#I had to delete almost every other app from my phone

[alicesadventuresinffxiv]

Alina Gray - FFXIV Cosplay

I wound up thinking a lot about Magia Record this past week, since the game just ended its seven years of service. So, when my FFXIV FC held a fashion contest with the theme "painter," I knew exactly what I had to do for my entry!

Here's to Alina Gray: unsettling artist, megalomaniacal villain, and beloved senpai. A prodigy who ran from her fame while seeing beauty in the strangest places, which she then pursued it with her whole heart. Wait, no, Alina, put that back I didn't mean your literal heart -

Anyway, may our memories of her decay with grace and beauty, and perhaps, in time, go on to inspire other wonderful, thought-provoking weirdos! 💚

[wallabywhump]

“So, thinking of texting Buck, huh?”

Tommy looked at the water stain on his ceiling, and reached to pinch the bridge of his nose, before letting out a long sigh. His nose felt stuffy, and his head was aching too much for this. “This really why you’re calling Eddie?”

“Of course it’s why I’m calling, I wanted to know what kind of text you were going to send my buddy.”

Tommy was going to text Evan, ‘I’ve got your stuff if you want it,’ then he’d deleted it.

Then he’d typed, ‘coffee, same place? Saturday?’ and snorted before spending fifteen minutes sobbing in the bathroom pulling tissue after tissue off the roll.

Then he’d typed, ‘I’m so fucking sorry, I know I messed up. I heard the word marriage, I heard admire, I heard move in and it was like I was watching a car crash in front of me and I couldn’t stick around for the aftermath. I needed to run. Run before you realized that this wasn’t what you wanted. Run before you realized that I wasn’t enough. Run before we could both get hurt after two years of living together, and a mortgage, and a funny looking cat that will die six months after you break my heart. And, Evan-’

Tommy had turned his phone off after that one, gone for a run, then watched a movie while shoveling a stupidly cheap Walmart sheet cake into his mouth and sobbing when the mains admitted they loved each other and kissed in the rain.

Then, this morning, drunk off his ass on the good whiskey he usually saved for special occasions, he had typed, ‘I love you, Evan.’

This afternoon, trying his best to not vomit from the light in his bedroom, he’d finally typed, ‘Can we talk?’

Tommy had deleted them all.

“How do you even know?”

 “You were ‘bubbling’ Buck while he was at work.”

Oh.

Well, okay then.

That…implied that Evan was opening their messages…why? Was he expecting a text? Was Evan going to text Tommy? Even after that atrocious break up, and ruining the best thing that had ever happened for him? Did Evan want Tommy…to chase?

Impossible, Tommy put the thought out of his mind.

Tommy swallowed. “Next time I get the urge, I’ll open the notes app.”

Eddie groaned down the line. Tommy could hear the gestations Eddie was making, could see Eddie in his mind’s eye throwing his hand up in the air and turning around in exasperation. “Man, what were you going to say to him?”  

“Does it matter what I have to say?” Tommy snapped, then closed his eyes. “Why are you calling, Ed?”

Eddie was quiet for a moment, long enough that Tommy almost worried he’d been hung up on, but he didn’t want to open his eyes to check.

“I wanted to check on you. I want to check that you’re both going to come out the other side of this. I want to check that you’re not going to cause more hurt.”

Tommy scoffed. “This isn’t my first break up, Eddie, I’ll be fine. And hurting Ev-Buck isn’t on my to-do list.”

“Buck isn’t the only one who can get hurt here.”

Tommy was quiet this time, he could hear the emotion in Eddie’s voice, deep and worried, almost pleading him. With a sigh, Tommy pushed himself to sit up on the bed, ignoring the way it made his head spin.

“I’ll be fine,” Tommy replied, firmly.  

Eddie scoffed, and Tommy could hear him lick his lips, as if ready to start laying it on thicker. Tommy cut it off.

“I will be fine.” I always am, Tommy thought. “So, just, I’ll open my notes app and I’ll stop typing my feelings into iMessage, okay?”

“I…yes.” Eddie sighed. “Fine, you’re fine, we’re fine. Just, don’t text him, okay?”

“I already-.”

