pick up honey and say “actually it’s not ready” or something similar and just decide to go do something else. i tried once, winedrunk and thinking i could be famous because it’s just honey. and i remember thinking that exact thing - it’s not ready. i realized i needed to go do dishes, this was stupid and kind of cringey.

and people freaked out, of course. outside of the jokes were parents who were asking if their children would get a jar one day, if this was a one-time thing. there were so many conspiracy theories the government finally had to say something (not that any of us were actually listening), there were massive hunts to find “the team of honey dispatchers”, there were plenty of false confessions, there were rallies to destroy the things. i don’t know if anyone actually did, because in the end? it was just a jar of honey, and it was yours, and it would be a shame to throw it at the floor just because the internet told you so. I moved three times that year - grad school, job, other better job. i always took mine with me. it wasn’t a real choice, it was just... like taking a plate that belonged to your grandmother, or carrying a song stuck in your head. it was just something that was going to come with, but it bore no special attention. and then back into the pantry it went.

two weeks later? we all just... moved on from talking about honey. it was in some memes, it was in BuzzFeed’s “top 5 weirdest stories (that are actually true)”, it was going to be the central plot of books and horror movies. but it wasn’t interesting, not really, anymore. it was like saying “all people need food”. it was just true, and not really changing. every consecutive conspiracy video got less likes, and by the end of the year, it was old enough to be a staple in bad stand-up comedy and in coming-of-age children’s shows.

nobody believed the first ones who ate it. the most traction that those posts got were from friends and family who barely remembered the whole fad. we all just figured it was a weird annual resurgence kind of thing.

but then people were definitely, absolutely, 100% eating their honey. i think i heard about one of my coworkers first. i didn’t know her; she was in another department. she told everyone it was very similar to “normal” honey. just a little tarter than she’d expected.

twitter was in an uproar. the honey was sweet to some. spicy to others. horrible, bitter, like a thousand stingers. it was perfect, it tasted like summer. most people said: it’s just honey, and absolutely regular.

those of us who weren’t ready were biting our fingernails for a while, going to our pantries, wondering - what the fuck do i mean it’s not ready? but it wasn’t ready.

like i said, it’s warm, always. But you just... know. one day you realize you really want honey on toast. or honey on tea, honey on a banana, just... honey. i remember opening it, but it didn’t feel like any more interesting than going to the cabinet for honey ever feels. i pour mine, usually, skipping a spoon because i’m usually too lazy. i was already in the middle of my meal before i realized - this is the honey. it’s not just a normal breakfast, it’s the breakfast, holy shit.

mine is just, you know. honey. it has a little hint of spice and sweet to it, which i actually quite like. it reminds me of this red pepper jelly my family used to get, and it makes me happy. but in the end? it’s honey. i don’t feel like i’m connected to a seventh realm. it’s good on oatmeal and bad in coffee no matter what some of you will tell me.

it’s just, you know. once you get your jar, and it’s ready, you have a little honey roughly every 24ish hours. it’s nothing absurd. it’s just honey, i mean - it’s like saying “you’re alive, so at some point, you should probably eat.” Most of us, it hasn’t really changed our schedules. it doesn’t seem to ever run out, which is good, because we’re always forgetting to check to see if we need more before we go shopping. for most of us? you don’t die if you miss a few days, even a few weeks, you don’t go crazy trying to get it back. sure, there’s weirdass cultists who worship it, but most of us just seem to think - it’s nice to have, and it’s okay to want this thing.

now, there’s some stuff out there, you know, about what it all “means”. and honestly, we all notice things. i’m not the only one who has seen that good people tend to think their honey tastes good and eat it normally. bad people tend to eat their honey frequently but hate every second of the eating. there are plenty who will snort and say “i’m a good person and i think it tastes like dirt” and plenty who will say “i’m a shit person and i think it tastes like the summer i finally kissed her”. and i don’t know, not the way i knew if it was ready, but it feels like a simple thing amidst all the messy. and it’s probably helpful that i think mine is, like most people’s, just a nice in-the-middle. i mean, the other day i heard it asked like a star sign - what’s your honey like?

there’s this one thing, though, you know. i choose to believe, because it might make me secretly happy. it’s like believing in nessie. i know realistically it’s probably just hearsay. but there’s this underground rumbling that, over time, the honey changes. just a little, every day, unnoticeable to most of us who go to work and do our best by others but still sometimes steal toilet paper. there’s these stories of people who made it rich by selling out their friends, who stole patents, who argue that others should charge for insulin - that they liked the honey, at first, but over time, it’s gone rotten. and similarly, every so often, there’s these stories of people who were normal “regular” honey people, who helped someone out of the bottom. who chose to be just a little bit better than they were the day before. who had moments of decisive kindness that changed them. they all say the same thing: since then, the honey has been amazing, and they work to keep it that way.

my grandmother and my mother were never surprised. they have this saying about bees and their secrets. my mother said to me: we have always had these tiny angels. they’re just giving us each a taste of the world we are making.

my grandmother later tells me, while watering the flowers, almost the exact same thing: they will haunt us when they go, because they keep books in their combs. and they see us giants, and no matter who we lie to? the world of bees will know.

#spilled ink #prose #short story #honey #i originally wrote this in my car while binge eating doritos happy mardi gras style #but then tumblr deleted it lmao bc i walked between 2 wifi connections #so if it sucks its bc i had to half-remember a good version

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

aquarium ii | kth

pairing(s): taehyung x reader; ex-jungkook x reader

summary: Life after Jeon Jungkook was grey. You had to find your own color, grow your own rainbow. But what would surprise you the most is the appearance of white cosmos, seven of them clutched tightly in Kim Taehyung’s hand.

warnings: reader discretion is advised: a (half-hearted) suicide attempt; mentions of cheating in previous relationship; language; heavy angst; fluffiest fluff; non-idol!AU; kind garden-loving landlord!Taehyung x reader; ft. sadboi!Jungkook

–

part i

now playing – without me by halsey ft. JUICE WRLD

tell me, how's it feel sittin' up there? feelin’ so high, but too far away to hold me

You couldn’t remember that night very well, because you didn’t come up.

The worst part about being cheated on was not the actual cheating. It was the moment where you thought you had done something wrong, like somehow it was your fault it happened, like if you hadn’t done this or that, maybe things would have been different. Maybe if you hadn’t chosen that night to snoop into Jeon Jungkook’s phone, he would have had second thoughts, deleted it all, and loved you again. Maybe if you were a little kinder, a little more attentive, he wouldn’t have fallen out of love with you. Maybe... Maybe.

Maybe.

You knew that was just your brain trying to rationalize his irrationality. You had done wrong by invading his privacy by acting on sheer gut feeling. And you had run away, without confronting it, without giving him a chance, because you knew, you knew that if you gave him a chance, you would believe all his words, get dragged back into his sea, back into those dangerous waters.

All these thoughts coursed through you as the water closed in.

The milky bathwater was slowly replacing your depleting air, leaking into your lungs and you didn’t fight it, turning the darkness of the underside of your eyelids into light, because deep down you still loved him, no matter how stupid or foolish it was. Your heart still clung to his soft, I’m sorry, and you didn’t want to hear it anymore.

You didn’t want to know what loving Jeon Jungkook was like anymore. It was too painful.

you know i'm the one who put you up there name in the sky, does it ever get lonely?

You gave everything so he could be what he wanted to be, not knowing that you were the one slowly being eroded. No one could tell you. You were the one who had to find the signs. You were the one who found yourself trapped in glass walls, stuck in an aquarium, surrounded on all sides by Jeon Jungkook as he made a mockery of your feelings.

You screamed into the water and no one heard you.

The next memory you had was hazy, barely there.

You felt a tightness in your chest, harsh, solid pressure. A frustrated, agonized voice above you, desperately calling your name in deep baritone, desperately asking you to come back, praying in every language he knew for you to come back, come back, please, please, please.

“Please…”

In the whiteness, you wandered. Were you meant to be here? It was a loose fog. You looked around, seeing traces of memory like torn book pages, slipping through the haze. You reached out to touch them and they disappeared, only mirages.

And then you fell, dragged into dark blue, torn, battered, lungs burning as you struggled to stay afloat, coughing hard, your muscles screaming with asphyxiation, sudden oxygen flooding your brain. You whipped your head to the side, hacking up water, spilling it all over the green tiles of the bathroom floor, head pounding. Thoughts swimming, barely computing the shouting above you.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” one voice growled above your jerking body, so venomous that it made your blood run cold. “You absolute disaster of a man, thinking for one fucking second she would even consider taking you back. Look at her! She’d rather drown herself in my damn bathtub than hold a conversation with you!”

“What the fuck do you know?” The familiar voice, the voice that haunted you in your nightmares, the voice that fed you sweet poison. “She would do anything for me! She worships the fucking ground I walk on!”

You curled up into a ball, head pounding by the sudden explosion of light and sound. There was a towel over you, covering your wet naked body, and yet you shivered. You barely registered Kim Taehyung snarling, rising to his feet.

“You narcissistic bastard,” Taehyung spat out. “Get the fuck out of my house. Get the fuck out and don’t ever come near her again or I’ll break your fucking neck.”

“You can’t do anything to me. You’re a nobody,” Jeon Jungkook taunted. “Unlike you, I actually have money to sue you for assault.”

Apparently, Taehyung did not give a single shit, because he immediately roared and launched himself past you, the brown ball slamming into the black wall. You blinked, trying to register what was happening, but it was too much for you and your brain that was slowly trying to restore function due to lack of oxygen. They tumbled down the stairs and you laid your head against the floor, hearing the grunts and shouting, wondering why Taehyung had come back.

Wondering how he knew.

You closed your eyes.

In your dreams, you saw the soft sunlight glowing against Taehyung’s tan skin as he reached down to retrieve a dark green cucumber to show you. It was a bit wonky and hadn’t grown quite right, but you watched Taehyung tap it and smile to himself.

“Doesn’t matter what it looks like on the outside,” he said cheerfully. “I know it will still taste delicious because I gave it love.”

You tried to go back to work, but it was awful.

You loved your work. Perhaps it was boring to others, accounting all day, but it was mundane and peaceful, always knowing what you had to do. You never had to question the numbers. The numbers were what they were and that was that.

But now when you stared out into the grey urban jungle, it pained you.

What once was your safe haven turned into your cage, chaining you to clock in, clock out. You would go home to a motel nearby, crying into unfamiliar, starched sheets, pitying housekeepers preparing your meals, asking you what was wrong and you couldn’t tell them.

Because you didn’t know.

i'm sad inside, but i know it's for the best, right? you had to realize where you drew the line

You didn’t check his social media. You didn’t check his Twitch, his Instagram, his Twitter. You got a new phone, only giving your new number to your work and your parents. With a start, you realized you hadn’t contacted your old high school friends in years. You had lost them all, committing social suicide for Jeon Jungkook. In fact, you had no social media presence, so there was no need to download those apps.

There was nothing on your old phone that you wanted. It sat in the storage unit, forgotten. You didn’t want to turn on your old phone to see the photos, the lock screen of his arms around you, smile on his face from two years ago.

A smile you didn’t even know was real or fake.

i still hate it when you’re not there

You tried to tell yourself you were fine, because moping over Jeon Jungkook was stupid. But you had invested so much. You had given him everything. It was hard to regrow. You were stuffed in this tiny motel room, staring out to the hazy, polluted city, yellow sunlight fighting to be seen.

You sat by the window, clutching your pink flats, remembering Taehyung’s last words to you before you left.

“I looked up the brand and bought you some new ones,” he had said sheepishly. “I felt bad that they got so ruined, all because I asked you to help me with the garden.” He gave you that big, boxy smile. “Just think of them as a parting gift for being such a great tenant.”

You inhaled a deep breath, placing the pale pink flats next to the exact same style but grass-stained, greyed-out, worn ones. You stared at them both.

And made a choice.

“I thought I would never see you again.”

You lifted your head. The scent of flowers, so familiar and comforting, wafted around you, a reassuring embrace. You were wearing a long-sleeved white dress, a brown ribbon around the collar. The pink flats, the ones the owner of the deep baritone voice had gifted you.

That was nearly six months ago now. You had since thrown away the other ones.

Kim Taehyung walked up to you. He was wearing brown overalls and a cream shirt, elbows smeared with dirt. His skin had lightened due to the passing winter, but it was spring now. The flower shop was very busy, but there were other employees, and Taehyung was fixated on you.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” Taehyung said quietly, his brown eyes shimmering. “I would have come here a lot more often if I knew.”

You bit you lip and bowed your head politely, smiling at him. Taehyung coughed and rubbed the back of his head, messing up his dark brown hair. It was longer and curlier now, desperately needing a trim.

“I… I came to get carnations. The shop I normally go to ran out.”

You nodded, leading him wordlessly to the red and pink carnations. There was still a good number left, but you had to pick through carefully to find the most beautiful ones for him. He watched you work, chewing on his lip. You held up the large bouquet to him.

“What do you think?” you asked softly.

He smiled at you. “Perfect.” He didn’t ask the price. “Could you make two corsages out of a few of them?”

“Of course. Right this way.”

You brought him to one of the counters, selecting a few blooms to make the corsages. You showed him the available ribbons and he picked a thin, sheer white one. He watched you work, quickly, but delicately, careful not to bruise the petals.

“You became an expert about flowers,” he remarked. “I’m still struggling.”

You smiled. “I’m still learning. It’s very different from what I used to do.” You twisted the ribbon into a perfect bow, using floral wire to secure it.

“You don’t talk to him anymore, do you?”

You shook your head. “Haven’t seen him since that day you threw him down your stairs.”

Taehyung laughed a little too loud, making the patrons stare at him. He coughed nervously, cramming the crumpled brown hat under his arm onto his head. You placed your hand over your lips, trying to hide your chuckle. Your fingertips smelled like phloem sap from the cut stems, sweet and grassy.

Taehyung gazed at you, surrounded by flowers, carnations laid out on the counter.

“Will you… let me take a picture of you?”

You blinked at him, lips parting.

Taehyung reached into his pocket, pulling out an old 35mm film camera. He looked sheepish as he held it up, hesitating.

“Sorry, I just… you look so beautiful, and I don’t want to forget that.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “I know it’s a weird habit. But I like to take pictures and I never took one of you.” He looked deep into your eyes.

“I really regret not taking a picture of you.”

Your fingers were still over your mouth. You nodded.

Taehyung held the camera up and snapped a photo.

“He waits for you to get off work every day. It’s been a week now.”

The manager was teasing you, nudging your arm as you tugged on your long camel coat. You smiled at her, an old woman with knowing eyes that had seen and enjoyed a lot of life. Taehyung waved across the street as you made eye contact with him.

“There aren’t men like him anymore, you know,” she said gently. “These kinds of things happened in my generation, but now young people send pictures of flowers instead of the real thing.”

When you thanked the manager and walked out to Taehyung, he held out a small bundle of tiny flowers to you. White cosmos. You stopped, surprised. Breathless as you looked up at him. He was illuminated by a streetlight and the dying sun, the golden hour matching his golden skin. Holding out the white cosmos, shivering in the spring breeze.

“They’re not that pretty,” he said guiltily, stepping up to you. “I’ve been trying to grow flowers for months now and these are the only ones that survived, ahahaha…”

He scratched his head, brushing his hair back.

“I always hoped that if I saw you again, I could show you that I was able to finally grow flowers.” Taehyung laughed, shrugging apologetically. “This is all I got.”

You reached out and took the small bundle from him. They were a bit curled and slightly wilted from being carried around but you smiled at them.

“No one has ever grown flowers for me,” you said quietly.

The tiny yellow centers of each flower were surrounded by white. You counted seven. Taehyung had given you seven flowers. Seven flowers he grew on his own, because he wanted to show you. You placed your fingers on your mouth, the scent of the floral shop returning to you with the action. Your chest felt tight and full, a feeling unlike any other.

“I wanted to grow at least eight,” Taehyung lamented. “Because that would be luckier, but…”

You shook your head quickly, looking up at him. Him and his beautiful brown eyes, a small patch of dirt underneath his cheek. He probably didn’t even know it was there.

“No.”

You removed your hand from your lips and smiled at him.

“Seven is perfect.”

You threw your hands around him and hugged him tightly.

When Jeon Jungkook saw you again, everything was different.

He was distracting himself from school. University was much harder than he thought, especially since he didn’t attend right after high school to pursue his streaming career.

For a long time, he had someone to take care of him, first his mom and then you. Someone to do everything so he could recklessly chase his dreams. But things were different now. He had to suddenly become an adult. It wasn’t because of you. You hadn’t told anyone what happened.

But everyone knew.

One girl had let it slip, and then another and another, and then screenshots were plastered everywhere, all over the internet for anyone to see, not knowing the context, tossing judgements left and right. His parents found out and then his friends, everyone disappointed in him, not surprised that you vanished without a trace. He had to vanish too, every sponsor cutting ties with him immediately, not asking if it was true or not. It was bad for business to be associated with something like that.

Jungkook really regretted it now, but there was nothing he could do to take it back.

That’s why he was sitting in this tiny, one room apartment, using what was leftover from his streaming money to get a degree, saving every penny to his education. At least he hadn’t been so reckless to overspend. You hadn’t let him, always reminding him to save for his future, using your own income to pay for the necessities.

Even now, you were helping him.

Every once in a while, Jungkook would type variations of your old Instagram username into the search bar, wondering if you had ever set it up again. He had asked you to delete it, since you had been getting constant DMs from guys asking you out, sending you unsolicited dick pics. You had agreed, even through you could have fought him or simply privated it.

You had deleted it, Jungkook knew now, because he asked you and you loved him.

It hurt to know that you loved him so dearly and he was too busy feeding his own ego to see it.

When Jungkook saw you again, you were surrounded by flowers.

Your profile picture was a close up shot of your beautiful face, golden sun against your skin, a white cosmos tucked behind your ear. He knew it was you. He could tell by the shape of your lips, the contours of your eyes, even through your eyes were closed. Wearing a white dress, the ruffles fluttering in the wind.

Jungkook was breathless, seeing you again. He scrolled through your pictures. They were mostly of flowers, with captions of how to grow them. Were you a florist now? Some of them were of you in different dresses, surrounded by blue sky and green summer. The smile on your face was so dazzling that he wondered who gave you that smile.

His heart wrenched uncomfortably in his chest.

Or maybe it wasn’t a someone.

There was a time when that smile was his. There was a time when he could make you smile like that, your lips saying his name breathlessly – “Jungkook, Jungkook, look at this!” – showing him something silly or giving him his favorite banana milk with special edition packaging, saying how cute it was, just like him.

He blinked and a droplet fell onto his phone.

Right on your smiling face, hand holding a large straw hat, your pink dress fluttering in the wind.

Jungkook wiped it away, swiping at his tears with the sleeve of his black sweatshirt, wondering why had he taken that smile for granted, why he had drifted away from the safe coast, why he had thought, even for a second, that the days and nights you spent cleaning after him meant that you were keeping yourself busy and away from him, not seeing it for what it was, not seeing that it was your love for him and his own sloppiness that left him here now, staring at your summer as his summer was torn from him by textbooks and lectures.

He shuddered, still looking at the pictures, not wanting to miss a moment, even if they weren’t his moments anymore.

One of your pictures was a bundle of seven white cosmos, a little wilted and sad-looking.

Jungkook read the caption.

It doesn’t matter if you don’t think you’re beautiful. Because there is someone out there who thinks you are. They use every resource they know to give you love, even if it’s clumsy at first. Even if you don’t think you need it or want it.

The tears were really coming now, streaming down his cheeks as Jungkook asked himself why, why did he give this up?

They celebrate you and your love instead of simply tolerating it.

You sat on the edge of the cliff, legs dangling over the side.

Your pink flats were right beside you, and your arms were resting on the wooden fence. The ocean breeze was strong here, salty and cold. But you didn’t feel the cold, because Kim Taehyung had wrapped a thick wool blanket around you two. It was already night, but by the seaside it was still chilly, even in the summer, due to the sea breeze.

He peeled the foil back on a roasted sweet yam, taking off some of the skin so you could bite into it. You tried to take it from him but he shook his head, frowning at you. You laughed and took a bite, scalding your mouth from how hot it was. But it still tasted good.

“I asked my parents if I could have it.”

You looked up at him, trying to blow the steaming air from your mouth in attempt to cool off.

“The cottage?”

Taehyung nodded, taking a bite and wincing. “You’ll never guess what they said.”

You smiled. “What did they say?”

He scowled. “Then pay rent!” He waved a hand to the seaside house behind you two. “They own it! Why do I have to pay rent? I’m their son!”