“Notes app, I got it, Mr. Fine. I meant, if you’re going to talk to him, know that you’re opening a door there, and sure it’s your job here to fix…whatever happened.” Eddie’s voice was stern, like he was talking to a petulant child that had come out with every excuse in the book. “I’m saying, don’t text him, call him. And don’t leave it too late, Chimney’s trying to encourage pond diving.”

Eddie hung up with that, no good bye, no well wishes. Succinct and gone.

Tommy ran his tongue over his teeth, and stared down at his dark phone screen. Then, to resist temptation, he went to Evan’s contact. He hovered his name over the block button, imagined how much easier it would be if he couldn’t even send the messages he wanted to. Then, he imagined a scenario in the future where Evan needed him and called and Tommy had him blocked and panic surged in his chest, tightening, his eyes watering.

No, he couldn’t.

Instead, Tommy changed the name.

DO NOT USE.

His phone started buzzing with his alarm, telling him to ‘get up for work.’ Tommy threw his phone onto the bed and put it out of his mind.

[eumivrse]

warning(s) pure angst, jjk chapter 120 SPOILERS

arguments with kento are always the worst.

you’ve learned over the years that you’d probably prefer it if he would just scream back when he’s mad rather than being dead silent.

because when he’s angry, he doesn’t speak. he just gives you space to cool off, then he always makes sure to kiss you before you sleep. a way to let you know that tomorrow is a new day and he still loves you the same even if things are heated; that you can always talk it out with him.

you hate it because he always, always apologizes first even if it’s your fault sometimes, but you always appreciated his way of communicating. it’s as if he would rather take the jab every time than have you mad at him.

however, he couldn’t do so that day— october 31, 2018. he had to go to shibuya and left with tension between the two of you. you don’t even remember what exactly you argued about— all you recall was that it ended with you both saying something that could’ve easily passed as unforgivable, words specifically chosen to wound each other’s feelings.

and as per, kento gave you your space and left with you having the last word.

except you never got that good night’s kiss.

when news reached you, you didn’t even react. how could you? the last words you said to him was “then leave already,” with the coldest, meanest tone you’ve ever spoken to him in.

you just stared at the wall for what seemed like days. people were calling you non stop, but your phone was turned off. you hadn’t even left your shared bedroom. the comforter still had his scent on it and you’re afraid that it’ll disappear if you get up for even a minute and then his passing will feel real.

it wasn’t until ino stopped by to drop off his cellphone— one of the only traces he left that night— that you did something else besides laying down. you stared at kento’s scuffed lock screen, sitting at the dim dining room table.

his wallpaper was a photo of you. he took it while you were eating in the very place you’re sitting in right now and you begged him for days to delete it. he insisted that you looked pretty so you let him be. he’d always been like that, so stern with others but he had such a soft spot for you.

you knew his password because it was your anniversary date, then the messaging app opened as soon as you punched the numbers in. it’s your chat, the last conversation you had on there was him asking if you wanted to eat outside because he was free the next morning and you obliged. that was the night before you had an argument the next day and lunch plans were cancelled.

he had an unsent message— all typed out, but he never pressed the send button for some reason.

he was apologizing for hurting you.

he said that he knows it’s been tough for you these days and how he should’ve seen the signs sooner instead of thinking everything’s okay.

then he apologized again for not being able to kiss you goodnight, and for being a shitty husband that couldn’t tend to his wife’s needs.

the message concluded with “i miss you, my precious girl. make sure to eat and sleep well, i’ll make it up to you soon.”

kento’s death hadn’t hit your reality until those words on the screen registered in your mind. your dry, pale lips from barely drinking water trembled, eyes welled up in tears for the first time since you found out. so many different emotions crashed over you in such little time, your chest felt tight and you let go of his phone, clattering onto the wooden table.

“then leave already,” replayed in your mind over and over and the way his face turned pale from your harsh words. with how things turned out, it almost sounded like you were sending him on death’s row and it made you feel like you’re responsible somehow.

guilt loomed over you like a stormy cloud for making him feel like he wasn’t good enough for you and you wonder how different the future might’ve turned out if you’ve at least gave him a hug before he left.

if you could’ve just set your pride aside and kissed him goodbye like he does with you before you sleep.

and if he still loved you the same at his final moments.