You giggled, hiding your mouth behind you hand. Taehyung angrily bit into the sweet yam again and choked, forgetting how hot it was. Your giggles turned into full-blown laughter, falling back onto the grass, wool softening your fall. Taehyung narrowed his eyes at you, shaking the yam furiously. The white moonlight glinted off the silver foil. He puffed his cheeks and sighed as your laughter faded out.

You looked up at the stars, realizing how clear the sky was here.

It was nothing like the city.

Even in darkness, the white stars shone against the black, bright and clear. You wouldn’t have seen them if you weren’t here, on your back and looking up at them.

“Anyway, they only said it was a hundred won, so I guess that’s fine,” Taehyung grumbled. “Really made me worried there for a second, sheesh.”

You turned your head to look up at him. “You going to live here?”

Taehyung shook his head.

“No, you are.”

You blinked, taken aback. He rewrapped the yam, determining it was too hot to eat right now. He gazed down at you, smiling a little.

“It’s better than that one room you have in that house. Safer too.”

You chewed on your lip. “But I can’t pay the amount I paid when I rented it…”

Taehyung poked you with the yam. “Weren’t you listening? The rent is a hundred won. No, two hundred for you, since I have to make some profit.”

He laid down next to you, eye to eye now, smile getting bigger.

“Although I hear there’s this annoying gardener that comes around every day caring for the plants.”

You were smiling now too, drawn by his cheeky, boxy grin.

“Really? I think he’s pretty cute. I think that’s how he gets away with it.”

His brown eyes locked with yours.

“Will you let me care for you too?”

The sound of the sea, crashing into the rockface, constructing a new memory for you.

“I know you’ll be much harder than a plant,” Taehyung murmured quietly. “Sorry, that’s a dumb thing to say, I meant–”

You pressed your lips against his, cold air chilling your cheeks, warmth spreading throughout your soul.

When you pulled away, breathless, Taehyung was staring at you, eyes wide. Those three words came to you, words that you thought you were never going to say again, words you had for someone else, but you knew this was the right one, the perfect flower.

The one who struggled to grow seven flowers.

White cosmos.

Just for you.

“I love you, Kim Taehyung.”

The next summer.

Seven flowers. White cosmos, bright, glowing, perfectly shaped. Surrounding your left hand. The ring finger held a princess-cut diamond surrounded by six tiny small ones like petals.

The caption.

He grew them perfectly this time.

Jeon Jungkook sighed heavily, placing his phone back in his pocket. The noise around him was loud, clattering and chattering, now a familiar atmosphere. The black bucket hat was low over his eyes, shrouding them. He pulled his face mask higher, hiding his features, not wanting to be recognized. Internet shame was enough; he didn’t need public shame as well. He already had to switch universities because of it.

Jungkook placed his hand back onto the subway rail, shouldering his backpack, staring out the train window at the black tunnel.

masterpost

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #kim taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #taehyung scenarios #kim taehyung x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

365 notes · View notes

hobiwonder · 4 years

Text

mission impossible | (m)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Smut, crack.

Warnings: Oral, dirty talk, unprotected sex, overstimulation, slight degradation. dom/sub themes (jungkookie being a good boy and then... not so good lol)

Words: 9k+

Summary: When you find out that your groupmate is whoring it up on tinder instead of handing in his part of the project, you go on a mission to teach him a lesson. And maybe get him to finish his part.

A/N: hello!!!! thankyou all for waiting patiently. or maybe you’ve just forgotten about me lol. it’s been a while since i uploaded anything!!! I hope you enjoy this crack as much as I enjoyed writing fuckboy but still a movable baby!jungkook. please don't forget to tell me ur thoughts. feedback keeps me going :)

If it was something strange, it would happen to you. You were not just saying that because of the hint of narcissism in your personality that made you think that everything was about you. Oh no. You never seem to catch a break these days. And quite honestly, you should’ve expected your dose of absurd to be handed to you soon. It had been a week too long without any fatuous incidents and/or people happening to you. Was this just a y/n thing? Was every girl with your name cursed? Maybe it had something to do with your astrological sign. That always seemed to be the explanation of a lot of your friends who did not want to admit to their faults that would land them in hot water. The usual “oh it’s because i’m insert-star-sign”.

Were you really becoming that girl? Though it was hard to blame yourself for this one. Currently staring at your phone. More specifically, the defined abdominals of your group mate. A group mate who has not shown up to a single meeting. After a whole day of slaving away at your study desk, deleting and rewriting your discussion and evidential analysis to conclude whether or not it was a plausible inference that the movies, Whiplash and Black Swan were excellent cinematic representations of the ‘Obsessed Performer.’

Yeah. That was a mouthful. And you bet your right ass cheek that you were the only one out of yourself and Jungkook who had even watched the said movies. In the group of four, Jungkook and yourself were given the discussion and conclusion to write. The three of you who had been present at the initial group meeting had chosen your parts as was decided in the group chat prior. When all of you had received a text from Jungkook cancelling last minute, you’d snagged the conclusion as well as half of the discussion to write as just the conclusion would be a little too easy. And you had wrongfully assumed that your peer had been in some sort of ‘emergency’ since he always sounded like he was in a hurry to do something incredibly important.

You’d pitied the seemingly sweet looking boy and told him that you’ll work together on the last two sections of the paper. And his bastard self had always been all smile emojis and ‘yes :)’ and just all around misleading. Sounding like he was diligently working on his part by himself and definitely will turn everything into you by Thursday. Thursday was yesterday and you had not received even a single message from Jungkook about where he was in terms of progress on the 1000 words he needed to write. Message after message, you weren’t even being left on read. And in concern you had messaged your group chat that maybe he was facing some real life crisis to be so MIA. Until this.

Until you had picked up your phone about half an hour ago to mindlessly scroll through your instagram feed and then in the last 10 minutes had decided to also go on to tinder just to humour yourself. You were well aware that tinder was a cesspit of weird and unhinged men who would only be a good enough to make a youtube video about or a horror story texted to your best friend. You were speaking from experience. Decent men on tinder was like finding a luxury vintage dress in half good condition at a thrift store.

So when you’d swiped left for the 30th time - you’d finally come across the perfect face of someone very familiar. You’d almost swiped left on reflex before you’d brought the phone almost too close to see why the face looked so recognisable. Even without having actually ever met Jungkook face to face - apart from that first lecture - it was hard to miss that this definitely was him. Your mouth had fallen open, jaw just shy of touching your soft bedsheets. You’d found Jeon Jungkook on tinder. His perfectly coy smile staring right at you, the first few buttons of his black shirt open wide to capture your attention back to his smooth, muscular chest. Hastily dialling Momo’s number, you can barely contain your shock and anger and annoyance. All of it wrapped up in one powerful burst of dialogue that you subject Momo’s ears too.

“Bitch!!!” You can’t help screeching, mind boggled.

“What happened now? Jungkook finally reply to you?”

“No oh my god. I found his tinder. I found his tinder Mo. I found his tinder!” You were screaming again but you couldn’t help it.

You were missing a Jeon Jungkook to rightfully scream at so poor Mom was bearing the brunt of your anger and maniacal laughter because your brain was having a hard time believing your luck.

“Wait, seriously? Did you match him?” Oh wait. Of course. There was still another step.

Wordlessly you swipe right, hard skipping a few beats in anticipation. And when the screen shows that he swiped you right as well and that you could now message him, you’re laughing once more.

“So he did. Wow. What a piece of shit.” She’s also laughing albiet much more like a normal human being.

“I cannot believe this Mo. This fuckhead doesn’t read any of my messages for the last week and I find him matched to me on tinder?”

Just then, your phone vibrates. Telling Mo to hold on, you don’t want to believe that this is actually happening. You had just received a message from Jungkook. It had barely been a whole minute of you matching up with him on this app and he had already messaged you.

Jungkook: What has 36 teeth and holds back the Incredible Hulk? My zipper.

This must be a bad dream. Were the cameras of Punk going to start showing up form under your bed? Were you being punked? Not only was Jeon Jungkook just the worst partner out of all the group projects you had been in, he was most definitely a fuckboy. Who used terrible pick-up lines. Did he really not recognise you? Granted that your pictures were not the ones you had put up on facebook - it was still quite discernible that this was definitely you.

“Mo, he just sent me a horny pick-up line oh my god. I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Of course he did. I always thought he was a bit of a player. What did he say?”

When you read out the message, both of you are coughing from the laughter. This was too ridiculous and just very much like something that would happen to you. You had a group project due in less than two days and your group mate had turned out to be a bit of a horny bastard that was more concerned with getting his dick wet than messaging you back.

“You need to message him back, y/n. Pour the cold water on him already and tell him how badly he fucked up.”

“No way! I bet you he’s going to never message me back. At least on tinder i’m going to get a reply. Just how the hell do I ask him about the paper that he should’ve emailed me, like, yesterday? Ugh.”

“Just message him back, firstly. Or lose the only communication you just got. Do you know what dorm he’s in?”

“No idea.” Typing your reply and deleting it - much like your assessment that you were working hard on. Unlike him.

You: Hulk always was my favourite Avenger :)

“You did not just say that! Grossssss.” Yeah. Humouring fuckboys was exclusively for post 6 tequila shots Y/n.

Chuckling at your own response, you’re trying to keep your cool while trying to keep Jungkook’s attention so he doesn’t stop messaging you.

“Mo, wait. I just had an idea.”

“Please, y/n, violence is not the answer.”

“I won’t hurt him you knob. Okay talk to you later!” Not a lot anyway.

“I’m telling the police I don’t know you if they come around tomorrow! Bye!”

Making a face at your phone for good measure - you go ahead with your plan. There was no way you were letting Jeon Jungkook get away that easily. You’d been working so hard this semester. Harder than you have ever tried and you would not let his sloppy self to bring down your grade on an assessment that was worth 40% of your grade. Nearly half. Neither did the people in your group deserved it.

“Just you wait, Jeon. I’m going to kick your horny ass.”

Jungkook: let my Hulk destroy any traces of bad fucks you’ve had.

Your eyes are almost bulging out of your head at his brashness. Did he really just ask you to fuck? This is the second thing he has said to you and it’s him asking to fuck you. You can’t believe how much of a textbook fuckboy he was. When you haven’t responded for a few minutes, you get another message form him.

Jungkook: if that was too forward ^-^

Jungkook: then what i said was a lie lol.

Jungkook: I'm probably the best fuck you’ll ever have.

You cannot believe your eyes. With each message, Jungkook is either confusing you or making you shake your head at how exactly like all the other boys on tinder he is. This was hands down, the longest conversation you have had with Jungkook directly. In the group chat he generally adressed everyone, shooting haphazard apologies right before meetings. Saying he would not be able to make it. It had frustrated you to no end as the date for submission got closer and closer. And to see him reply quicker than you, on tinder no less, was beyond infuriating.

You: Well then. Prove it.

You: Where do you live?

You doubted that Jungkook would be reluctant to give you his address. That’s just not something you see happening. Maybe he preferred to go to the girl’s place? That wouldn’t matter to you either. Though convincing him to bring his laptop with him would be a challenge but you were fine to let him work on your own. There was no way you were letting him go without coughing up his part.

Jungkook: you sure?

You: wanna fuck. Hurry up.

Jungkook: you’re so sexy :)

You were going to literally lose it. Not sure why you were biting the inside of your cheek so hard to stop yourself from laughing at his messages. Jungkook was the epitome of a snapchat fuckboy. It was much more hilarious than you anticipated. You were expecting to be feeling the singular emotion of sheer hostility. But you were having too much fun with this. Especially when you weren’t going to actually fuck him but seeing how eager and self-assured he was, this was all the more pleasant.

Jungkook texts you his address and you let him know that you’ll be there in around 20 minutes. He lived surprisingly close. Though him staying in an all male rich residential college was definitely not a surprise. Only kids with a lot of disposable income and no worries of being evicted avoided doing any actual school work. The rest of you were not privy to such luxury. The more you thought about it the more you knew how gratifying it will be to show up at Jeon Jungkook’s door with a pile of notes and your laptop. He was in for a treat.

Dressing in that one little black dress you had was only part of the plan. An attempt to fool him one last time before you handed him the checklist of what he had to do. You shrug on a large jean jacket that fell below your bottom to conceal your provocative dress, grab your bag after stuffing all the necessities and then set out the door. Dialling Momo’s number, you let her know where you will be incase anything happens. You could never be too careful.

“Yo, I’m going to Cornell college. Jungkook apparently lives there so I’m going to meet him.”

“Are you serious? He told you his address?!”

“Sure did.”

“I pray for his soul.”

“He made me suffer far longer! Whose side are you on, traitor?!”

“Yours but knowing you, he’s in for a LOT. Okay stay safe.”

“Yeah yeah. He needs to be safe not me.”

“Yeah that was what I was saying. Anywhore. have fun.”

“Bye.”

The closer you get to the college, you are starting to hear loud music. Was this even allowed on colleges? Were there not any volume restrictions given what time it was and the fact that it was managed by onsite staff? Arriving on the level Jungkook told you his room was, 4th, the music is even more noticeable. The sign pointing to the common room was where most of the bass was coming from and you guess maybe there is a function going on. Though the closer you walk, you realise that this was not just any event. This was a party. The cracks in the door gave away to the activities happening inside the large hall. Deciding not to wait any longer, you text Jungkook again. Being as serious as you can be to get him to meet you outside instead of carrying your backpack with you inside.

You: I’m here to fuck, not party.

Jungkook: it’s a good party tho. We can slowly take it back to my room ;)

You: I’ll find someone else.

You hope he takes your bluff.

Jungkook: love it when you order me around baby.

Jungkook: don’t forget who’s in charge. Me.

You can’t help but roll your eyes, still smirking at your phone. No matter what your initial intentions were, you had to admit that playing with Jungkook was fun. He was unacceptably attractive and looked like the type of guy you would reduce to tears. But none of that tonight. You had to stay focused. You’re about to type another message to speed him up but he beats you to it.

Jungkook: room is unlocked. go in. i’ll be there in a minute.

Letting out a whoosh of air you’d been holding, you head down the hall, further away from the heavy bass and the party music. Somewhat hesitantly, you open the door to the room number he gave you. Nothing out of the ordinary. His room wasn’t messy. It was tidy. No sign of books. Just a bunch of sketches and film negatives strewn about on his study desk. Shamelessly, you snoop around, trying to find any evidence that he studies at all. So far, you’d only found an industry grade recording mic, two different types of cameras and some more unused camera reel.

Getting out your notes and the checklist you were going to hand to Jungkook, you get everything ready for when Jungkook arrives. You were not going to let him get away with this. Just another minute later, you can hear the footsteps getting closer. And for a moment, so does your heartbeat. You were quite confident in yourself but there was always a chance that Jungkook was more than a harmless oversexed college boy. All of the very rational fears are thrown out the window, however, as soon as the black mop of hair comes into view. Jungkook was incredibly handsome. Even moreso than his pictures. His hair was longer than the last time you saw him months ago. The long strands of inky black hair fell endearingly in his face, just to the middle of his eyes, parted right in the middle and curling slightly. He wore a long sleeved shirt with hip-hugging jeans that almost made you drool visibly. The saliva was positively pooling in your mouth but you swallowed it quickly to avoid embarrassment.

Now, you were angry. You really were. You needed this assessment finished so you could start on other projects and without Jungkook finishing up his part, there was no way you would have finished yours on time. But you would be a bold faced liar if you didn’t admit that you were oh so tempted to abandon your vendetta and not ride him like a bronco. You could tell that unfortunately, unlike other men who strutted about with empty words - Jungkook would be the best you would have in a while.

And when he smiles, it’s not any easier.

“Hey you.”

“Hi.” Desperately trying to keep your voice even, you smile coyly.

Jungkook locks the door, running a hand through his hair before he stalks towards you. Confident as ever. You bite your lip, baiting him even further before you strike. Just when he gets close enough to you, you hold out an arm to keep him from touching you.

“God, you’re even more sexy in person.”

“Uh-uh, be patient.” He’s blissfully unaware, just smirking in return as he watches your hands roam his chest before going up to his face. Taking a step closer to him, you rake your nails up his neck, leaving little white lines from the scratches.

“Close your eyes, Jungkook.” Jungkook, ever the obedient boy, closes them quickly. Awaiting your next move.

You can’t help yourself when he looks like this. Completely immersed in the feel of your hands. He was a good few inches taller than you but your platformed sneakers made it easier for you to teach him a lesson. His dark eyelashes kissing the tops of his cheeks, face so relaxed you would think he’s sleeping. You deserved to play a little at least, right? Leaning forward, you stop with the internal rationalising and just make the move.

Your lips meet his in a fiery kiss. His stoic figure melting as soon as your lips lock, hands grabbing at your waist while his tongue grazes your bottom lip. Jungkook is moaning in the kiss like he’s taking his first gulp of water after roaming the desserts. Momentarily, you forget your purpose for even being here in the first place. Wrapping your hands in his tempting long tresses and pulling, making even more sweeter noises to spill past his lips. He’s panting and restless. Moving his body against yours like he’ll die without it. Moving him backwards, you push him agains his swivelling study chair that was conveniently faced the right way.

His hands are all over you as soon as he’s down on the chair with your legs straddling his thighs on either side. All you can feel are his lips and his tongue and his hands. All over you, sliding your jacket off your shoulders to travel his kisses down another path. The desperate intake of oxygen is enough to bring your head back in the game, barely. With Jungkook nipping away at the now exposed skin of your shoulders and neck, it’s hard for you to stay focused. Especially when the hard tent in those sinfully tight jeans is now pushing against your softest part. He’s impossibly hard and you’re impossibly soft down there. It’s a lethal combination because neither of you can live without the other being pressed against each other. When you push down on him he pushes his hips up with even more ferocity, moaning louder with every illicit rub of the thickness between his thighs.

You’re addicted to the feeling and not sure how you’ll centre yourself enough to do what you actually came to do. God was really making you eat your words, huh? You were so close to ripping all his clothes off and fucking his brains out. You bet he’ll make the prettiest sounds when you ride him. His whimpers and moans just from gyrating up against you were enough of an indication. Sliding your hands back up in his hair, you yank it back from your neck to see his sweaty, glistening face looking up at you. He looked slightly inebriated. You had tasted the traces of vodka in his kiss but you had a feeling that a lot of his current state had to do with you and not the liquor.

“Jungkook?” He shamelessly rut his hips against yours, not fully hearing you, lost in his own lusty haze.

“Yeah?” Your lips close around the soft cartilage of his earlobe, tugging and flicking with your tongue, illiciting more salacious noises out of him.

“How’s the assignment coming along?” It takes him a few seconds to respond but the urgency with which he was pawing at you has slowed to a halt like a broken down car.

“Huh?” Pulling back completely, you stare him right in his twinkly eyes that look like a deer caught in the headlights.

“The paper you’re writing on modern cinema?”

“How... how do you know about that?” You smile at him sweetly. Before you flick him across his forehead.

“Ow! What the hell?”

“I should be saying that you harlot!”

“Harlot? really? You were all over me just now. You are all over me!” You’re surprised he knows the meaning of the medieval insult.

“Don’t try and weasel out of this! I’ve been waiting for your finished part since yesterday!”

“Wait... you’re y/n, y/n?”

“Took you long enough.”

“With your tongue down my throat? I wonder why.” You cannot believe you are arguing with a boy whilst still in his lap with his hands holding on to your waist.

Jungkook is trying his hardest to deflect and make you seem like the desperate one when he had been the one to want to fuck you from the get go. Getting off his lap, you fix your dress, tugging it down a little since the assault from Jungkook had almost bared your ass. Jungkook is still sitting in his study chair, dumbfounded.

“Finish your part of the discussion Jungkook. I have to write the conclusion and submit the paper.”

He is still staring. And now your eyes are travelling down to his thighs. Particularly the large bulge a little further up. A very substantial bulge that makes your mouth water once more.

“Jungkook!”

“Sorry, what? I just had a dream that a crazy girl tried to get me to do my homework right before we were going to fuck.”

“Listen here you little shit,” You grab Jungkook’s chin, gently despite his theatrical reactions, tilting it up to look you in the eyes. His reactions are so comical you almost laugh. “I’ve worked too hard for you to just give me piss poor, last minute effort. I’m here until you finish it.”

“You cannot be serious.” Letting go of his chin, you step back, folding your arms against your chest for good measure. Raising an eyebrow for him to challenge you.

“You expect me to write a thousand something words with this,” He points between his legs, you roll your eyes, “still here? No way.”

“I don’t remember giving you a choice, pretty boy.”

“You think I’m pretty?” So pretty. But he didn’t need to know that. You swivel his chair around back to face his desk.

“Less talk and more work!”

“Y/n, you can’t- can’t make me!” He’s throwing his hands around like a child and it’s a little too cute for an annoying boy like him who’s put you through so much anxiety. Sitting on his bed, swinging your legs as your eyes look around at the paintings, you let him huff and puff.

“Oh yeah? Guess I’ll have to call the cops because of the weed you have.”

His nose scrunches up adorably. “I don’t have any weed.”

“But I do. Who will they believe?” His eyes widen once more as he realises what you’re saying.

“Are you seriously blackmailing me?” You nod, smiling brightly. Jungkook turns back around, head in his hands as he mutters to himself how his tinder hookups are always crazy.

“Hey! I wouldn’t be here if you did your work! or replied to any of my messages.”

“Um, I was going too? I was busy.”

“Taking vodka shots? Yeah I could tell.” The mention of the kiss is bringing a rosy flush to Jungkook’s cheeks. Such an uncharacteristic reaction for a guy with his looks and his confidence.

He was that much more appealing to you because of how he contradicted his own personality. You knew he was one of those boys who acted all tough but secretly wanted to be bossed around. Told to do this and that. Made uncomfortable and maybe slightly humiliated. They lived to please. And the way Jungkook had melted into your body almost as if asking for guidance earlier, you knew he was exactly like that. He may not even know it yet but you could have him in the palm of your hands in a matter of minutes.

“What do I get in return?” He’s still grunting his disapproval, but looking through the notes you put on his desk anyway.

“A good grade and a life longer than 22?”

“You’re crazy.”

“All the more reason for you to be quiet and work!” He pouts at you before quietly looking through the notes and logging into his laptop.

When you’re satisfied he’s actually working, you lay down on his bed, making yourself comfortable knowing that it will take him at least an hour to finish his part. You had practically handed him all the points, he just had to write his own opinion and synthesise the evidence you had collected. The part of discussion required each student in the group’s own thoughts and thus you couldn’t just make them up on Jungkook’s behalf. Nor did you want to. You were done doing two people’s work back in your freshman year. These were advanced level classes and you weren’t going to ruin your grade because of one person.

Thirty minutes later, you’re almost about to doze off when you see Jungkook getting up from his chair in your periphery. Sitting up in a flash - though a little dizzy - you point an accusatory finger at Jungkook. Said boy has stopped mid-standing up.

“Don’t you dare Jeon! Get back in that chair and finish your work.”

“Jesus.” He’s holding his head in his hands once more before he starts whining again. “Y/n, please. Can’t I just do this tomorrow and send it to you then?”

You think about it. You do. “And have you go off the face of the planet again? No way.”

“Please.” He drags out the syllables, pouting and blinking up at you and it almost works.

“No. Not a chance. Just finish it ASAP and I’ll edit it. But finish writing it. The sooner you’re done the quicker I’ll be out of your hair.”

He glares at you. And not the scary, tough man glare that might make you slightly nervous and fidgety that you’re getting on his nerves. It’s a glare a kid gives you when you tell them no more TV or no more xbox. It’s the most adorable thing you’ve seen Jungkook do tonight. Or maybe you’re just sleep deprived. Either way, you wanted to kiss the hell out of him. But you turn your head away, faux annoyance ebbed into your features as you wait for him to start writing again.

It works for another half hour, Jungkook now actually typing more than he’s complaining. It was only a thousand words that he had to write but there was a lot of information that needed to be condensed in those thousand words which meant he was typing and then deleting, repeating the process again and again until he looked to be halfway through. You were impressed at how much he was getting done. Maybe it was your watchful gaze that was making him perform at his peak. You were now just hoping that whatever he wrote was actually plausible and not just rubbish to get you out of his room.

“I can’t believe you’re making me work with a boner. You could’ve at least gotten me off.” His pout his still there as he types casually.

“Stop being a brat and keep working.”

“Yeah? You’re going to make me write lines? ‘I am a brat’.” He chuckles to himself like he’s burnt you to a crisp with that one comment.

Taking your hand off of your face, you sit up. You watch the way his biceps bulge under his shirt as he types away at his laptop, legs splayed wide under his desk as he supported a semi. It was still a sizeable dent but nowhere near as daunting looking as before. But none of that diminishes your desire for him. You watch him talk to himself quietly as he types, but now stuck somewhere as he types and deletes and then types a sentence again.

You’re not sure what sets it off. Maybe it’s your frustration or that you think he owes you something more than just this. Maybe it’s the way he’s sitting? There are a lot of reasons you can use to justify your serious and formidable attraction to him. But you cannot deny that it was him from the get go. Just him in all his submissive glory that made you attracted to him. And that attraction was now getting the best of you. Maybe it was time to torture him in another way.

“No. I’ll do something much more to your liking.”

His head turns back around fast, fingers halting at his keyboard while he inspects the drunken look in your eyes. Slowly, you spread your legs, hands bracing yourself as they clutch the sheets on either side of you. Your heart is racing at the look in his own eyes. Primal and needy.

“Get on your knees Jungkook.” His chest is rising and falling much quicker than yours. Like he’s holding himself back.

You patiently wait for him to listen to your instructions, watching him. Never breaking eye contact. You know it’s new to him. It’s too obvious for you to deny it. But you relish the look of surprise every time you say something he doesn’t expect. Slowly, get’s up from his chair. Never taking a step further as he drops to his knees, crawling forwards until he’s right infant of you. The room is not that big at all so it doesn’t take him long. Now, his wide, doe eyes look at you. Inquisitive and aroused and it turns you on even more. He’s all man with hard ridges and bulging muscles but the way he’s looking at you right now makes you feel like at the centre of his world.

“Are... are you going to- to make me eat your pussy?” the explicit question sends your nerve endings on fire.

You’re a second away from grabbing his hair and shoving him right between your legs but the way his soft mouth says the dirty words - it makes you feel a very different kind of way. Now it’s you who can’t stop staring at him. Thinking about what else he has up his sleeves. You expected him to be vocal but never this. He is bold and shy all at the same time.

“Would you like that, Jungkook?” His eyes drop between your legs again, watching the way your panties cling to your increasingly wet folds.

Jungkook is moving between your legs more, eagerly nodding so the strands of his fringe rustle up and down in his face. His arms are going under your thighs, gropping them for good measure before he looks up at you with those eyes again.

“Please.” He’s almost whispering, longing lacing his every word. “Please, y/n. Please let me taste you. ‘wanna taste you.”

His words have turned into pleas and the pleas turn into kisses alongside your inner thighs and then any place Jungkook can get his lips and tongue on. Everything else is forgotten. It’s just you laying on his bed while Jungkook tries to get a taste of you anyway he can. His lips travel up to your covered mound, never daring to move the piece of fabric holding him back from his destination. Opting to only kiss over it, lick his way up your clit through the thin cotton that’s now moulding to your swollen folds.

“Do- do you deserve it, Jungkook? For putting me through so much h-headache? Oh.” Your moans accompany almost every word. Fingers laced into Jungkook’s luscious hair as he continues his hurried tasting of your arousal.

His response is mumbled between your legs. You watch his veiny hands repeatedly grab at the flesh of your thighs. Kneading it desperately like he’s trying to distract himself from doing something else entirely. A yelp leaves his mouth at your tug on his hair. Pale skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He looks like an addict when he is looking at you like you’re giving him his fix and God, you want to kiss his swollen lips.

“Answer me, brat. Do you deserve anything from me?”

“N-No.”

“Right. Yet you’re still begging to taste me like the needy little slut you are. Hm?”

Jungkook is whimpering, his lids fluttering. He doesn’t expect the smack across his face, a little too hard for what you had originally aimed for. The surprise is evident and for a moment you’re worried he’s going to be upset. Instead, his breathing is picking up even further.

“Answer me when I speak to you.”

“Y-Yes... Noona.” The breath is almost sucked out of you at his timid tone. And it only makes you want to push him further.

“Good boy.” His eyes are lighting up at the praise like hundreds of little galaxies called them home.

Sliding down towards the edge of the bed, you let your legs hang off, letting your toes touch the floor. Jungkook is still on his knees, watching you manoeuvre yourself around his bed before you reach for the hem of your dress. Watching his every facial expression as you strip. He looks up at you wide-eyed, taking in your soaked underwear and the thin black bra where your nipples pointed right at him. You can see his hands twitch by his side. You’d pushed them off you when you’d changed your position and were surprised at how calm and obedient Jungkook was being. Contrast to how much of an argumentative brat he was. But you had a sneaking feeling that he liked it when you called him that.

You were trying to remain calm yourself. Not give too much away on the dilemma you held inside your head. Thinking if you should take this any further. Though it was a little too late now, you guess. You were practically naked, wetter than ever before as Jungkook watched you with his wide doe eyes. Hunger evident with every flit of his gaze. You would feel cruel if you stopped at this point. So you let the rational part of your brain take a backseat and letting the consequences of tonight berate you in the morning after. Sliding your palms down your stomach, straight inside your soaked panties, you stroke yourself ever so slowly. Holding his heated gaze with cloudy eyes.

“Noona...” It sends another jolt of arousal throughout your already overheated body. He’s biting his plump bottom lip, sliding his hand up and down carelessly on to his erection that had grown considerably in the past fifteen minutes. Jungkook looks like the embodiment of desperation and it makes you rub yourself a little faster. Every time your fingers come in contact with your sensitised clit, you bite the urge to buck your hips brazenly.

“Yeah, baby? You want to see?” You hold out your wet fingers to him and in a flash, you feel his warm mouth around your digits. He moans loudly like he’s been relieved after years of drought.

“M-More. Please, Noona. I’ll do anything please, please.” Now that didn’t take long. Chuckling at his agonised face, you throw your head back, enjoying the relief your own fingers brought.

But you were torturing yourself too at this point. You wanted to replace your small fingers with Jungkook’s bigger and more vascular hands. You remember the view of his body from the glorified hookup app. Knew what he was hiding under the baggy shirt. The sweet whimpers and ‘please’ sounds coming from him were a delicacy on their own.

“Take my panties off then. With your mouth. Don’t use your hands... or else.” Your tone is stern enough to give you that satisfying flash going through his eyes.

In seconds, he’s leaning forward on his hands and knees, eyes never leaving yours as he bites the cotton on your hips, dragging it down. The act itself is a little clumsy. In his haste, Jungkook is taking twice as long should he use his hands. But something about his complete compliance, his willingness to be accepted by you and his utter devotion to pleasing you is the ultimately your undoing. This may be a power trip but you were thoroughly getting ruined during it.

At last, the cotton has reached your ankles. Quickly, you shrug off your dress as well, completely naked. He’s placed small kisses in greetings before he takes them off completely. Out of breath and out of his mind. The glazed look has taken a permanent vacation in his eyes and you were getting high on it. Jungkook was a communicator. If it wasn’t his mouth relaying the naughty words to you then his eyes were holding yours hostage, smouldering.

Bracing your hands behind yourself and never breaking away from his eyes, your ankles part. Jungkook’s eyes are automatically falling on the mess between your legs but he doesn’t dare move. Awaiting your instructions. Jerking your chin towards his general direction, you silently bring his attention back to his overly dressed self.

“Lose the pants.” His hands make fast work of his jeans. Falling back on to the ground to push them off.

“Uh-uh. Keep them on.” His eyes widen at your command to keep the underwear on. You weren’t about to just let him have it.

Not yet.

“Noona...” The high pitched noise of protest only makes your nostrils flare. You wanted to live out your every dirty fantasy with him if he sounded this sweet with just watching. The desire was making your head spin and your palms sweat.

“Yeah?”

“Please... I’ll do anything.” His eyes twinkle in the dim light as he kneels infant of you.

“I’ll eat you out for hours, let you sit on me face until I can’t breathe. Let you ride my tongue until you can’t cum anymore. Just please... fuck me.” The last two words leave him in such agony that for a second it truly sounds like he’s in pain.

Which is ridiculous given the ted talk he just gave on the Perfect Words To Say to Ruin Y/N and Her Panties. You’re the one currently in pain from clenching your jaw so tight. Resolve like a skinny rubber band about to snap. Dirty talk was the chink in your armour. And by the way Jungkook’s face lit up and his words became a lot more sure and confident, you knew that he was weaponising his skill to control you fully. And you needed to put him in his place before you gave up your pride and rode him until you ran out of stamina or died from your body overheating. Whichever happened first.

“Get up.”

“Fuck yes-“ Jungkook’s blubbering about how you’re the hottest person he’s ever seen and that he knows he can blow your mind while you push him back on the bed and straddle his meaty thighs. When he begins to push down your panties, you push his hands off and rest them on his sides.

“Keep them there or you won’t be coming. Understood?”

His curls bounce around his face as he nods, chest heaving when he looks at your hips move over the biggest bulge you’ve felt under you. You would’ve thought that he’d stuffed his underwear with socks if you couldn’t feel the burning heat his cock was pressing in to you, even through his boxers. Each roll of your hips pressed him to your every crevice like two puzzle pieces fitting in to complete the picture.

“Oh fuck-... You feel so good noona. I-I’m going to cum if you keep going.” He’s resorted to use his hands at his sides to push him upwards, pressing himself with every gyrate of your hips downward on him.

“Yeah? you’re gunna cum from just this? Is noona making you feel really good?”

Jungkook is lost in soaking up every sensation like a drunkard. Gaze not leaving where your hips met. Furrowing his eyebrows in deep concentration as he thrust his hips up, rocking you off balance slightly. Your hands slide into his sweaty curls, pulling them hard enough to yank his beautiful face up and close to your own.

“Answer me what I ask you a question.” And he whines. Or moans. Nevertheless it’s a lethal mixture of the two and you’re about to kiss him senseless.

“Yes. I-I feel really good. Noona is- oh fuck- g-gunna make me cum.”

“And are you going to?” He looks up at you nervously, trying to speaking amidst every roll of your flaming core onto his dick. It was getting harder and harder for you to speak as well.

“N-No?”

“Good. Because only good boys get to cum. Not needy sluts like you.”

Now Jungkook whimpers like a wounded animal. Because you’ve upped the ante. Holding onto his shoulders while you grind down on his throbbing cock just the right angle so your clit is receiving the mind-numbingly pleasurable stimulation. You were going to cum any minute and it looked as if he was too.

“F-Fuck. I’m going to cum Jungkook. Your cock feels so good.”

“Noona please. Please s-stop. I-I’m going to cum-“

“That’s not my fucking problem. If you want me to fuck you then you better not. Understood?”

He looks utterly panicked. Torn between letting himself go to the unbelievable pleasure of this act alone and wanting to hold back and obey your every command. Jungkook’s lip is bitten red, chest heaving and eyes watering as he watches the erotic sight of your brazen bouncing on his lap. You’re putting on a show just to make it that much more difficult for him to hold back. But he somehow does. Watching your face contort with pleasure as your head is thrown back. Your moans are loud and lewd. Designed just to rile him up to the point of breaking.

“Oh god. I’m- I’m gunna cum baby.” With a shout, you’re riding out wave after wave of the liquid pleasure running through your veins like molten gold.

It takes a solid minute for your eyes to focus on a singular object. Or a person. More specifically, an incredibly handsome, glistening, starry eyed, muscular, put-micheal-angelo’s-david-to-shame, strikingly adorable man. Jungkook looked on the verge of losing his sanity. Yet, he didn’t stop watching you collect yourself, flicking the stray strands over your shoulder before you pressed your mouth to his.

You brought your mouth to his and kissed him hungrily. When your lips met, you heard him make a tiny sound. His body went rigid, and he wasn’t reciprocating. You think it might have been down to shock, though, because when your tongue slid past the seam of his lips, he opened them willingly and trembled against you.

Your fingers dug into his thighs, and he pulls you closer. You were on fire, felt like you were melting into him. Never before had a single kiss gotten you so worked up. She tasted like chocolate and strawberries. Jungkook rocked forward, and then you felt his tongue move expertly against yours. Of its own accord, a groan emanated from deep in your chest. When he brought his hands to your neck and massaged your throat, you whimper. He was hard as a rock and you finally wanted to reward him for holding out this long.

He’s chasing your lips when you break away, sliding his kisses down your neck as if breaking the contact will be fatal for him. “You did so good baby. Such a good boy.”

The praise seems to rejuvenate his body. Not that he needed to. He was bursting at the seems with testosterone. The longer he went on without a release, the more unhinged Jungkook seemed. The incongruence of his raw masculinity with his alarmingly meek behaviour towards you was something you didn’t understand but it affected you the most. He surprised you with every move and you wanted nothing more than to own him completely.

Jungkook makes a noise in his throat at the praise, sliding his hands down to caress the globes of your ass. “I’ve been a good boy. Now fuck me.”

His words are steady, deliberate and to the point. Scratch everything you said about Jungkook being meek. They send shudders down your spine where his hands reside. This was a man who looked on the verge of tearing something apart. And judging from the current situation, he was going to be tearing you apart. You’d let him, gladly. But being the cocktease you are- you push him even more.

“And if I don’t, little boy? Gunna beg?” A heartbeat later, you’re the one on the soft mattress and it’s Jungkook that’s hovering over you.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Then I’ll fuck you noona.”

You’re not too mad because you’re wetter than before and the change in his demeanour has you besides yourself with the need to feel him inside. Jungkook’s teeth are tugging on your hardened nipples. Circling them with his tongue before sucking the puffy buds tenderly. The pressure of his suction is so delicious that you might just cum from this.

“God! Jungkook, b-baby please. Fuck your noona.” He grins around a nipple, hands sliding inside your soaked core.

“I don’t know. Maybe I should make you wait like you made me. Hm?”

“Don’t be a brat. I’ll stuff your mouth next time with a sock Jeon J- oh fuck!”

He’d slid down your body, his kissing every inch. Your stomach, your hip bones, your thighs.

“I’d rather it be your pussy.” He whispered, bringing his mouth to your wetness, and then licked.

“Ahhh,” you cried out, clutching a handful of his hair. Jungkook chuckled and went at you in earnest. You were so soft and silky beneath his tongue. He met your gaze from below and came up for air. Jungkook watched you for a second before dipping his wet mouth lower again. The noises of your arousal pornographic. He saw you fist the sheets in your hands, your hips rising up off the bed when he sucked your clit into his mouth and flicked it with his tongue. He added some fingers to the equation, savoring the hot, tight feel of you.

“Please,” you murmured. “More.”

So he gave you more. He gave you everything. Before he knew it, you were touching your breasts, pinching your nipples as he devoured you, and you swear you could have come from the sight of Jungkook between your legs alone. he was simply glorious. Your voice was starting to get hoarse. Getting close to the edge before Jungkook ripped his mouth away.

“No! Jungkook, please.” You’re frustrated and angry and horny that he would do that. Even if you did the same thing to him.

He was testing you once again but the raw need in his eyes told you that you were testing him too.

“I’ll fuck you now noona. Nice and good. You want this cock right?” He’s holding his straining erection heavily, sliding down his boxers to discard them besides his bed.

You moan out your answer, opening your legs wide in invitation.

“Just fuck me before I change my mind.”

“Yeah?” His tone is mocking. His eyes twinkling with a cheeky grin on his face. You almost get up to kiss him because he looked so fucking adorable and hot and sexy at the same time.

Thankfully - or not? - he’s pulling you to the edge of the bed and in seconds, he has pulled you close to his chest. He circles the engorged head of him in your slit before pushing in to the hilt in one thrust. The sheer girth of him has you yelping, needing to adjust to the length of him as well. But Jungkook doesn’t allow you the courtesy of that.

His legs are spread in a powerful stance as his hands grip your legs from behind the knees. And then he’s thrusting. He’s fucking into you so deep, you can feel him in your throat. You must look like a fish at this very moment with your mouth opening and closing without any real sound. He feels hot and thick, like molten lava in your veins. you’re finally finding your voice when angles his hips slightly to the left - biting a spot that has you blinking up at the ceiling full of stars.

“Jungkook! Oh god. Oh f-fuck. You’re so good baby. S-So good.”

“Yeah? You like how deep I am in your pussy? Answer me noona.” He’s quickening his pace, snapping his hips punishingly making you release a guttural scream.

“I love it. So much.”

You watch the sweat drip off his forehead, the dimples in his cheek now very prominent as his tongue peeks out the corner of his mouth. He’s a sight you want to imprint on the back of your eyelids. You can see his lose his resolve, the creases in his forehead slowly deepening as the pleasure becomes too much for him.

“God you feel so wet and tight n-noona. You look so hot when you cum. I w-wanna make you squirt.”

Your eyes bulge out of your head at his admissions. It seems like he’s lost all his filter, chasing the mind numbing pleasure he felt earlier. His words are bringing you even closer to the edge and your throat now begs for relief when you let out another yell as he pushes you up the bed while still fully seated inside you.

“I’m gunna cum noona. I j-just need to... to- I don’t. I don’t wanna h-hurt you-“ His sweet face is contorted with worry, still thrusting steadily. You finally understand his point after a few seconds. Taking you twice as long to comprehend anything with the plethora of feelings your body was feeling right now.