[lefluoritesys]

A breakdown of apps you can use to communicate with your alters as separate people and write down information about them online and offline with their pros, cons, and a personal rating because I really needed it when I was new to being a system:

Note: by "PC" I mean any computer/macbook/etc. By "all devices" I mean PC, mobile, tablet, iPad, etc.

I apologize for mistakes in advance.

1. Antar: An app created to chat with your "inner self," found in both Play Store and AppStore. One of the more popular ones among systems. It is an app where you get to create personas that would be chatting with each other in chats called "sessions." Those sessions can either be given a name or just left named after the date they were created on. Each persona is given a color that would become the color of their messages in sessions. Offline app.

Pros: Fiarly easy to use, no in-depth information needed to access it fully. Biometric lock; 4 languages (English, Chinese, Hindi, Spanish) for the system, however any language can be used via text; no limit to the amount of personas added (as far as I'm aware). Messages sent by the wrong persona can be changed; the "quote" feature allows you to start a thread under a message; provides descriptions of each persona. You can also give your personas an avatar rather than just a color. Has a "replay" and "visualization" feature, though I'd say it's strictly just for funzies.

Cons: Not available on PC; has no backup, phone-related resets or deletion of the app results in all information lost. Session order constantly changes depending on which senssion you entered, which in my opinion (+OCD) is a nuisance; you can't delete the "me" character which I've been wanting to do for a while. Can't add hexcodes.

Personal rating: 6/10. If you need an app that you can lock from unwanted visitors, if you don't mind and even prefer something simple, and if you don't care that the conversations might disappear, this app is a good choice.

2. Discord's PluralKit: A more avdanced discord bot with tons of settings and commands that was created specifically for systems. Allows you to add almost any information about your system memebers, even such things as birthdays. The way it works is, it "proxies" your messages with a certain command somewhere in the "normal" message, sends a message identical to yours from a bot created with the name you chose, and deletes your original message. Basically replaces a message from your account with a message from a bot you created earlier. Proxies are small commands that give the both a green light to do that, and they can be whatever you want them to be. Online bot.

Pros: Feels like different people are talking; allows you to track your switches; available on all devices; one system can be linked to multiple accounts, although you can't create multiple systems under one account; allows you to group alters together; allows you to restrict access to certain information from all users; allows you to add as many alters as you want; has a number of ways you can access the information you put in which would all be sorted and organized for you; autoproxy allows you to not proxy every message you sent; since you can't delete messages of other people on servers that are not yours, and the bot messages are not, in fact, yours, PluralKit allows you to react to the message with an emoji that deletes the proxied message; while you can't use it in DMs, you can set up commands in DMs with the bot; every memeber has a unique code, and so does the system itself, and it records when the member was created; can be exported to SimplyPlural.

Cons: Commands are difficult and complex, and so is the dashboard; can only be used on servers; sometimes offline as all bots are, though rarely; you can't use it anywhere outside discord (a con for those who don't use discord); I had instances where I saw people use it for roleplay which is also allowed; proxies are a pain; you'd need a guide to tell you why certain things are needed in it; you cannot reply to messages with gifs when using a proxy; when being exported to SimplyPlural it exports everything, so if you had 10 members on SimplyPlural and 15 on PluralKit, it's best to add those 5 manually than delete 10 new exported alters (I did it with 100+ alters by accident and it was a pain).

Personal rating: 9/10. Complex, difficult to figure out, but once you get ahold of it and how it works, you'd be amazed. Also a pain that you can't use it in DMs, but it's to be expected from a bot. And you can always create a server with just you.

3. Discord's Tupperbox: A discord bot created mainly for roleplay, but actively used by systems who cannot get along with PluralKit. A simpler bot, easy to use and figure out, most things can be done via dashboard, doesn't have the opportunity to add a lot of inofrmation. Online bot.

Pros: Simple; allows grouping alters; allows different tags for different members and groups, sometimes individually; way simpler commands, and most things can be added via dashboard; looks and works almost the same as PluralKit when in a conversation; available on all devices.