Cupping his face, you told yours upwards to place a small kiss on his wet lips. “It’s okay baby. You won’t break me. Just let go.”

Jungkook’s eyes are glassy and he stares in yours for a moment too long because your heart is doing summersaults, heading straight for your mouth. Too much emotion crammed into his big eyes and you just wanted to strangely hug him close to your chest. This day has been strange enough - so you do. You Pull Jungkook close to you. His face tucks itself in the crevice of your neck, whining and moaning. His breath tickles and sends shivers down your spine. And then he circles his hips against yours.

From the hard and deep fucking, Jungkook circles his hips into yours. Slowly at first, his pelvis rubbing against your clit in just the right way before he speeds up. His hands find their way down your back again, pushing your hips up into his own, making your centres feel everything. You can feel him in every fold of your core and it’s all too much.

“Oh god.” Your hands scratching down his back, head tilted back, legs closing around his waist tightly.

“That’s it noona. Cum for me. Please, please. ‘Wanna feel you around my cock. ‘Wanna feel y-your cunt devour me. Cum.”

You scream so loud that you can hear a ringing in your ears. Vision flashing white as the indescribable pleasure starts in the pit of your stomach and coarse through your limbs all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes. It’s all consuming and breathtaking. Unexpected.

“I-I can’t hold it anymore. Can I-“ You’re unable to speak.

Still reeling from your orgasm, twitching from the sensitivity, but you nod anyway. You wanted Jungkook to let go inside of you. Wanted to give him the same pleasure he gave you. He was incredibly ethereal atop you. You wanted to see him come undone. And Jungkook was too far gone to think twice before hitching one of your legs up, the other arm grabbing the headboard as he thrust up inside you once again.

“Fuck, yes. God, you’re so good you’re so good. I could fuck you forever noona.”

His eyes are watering, tucking his face back into your neck again before he pistons his hips against yours rhythmically. The only sounds in the room being the tacky noise of skin slapping against skin, the obscene squelch from the steady arousal leaking between you both. You’re so delirious from the mix of pleasure and the deliciously addicting pain. AT some point, you’ve stopped screaming and only whimpers leave past your lips, legs falling lax around Jungkook and hands fisting the sheets.

“Cum Jungkook. P-Please baby. Cum for n-noona.”

“‘gunna cum. Am I good noona? your good boy?”

“You’re the best Jungkookie. Cum for your noona.”

“Fuck! Y/n, f-fuck.” He’s shouting something you can’t properly hear because of the ringing in your ears from your own release. Filling you with his hot release. The intense pressure that had been building between you has snapped the frail rubber band in your stomach again. And seems like Jungkook’s had too.

Moments pass, both of you trying to suck in air like it’s the last supply available. Then, Jungkook’s flushed face appears in front of yours with his signature cheeky smirk. He’s glowing.

“You squirted.”

“Shut up!” Your ears must be the shade of a tomato now as you swat his back for the comment. He lays besides you, cuddling up to your side with his leg laying on top of yours. Clinging to you like a koala and it’s too damn adorable. Damn it.

“It was hot. You’re amazing.” Your heart flutters a little too violently at that and you have to suck in another breathe, pulling the sheets off of him and completely bundling them on you.

“Hey!”

“Hm? You’re going to finish that assessment.” You grin innocently at him and try your hardest to not start howling with laughter when you can see his face fall almost in slow motion.

“Are you serious?” You just sent him a kiss before settling in his bed for maybe a 12 hour nap. Just a tiny nap.

“Noona!”

“I’ll give you head when you’re done. Be a good boy.”

With the most adorable pout you’ve ever seen on a grown man, you watch Jungkook pull up his boxers, stomping away to his study desk.

“Wake me up when you’re done Jungkookie.” Your sweet tone does little to get the pout off his face but he does smile the whole time he’s typing.

Of course, not that he let you see that

a/n: liked it? hated it? let me know!!

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #hope u like it!!!

4K notes · View notes

walkingdaryls · 4 years

Text

exposed

pairing: timothee chalamet x female!reader

request: Hello amazing person! I was wondering if you could possibly do a Timothee imagine where the reader and Timothee have been dating for a while (the reader is a famous actress) and there relationship gets exposed somehow. You can obviously alter anything you want, and I totally understand if you can't do it. Thank you so much!

warnings: swearing if that even counts lol

(also, i am clearly SO good at titles...lmao help me)

“Timmy, I think they’re onto us,” You teasingly smiles.

Timothee laughed, “What do you mean?” He belly-flopped onto the bed, leaning in close to you.

“Look, they’re making accounts about us now. This one’s called, ynandtimmyproof,” You laughed.

Timothee shook his head, taking your phone from you and scrolling through the account’s posts. All the post were pretty much reaching, but you two had to give them some credit. It was some pretty big detective shit. One post showed a picture of from your Instagram story of you at a party...it was a selfie with Emma Stone, a good friend of yours. Then in the same post, the account user placed a picture from Timothee’s own story, of him and his friends, proving you two were at the same party that night. Which was true. You two had gone together to Emma’s birthday bash, but made sure to stay separate during photos.

It wasn’t like you two were ashamed of each other. That wasn’t the case at all. But with Hollywood being such an exposing industry, and neither of you having barely any privacy, you two agreed your relationship needed to stay secret. Your friends and families knew, of course, but secret from the public. The only time either of you ever posted about each other was on each other’s instagram spam accounts. They were extremely well hidden, with only your closest friends following them. If anyone were to come across the private accounts, they wouldn’t connect it to you or Timmy.

But so far, a year and a half into your relationship, you’d been having a blast. The privacy was so nice. Sure, you had to go to some bigger extents in public to keep people from noticing you two, but it was worth it.

Once done snooping through the fans’ accounts, you began mindlessly scrolling through your camera roll.

“Wait, go back,” Timothee said, looking over your shoulder.

“Which one?” You asked. His hand hovered over yours as he picked the photo you’d skipped over. When he clicked on it, a smile suddenly appeared on your face. It was a photo of you two in some small city in France. A week long vacation you two took a six months ago before you both were going back to work in separate projects. The photo was you two sitting on a rustic balcony, overlooking the beautiful village and it’s gorgeous countryside. You were dying of laughter in the photo, due to Timothée attacking your neck with kisses. Although his face was practically buried in your neck, you could see the contagious smile etched onto his face in the photo. Your faces were so genuine, so at peace...you couldn’t help but admire it for a few more seconds.

“I love that picture,” Timothée murmured. But he wasn’t looking at photo anymore. He was looking at you, with nothing but pure love in his eyes.

You threw your phone aside, slightly blushing and running your hand through his curls. It was almost an instinct at this point. His eyes fluttered slightly at the feeling of your hand.

“I love you,” You whispered.

“I love you,” He said back with no hesitation. You didn’t have a change to say anything before he leaned down and softly pressed his lips against yours. His presence was so warm and gentle, you wanted to just melt against him.

Once the kiss broke apart, you giggled softly as you twisted one of his curls with your fingers.

He chuckled, “Why do you love my hair so much?”

“I love all of you,” You smiled, kissing him once more.

Still laying on his stomach next to you, he bashfully laid his head on the bed. He leaned over, kissing the side of your arm softly. You watched him carefully with a smile still broad on your face.

With a loud “oomf”, you turned onto your back and laid down next to him, closing your eyes. You could feel the warmth of his body, and his fingers just barely caressing your cheeks, and all you could think was, this is the perfect moment to take a nap.

You felt Timothée reach over you, “You look so cute right now.” You opened your eyes to see him unlocking his phone.

Your boyfriend laid his head back down, before pulling his hoodie over his head, and leaning into you. The camera app was open, and you gladly leaned into him as well. With sleepy eyes, you decided to look at Timothee instead of the camera. He took the picture with a soft smile on his face.

He brought the phone down, taking a good look at his photo. You loved it. In it, you were gazing at him with adoration in your eyes.

“We never look at the camera at the same time,” Timothée joked. You giggled.

“That’s actually so cute though, send it to me.”

“Okay,” He said, “Imma post it on the spam, too.” You gave him a lazy thumbs up.

He mindlessly posted it with the caption, “Do I have something on my face?” which led you to shoving him lightly as a joke.

“I’m tired, too. Let’s nap!” He looked like a giddy little kid as he threw his phone to the side and spooned you. You sighed happily, melting into his touch. A few minutes passed with Timmy’s quiet snores in your ears, before you felt your phone buzz next to you.

You ignored it. You were too lazy to move.

But then another buzz. And another.

And another. Another.

Then your phone began ringing.

“Jesus Christ,” You said loudly. Timothee slightly jumped, but let go of you so you could grab your phone.

“Who is it?” Timothée asked groggily.

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Florence.” You two were pretty close friends thanks to Timmy, but you knew she wasn’t a phone call kind of person. Why was she spamming you?

“Hello?” You held the phone up to your ear.

“Y/N!” She screamed through the phone.

You jumped, “Florence, what? What happened?”

“When did you and Timmy decide to go public??? I’M SO EXCITED FOR YOU TWO!” She screamed. Your head shot up to look at Timothée, your eyes wide. Timothee saw the look on your face which only caused him to sit up in concern.

“Florence, what the fuck are you talking about? W-We didn’t go public.”

Timothee’s face scrunched in confusion before he slapped his face in realization. He reached for his phone at the speed of lightning. But you were still a bit lost.

Florence gasped, “But Timmy’s post....oh shit. That idiot.”

You almost dropped your phone. Florence quickly let you go, knowing you were going to start freaking out. You bid her a quick goodbye before hanging up and watching Timothée carefully.

“Fuck, I’m so stupid,” He muttered.

“Did you accidentally post that selfie to your main account?”

He nodded bashfully, showing the post. In just mere minutes, thousands upon thousands of comments flooded his instagram. And yours, you were guessing.

“I-I’m so sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry. This is why I can’t post shit while I’m sleepy,” He began nervously rubbing his leg up and down while anxiously looking at the comments.

Your shoulders dropped, and a light smile spread on your face. You crawled over to him, taking the phone from him. You didn’t delete the post. No, you simply turned off the comments. Timothee looked at with slight confusion.

Grabbing his face, you comforted him. “Timmy, I’m not mad at you. I mean, now we kinda have this weight off our shoulders, right?”

“B-But I thought-“

You shook your head, “I love you, Timmy. People were bound to find out anyways. Maybe it was a sign from the Universe or something.”

He looked down, chuckling softly, “So everything’s okay?”

“Everything’s okay.”

“I love you,” He hugged you.

“I love you more.”

Timothee pulled away, “Now those proof accounts are gonna lose their shit.”

You laughed loudly.

You two were gonna be more than okay.

—

#timothee x reader #timothée chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet #x reader #imagine #timothee chalamet imagine

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quercus-queer · 4 years

Text

BA’s Reckoning

Yes, I stole this title from the Sporkful podcast. You should check it out!

So just a reminder the whole thing that kicked this off was when Tammie Teclemariam tweeted the photo of Rapoport in brown face (yes its brown face its a purposeful caricature of Puerto Rican ppl, his girlfriend called him her papi in the caption as well) saying he should simply write the article on Puerto Rican food then (the issue was Illyanna Maisonet, a Puerto Rican food writer, got rejected rudely by Rapo for her pitch to write about Puerto Rican food) Which brings up the larger issue of BA being racist and not covering any other dishes besides Eurocentric ones, and the ones that aren't Eurocentric are almost always either whitewashed or done by white people which is what happened with Masionet’s article (this is where Amanda Shapiro and Meryl Rothstein come in).

This led to a zoom meeting where Rapo made a shitty apology leading Sohla El-Waylly’s instagram posts, where she condemns Rapo, talks about her 50k salary despite having 15 years of restaurant experience (She ran a fucking restaurant and 50k in NYC is pathetic), being hired to help white editors, and not being paid for ANY of her video appearances (none of the poc you see in videos have been compensated including the zoom videos). Which has led to many people at BA being exposed for being terrible (Conde Nast is the parent company and owns BA, Vogue, Architectural Digest, Allure, Glamour, Wired, Epicurious,Teen Vogue among other things... also take note how most of these have consistently been criticized for their racism or “race problems”)

ANYWAY here’s a general guide of what each BA person has done, this is in no way comprehensive, feel free to investigate on your own, always fact check and form your own opinions!

Adam Rapoport: Brown face, not paying his non-white employees for their video appearances, treating his assistant Ryan Walker-Hartshorn (a black woman) like shit (she was working overtime and was barely making rent with what he was paying her), he's sexist (see every video with Molly) and racist (mixing up Sohla and Priya Krishna and never apologizing) and more!

Check out the Business Insider piece, twitter (Tammie’s, Christina Chaey’s, and Priya’s), Sohla’s podcast and interviews, and someone made a compilation of Rapo being condescending I think

Matt Duckor: Disgusting, racist, homophobic, sexist all around terrible person, probably the most obviously terrible of the bunch (see Rick Martinez’s insta plus Duckor’s own tweets), strung along Sohla for months saying that her pay was “stuck in legal” so that she would keep appearing in videos, gave Sohla a contract when this stuff first started happening to try and shut her up, HE is the one deciding pay for everyone at BA and was the one not paying poc for video appearances.

Check out Rick’s Insta, Twitter for Duckor’s tweets (screenshots bc he deleted his account)

Carla Lalli Music: First off, ppl are pointing out she was condescending af to a lot of her guests on her show (except for the white ones). The racism at BA did not start nor stop with Adam Rapoport and guess who was editor in chief before him? Yup, Mrs. Carla Lalli Music! Necessary amendment: Carla was the food director NOT the editor in chief and she is currently an editor at large... still a powerful position though and I think the sentiment still stands. She had a pretty pathetic twitter thread about how she should’ve done more but was focused on the sexism/focusing on women, strange because she also sent that shitty email to two women along with Delany and Brad after the two of them, Delany, and Brad were talking in the kitchen, telling them not to enter the kitchen without permission (not enforced on Brad or Delany obviously, only the two women who happen to not be white) I misread the article, Brad was a part of the convo, he did NOT receive the email, and didn't respond to the articles request for comment.. he fucking works in the test kitchen, i’m an idiot and that's on me

Business insider and her twitter

Alex Delany: I have a post with the screenshots of the confederate flag cake he made himself because he felt the “need to express some southern heritage in cake form. Such a glorious cake...” for his friend moving to South Carolina, the lovely vine with the classic “F*g is a bundle of sticks joke” also have a post discussing that, he’s wildly underqualified for DRINKS editor and overpaid, also his girlfriend is Allegra Lorenzotti whose mother Eva Lorenzotti, is in Jeffery Epstein’s black book which is concerning (though who knows maybe Delany is dating a different wealthy Allegralo), also those sexist tweets

I have screenshots from Tumblr, ppl have the vine on twitter along with the sexist tweets (he deleted his twitter and Tumblr btw)

Andy Baraghani: There are screenshots of Alyse Whitney’s (an asian woman) twitter thread saying Andy purposefully undercut her articles multiple times because of a petty feud with Antoni from Queer Eye by using his friendship with Amanda Shapiro (Whitney’s editor) to kill the story, which is shitty and brings up the bigger picture of BA being cliquey and getting in with a friend of a friend and such which is just a toxic work environment

Amanda Shapiro: Puerto Rican food article, Alyse Whitney’s articles, she’s a perpetuator of the toxic work environment, stealing Nikita Richardson’s work and getting credit and pay for it (pls check out her twitter and the articles with her), also racist, should not be in charge

Chris Morocco: Made one (1) basic post (simply a reply to Molly calling him out actually) at the beginning of all this agreeing to not be in anymore videos until his coworkers got paid/backpay, he said he was complicit (duh) but also that he had no idea this was happening, but guess what? He is the one that hired Sohla for only 50k! There is a whole can of worms about how little Sohla was hired for despite her experience plus talent along with her current pay and Chris is a part of that. Also both his gumbo video and Halo Halo recipe are downright disrespectful at BEST and they should not have had a white man doing them (again with the white people doing articles/videos that can be EASILY given to someone whose actually part of that culture) and before anyone says anything yes the gumbo was for Chris’s show (strange how only white ppl get shows or in Andy’s case unless you’re friends with a higher up) still doesn't make the video less disrespectful, also he’s SAID he is friends with Anna Wintour (head of vogue, and a racist “there’s no room for black women” the reason the vogue challenge is happening)

Brad Leone: Himbo status permanently revoked, “Brad who just found out racism is real”(Sohla said this in the Sporkful podcast) is NOT acceptable for a 35 year old white man whose coworkers are suffering in a clearly toxic work environment, the screenshot with “I didn’t sign her contract she did” is NOT how you respond to your coworker being underpaid and disrespected by the company she works at because she is not a white man. I do not like him anymore, he has made apologies but ignorance to this extent is willful and I don't completely buy it the rumors he was upset Delany was going to be fired/would quit if Delany was fired/was mad at Sohla is not something I was able to confirm but based off of what I’ve seen he really needs to prove himself to be better, he can stay if that’s what his coworkers want but he is on thin fucking ice

Stuff I can't accredit to a single person, but BA is racist:

NIKITA RICHARDSON, pls check her out on twitter

They sent Sohla to interview black chefs (bc BA has a bad track record) because she was the darkest and there were literally NO black chefs working at BA

Making Priya only cook Indian dishes (which were kinda whitewashed) I actually think this may have been Duckor

Tokenizing the poc staff (they would make them be in the kitchen when filming the white hosts shows and push them in front of the camera to highlight nonexistent diversity)

Paying Hawa Hassan only $400 for her video (probs also Duckor)

#bon appetit #bon appétit test kitchen #sohla el waylly #adam rapoport #brad leone #alex delany #alex delaney #chris morocco #andy baraghani #matt duckor #carla lalli music #priya krishna #Nikita richardson #hawa hassan #god this got long and there is more

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allsassnoclass · 3 years

Text

maybe I wrote an off-screen epilogue scene. maybe I didn’t. click the keep reading button to find out

warnings for mentions of weed and a mention of meds

December 26th dawns slowly over the mountains of Colorado, the sun creeping over the landscape like molasses, and Luke wakes up in the same way. He stays in the murky space between dreams and waking for a long time, floating through his subconscious until Ashton’s gentle fingers trailing up and down his arm finally pull him back to earth and wakefulness.

“Hey there, angel,” Ashton says, shifting to kiss his bare shoulder. “Good morning, my love.”

“Morning,” Luke hums, turning on to his back so he can see him. This bed is smaller than the one at their LA house, pushing them closer together and reminding Luke of the months in Utah back when they first got together and earlier this year, when Luke stayed with him for most of fall semester.

Ashton smiles at him, hazel eyes crinkling around the edges.

“Waking up to you is the best way to wake up,” Luke says, voice scratchy from disuse. It’s something he’s told Ashton multiple times, but it always bears repeating, and it never fails to make Ashton melt a little. He reaches forward and brushes Luke’s hair out of his face, hand curling against his cheek. Luke leans forward and kisses him, warm and slow, stubble scratching his face and mouths stale with morning breath. Ashton hums contentedly when they pull away, eyes staying closed half a moment longer than Luke’s.

“What time is it?” Luke asks.

“Mid-morning,” Ashton replies.

“Petunia?”

“Already took her out and gave her breakfast.”

“I love you,” Luke says. Ashton can claim to dislike Petunia all he wants, but that doesn’t change the fact that over the course of quarantine he has been the one giving her more treats and belly rubs. His willingness to get up with her in the morning means Luke is free to stay in bed as long as he wants, and since Ashton returned he can keep him here, too.

“What do you want to do today?” Ashton asks.

“Be with you,” Luke says. That was partially why they decided to come to Colorado for Christmas. Ashton wanted a little bit of snow and Luke wanted to spend uninterrupted time with him. When spring semester starts, Ashton will be heading back to Utah alone. Luke has been writing and recording a lot of smaller projects in his home studio that will likely never see the light of day, but beginning in January the band is going to have recording time together again. He’s needed with them, so he and Ashton will be long-distance until the semester ends since the university isn’t having a spring break and they won’t be traveling more than necessary in the pandemic.

“You don’t have a choice out here,” Ashton says. “The cabin isn’t that big, my heart.”

“Good,” Luke says, hand sliding down Ashton’s waist. His pet names have been getting increasingly diverse throughout quarantine, and each one still manages to give Luke heart palpitations, even the weird ones like thunder cat and lemon zest.

He leans forward to kiss him again, shifting easily when Ashton tugs to guide him on top, thighs bracketing Ashton’s waist. Ashton moves his palms to rest heavily on his legs, and when Luke leans back he’s met with the sight of his black hair messy against the white pillow, a ray of sun illuminating his face and making him glow.