Cons: Can't add avatars via dashboard, only using the commands; can't add two alters with the same name (which you can do with PluralKit); people reported it glitching out and deleting members; mainly used for roleplay; gives a weird list of members via commands that is unusable in my experience; doesn't work out of discord.

Personal rating: 7/10. Perfect for people who just want to talk and not write down information about them with the bot, but the threat of members being deleted, especially as a larger system, is concerning. We mainly use it for OSDD-1a subsystems. It was also not created for systems, as far as I'm aware. I see more cons than pros.

4. Simply Plural: Another more well-known tool used and created for systems. Simply Plural is an app that allows you to create profiles of your members and add any information you'd like about them via custom fields. It has a chat feature, allows you to track your front and switch history, add friends, and many more. Supports endogenic systems (which is being mentioned not for discorse purposes but as a fact. Whether you find it good or not is up to you) and allows singlets to create profiles as well, although I don't know a lot about that part. Both offline and online app.

Pros (and a bit about the app): Backup included; tracks your switches and front, allows you to change exact time for them, too (24-hour clock down to minutes included); the polls feature works like polls on same Tumblr and everywhere else but specifically for your system memebrs; analytics provide information about who fronts the most, during what time of day they usually front; you and your friends can see each other's profiles, which is why singlets can also create profiles, which allows you to acces info about each other's systems; "trusted people" feature allows you to pick whether you want everybody to see your alters or not, or if you want outsiders to see your profile at all; provides resources and guides to plurality (which I personally haven't checked, but still putting it in the pros, if somebody thinks I shouldn't, let me know); has an app reminders feature; you can add as much information as you want; front history shows up in a person's profile; alters can add notes; alter groups are available; available on all devices, however, only as a website on PC; colors of your alters can be used in the chat to highlight names; hexcodes are available; "custom front" is a status you set with fronting which can be hilarious sometimes; connects to PluralKit in a number of ways.

Cons: The chat feature is a bit difficult to use, and first time I did, I freaked out because I couldn't get out of it (the trick is to go to "channels" and press "navigation", there you'll see the dashboard); friends can't communicate with each other; copy-pasting is hard on both mobile and PC; something about the interface and navigation irks me and our visually impaired self; notes have same visibility as the profile itself, which is inconvenient if you want your profile to be seen but not your notes; avatars can't be added via website.

Personal rating: 6/10. I don't like how it looks and works (probably due to being visually impaired and other issues), but if you manage to get the information in it, it's pretty accessible and thoughtful of what systems might need. Could be used as a tool to start working with your system rather than do it long-term.

5. Twinote: An app that is your "personal Twitter." Pretty sure it was created for the purpose of having fun rather communicating with alters. Offline app.

Pros: Backup provided; allows "private accounts" that other "users" can't see; can create as many users as you want, as many posts as you want; can upload up to 4 images; works almost like Twitter; has a chat feature; comments, retweets, likes are present; "lists" feature allows you to group users and see only their messages which could be used for "things only protectors sent" and such; storage shows all pictures used in the app, so you won't lose anything; tagging and following people is still an option, and following private accounts give that user an opportunity to be the only one seeing their tweets.

Cons: Can't upload videos; can't do much with anything other than posts and profiles, so trends and other stuff there is off-limits (as far as I know); you have to constantly switch between profiles for the chat feature; share button only shares the contents of the message; very easy to accidentally press the wrong button and delete a tweet by dragging it left (which I almost did a few times).

Personal rating: 7,5/10. I know it's probably annoying that I didn't just type either 7 or 8, but the reaosn why is cause I have mixed feelings about it from a practical point of view. We use it strictly to communicate what we did during the day as a small journal and just joke with each other, and it's incredibly funny in itself, but it doesn't allow you to write down a lot of information about your alters and has a character limit in profiles. So it's strictly for communication.

6. Notion: An app created as a dashboard for literally everything you could ever dream of. You can personalize it however you want and use it for whatever you want. Those who saw the post we made a while ago probably know the reason I'm mentioning it is due to a template that I linked here. Online app.