He runs his knuckles along the scruffy beginnings of a beard Ashton has been letting himself grow since classes ended. It’s prickly, but Ashton doesn’t stop him, just watches with a smile.

“You’re so handsome, Ash,” he says. The eclectic mountain man vibe he’s been leaning into shouldn’t work, but somehow Luke looks at him and is still as enamoured as he was with the adorable boy he didn’t realize he loved and the beautiful man he married.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” Ashton says. Luke moves his hands to the smooth planes of his chest, keeping himself propped up.

“I think that’s your expertise,” he says, reminded of the hundreds of photographs stored on Ashton’s phone or various sim cards around the house, all filled with Luke in various moods, positions, styles, and states of dress. One of Ashton’s goals for their summer together was to bring his photography skills up to par with his painting, and with lockdown Luke was the only convenient subject.

They have some pictures that they’ll never show anyone, and there are a few that Luke has considered showing the world. Needless to say, Ashton is his favorite photographer.

“I wish I had my camera now,” Ashton says. “Every inch of you is exquisite, and with the way you’re backlit by the sun you look ethereal. If I could capture the expression on your face I would never take another picture again, because none of them would compare.”

He doesn’t yet have the words to respond to that, so he leans down and kisses Ashton again, and again, and again.

-/-

After wasting the entire morning together under the covers and grabbing something quick to eat, Luke and Ashton go for a walk. It’s not cold enough to be unpleasant, and the cabin has woods to one side with paths stomped down throughout. They soon lose sight of the house behind them. Luke hopes they’ll be able to find their way back when the time comes, but if they get lost at least they’ll be together.

“This year was a lot better than it should have been,” Ashton says.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a global pandemic going on. There have been thousands of needless deaths, cancelled plans, and teaching was significantly harder and less fun, but I think this year was my happiest year since I can remember. I feel really good about my art. I feel like I’m more aware of the world around me. I’ve stopped feeling as self-conscious. I finally got put on meds that work, and I’m actively enjoying my life.”

“You smoked a lot of weed.”

Ashton laughs.

“Yeah, I smoked a lot of weed, but I kept it professional at school.”

“Some of your students’ works would’ve been even better if you were high while seeing them for the first time.”

“Luke,” Ashton admonishes. “I’m not trying to get fired. I need the administration for reference letters since I’m job searching near LA now.”

Luke stops walking, letting Ashton carry on without him for a few steps.

“You’re job searching?”

“I am.” He backtracks, meeting Luke where he is and taking his hands. “Luke, I’m not stupid. I know that the reason this year didn’t suck was because it was the first year I got to fully spend with you. You are the love of my life, and I don’t want to try living my life without you for eight months of the year anymore. When you’re not traveling around the world dazzling people with your talent, I want to be with you at home. I love teaching, and I’m going to keep trying to do that, but after this semester I’m moving to LA permanently whether I have something else lined up or not.”

“Oh,” Luke says. “I thought you loved Utah. You have friends there, and students. Are you sure you want to leave that?”

This past semester, Luke was able to fully witness Ashton as a teacher. When he wasn’t on campus, Luke got full exposure to his joys and frustrations. He sympathized with him over administrative decisions and safety protocols and got to see pictures and video tours of the art submissions that Ashton wasn’t able to see in person.

He gave Daisy an encouraging voice note for finals, because she’s been struggling with trying to complete her senior project given the circumstances and Ashton asked him to since she’s his favorite.

“I have friends here, too, and there will be other students,” Ashton says. “Even if that wasn’t the case, being with you would be worth it.”

Luke’s heart feels full to bursting.

“Really?” he asks, needing one more confirmation that his dream is going to come true before he lets himself believe it.

“Yes, my sweet. I’m moving to LA with you for as long as you make that city your home.”

Luke kisses him because the other option is to start crying, something which he doesn’t want to do when they’re out in the cold.

“I think this was one of my best years, too,” Luke confesses.

He came out and then almost immediately deleted his social media from his phone. He’s learned more about what it means to be a good ally. He’s grown as a songwriter, stretching himself with different genres and working on his piano skills more, writing dozens of love songs for Ashton and silly ones for Petunia, bad ones, good ones, and amazing ones for himself and for the band. He figured out what it really means to be a husband, sharing his life with Ashton and able to physically be there for the bad days they both had and celebrate the joyful ones.

Things haven’t been perfect by any means. They had to postpone the tour, they can’t see anyone, and it often feels like the world is on fire. Still, though, he’s had Ashton.

Through all of this, he’s had Ashton, and after this semester he’ll always have him with him.

“You’ve been glowing,” Ashton says. “I’m glad I got to experience it with you.”

“Me too,” Luke says. “I love you.”

Ashton kisses his nose.

“I love you, too.”

They continue their walk hand in hand, enjoying the fresh air. Ashton points out signs that animals had been there and Luke ensures that he doesn’t run into any trees while he’s not paying attention to where he’s walking. The path turns out to be a big loop, and soon they can see other cabins again and then their own back door.

“Wait,” Ashton says before they go inside. “I want to jump in the snow. Film it for my instagram.”

Ashton has a professional artist social media, but he also has a private instagram that he posts on frequently. Luke has gotten very used to snapping pictures or videos for him, always endeared by which pieces of his life Ashton wants to share with the rest of the world.

Ashton takes off his coat for the video and faceplants with a kerplunk. As soon as he’s done filming, Luke is laughing.

“That was fun,” Ashton says when he hands his phone back to him. “Want to make snow angels?”

“No, Ash, I want to go inside,” Luke says. He gets no warning before Ashton has arms around his waist, tackling him down into the snow and making Luke shriek.

“You’re so lucky I love you,” Luke laughs, poking Ashton’s pink nose with his glove. Ashton beams above him.

“Can we go inside now?” Luke asks. Ashton hums, then snaps a picture with his phone.

“Now we can,” he says, getting up and offering Luke a hand. Luke lets Ashton haul him up, then they finally enter the cabin again, stomping snow off their boots and brushing it from their coats.

They don’t have any plans for the rest of the day, or the rest of their stay in Colorado in general, but Luke couldn’t care less about what they’re going to do. He gets to spend the rest of the holiday with Ashton, and then the rest of his life with him. Soon they’ll be permanently in the same house again, and he couldn’t be happier.

If Ashton managed to transform an awful year into a good one, Luke can’t wait to experience all of the amazing years ahead with him right by his side where he belongs.

#my writing #lashton #off-screen #how wild would it have been if I put a rick roll under there instead #would I have lost followers for that #okay now you Actually get a break from me.#going to not post writing for a week (but I am going to work on some inbox prompts)#can ya'll believe I still only have 285 words of the off screen prequel written and I don't even like them????#also! for your own thinking enjoyment: how much of ashton's quarantine chaos energy would still exist if he had to be a professor #like how wild is off-screen December 26 2020 ashton? who knows #I think he is slightly less wild than actual current Ashton but Not By Much #ashton's always been a goofy dude it's just manifesting differently right now #off screen

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jjmaybanksblog · 4 years

Text

The Book of You & I- Rafe Cameron

Summary: Based on The Book of You & I by Alec Benjamin

The Book of You & I- Rafe Cameron x fem reader

Summary: Based on

Word count: 2,900

Warnings: Angst, brief nudity mentioned, is kissing a warning?? all together sadness

Disclaimer: The female pronouns have been changed to male since this will be from a girls pov

Flashback in italics

Well, it all began in the back of his car

I was just sixteen, but I fell so hard

You and Rafe Cameron sat in the trunk of his jeep. Rafe had asked you on a date a few days before this, quickly realizing he was falling for you hard and fast.

He drove you two up to the look-out hill, which gave you a beautiful view of the Outer Banks. He decorated the trunk with pillows and small fairy lights, playing music in the background. You were resting your head on his chest, feeling at peace as you listened to his calm heart beat.

It was when he kissed your forehead did you realize you were falling for him just as hard. Every moment you spent with him then you fell harder and harder. He never failed to make you smile and feel loved when you needed it most which you greatly appreciated.

Well, the years went by and he held my heart, but his love ran dry and we fell apart

You and Rafe had been dating for 3 years now. 3 years of going on dates, surprising each other with gifts, going to parties together, mind blowing sex, spending nights together. You thought everything was going beautifully.

However, as time went by everytime you tried to hang out with your boyfriend, he said he was always busy, coming up with excuses on why he couldn't go out when in reality he was partying with his friends and snorting coke.

I felt him growing distant, I knew his love was shifting

"Why are you constantly up my ass what the fuck is that about lately?!" Rafe screamed in your face. You two were in the middle of an argument after you asked him why he hasn't been around lately. He snapped at you as soon as you asked.

"Why are you yelling at me?" You raised your voice back, genuinely confused as to why he was acting so hostile towards you. "Because I'm not happy in our relationship anymore!" He screamed, red in the face. Your mouth fell open at his confession, a strong tension filling the room. Your eyes stung with tears, furrowing your eyebrows at him.

"What?" Your voice was barely audible as he kept his stare at the floor, rubbing his hands through his hair.

"I'm not happy anymore. I just- I don't know I'm not… in love with you anymore." A sob escaped your lips as you took in his words. You didn't say anything else to him as you walked out of his bedroom, slamming his door shut. You attempted to collect yourself at least until you were back in your car.

Accidentally bumping into Sarah, your head hung low as you apologized. "Y/N, you okay?" Your eyes met Sarah who softly gasped at your red eyes. Quickly shaking your head, you left the Cameron household, and entered your car. Your fingers gripped your steering wheel until your knuckles turned white.

You inhaled sharply, wiping the tears out of your eyes you sped out of the driveway, your grip never ending up on the wheel.

And all that I could say was, don't tell me that it's over, the book of you and I. Now you've scribbled out my name and you've erased my favorite lines

You cried into your pillows for days on end, avoiding your friends calls and texts, not going to the dinner table to eat with your family, not leaving your bed in general. You sent countless nights, playing back memories in your head of the two of you. You questioned yourself so many times, wondering what you did wrong that made him fall out of love with you.

For the first time in a week you checked your social media. Your thumb hovered over Rafe's instagram account. Before you could stop yourself you scrolled through his posts, your grip tightening on your phone you saw all of his posts with you were deleted. Biting your tongue, you didn't hesitate to archive the pictures of you two on your account. Throwing your phone on the end of the bed, you sniffled before clutching onto your pillow.

There were so many chapters that we never got to write, like cereal for dinner and staying up all night.

For your 1 year anniversary, Rafe had bought you tickets to see your favorite band, getting you front row seats. You were forever grateful that Rafe had done that for you, even when you told him he didn't have to do anything so big.

You and Rafe stood side by side, his arm around your shoulder, your hand resting on his chest. Chills were sent down your spine as the crowd screamed and cheered as the band appeared on stage. Rafe shifted you so you were in front of him, your back against his chest.

You shut your eyes in happiness, listening to the crowd sing along to the lyrics. Letting the feeling of euphoria take over your body, you rested your head on his shoulder, holding his hands in place on your waist.

The concert lasted almost 2 hours, making it 3 a.m. when you two returned back to his house. As soon as the both entered your house, Rafe threw himself on your couch, his body exhausted from all the adrenaline. You giggled at your boyfriend, entering the kitchen to make bowls of cereal. Pouring Fruit loops into two bowls, you added the milk and grabbed two spoons.

Plopping yourself next to Rafe's head, you shook the cereal box, his head snapping up to look at which one you grabbed. A dorky grin appeared on his face, sitting up and tucking his legs underneath. "You know what to do." You handed him the remote. He shoved a spoonful of cereal into his mouth before turning the TV onto Spongebob.

I remember where we started, I remember how you looked

Before Rafe asked you on your first date, he asked you to senior prom. He knew you were a sucker for surprises so he gathered his friends to help lead you to the outside bus dock. There Rafe stood with a glass jar in his hands. You walked up to him and read the sign, 'be a smartie and take this dum dum to prom!' In the glass vase was the smarties candies on the bottom, and dum dumb lollipops on top.

Not being able to hold back your smile, you happily said yes to him, earning cheers and whoops from everyone around you.

Once prom actually came around, you never forgot what he looked like. He showed up at your door in a light blue tux, a corsage the color of your dress in his hands. You could easily tell he was nervous, but as soon as he saw you all of his nerves left. "You look… stunning." He exhaled, truly at a loss for words.

"Thank you! You clean up well." You joked, your hand skimming across the hems of his tux. His hand delicately cupped the side of your waist. "You truly do look like a princess."

But now I'm missing bits and pieces from the pages that you took. You didn't give a reason, I'll forever wonder why, we never got to finish the book of you and I.

You snuggled into your blankets, letting out a loud sigh. A soft knock echoed from the outside of your door. "Go away mom." You called out, only to hear another knock and the door opening. You flipped around to see Sarah Cameron standing at the foot of your bed with a box of pizza and plate of cookies.

After you thought you were out of tears, more tears swelled in your eyes at the sight of her. She joined next to you in your bed, holding you in her arms as you sobbed into her chest. Resting her chin on the top of your head, Sarah held you, her heartbreaking to hear your distressed sobs. "Shhh. It's okay, I got you." She mumbled.

"He never told me why," you started as you pulled away from her, wiping your tears on your blankets. "I don't know what I did wrong." You mumbled, picking at your fingernails. "Y/N, you did nothing wrong. Rafe is just an asshole, and I am so, so sorry for everything he's put you through recently."

Sarah slid the box of pizza towards you, a small smile on your face you took a slice and nibbled on the end. "Before I hug you more, I need you to take a shower." Sarah admitted before grabbing a slice for herself. You immediately dropped the pizza, apologizing before running into the bathroom.

Well, I bought a pen and I turned the page. Then I wrote about how I wish you'd stayed. I said all the things that I never got to say. Maybe when it's done, I will feel okay.

You sat at your desk, you thumb anxiously clicking the top of the pen. Your mom had bought you a journal to write down everything that you had going on in your mind. She said it would help you at least organize some thoughts instead of having them jumbled together in your head.

You sighed loudly before writing a letter that you knew you'd never send.

Dear Rafe,

God, I never thought I'd be writing this letter. I never thought we would break up. I never expected you to fall out of love with me. Everything just feels… out of place. You were my safe zone, out of everything that was changing in my life you constantly stayed by my side through everything and I loved that about you. I wish you were still with me. I don't know why after everything you've done to me recently, but I miss your touch. I miss the smell of your cologne. I miss your cute nicknames for me. I miss watching Disney movies with you. I miss staying up with you. I miss all of you. I never told you this, but I always pictured us getting married. I pictured you proposing to me after like our 5 year anniversary. We would have two kids, you would get to pick where we'd live. I'd get to change my name to Y/N Cameron. My bed feels empty without you. You were my first boyfriend, my first kiss, my first time, my first love, and as much as this hurts now, I am forever grateful you taught me how to love. I love you Rafe Cameron. No matter what.

Love,

Y/N

That he had grown so distant and that his love had shifted. I wish he felt the same.

Sarah finally convinced you to go to the beach with her due to you staying inside for nearly 3 months. You were about to meet Sarah's boyfriend and his friends for the first time. At first Sarah told you that she could cancel on John B, but you refused and insisted on meeting everyone.

You sat next to her on your towel, letting the sun hit your skin. You couldn't help but softly grin at the warm feeling. "Guys! Over here!" Sarah called out. A group of teens walked over to you two, welcoming smiles on everyone's faces. "Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N this is JJ, Kiara, Pope, and my boyfriend John B."

You stood up from your spot and welcomed Sarah's friends with a smile. Kiara on the other hand pulled you into a tight hug. You let out a surprised laugh, hugging the girl back. Sarah had explained to them that you had just had a rough break up and to stay away from the topic.

"You give really good hugs." You admitted, releasing the girl.

The day was going beautifully, everyone was swimming or surfing. You finally felt relaxed, like everything is okay. "Hey! Y/N look at this!" John B randomly shouted. Your head snapped towards him, looking at the shell he had in his hands. You observed it before a familiar voice echoed from further down the beach. Your hands dug into the sand, John B looking down at you with pity in his eyes.

"It's him isn't it?" He softly nodded his head. You squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep breath. JJ appeared by your side, "you want me to teach you how to surf?" Your heart felt warm at his offer. Nodding your head, you followed JJ into the ocean, your eyes not daring to look at Rafe.

Don't tell me that it's over, the book of you and I. Now you've scribbled out my name and you've erased my favorite lines.

After a long day of JJ teaching you how to surf, everybody agreed to get dinner at The Wreck. You jumped out of John B's van, holding the front door to the restaurant open for your friends. You stepped foot into the dining room, only to pause in your steps.

You didn't care that you saw Rafe, you cared that you saw some girl under his arm. Your friends saw the color leave your face, all of them shoving back out the front door. You inhaled and exhaled harshly to prevent yourself from crying. "Hey. hey, come here." Sarah comforted you in her arms, trying your best to maintain your composure. You quickly stepped away from her, "no, no it's okay. I'm okay," you lied, shaking your hands out, "I think I just need to go home."

Kiara nodded her head, "I'll take you home if you want." You shook your head, "no it's okay. I'm just gonna walk home." Sarah's eyebrows raised up. "Y/N that's like an 8 mile walk." You shrugged your shoulders. "I just want to be alone and walking is good. I'll text you when I get home, okay?" Everyone gave you a hug before watching you walk away from them.

The moment you had your back turned on them, you broke down. How could he have moved on so quickly? Was she just a fling or a new relationship? So many questions in your mind, you knew could not be answered.

There were so many chapters that we never got to write, like cereal for dinner and staying up all night.

Rafe gently nudged your body, "psst. Baby, are you awake?" He whispered. You flipped around and faced him. "I haven't been able to sleep at all." You said, your hand immediately finding its place on the side of his face. "Wanna go skinny dipping?" He suggested. You jumped out of his bed as soon as he finished his sentence. He knew you had always wanted to try that, and since his parents were renovating a house that was 6 hours away staying a hotel, he knew this was a perfect time to do it.

You raced him down the stairwell and into his backyard. Quickly stripping, you were left in nothing. You jumped into the water, thankful that the pool lights were off. Rafe jumped in, joining you. You leaned your head back, letting the water sweep through your hair.

Rafe swam up to you, his hands finding your butt as you wrapped your legs around his waist. "I don't know why we didn't do this sooner." You joked, pressing your chest against his. He swiped a stray piece of wet hair away from your eyes, his thumb shifting down to your lips. "Because we both know where this would lead." His thumb skimmed across your bottom lip, allowing you to open your mouth to kiss it.

I remember where we started, I remember how you looked, but now I'm missing bits and pieces from the pages that you took. You never gave a reason, I'll forever wonder why, we never got to finish the book of you and I. Don't tell me, tell me that you're leaving me. My belly hurts and my heart is hardly beating right, I hate to beg, but I'll try one last time.

Dear Rafe,

It's been exactly one year since we broke up. I became friends with some Pogues. I know you'd flip on me if I told you that and we were still together, but they're treating me better than you have towards the end of our relationship. I'm not gonna lie, I still miss you sometimes, most of the time actually. I'm still confused on why things ended the way they did. You've avoided me the entire time, leaving me without a clue and I hate it. I picked at every flaw about myself, trying to figure out if that's why you left. Do you know how mentally draining that is? God, it fucking sucks. I stopped crying over you though. Yeah it hurts my heart when I see you, but I think I wasted all my tears on you. I really don't know why I'm even writing to you anymore, I feel like I told you everything I needed to. I used to beg every day and pray every single night to get you back, and it hasn't happened. But I get it now. You finished our story before I got the chance to finish it myself, and that's just how love works sometimes. I'll never forget you Rafe Cameron, but I'll also never forgive you.

Sincerely,

Y/N

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leilabeaux · 4 years

Text

Luck Be a Lady

Chapter Four

Masterlist | One Two Three

Pairing: Alex x Reader

Word Count: 2161

Summary: Reader has some regrets and she learns something new about Alex.

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: And this is where I leave you. ::tips hat and rides off into the sunset:: On a real note, sorry for the lack of updates. Work and personal life has been hectic and wearing your girl down.

----

The bright lights of the Vegas Strip illuminated the living room enough that you didn’t bother turning on any lights as you left your bedroom. Now dressed down in your worn-out, oversized hoodie and pajama shorts, you walked over to the wet bar and pulled a bottle of vodka down from the shelf, not caring how overpriced it was. You thought about grabbing a glass but instead shrugged and took a swig straight from the bottle.

Settling on the wide marble ledge, you looked past your reflection in the window to peer down at the sparse traffic on the streets. You felt so physically drained after all the tears you’ve shed. You rubbed your bare face in embarrassment, mortified over letting all your emotions get in the way and ruining what was otherwise a nice evening.

Now that you weren’t in the middle of a panic attack, you regretted reacting too quickly when you told Alex to leave. You wished you could have him come back or at least text him so you could explain yourself but you two never took a moment to exchange numbers. Not like it would make much of a difference anyway, you were sure he was grateful to get some distance away from your crazy ass.

You didn’t bother looking over when you heard the door unlock and open. The clicking of heels confirmed it was your best friend doing her walk of shame, or stride of pride as she lovingly called it.

“So I didn’t see any sign of your Lover Boy when I snuck out of Marco’s room,” Bianca teased. You could hear her plop down onto the couch and then soft thuds of what you assumed were her shoes being dropped on the floor. “Is he here? Did you wear him out? Why are we sitting in the fucking dark?”

Light had filled the room after she clicked on a lamp. Although you were no longer crying, you knew your red, puffy eyes would give you away when you turned to look at her.

“Oh my god! What the fuck happened?” She rushed over to join you on the ledge. “What did that fucker do?”

“He didn’t do anything,” you gave a small smile, trying to put her worries to rest but as all the emotions from the night went through you again, you couldn’t stop your eyes from welling up.

Bianca wrapped her arms around you, comforting you until you were ready to talk. Her hand rubbed your back as you softly sniffled into her shoulder.

“What happened, sweetie? Are you sure he didn’t do anything? Because I won’t hesitate to put my shoes back on and kick his ass if I need to.”

“No, Alex was sweet and a total gentleman the entire night. So you can calm down with all of that.” You pulled away from her, drying your face with the back of your sleeve before giving her a quick run through of your night. “We were kissing and everything was good and...I don’t know. It felt familiar.”

“Familiar how?”

“It was like being with Trevor again. I know him and Alex couldn’t be anymore different but it somehow felt the same. And then all I could think of was him and how much I missed him. I just felt guilty like I was cheating on him.”

Bianca shook her head as she took your hand in hers. “Y/N, you have nothing to feel guilty about. Trevor's been gone for almost two years now. It’s perfectly fine to move on whether if it’s a relationship or just sex. I know he would want you to be with someone who makes you happy.”

“It still feels too soon, maybe I’m not ready to be with anyone. Ugh, as if being with Alex would be possible especially after I freaked out on him,” you clasped your hand on your forehead, grimacing over that memory. “And I basically told him I was married.”

“What? Why?” Bianca looked at you like you were crazy.

“He saw my ring and asked how long I was married. So I told him eight years.” It technically wasn’t a lie. You had been married for about eight years before a deputy stood at your doorstep, telling you that your husband would never be returning home. “You know I hate the pitiful look people give me when they hear I’m a widow. And I thought it would be easier to push him away if I pretended that I was a faithful wife. But fuck, man, I couldn’t even keep that up!”

“It’s not too late to tell him all of this. I think I might remember what room they’re staying in.”

“Okay, even if he doesn’t think I’m crazy after all of that, I don’t think me and him would work. He’s young and I barely had the patience to deal with Trevor when he was that age. And he doesn’t even live in this country,” you tried to reason with her and maybe with your heart.

“Okay, he’s young and he doesn’t go here. So what?”

“I just think getting into a long distance relationship after losing your husband is a disaster.”

“Or it could be something beautiful. I’m sorry, Y/N. But if this boy could give even a fraction of happiness that Trevor gave you, then I’m all for it.”

You gnawed on your lip as you considered what she was telling you. You were too scared to take the risk. You were convinced that it would only end in heartbreak and you weren’t sure if you had enough strength to deal with another one of those again.

“I think I’m just too tired to deal with any of this right now...or ever.” You turned toward the window, staring at your worn down reflection. Definitely too damn tired.

——

The snow outside of your kitchen window was coming down hard and didn't show any signs of stopping. You sighed to yourself while emptying the remainder of the wine bottle into your glass, silently praying that you wouldn’t find yourself snowed in in the morning.

You sat on the couch, pulling the cozy throw up to your chin and trying to get comfortable while your lovable dog and cat duo, Dallas and Leeloo, were busy fighting over the spot next to you. Unfortunately for the young feline, it seemed like the elder Labrador was coming out to be the winner.

You sipped on your wine as you scrolled through Hulu for something to distract you from your headache of a night—your first and definitely last Tinder date.

You had spent twenty embarrassing minutes waiting for your date to return after he excused himself to the restroom. There was no devastation on your part. You didn’t feel the same chemistry in person that you had over messages but you were willing to at least wish him a good night like a decent person. You deleted the app on your way out, already convinced that nothing good would be coming from it.

You weren’t even mad at this guy. All of your annoyance was aimed at Bianca who had spent the last six months encouraging—nagging and begging—you to go out and start dating. She claimed that it was officially time for you to start moving on but you suspected she just wanted you to see how wrong you were for letting the potential Mr. Right in Vegas get away.

You’d never tell her but she was right and you didn’t need a string of bad or mediocre dates to find that out. The nights you used to spend in bed wondering how life would be if Trevor was still alive were now spent thinking of what could have been with Alex. From the small amount of time you spent with him, you knew he would be the caring, supportive boyfriend who’d hang on every word you said and whisper into your ear to ease any of your self doubts and do anything to make you smile.

You had tried to search for him with the very minimal details you knew about him, during one very lonely night spent with a bottle of whiskey, but none of the Copenhagen based photographers named Alex turned out to be the one you were looking for. It shouldn’t have been too shocking but your drunk self still took it a bit hard, spending part of the night lying on the kitchen floor and crying into Dallas’s fur.

You gave up on finding something uplifting to watch and settled with the historical drama you had been slowly working your way through the past few months. You originally didn’t think a show about Vikings would be your cup of tea as you were more of a sucker for the period pieces with more extravagant, vibrant costumes but it came highly recommended by your Vegas fling. He said it was a pretty good show. After three seasons and nine episodes, he definitely wasn’t wrong.

You were down to the last ten minutes of the episode where Bjorn was going up to his brothers’ cabin. You had downed the rest of your glass only to spit it all out, your pets scurrying away to avoid the spray, when grown Ivar rolled over to show his face.

“What...the fuck?” You whispered to yourself as the scene cutaway. Your mouth hung open and your eyes were glued to the screen.

“What the fuck?” You repeated again when you saw Marco on the screen next to Alex. “Why would they do that to his hair?”

As soon as the episode ended, you sat still with your brow furrowed. You went through all the conversations you had and didn’t remember him saying he was an actor nor that he starred in this “pretty good” show.

You grabbed your phone to do a quick google search of who played Ivar. Alex Høgh Andersen. This entire time you had access to his name. If only you had given in to your urge to binge watch the show in one sitting you would have had it sooner.

You pulled up your Instagram and typed in his name. As you were about to click on his account, you quickly changed your mind and threw your phone next to you on the couch as if it scorched you. You weren’t seriously going to stalk this man on the internet, you were a whole grown woman who was definitely too mature to be drooling over some pictures.

Getting up to get ready for bed, you left your phone where it was so it would be less of a temptation. But you found that you couldn’t help but stare at it through the mirror as you aggressively brushed your teeth. Your curiosity was beginning to get the best of you.

You quickly rinsed out your mouth and walked toward your couch but then turned around, shaking your head as you headed down the hall to your bedroom. Leeloo and Dallas sat next to each other in the living room, both looking down the hall and not bothering to follow as if certain you’d be back.

“I’m just going to look at a few pictures. Just see what he’s been up to,” you explained to no one when you returned for your phone. Standing in the middle of your living room, you looked through his posts from the funny videos to his beautiful photography. You thought maybe you spent too much time scrolling through when you found yourself unable to stop staring at his well defined arm as he hovered over a mattress.

It wouldn’t be too crazy if you sent him a message to catch up and see how he was doing. Or would it? What would you even say? “Hi, remember me? The woman you ate out in Vegas. You know the one who broke down before you got a chance to get it in? Oh, and remember how I said I was married? Surprise! I’m actually a widow and lied because I got scared over you being so into me and even more scared when I realized I may have felt the same.”

You kept going back and forth over what you should really say to him, typing one thing only to immediately delete it. Seemed like anything you wrote came out sounding awkward or just dumb.

“Hi, I’m not sure if you remember me? It’s Y/N. The baker you met in Vegas.” It was enough to start a conversation but would he think you’re only contacting him because you now knew he was an actor. Your thumb hovered over send as you contemplated your choice.

You looked up at the clock and sighed out loud. You couldn’t afford to waste anymore time on this unless you wanted to be a zombie when you went into work in the morning.

You brought your thumb down and hit send. Fuck it.

----

End Notes: This is the last chapter of this part but not the end of their story. So don’t be too mad at me. Will Alex read her message? Will they ever meet again? Does Reader need to tell Bianca that she was right?

Tags: @castielsangelsx @xbellaxcarolinax @didiintheblog @jzr201 @kaitieskidmore1 @eroguroshoujo

#alex høgh andersen #alex høgh andersen x reader #alex høgh andersen imagine #alex høgh x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader

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chuckbass-love · 4 years

Text

Why Him? | Ransom Drysdale | Part 15

A/N : So i’ve got a couple of things in the works. I’ve got a 3 maybe four part Andy Barber series bc... daddy. I also have a Chris Evans one shot and i’m working on a Sebastian Stan one too. Lots of things coming up.

I’m still taking requests though. I look forward to hearing from you. Please don’t be shy i write for all.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than my Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3. However, reblogs are welcome

Why Him? MASTERLIST

Warning: SMUT... FILTH!

Enjoy...

Claudia’s POV

“Fuck” i groan as i pull myself up onto my bare feet, my head is really killing. I look around the room to find no sign of Ransom but the bedroom door is open slightly.

As i stare at myself in the bathroom mirror, i notice my make makeup is still on, i was clearly too exhausted and lazy to remove it. I decide to wash my face, waking myself up properly. My mind decides to go blank when i try to recall the events that took place last night.

The only thing i can remember so far is dirty dancing to tease Ransom. I shove my hair into a messy bun and dress myself before brushing my teeth, my breath is rank. I head downstairs, taking my time.

“Morning baby” i chirp as i head over to the couch where he is sitting. No response. What did i do? I don’t remember much. “Babe” still no answer. It’s like he’s blanking me.

I feel this uncomfortable sensation in my vagina. My face starts to screw up as i remember that before we left last night that Ransom inserted a sex toy inside of me. I stand up from my spot and head to the bathroom to fish it out. It’s covered in my juices. I wash it off and take it back into the living room.

“Here’s your little toy” i toss it into his lap and still nothing. I’m worried now. Did i do something wrong last night? He’s not even looking my way. I stand in front of the TV and i turn it off.

“I was watching that” he snaps, taking me back a little. “Finally he speaks” i smirk. “Oh so now you want me to speak to you huh? You seemed to enjoy running from me last night. Couldn’t get further away” he stands up, towering over me as he walks into the kitchen.

“Did i do something wrong last night? Other than apparently run away from you” i furrow my brows in confusion.

“Let’s see shall we? First you were grinding all over Darcy in front of me to tease me which worked by the way, then you were grinding all over me and to be honest i didn’t mind. I was looking forward to some nasty sex when we got back but you decided to be rude towards me, telling me i deserved to be teased. Then when we get home, you ran upstairs, locked yourself in our room and when i get inside i find you asleep on our bed” he sighs and i can’t believe what he just said.

“Our bed?” i question, walking towards him slowly. “Well, you’ve stayed in it enough times now right?” i can’t help but blush. I force myself in front of him. Standing between him and the kitchen counter. I place my hands on his cheeks, leaning my forehead against his. “What’s mine is yours” he whispers.

“I’m sorry about last night, i thought it would just lead to steamy sex but i guess last minute i decided it would be fun to tease you more” he chuckles.

“Oh that was hot as fuck, i couldn’t get enough but the running away bothered me. I told myself that your punishment could wait and now i think it’s waited long enough” i bite my lip at the thought of what he could mean. I wonder what he’s gonna do.

“Someone clearly needs a good spanking before they get fucked into next week” please do. I turn around for him, bending myself over the counter, ready to receive the spanking.

“Fuck doll, you look so fucking hot like this” he grabs both my ass cheeks, squeezing them before he raises his hands. He slams them down onto my ass, making me wince. I hear him walk away from me and then seconds later i feel hard sting upon my ass cheeks.

“What was that?” i turn my head to see he’s got his belt in his hands. “Count with me doll” he growls. “1″ his voice is low and husky as we count to 10 together. My ass is sore and i don’t know if i can even sit down.

I feel the head of his dick push into me slowly. “Ah fuck” i whisper as he slams the rest of his size into me aggressively.

“You’re gonna fucking learn how to behave” thrust “Dancing on me like that last night like a little fucking whore begging to be pounded like this” thrust “Is this what you wanted huh slut?” his words are making it impossible for me not to cum soon. “You’re gonna make me cum daddy” i whine as he pulls out and slams back in just as hard.

“Now i think you need to wait until you cum princess” he pulls out of me entirely and i whinge at the halt in pleasure. “Come here” i turn and he picks me up, placing me down on the kitchen island. I flinch as my ass touches the cold marble, it’s resting on it just about.

“Spread those legs, let me see that pussy” i open my legs for him and he stares at me in my entirety.

“Please fuck me daddy” i beg, he chuckles as he walks towards me. He slides himself back inside, his dick curving upwards because of the position. Reaching all the right spots.

“Oh my god. Yes daddy” i place my hands on his chest as my head falls back. “Take it doll” he groans as he continues to fuck me senseless. Just how i like it.

“You gonna cum?” he asks and i nod “Yes daddy” he pulls out again. He leans down and his face is inches away from my sex. He starts slurping and sucking all of me like he’s not eaten for days. My back arches and my head falls back again as i tug at his hair. This is pure heaven.

He spits all over my pussy before slamming into me again. He picks me up, dick still inside of me and i wrap my legs around him. He walks us over to the living room and he sits down on the floor. I’m now on top of him.

“Ride me princess. I promise you can cum this time” i go for it, bouncing on his dick like i’ve never done before. His eyes start rolling back as i push him closer to his edge. I feel it coming and soon enough i clench around him, he twitches. I feel my orgasm wash over me. “That was incredible” i pant as i sit there, still on his dick. “Sex with us is always good” he smirks as he gets up. My legs wrap around him.

“Let’s get you cleaned up baby doll” he carries me up the stairs so we can shower and change but i feel him thrusting inside of me as we walk. “Mhmm daddy” he chuckles. “You like that huh? That pussy just can’t get enough can it?” he grunts as he pushes me up against the wall of his room.

He starts thrusting hard and rough. “Daddy shit” this is incredible. I’ve never known him to be able to go so soon after the first time. “You’re gonna take it” he demands as he puts me down, bending me over. My hands pressed to the wall for some support. “Fucking take it” he growls, pulling my hair so my back is arching. This feels incredible.

“Daddy please” i can feel it inching closer. “I don’t wanna hear another word until you cum” he starts grunting as his thrusts get more aggressive, the sound of skin slapping together is driving me crazy. He reaches his hand forward to rub my clit.

“Such a good little slut for me. Cum on this dick baby” my eyes roll back and i let go, all over him. He doesn’t stop there. He places me down on the edge of the bed, continuing to thrust. “Daddy, i’m gonna cum again” i whimper. “What did i say bitch? Not a word” it’s coming again. I can’t stop it.

“Ah FUCK” he groans as he pulls out and i squirt. “SHIT” he stops.

“I’ll never get used to how you look when you do that” i stand up, immediately falling to the floor. My legs are like jelly.

“Was daddy too rough with you doll? Did i fuck you too much?” i shake my head and he shoves his hard dick in my face.

“I think you need to show daddy how grateful you are” i wrap my mouth around him, immediately bobbing my head up and down, licking him as i go. I pull off with a pop and he shoves himself back into my mouth. “Such a good slut, letting daddy fuck your face like this” i whimper against his shaft, he continuously hits the back of my throat.

“Now suck, make me cum” i get to work, sucking. I spit on his dick, using it as lube to jerk him as i suck. I look up at him with wide eyes. I can tell it’s driving him insane, he’s close. Shortly after i feel him come undone. His seed fills my mouth and i swallow it all as i release his dick.

He helps me up from the floor. “That was incredible. Now let’s actually get you cleaned up” he chuckles as we walk to the bathroom.

-----------------

I look over at him as we start getting dressed for the day and i feel it in my stomach, those 3 words. It’s too soon to say it and i don’t want to scare him. But surely if i feel it i should say it right? i go to speak up but i stop myself.

He walks up behind me as i do my makeup and he pulls me back against his torso. “Baby” he tickles me and i squeal.

I shove him away “I’m still getting ready” he waves it off, leaning down to pepper kisses along the back of my neck. I hear my phone go off on the bed. “Could you check that for me?” he picks it up “It’s a follow request from Meg on Instagram” he goes to delete it but i stop him.

“Don’t. I want to at least see what she wants. Press accept” he does before walking away. Holding his hands up in surrender. Minutes later she messages. I get Ransom to read it out to me.

‘Hi Claudia, I just wanted to follow you to ask if you had any work experience going at Vogue’ strange question. I tell Ransom what to reply with.

‘Hi Meg, we don’t unfortunately but i can make sure my boss knows to keep me posted if anything comes up. Hope you’re okay’ send. He throws my phone back down onto the bed. Once i finish getting ready we go downstairs.

“How would you feel about meeting my friends tomorrow, after work? Could meet for food or just coffee before you head home” i was wondering when he’d ask this.

“I’d love to” i grin as i sit next to him on the couch. “It’ll be nice to finally show you off” he plants a kiss on my lips, smiling as he pulls away. “I best get going soon. I need to sort through some paper work before the meetings that i have tomorrow” i pout, not wanting to leave his side. “I can drop you home after we have some lunch then yeah?” he suggests and i nod.

I don’t like this back and forth shit. I want to be with him all the time. Come home from work to him and wake up next to him. It’s crazy how in just a few weeks how far we’ve come.

I love him.

#ransomdrysdale #ransom drysdale #hugh ransom drysdale #ransom thrombey fluff #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom thrombey fanfic #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale smut #knives out #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans fluff #chrisevans #ransom drysdale x reader #fanfic #smut

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nerdzzone · 4 years

Text

Light After Dark: Chapter Three

Summary: Brooke Harris was trying her best to be grateful. As the world tackled the COVID-19 pandemic, she was healthy and safe and so was the rest of her family, but her dreams had very quickly been crushed by the economic fallout. Trapped on the quaint island of Jersey with nothing, but free time to wallow in her mistakes, Brooke’s mental health was taking a hit, but when she collides with a handsome stranger she starts to realize that the future might not be so bleak and there might still be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

A/N: This chapter is pretty dialogue heavy so I’m sorry if people find that annoying! I have ideas to make sure that’s not always the case, but obviously most social distance relationships of any kind involve a lot of just talking and not as much in person interacting

I nervously chewed my nails as I stared at the blank phone that was lying on the bed. Surely he wouldn't even notice. He probably didn't even have his notifications turned on or his phone would be buzzing a thousand times a day. Even if he did notice that he had another like, he probably wouldn't even realize it was me.

I'd just managed to convince myself that I hadn't made an incredibly embarrassing blunder when my phone buzzed and the light flashed notifying me that I had a text. I tentatively picked it up and unlocked it, hoping it was just a coincidence, but my hopes were quickly dashed when I read it.

Henry: Are you a big rugby fan?

I groaned, knowing I was caught. For a minute I debated deleting my account completely and feigning ignorance, but I knew I had to be a mature adult, bite the bullet and own up.

Me: Not gonna lie, I was hoping you wouldn't notice 😳 I thought it might get lost in the thousands of notifications you must get everyday

Henry: Thousands? You're overestimating my celebrity! I don't post often enough to get many notifications on a day to day basis...especially not on pictures that are over a year old 😉

My cheeks were still hot, but I smiled at his teasing.

Me: Over a year? Try six months! I barely even had to scroll and I didn't mean to like it

He took a few moments to respond and I worried I'd come off as too rude, but just as I was about to apologize, his reply came through.

Henry: Hmm, if you didn't mean to like any of my posts then why were you even looking at my account?

Me: Perhaps you came up as a suggested account to follow which supposedly means that you were looking at my account first

It was clearly a lie, but I figured it was worth suggesting. Maybe he had stalked me first if he was as intrigued by me as I was by him. But my hopes were quickly dashed once again.

Henry: Perhaps that's the case, but it would be quite tricky for me to have found you when all I have to go on is your first name

Henry: Perhaps it's more likely that you were doing some googling and therefore the internet thought you'd like to know that I have Instagram

Clearly, he was more than just a pretty face so I decided to come clean before I dug a deeper hole.