Pros: Can be used for literally everything without limits; available on all devices; big and has enough storage for a lot of information, text, projects, etc; can be designed however you want; a lot of useful templates for all life instances (even taxes); can be shared with people who also use Notion in a variety of ways (either only comment, only see, etc); can add your own custom covers and icons via both gallery and links; looks neat and doesn't mess with visual impairment for us; can add a page in a page in a page which can be used for diaries; links to different pages on other pages are also available; endless possibilities, I could rant all day.

Cons: Glitches on the phone a lot; certain things are allowed on computer and not on mobile and vice versa; all templates available only on PC; you need to have an account in order to use it; glitches if it's offline; sometimes deletes a bunch of text because of glitches, usually the triggers for it are writing a lot in it directly or erasing previous text a bunch of times; can't invite someone in your space, it would take too much storage; some storage needs to be bought, although, I don't know the limit (but there's a lot. Like, a lot)

Personal rating: 9/10. With all its antics, I love this app dearly, it's incredibly useful, and you learn to deal with the cons. It's the best one I've used for communication and information storage so far.

7. Texting Stories app: As ridiculous as it sounds, it could be used as a tool to communicate with your alters, especially in secret. We are fighting for our safety here, so I ask you to take this suggestion seriously. Could be used when you don't want to let anyone know you're a system and have noisy family members/relatives/etc who like to snoop through you personal devices, by using it, you can say you've just been doing a story. Offline app.

Pros: I believe you can add as many people as you want; can add avatars; different stories can be different days of the week; easy to use; easy to brush off as "just making stories."

Cons: Can't change colors, you need to pay for most things.

Personal rating: 5/10. Can be used for emergencies and communication only, although we haven't used it much.

8. Notes: Just the same plain old notes app on your phone that everybody has installed as default. Offline app.

Pros: Easy to use; can be easily lost within your other notes for privacy; used for literally everything you desire, even drawing; automatic backup.

Cons: Doesn't give you the ability to really present as separate people; doesn't have as many options as Notion.

Personal rating: 5/10. used it at some point just for communication, was cool, somple, easy, but nothing too big.

I hope this helped to put these apps in perspective. I do apologize for it being a bit all over the place, but I did attempt to make it coherent enough (I am currently in a psychotic state, it's difficult for me to communicate). And remember, there are always options to use a written journal rather than a digital one. If anything, it's better to keep both in case one gets lost. Who knows, maybe our parents asking us what we would do if the internet disappeared is actually a warning. /j /nm

-host

[suhsweet]

not just friends ⟡ ljy

wc: 2879 | pair: bff!juyeon x afab!reader | genre: bffs to lovers, drunk confessions | tags: open ending, mutual pining, lovesick!juyeon, possessive!juyeon, juyeon is obsessed you with, nightclub, drinking, reader is shorter than juyeon, reader flirts and (almost) hooks up with someone else, hyunjae has the nickname ‘horny h’

summary: juyeon’s plans to interrupt your one-night-stand involves him arriving at your place completely drunk, and confessing his love for you

authors note: shout out to strong woman do bong soon for the ending. also, thank you for the love for my mingyu fic. is this what it feels like to newly debuted group that is doing well in streams?

“Juyeon buddy, we’re gonna be, like, fifty million shots behind everyone else if you don’t stop fixing your stupid hair!”

“It’s only seven,” was the taller boy’s response. He was so focused on fixing each strand of his black hair in place that he hardly paid any mind to your reflection in the mirror. “We’re supposed to be there at eight-thirty.”

“Ever heard of pre-gaming?” You muttered, stepping into his bathroom.

Tonight was Hyunjae’s birthday party, and to celebrate it, he invited the entire friend group to a new club that had just opened in Hongdae. You sighed at your best friend. If he hadn’t lived right down the block from your place, you would’ve been on your way with your other friends already.

But as you observed his face, endearingly serious and focused, you knew that deep down you didn’t mind. The butterflies that fluttered in your stomach didn’t seem to mind either. If anything, they encouraged prolonging the club so that you would spend more time alone together.

If the butterflies were real, you would’ve called an exterminator. But they weren’t. They were feelings, feelings for Juyeon which you could not manage to shove away no matter how hard you tried. It was a horrible fate that you had unintentionally forced upon yourself: Juyeon’s friend-zoned best friend.