Me: Alright, Detective Cavill. You win. I was shamelessly creeping and accidentally double tapped a photo

Henry: 😂😂😂

Henry: There's no shame in that! I'm touched that you even cared enough to creep me 😉 and now I can do some creeping of my own, BrooketheBaker

I smiled, pleased that he was actually interested in looking at my pictures.

Me: Oh god, I hope there's nothing too cringy on there...maybe give me a few minutes to wipe all evidence of me being anything less than beautiful and hilarious

Henry: From the brief time we spent together, I find it very hard to believe there is anything that would convince me otherwise

My face heated up again at his compliment and my cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling. I felt like I was a teenager again, giggling and blushing at my phone as I texted a boy, but talking to Henry was fun and I hadn't enjoyed talking to a man this much in a long time.

Me: Well, enter at your own risk then, but the illusion will no doubt be shattered momentarily

Really, there was nothing on Instagram that I would be embarrassed for him to see. I didn't post that often, but I was very much my normal self on social media. I didn't put on an act for the few followers I had, I stayed true to myself. And sure, sometimes that was silly and goofy and not always flawless photos like some people post, but it was me. So, if he didn't like that then it was better for me to know now.

Henry: I'll have to do a deeper dive later, but for now all I can see is a very adorable and talented baker

A notification popped up that HenryCavill had followed me and like one of my photos as I read his text. I clicked through to see which one and saw one of me holding up a massive birthday cake I'd made for Molly's birthday back in February when she'd been allowed to host hoards of her friends. I followed him back before answering.

Me: Aw, shucks. You're too sweet. I still have a lot to learn, but that's half the fun

Henry: Well, my birthday is in a couple of weeks so feel free to send any experimental cakes my way

I made a mental note to check the exact day as an idea started to form. I owed him a thank you for helping me when my ankle was hurt anyway so a cake for his birthday would be a good gesture.

Me: Any allergies or flavour preferences?

Henry: I was only teasing

I was slightly disappointed that he hadn't been serious, but another text came through before I had time to worry.

Henry: But no allergies or preferences. I'll let the expert decide what's best!

I grinned at his compliment.

Me: I will see what I can do then, but I'm a bit rusty after all this time in lockdown so try not to set those expectations too high.

Henry: I'm sure your skills are still far better than mine

Me: I would hope so since I did try to make a career out of it 😉

I heard quiet voices as Cassie and Molly left the bathroom so I awkwardly shifted off my bed, making sure to keep most of my weight on my good foot before limping to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I gave my face a quick wash as well before hobbling back to my room. My phone was flashing on my bed so I picked it up, smiling as I expected to see a text from Henry, but I was shocked to see not only a text, but also a missed call.

Henry: Sorry for being presumptuous. Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer speaking over the phone to a long text conversation

My stomach filled with nervous butterflies as my finger hovered over the little phone icon. It was cute that he actually wanted to have a proper conversation, but it was a little intimidating as well. Texting was so much less pressure and gave me time to think over my responses to come off in the best way, but over the phone it was more authentic which was probably his point.

Not wanting to make Henry think that he'd upset me by calling, I took a deep breath and pressed the button.

"Hello, Brooke," He answered right away. "I'm glad you returned my call."

"Of course," I smiled. "Sorry I didn't answer, I was just brushing my teeth."

"Hm, an important thing for a baker, I would imagine. After tasting all those sweet creations."

I laughed as I awkwardly balanced the phone on my shoulder so I could get settled back on the bed without hurting my ankle.

"That's probably true," I agreed. "But as I said, I haven't been making many sweet things to sample lately."

"I’m starting to think I might have to rescind my order for a birthday cake then," Henry teased. "I wouldn't want some sub par cake from an out of practice baker."

"Excuse me," I protested. "I never turn out sub par work! Besides, you said your birthday is in a few weeks so I have some time to practice before then."

"Oh good." I could hear the smile in his voice. "It's May Fifth to be exact, just in case you're wondering."

"Great, I'll write it on the calendar."

My words were dripping with sarcasm, but luckily Henry laughed. It was a deep and warming laugh, there was something comforting about it. I was almost disappointed when he stopped chuckling and spoke again.

"So, how did you get into baking?"

"Really it was just luck and natural talent," I admitted. "I'm not trying to sound big headed, but I used to watch a lot of cooking shows after school so I just decided to give it a go and happened to be quite good at it."

"Wow, that's impressive," Henry praised, making my cheeks blush once again. "I'll admit, I've tried my hand at making bread since this lockdown started, but it wasn't really all that good."

"Ooh, you jumped on the bread bandwagon?" I teased, knowing it was a big trend at the moment. "I'm surprised you managed to get yeast, I hear it's almost as hard to find as toilet paper at the moment."

"Luckily my mother was willing to share her supply," Henry chuckled. "But I think she regretted it when she tasted the final product."

"Don't beat yourself up too much, bread can be quite tricky," I assured him, smiling at the embarrassment in his voice. "You have to get the proofing right or it's a lost cause."

"See, the fact that I don't even know what proofing means is probably a bad sign."

I laughed out loud at that one, covering my mouth as I remembered that Cassie would probably be trying to get Molly to sleep and loud noises tended to be a distraction during that process.

"It's just a fancy term for letting it rise," I explained. "We like to make things sound more complicated than they are so that people don't realize that anyone can be a baker if they try hard enough."

"I very much doubt that's true," Henry disagreed. "There's an art to it. Maybe the technical side comes with practice, but knowing what flavours to use and how to make it look beautiful isn't something that anyone can do."

"That does come with practice too though. It's not like acting where you really need that natural gift."

"I think you need less natural gifts with acting than baking," Henry insisted. "Anyone can learn to act if they have the passion and enthusiasm."

"Hardly," I scoffed. "I can't even lie convincingly, there's no way I'd be able to properly portray an entirely different character."

"With a smile as distractingly beautiful as yours, I would imagine you probably don't need to be a particularly convincing liar."

I bit back a smile at his compliment, but I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the cheese.

"Wow, Mr. Cavill. Do they teach you that charm in acting school?"

"I never went to acting school," He admitted, the smirk in his voice clear even through the phone. "So the charm is all me I'm afraid."

"Hm, that makes it more dangerous then," I teased before turning the conversation onto his career. "So, were you busy working when everything shut down?"

"I was actually," Henry sighed. "I was gearing up to start filming the second season of the Witcher."

"Oh, I've heard of that!"

"Did you watch it?"

"No," I admitted earning another chuckle from Henry. "But I heard a lot of really good things. I'll have to check it out."

"It's worth it," He insisted. "And I'm not just saying that because I'm in it. The material is great and the other actors and actresses are amazing."

"Alright, you've convinced me," I sighed dramatically. "But if I really like it you have to promise to give me all the spoilers for season two."

Another chuckle filled my ears and my stomach fluttered at the sound.

"I can't do that I'm afraid. They swore me to secrecy before they gave me the scripts."

"Oh, so you do have the script then?"

"It's sitting right here next to me as we speak."

I smirked at his confirmation.

"Alright, then if I have any questions after I'm done, I can just sneak into your house and find out for myself."

"You're going to break into my house?!" Henry was trying to sound incredulous, but I could hear the smile in his voice. "I didn't think you were such a criminal!"

"I said sneak!" I pointed out with a laugh. "I'm not a criminal, but apparently you're easily disarmed by a nice smile and I might just have to use that to my advantage."

"Damn, I shouldn't have showed my weaknesses so early in the game," Henry said, regretfully. "But I'll have to warn you, with a massive dog and three kids under ten running around, it's quite hard to sneak anywhere around here."

"That's alright," I shrugged. "Your show might be shit anyway and it won't matter."

A laugh burst through the phone at my ribbing and I couldn't help, but join in. He had an infectious laugh. The deep, richness made it sound like one of those shoulder shaking, full body laughs that puts a smile on the face of everyone in the room. I didn't know any celebrities and I rather presumptuously always assumed that most of them would be quite stand-offish and pretentious, but Henry was delightful. He was easy to talk to and joke with. He seemed very down to earth.

"I appreciate your honesty," He told me once the laughter had subsided. "But I really hope you don't think it's shit. It's my favourite role that I've ever had. I loved the games before there was even a show in the works and the books are incredible. I basically get to make a job out of my favourite hobby now so it's quite dear to my heart."

"That's the dream really," I smiled, feeling a twinge of sadness in my heart as that's what I was also doing before my bakery had been forced to close. "It's like that old saying. If you do what you love, you won't work a day in your life. Or something like that, I might be paraphrasing."

"I know what you mean and it is very true," Henry agreed. "It's brutal work. Some days I'm up at three in the morning for make-up and we don't finish until late, but it's not as tiresome when you're fully invested and enjoying the work."

"I know the feeling. Baking is probably much less physically taxing than what you do, but the days are long and they start much earlier than most people prefer."

"With all that stirring and dough kneading I would think baking could be physically taxing at times."

I snorted a laugh at that comment.

"I've seen your muscles, Henry," I reminded him. "There is no way baking is as physically taxing as a job that requires you to look like that."

"The swords I have to wave around are surprisingly heavy," He admitted. "But you seem quite fit yourself."

"Yeah, so fit that my ankles snap at the briefest impact," I joked. "And my lungs forget how to function after about ten minutes on a treadmill."

"You have asthma. You can't hold that against yourself," Henry lightly scolded me. "But how is your ankle?"

"Much better," I smiled, flexing my foot to test out the pain levels. "It honestly feels almost healed. I still have a bit of a limp, but it's loads better."

"I'm glad to hear that. I wanted to check up on you, but I didn't want to be a bother."

"It wouldn't have been a bother at all," I assured him. "Honestly, it's been really nice to speak to an adult that I'm not related to. I love my family, I do, but it's difficult some days being trapped in a house with them all."

"I understand completely," Henry said with a chuckle. "I'm in the same boat. It's lovely having the chance to be here for an extended period of time with no other obligations weighing on my mind, but it's had it's challenges as well."

"I'm glad I'm not the only one," I agreed as a piercing scream came through the phone. "Sounds like perhaps some of those challenges might be happening right now..."

"It does, but I'm in my room so it shouldn't be a pro-" Before Henry could finish his sentence there was the slam of a door as the wailing of a small child became much more clear. I heard Henry mumble something to the culprit before he turned his attention back to me. "I'm sorry. My niece is rather upset about something that is apparently of the utmost importance so I'm going to have to go."

I laughed, having been in that situation many times myself.

"That's okay, I understand. Thanks for calling though, it really has been nice."

"It has," Henry agreed as the voice in the background whined for her 'uncle Henry'. "Would it be okay if I called you again soon?"

My cheeks felt like they were about to split from how wide I was smiling at that suggestion.

"I would really like that."

"Perfect, I'll speak to you soon then."

"Yeah, speak to you soon. Good luck with your niece."

Henry sighed and thanked me before saying a quick goodbye and hanging up.

I felt giddy. He was so easy to talk to and so refreshing. He made me feel like the little black cloud that had been following me around for the last few months might finally be starting to dissipate. It was one conversation and I was levelheaded enough not to get ahead of myself, but he was starting to remind me that things might not always be as bleak as they seem.

#Light After Dark #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x ofc

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idreamtofthereaper · 4 years

Text

And So, I’m Here (XVII)

You are 23 and never had a boyfriend. Which you can’t understand because your mom keeps telling you you’re pretty and beautiful and all that mom stuff.

You got tired of waiting, and even looking for one (especially since you have your best friend pushing you to get one) so instead, you made your own. The problem? Your imaginative boyfriend is very real and has some questions to ask.

pairings: wayv/nct’s ten x reader

genre: social media au ig

warnings: possible mature content

note from the author: If you want to be on the tag list, reply here or message me or something. Also, I’m sorry for the slow updates :(

MASTERLIST

Taglist: @chunbyun @nshitae @bestof99s @vinmylife @diva-skywalker-af @animegirl366 @bbyyangiex2

It was already 9 am when you decided to take another peak by the curtain, checking if Ten was still there. To your surprise, or not, you really don’t know at this point, Ten was still there.

When he glanced behind him, you immediately closed the curtains to the windows and hid on the wall. Another peak, you saw Ten shook his head and stretched before walking away.

He was a weirdo, and this is exactly the reason why the thought of being in a relationship is weird. Who would stay out in the cold night, possibly getting robbed or mugged or whatever, just so that he could explain himself.

You shook the thoughts out and went to the bathroom and wash your face, going back out and saw you received a text from Lucas.

You had nothing else to reply to that so instead, you opted to just leave it there and not reply at all.

After checking your socials, new one as you deleted your previous accounts and started over with a new one that’s more private, you had nothing else to do so you checked your emails.

And was disappointed when the first thing you saw was an email from the job interview you attended yesterday saying you didn’t made the cut.

You grabbed the nearest pillow and buried your face into it, letting out a scream of frustration before placing it back down and called Lucas.

You didn’t have anything else to do anyways, might as well

“Yeah, I think you dialed the wrong number.”

“No I was really meant to call you, where’s Ten? I think I’ll talk to him.”

“He’s on his way to this dance studio, he’s about to audition and stuff so I suggest to not talk to him right now.”

“You said I should talk to him.”

“Yeah 10 minutes ago, when he was still in front of me. Look, if you want to talk to him I’ll send you the place where he’ll have his audition and maybe you could do something with that.”

“You’re not coming with me?” You asked, sitting up as you grab your towel hanging from the kitchen.

“Nope, I have to feed my koala some nachos. Wish Ten luck for me though.”

“Are you here for the auditions? Cut off was 45 minutes ago.” The guard asked, putting a hand in front of you as you were about to enter the building.

“No, I’m here to support a friend.” You explained simply.

He nodded then pointed you to the first door at the right. “They’re holding auditions there, you could watch but from what I know they’re already starting so get inside very quietly as to not disturb the judges and those auditioning.” You nodded at his words and bowed slightly, thanking him as well as you walked to the door he directed you at.

The building was big, it was actually an atrium. It has multiple floors, possibly 5, with big and open windows. You don’t know what Ten is auditioning for, but you do hope he gets in.

You opened the door slowly, peaking inside to see it was already dark inside. At first, you thought as soon as you open the door there would be seats and by the end is a stage and the judges table in front.

But instead, it was built like an entrance of a movie theater. There’s a dark hallway, illuminated by the small lights at the floor and some lighted signs hanging by the ceiling.

You let the heavy door fall behind you as you walk forward, making a turn on the left as you ascended 5 stairs to see a movie theater set up. Rows of chairs on your left while on the front was 4 people and a stage in the front.

You quickly hunched over upon noticing that they were in fact giving feedback to the person standing in front of the stage. You quickly went to grab a seat, not that hard to do since there’s not a lot of audience anyways.

Finally seated and comfortable on your seat, you grab your phone and put it on silent but as you were doing so, a message came up.

You glanced around and looked beyond the stage to see if you could see him, but seems like it was a one way thing right now.

You kept your phone faced down on your lap, the thing on vibrate mode in case he would send another text.

The next person came in and so on, you were actually quite enjoying your time here. Each person has a unique style, no one was the same with each other. Though there may be some who were similar with one another but for the most part, everyone was different. And it was beautiful.

“Next duo please, Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul and Dong Sicheng. Ten and Winwin.” You almost dropped the phone on your lap as your interest perked up, leaning forward and barely catching your phone.

You recognize Winwin as they walked to the middle of the stage. You saw him from Ten’s posts and some stories in Instagram but that’s that. And unlike the previous contestants, they were wearing just something very simple. Too simple even.

Ten was wearing a white long sleeves and loose pants, not even sweats. The same goes to Winwin but his was in Black. Also, they were both bare foot.

They bowed and introduced themselves briefly before they took position. Ten nodded towards the end of the stage as the music then starts.

(The performance in question.)

You were completely enchanted with their performance. Not being biased, but no one performed with such raw and deep emotions than the both of them combined.

Every move a story is being told, their gaze with each other and how in sync with them together is amazing. You have never seen Ten in this light, so focused and serious and real.

Ever since the both of you met, he was mostly happy go lucky and was just not a serious person. This was different, as if he was unveiling a different side of him. And you liked this.

You were so enthralled by their performance that you didn’t even noticed it was finished until the second judge was giving her thoughts of them. All in all, they received great remarks and you know they will get a spot for whatever it is.

You clapped along with the other audience as they exited, Ten briefly looking around to find you and when his eyes landed on you, his smiled widened and gave you a cheeky wink.

They left the stage as the staff called another contestant, now getting a chance to get comfortable again on the chair.

Your smile widened when you saw Ten going to you, entering on the other side of the row of seats as he tried to be lowkey, the contestant was performing and all.

“Hey, what do you think?” He asked excitedly, his face a complete contrast from earlier.

You nodded then bring up Two thumbs up. “You guys did amazing, whatever you’re auditioning for you’ll get in. It’s impossible not to.” You said in hushed voice, smiling at him widely.

Ten, satisfied with your compliments, nodded as he leaned closer and anchored himself to the chair’s barrier. “Me and Winwin will grab some snacks after this, maybe a cake. If your schedule is clear maybe you could join us?”

“Yeah, I have nothing to do anyways. Are you sure it’s fine?”

“Of course.”

I was supposed to continue this but it was getting too long so double updates see you guys tomorrow (or later, depends on your timezone) -r

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amyscascadingtabs · 4 years

Text

paper cut stings from our paper-thin plans

Rosa Diaz has never been dumped before. She thought she would be better at it.

(Or, Rosa's first twenty-four hours post being dumped are a bit of a rollercoaster.) Set pre 7x04.

read on ao3

Rosa’s never been dumped before. She thought she would be better at it.

Rosa knows how to break up with people. She doesn't start unnecessary drama. She's not overly emotional. Ever since her relationship with Marcus, she actually lets her exes talk about their emotions. She's never been dumped, but she's seen firsthand how people act when they are and knows she’d never make the same mistakes. She would have seen it coming - she wouldn’t be caught off guard, like Marcus. She wouldn't be crying, like Adrian. She wouldn't have kept asking what she did wrong, like Kaitlin, who she dated for a short bit before she came out. She wouldn't be insisting they try again, try just a little bit longer, like Alicia.

Then Jocelyn breaks up with her and Rosa does all of the above.

It would be ironic if it wasn't quite so painful.

She doesn't see it coming, although in retrospect, maybe she should have. There were warning signs. There was that time when Jocelyn came to the precinct before her trip, that time at brunch when Rosa raised her voice at a remark about it being a shame they don't do this more often and Jocelyn turned all quiet. There were more conflicts and petty arguments after that. Always about the same things - Rosa's job taking too much time, Rosa having to cancel last minute because of a case, and in the end, Rosa not being fully there when she was there. Those arguments were resolved, though. Rosa would apologize, promise she'd be better in the future. She’d make an effort and things would improve. They were happy, and Rosa’s ashamed of how baffled she gets when Jocelyn says no, it's for real this time.

She cries. No desperate screams or hysterical bawling, but there are tears in her eyes from the first word Jocelyn speaks and she hears her voice breaking as she tries to form apologies, protests, stop whatever is happening before it's too late. She asks what she did wrong, if there's anything she can make better, and Jocelyn patiently explains how their needs just don't work together and Rosa says but I want them to and Jocelyn shakes her head. She insists they try again, promises she'll work less, be more present, if only she can get another chance. Jocelyn says she's given Rosa too many chances. Then she leaves without even slamming the door, pretending like she didn't just become the first person to dump Rosa Diaz.

Rosa drinks two glasses of whiskey and a shot of tequila. It burns, but it numbs, and it gets her through the quick process of collecting all the things from her apartment that either belonged to Jocelyn, were given to her by Jocelyn or just remind her too much of Jocelyn, and putting them in different bags. A spare makeup bag, a collection of travel-size hair products, various items of clothing Jocelyn kept in one of Rosa’s drawers. Old gifts - a mug that says Certified Nancy Meyers Expert, a hand-crafted photobook, matching jewelry that Rosa made for them. The items that are Jocelyn’s go in a bag to be dropped off outside her house, and the gifts, in a moment of fury and frustration, go in the trash. After that, Rosa goes to bed, allowing the numbness lull her into a false sense of security that lets her sleep.

Her first thought the next morning is that her head hurts. Her second thought is that the bed’s too cold, and she’s spread out in a way that feels wrong. She reaches for her phone and is two seconds away from sending Jocelyn a text message to say good morning and tell her she misses her before she remembers.

She deletes Jocelyn’s contact picture - a cheesy selfie of them both - and the double pink heart emoji, not added by Rosa, from her name. Suddenly, phone contact Jocelyn Price with a grey-and-white avatar could be anyone. An old acquaintance, a neighbor, or someone entirely unimportant. Rosa pretends it’s true.

She’s grateful she’s working a double homicide. A tough case is exactly what she needs, something to take her focus and let her dive deep into figuring out someone else’s problems rather than her own. She’s also grateful she’s working with Charles, who is observant enough to tell something’s off but too respectful slash terrified to ask what, and instead tells her every detail about Nikolaj’s school performance whenever there’s a moment’s silence. Rosa loses herself in the case, working their final leads until she knows which suspect did it, and through some miraculous twist of fate, one hour later they have a confession.

It’s barely past three in the afternoon.

“Fantastic work, guys,” Terry applauds them, and Charles looks pleased with himself while Rosa just shrugs. “You know what? You can go home early today.”

“But why?” Rosa spits out, and Charles narrows his eyes at her before leaving.

“You solved the case - excellent job, Diaz - and the precinct seems calm. Go ahead, take the night off.” Terry smiles. “Have a date night with Jocelyn! Make dinner! Buy her flowers! Whatever you guys like to do!”

“Fine,” she wheezes, but Terry seems oblivious to her bitterness.

“Have a fun night!” He grins, and Rosa fantasizes about grabbing his suspenders and snapping them against his pecs hard enough for it to hurt.

She goes to the gym instead. Rosa usually prefers workouts that keep her flexible and agile over anything else, but today she needs to let out the anger. She warms up, gets gloves and finds a punching bag and then she’s hitting it with strike after strike until she’s dripping with sweat. It’s probably cliché to release anger through boxing, but it works and it’s legal and better than trying to feel her feelings. She lets the anger and frustration come out through the cross-punches and side-kicks, lets it leave her body as she tires herself out, and she exercises until her arms and legs are shaking and she realizes that she’s not just mad at Jocelyn, she’s also mad at herself.

Jocelyn broke up with her, implying Rosa’s the one who made mistakes. Rosa’s her own reason she lost something so precious and important to her. She’s heartbroken and humiliated, and apparently, it’s her own fault for not trying hard enough. It’s her fault she lost her first stable relationship after coming out, her fault she lost a person she could imagine a long time, maybe even forever with. She lost her girlfriend who was funny and genuine and the best snuggle partner, lost long mornings in bed talking about everything and nothing, lost late nights drinking wine and making out. She lost surprise dates and sweet texts, going out to dinner and having company at Shaw’s, lost a life they had built together.

She lost the person who was there when she wasn’t talking to her parents. Jocelyn listened to her when Rosa confided in her about all the times her parents had let her down before, kicked her out, ignored her cries for help until she didn’t believe she was worthy of support in the first place, and then she told her she deserved better. Rosa hadn’t known what to say to that, but Jocelyn didn’t seem to mind, and Rosa had loved her more for it.

She lost the first person after Adrian she could see herself getting married to. Even doing the whole white dress and fancy reception thing, if Jocelyn wanted that. Rosa's never been sure about kids, knows she doesn’t want biological ones, but Jocelyn had made her picture a future where they could adopt or become foster parents. Rosa likes the thought of offering someone the safe and supportive home she never had herself, and Jocelyn seems like a good person to do that together with.

Seemed. Not seems. Because everything they had, and everything she thought might be in their future, Rosa lost.

She leaves the gym when her whole body’s weak from exertion and tears are burning behind her eyelids. It's still just four-thirty p.m.

She buys dinner from a poké bowl place to go and eats it in front of The Holiday. Rosa’s a firm believer that a Nancy Meyers movie can cure just about everything, and although she remembers watching this one just a few weeks ago with Jocelyn, it does a good job of serving as a comfort blanket. No ex gets to ruin Nancy Meyers for Rosa Diaz.

She keeps checking her phone for texts throughout the evening, and then stopping herself from sending them when there aren’t any. Once she finishes her meal, she archives Instagram pictures where Jocelyn appears, trying to reaffirm the removal of this person from her life. She thinks of deleting them entirely, but something stops her. The posts are left archived.

The end credits to The Holiday have just started rolling when a text message pops up from presumable stranger Jocelyn Price.

Hey. I packed your stuff. Can I come drop it off and get my things? I can be there in half an hour.

There are no hearts or emojis. There always used to be. Rosa used to joke about them, say she wonders how Jocelyn communicated at all before they existed, but now the lack of them is a sharp sting in her chest.

She can’t imagine seeing Jocelyn right now, so she turns off the TV and leaves a key under the doormat.

It hits her as she gets in the car that she has no idea where to go. She doesn’t want to talk to her parents, so home’s not an option. She could go to Shaw’s and drink in silence, but she’s not feeling like hiding from chatty coworkers. She’s already been to the gym and she doesn’t need groceries. She supposes she could let the car radio blast death metal and just drive, but she’s got work tomorrow and Brooklyn evening traffic sucks, so there’s not much point to that either.

She figures Gina will be busy, because she’s always busy nowadays, but it’s worth a try. She texts a simple Can I come over? and waits.

It takes fifteen minutes before the reply comes. In those fifteen minutes, Rosa has stared at her currently violet-painted nails until she's convinced they’re the ugliest thing seen to date, booked an appointment with her nail technician the next day, and played five levels of Candy Crush.

Sorry boo, Gina's text reads. Milton just came over with Iggy and I haven't seen her in a week so I really wanna spend some time with her. We should hang out soon though, I miss you!

It hadn't occurred to Rosa that Gina would be with Iggy. It makes her feel guilty - what sort of friend doesn't remember her friend’s kid? - but she figures that's a direct effect of not having a family of her own to prioritize. Hell, she doesn't even have a partner anymore. What does she know?

Rosa thinks of the comment Gina made upon her coming out as bi. In another lifetime, you and I would have made a hot-ass couple. Maybe she’s right, but they're in this lifetime, where even Gina, who used to go about relationships so similarly to Rosa, has a family of her own. Everyone in Rosa's friend group has at least a serious partner to accommodate for. Everyone, except as of twenty-four hours ago, Rosa herself.

She's not the jealous type, and she certainly doesn’t see her life as being worth less without a partner or children, but the distinction stings nonetheless. She hadn't realized how much she valued at least being in a serious relationship when it came to that feeling of inclusion, something giving her a sense of not being completely behind in the race to society's ideal life. It doesn't seem to matter how much Rosa tells herself she’s never cared for it; the race exists anyway, and she just took a big jump backwards while everyone else keeps racing ahead.

She texts Amy next.

Hey. Can I come over?

The phone vibrates in the next second, but it’s not Amy who replies - it’s another text message from Jocelyn.

Got my things and left yours, key’s under the doormat. Thanks.

No emojis again. Whatever’s happening seems to be for real, and Rosa clenches her fists and presses her nails into her palm to avoid smashing something. Then she writes Amy a second message.

Jocelyn broke up with me.

The reply comes only a minute later.

Of course you can come over. Are you okay?

Rosa doesn’t bother answering before driving.

“Jake's with Charles,” Amy explains as she lets Rosa in. “Sorry about the mess - I’m working on a binder for the new car.” She gestures to a neat setup on the kitchen table. Not exactly what Rosa would call a mess.

“You can finish it, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, no, it’s fine! Honestly. I should try to do this with Jake anyway,” she explains, already starting to put away the papers. “Try being the crucial word, but still. Anyway, I guess you want to drink in silence? I shouldn’t really have alcohol, but I can get you something.”

Rosa raises an eyebrow, and Amy gives her a timid smile. “Just trying to keep that egg quality up.”

“It’s okay. I drove here anyway.”

“Right. Well, I also have… tea? Coffee? Hot chocolate? Wait, do you drink hot chocolate? ”

“Tea’s fine.”

“Great!” Amy shines with a little too much enthusiasm before bundling the last of the papers together and holding them to her chest. “I’ll put away these. You can put on some hot water, there’s tea and mugs in the cupboard left of the sink. We have way too many, so pick your favorite.”

She disappears into the hallway with her papers as Rosa looks through their tea collection. It's pretty bleak. There's a jar of random tea bags that seem to have been collected from various restaurants, a package of Earl Grey, a green tea with lemon and something called conception tea which looks expensive and apparently tastes like sweet mint. Rosa opts for the regular green tea, choosing a mug at random and taking a new one once she realizes her first choice has Team Peraltiago written on it in Charles’ handwriting. There’s one painted in the colors of the bi flag, possibly by coincidence - she’s never been sure about how much self-insight Jake has in these things - but she goes for it anyway. She nearly knocks over two tiny jars of what look to be fertility supplements, one with a pink label and one with a blue, as she takes it out.

She reads through the papers on their fridge as she lets the tea steep. There’s a wedding invitation for someone named Santiago, maybe a cousin. An invite to Nikolaj’s birthday party, grocery store coupons, and a printed list of foods that boost sperm count and egg quality. Walnuts. Spinach. Broccoli. Salmon.

Gross, she can read Jake’s scrawly handwriting on the paper. I’m not eating any of that.

Yes you are, she recognizes Amy’s neat writing beneath.

Fine, it says below that in the messy writing. But it’s just because I love you. An uneven heart has been drawn next to it.

Love you more, reads the neat handwriting after the heart. Rosa gets a sharp pang of missing Jocelyn and checks her phone again. No new messages.

Amy comes back without the papers and Rosa looks away from the fridge, pretending like she wasn't just reading their personal conversations. She sits down on the new couch instead, waiting as Amy makes her own cup of tea before joining her.

“I don’t want to talk about my breakup,” Rosa says, a little snappy. “No emotional questions. No asking why. No asking what happened.”

Amy nods slowly. “Can I ask if you’re okay?”

“Sure.”

“Are you?”

“I don’t know,” she grunts, and takes a sip of the tea. It tastes too bitter, like the cheap kind you get in waiting rooms where it’s been bought in multi-packs and everyone’s already picked out the good flavors. She makes a note to buy Amy some better tea for Christmas. “Just forgot how bad breakups were.”

“You didn’t see it coming?”

Rosa shoots her friend a warning glare, and she mumbles a quiet apology.

“No. I didn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” says Amy, and there’s such a genuine level of care and sympathy conveyed in her tone that Rosa accepts it.

“So am I.” A wave of regret follows the confession, or maybe it’s just pain. Either way, it makes her grimace. “Can we talk about something else? Please?”

“Like what?”

“Like…” Rosa’s gaze falls to a thick book about pregnancy on the coffee table, a pink post-it note sticking out from a few pages in. “Tell me about how the trying to get pregnant thing is going.”

Amy scrunches her forehead. “You really want to know about that?”

“Well, I don’t have to know the details about your sex life -”

“I wouldn’t tell you those anyway -”

“- but yeah. How’s it going? I know Jake’s over the moon, but how are you?”

Amy seems to consider the question for a bit, moving her hands around the teacup and chewing on her lip. “Scared. And excited,” she’s quick to fill in, as if she feels guilty to admit the former on its own. “So excited. But nervous. It’s impossible to prepare for, and I hate not being prepared.”

“You bought a car.”

“Bought a new couch, bought a car, researched OB-GYNs and preschools,” she lists off, nodding. “I made a checklist, so we’re going through as much of that as possible before. There’s a lot left, though.”

“That stresses you?”

“A little. It all got so real so quickly.”

“I get what you mean,” Rosa says, although she's not sure she does. “Does Jake know you're stressed?”

“He suggested we make the checklist so I could feel in control. So he knows. He helps. I would've been a lot more stressed without him.” Amy twists the rings on her left fourth finger, adjusting the stone on the engagement ring.

There’s a faraway look in her eyes, and Rosa can see her friend's lips form the content, somewhat secretive, smile that used to follow the double tuck, but now comes in a stronger, more obvious form whenever she talks about Jake. It’s one of the few things Rosa’s never been tempted to make fun of her for, too full of complete and unadulterated love for it to be worthy of laughter. Tonight, though, it makes her jealous.

“You know what’s weird?” Amy doesn’t wait for Rosa to reply before launching into an explanation. “I’m scared about a billion things. Like whether or not I can get pregnant in the first place, if the baby will be healthy, whether or not I’ll be a good mom to them. That’s not something you can read about in a book! I could learn everything there is to know about infants and I could still be unsure of how to take care of my own. That terrifies me.” She takes a deep breath.

“But I still want it so much. Even more now, because seeing Jake so excited about it makes me so much more excited. I can’t wait to take that step in our life. So even though it’s crazy, and there’s so much left to do, and every month I think it’s okay if it hasn’t worked yet because it means I’ll have a little more time to prepare - I’m so disappointed when I get my period, I swear I want to punch something.”

“Wow.”

“Mm-hmm.” Amy chuckles. “I mean, I haven’t. Punched anything yet. But I really hope it works soon.”

“Hence the supplements and weird tea?” Rosa eyes her friend’s teacup.

“Yeah. Probably all placebo, but it can’t hurt, right?”

“I guess not,” Rosa mumbles.

A comfortable silence settles between them after that. Rosa’s reminded of late nights in the same apartment three years ago, when Jake and Holt were in witness protection and Adrian was hiding somewhere. Amy and Rosa had begun a tradition of drinking tequila and watching Nancy Meyers movies together on nights when both of them felt a little too lonely, and sometimes Amy would vent and Rosa would listen. They’d been in the same place then; existing in the no man’s land of being in a serious relationship with someone you loved so much, but unable to speak to them, forced to lie to your friends and family if they asked. It had been a comfort to know someone out there who got it when nobody else did, and it made them grow that much closer. They were living identical nightmares, after all.

Now Rosa can’t imagine their lives looking any more different. Amy’s married, to the same person she was already with at that time, and they’re trying to have a baby together. Rosa almost got married to Adrian, then she didn’t, then she went to prison and they broke up. She came out as bi, had two short relationships before meeting Jocelyn, and now she’s just been dumped for the first time in her life.

Rosa doesn't have a problem with her life being different from other people's. It always has been.

She didn't grow up with the safe, supportive parents all her friends seemed to have, and at times she thinks she's never searched for or expected that love from someone else, either. If she survived without it then, she can survive without it now.

She didn't know she wanted to become a cop at first, so she tried to put herself through med school and business school and aviation school before finding her calling. It was confusing, cost her a small fortune and made her wish she could just decide, but it also gave her enough of a variety of skills to make sure she would never have to depend on anyone for anything.

She’s not against marriage with the right person, can imagine adopting or taking in foster kids in the same situation, but neither has ever been the end goal.

She's not jealous of Amy, or Jake, or the life they're currently living. Rosa doesn’t need marriage or kids - all she’s jealous of is the clear path. Amy speaks about her future with security, a confidence of knowing something about what’s going to happen next and believing it will turn out okay. She might be worried and a little stressed, but she’s not lost.

Neither is Jake, who Rosa always expected would be like her, not following the beaten track. She’d found a kinship with him in that aspect. Both of them were outcasts with crappy families who dreamed of being heroes, taking down mafia bosses, dying heroically on the job. Neither of them imagined long-term partners, marriages or kids. It’s strange to think about the guy who once claimed he was definitely going to die alone being married to the love of his life, and stranger still to picture him adding sperm count-boosting foods into his diet because he’s trying to have a baby with her. Jake’s found his path. Rosa doesn’t have a clue of what hers looks like anymore.

Amy’s phone buzzes on the coffee table. She picks it up, making a noise like a quiet chortle and smiling before she starts typing. Rosa checks her own phone again, still feeling like there should be a message from Jocelyn there, but there’s no notifications other than Candy Crush telling her she just got new lives.

The empty screen hurts more than her jealousy of any beaten track, she realizes. Most of all, Rosa just misses Jocelyn already, because she should be picking up her phone at the same moment as Amy and there should be a sweet message there and she should be replying to it with that same smile on her face. Anything else feels wrong, despite the fact that it’s real, because she didn’t see it coming. She doesn’t feel like she got a say, and a familiar, ruthless voice in her head keeps whispering you fucked up and it’s your fault and now you’re suffering the consequences.

In all her earlier breakups, no matter how painful they’ve been, she’s been in control. Without that dimension and mental preparation, the missing is sharper, like the stab of a knife pushing deeper once she thought the worst was over. She’s angry, because if she’s not angry she doesn’t know how to survive, but beneath the anger lies a layer of shock and loneliness that hurts more than she thought a breakup could.

She thought she would be better at being dumped. Instead, she’s clutching her phone while tears take shape in her eyes, making their way down her cheeks before she can stop them.

“Rosa?” Amy’s biting her lip, quickly pocketing her phone and reaching for a packet of tissues on the coffee table. Rosa accepts one, wiping the tears away before crumpling it to a ball. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“I haven’t been dumped before,” she confesses, staring at the tissue to avoid eye contact. “Does it get easier?”

“Yeah.” Amy looks at Rosa in a way that makes her feel a bit like she’s a child being taken care of. It’s a little humbling, but it’s not an all bad feeling. “Yeah, it does. It just takes a while.”

“It hurts like hell.”

“I know.”

“I hate it,” Rosa mutters. “I didn’t get a fucking choice. I never knew how much of a difference that made.”

“Well, now you know. It sucks. But...” Amy leans her head to the side. “Maybe that’s a good thing, too?”

“What’s that’s supposed to mean?”

“If it hurts, that means it mattered, right? If you miss something, then there was something to miss in the first place. It means you opened yourself up and built something of meaning with someone. I know that doesn’t make it easier -”

Rosa snorts. “No, it doesn’t.”

“But it might mean that something can matter again,” Amy says, fixing her eyes on Rosa’s. “Someday. Even if it feels impossible right now.”

Rosa's not sure what to say, so she sits quiet instead. Amy coughs.

“That was cheesy, sorry. I can just get you a drink instead -”

“I thought I’d be better at this,” Rosa repeats, ignoring Amy. “I mean, I’m great at dumping people.”

“Not as great of a brag as you think.”

“I just don’t know why it feels so different. Is it because I wasn’t prepared? Is it because I didn’t do it myself? It doesn’t make sense,” she spits out.

“It could be that,” Amy shrugs. “Or it could be that it meant a lot to you. It was your longest relationship after coming out, and you don’t really talk about things like these, but… sometimes it seemed like the happiest you’ve ever been with someone, too. Maybe that’s what makes it painful. Not that you got dumped.”

A couple of tears fall again. Rosa dries them away with the crumpled tissue. She thinks of last weekend, when Jocelyn stayed over and they woke up in the same bed next to each other. They’d stayed there for hours, needing nothing else in the world except each other’s presence. Jocelyn had wrapped her arm around Rosa and kissed her forehead and she’d snuggled into her girlfriend’s chest, and it had been safe and warm and she’d thought of how, in a perfect reality, she’d want to wake up like this every morning for the rest of her life.

She’d never pictured forever with someone before. In bed that morning, it hadn’t even scared her.

She doesn’t care about the beaten track. She doesn’t mind that her life is different. In the end, she doesn’t care that she’s in the middle of her life and just got dumped while everyone around her kept on getting married and having kids and trying to fit into the perfect mold. She cares that she lost a person she didn’t want to lose, and it didn’t feel like she had a choice in the matter.

“Maybe,” she mumbles. “I… thanks. I should leave.”

“You can stay if you want,” Amy offers, nodding to the couch. “This folds out into an extra bed. Jake’s on his way home, but you know he wouldn’t mind.”

Rosa shakes her head, already standing up. “I should head home. But, uhm, thank you. Really.”

“Anytime. Sorry - I don’t know if anything I said helped.”

“It did.”

“Oh.” Amy blushes. “Wow. I’m glad?”

“Amy?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re going to be a good mom.” Rosa puts her teacup in the sink before going to put on her jacket. “Seriously. I know you’re scared, but you don’t need to worry about that. I mean it.”

Amy opens her mouth as if to say something, but Rosa holds up a hand to stop her and she nods instead.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Rosa says, and then she's out the door before Amy can say anything back.

It's still a lonely experience, getting the key from underneath the doormat and seeing that all of Jocelyn’s things are gone. Rosa doesn't expect that feeling to disappear for a while, but maybe she’ll learn to live with it.

Rosa may not have been dumped before, but she has been left alone to fend for herself. She sends a text to Gina to ask if they can schedule something soon, and reminds herself as she goes to bed that this is different. She might not have a partner or kids or a perfect relationship with her parents, but she has her friends, and she may be lonely right now but she’s not alone.

Then she opens the anonymous-looking contact that used to be her favorite, and types in five words.

I’m going to miss you.

She waits for five minutes, but there’s no answer. She hovers over the block-button for a moment, wondering if it’s immature, then presses it anyway.

She’s just turned off her bedroom lamp when her phone buzzes again, and for a second her heart is in her throat until she remembers she just blocked Jocelyn. Jake’s sent a gif of two kittens hugging, and Amy’s written another message.

Thank you. ❤️

You’re going to be okay, Rosa. Call me if you need anything? Even if it's just someone to talk to.

Rosa sends a heart emoji back.

Rosa’s never been dumped before. She thought she would be better at it, but for now, she’s doing her best.

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