It was torture watching people approach him whenever you were out together. You couldn’t claim him as yours. You couldn’t stop him from going on dates or looking at other people. You couldn’t delete the dating apps off of his phone. You had no say in that. He was single. You were his friend. That was it.

Sometimes you cursed the teacher who grouped you together during your first year of college. But at least through that very project, you made other friends like Changmin and Chanhee. Project meetings became lunches and dinners together as a group of four. Then you each made more friends and created a larger group. People came and went, but what remained was that after every time you spent time with your friends, you’d often go home with Juyeon.

It was a perfect coincidence that your places were a five minute walk from each other. The first time you went home together, you couldn’t believe he lived nearby and joked that he was following you around.

You grew to look forward to the end of the day as it meant spending time alone with Juyeon. The two of you spoke about your days, interests and everything inbetween. It almost felt domestic, like you were walking home to your shared apartment with your boyfriend.

Juyeon suddenly turned towards you, breaking you out of your lovesick puppy-love la-la-land.

“I can’t get my hair right, can you do it for me? Like how you did it that other time?”

With a nod, you picked up the little tub of hair wax and fixed his hair the way that you liked it, the way you did it last time. “Your hair looks just fine the way you did it though.”

He shrugs. “Feels like it looks better when you do it. Need your stamp of approval.”

Your smile cracked a smile, then focused on his hair. The two of you stood in comfortable silence. Until you felt his fingers lift your necklace from around your neck. The small pendant glittered in the light of the bathroom. It took everything in you to ignore his eyes and his touch.

“All done, looking like a movie star,” you kept your tone light. Juyeon’s touch was something you avoided because you always felt yourself craving for it in more ways than possible as platonic friends.

“When have I ever seen you without this on?” He muttered quietly, almost as if asking himself.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself now. I wear it because it’s my favorite. And it’s my favorite because it’s pretty, not because you got it for my birthday.” You couldn’t help the blush that bloomed on your cheeks. You were lying through your teeth.

“If I buy you another, will you wear that one too?” He teased.

“Shut up, can we go yet?”

⟡

The thought of that necklace remained in Juyeon’s head that night. Despite the drinks, the people, and the pounding music, he couldn’t stop himself from searching for you and checking if the necklace was still there.

The idea that you faithfully wore it since he gave it to you had him puffing his chest with pride. You were too perfect for him. Too gorgeous with your perfect hair, and smile. Smart and witty. He hated that he couldn’t keep the way your eyes lit up to himself. A small part of him liked to pretend that you wore it because his feelings were reciprocated.

“Dude you gotta stop looking at her. What’s going on? Are y’all fighting or something? This is the eleventh time I’ve seen you look for her in two hours. I’ve been counting!” Kevin sighed exasperatedly.

“Nothing, just keeping an eye out for her. Clubs can be dangerous.”

Kevin wasn’t convinced. His lips tilted upwards into a smirk as he watched you. “She’s a big girl, and the only dangerous thing right now is you after seeing who’s approaching her right now.”

Juyeon’s head immediately turned to watch an attractive guy approach you. You eyed him appreciatively as he introduced himself.

“I’m out,” Kevin said smugly, clearly noting the change in his friend’s demeanor.

From the booth that Hyunjae booked for his birthday, the view meant that one could see everything in the club. Yet from up there, Juyeon couldn’t look at anything but you as you spoke to the stranger. The music was so loud that you had to step closer to the asshole while he had to bend down so that your heads were at the same height.

Juyeon felt silly. He spent so much time doing his hair before he gave up and asked you to do it for him. He figured that by styling it in a way that you liked, you might find him attractive. Like, wait-my-best-friend-is-kinda-hot-I-want-to-date-him attractive. So much for that working out.

Now he was watching you chat with a stranger at the bar, you slapping his arm when he made you laugh. Juyeon had people approach him while he watched you, but he politely brushed them off. He was too tired to even pretend to be interested in them since you were too busy to notice.

He wouldn’t dare to ever tell you that he loved you. You were too important to him to risk your friendship like that. He’d rather choose being close to you, than not knowing you at all.

“He’s sulking,” Jacob chuckled to Chanhee, the two of them watching their friend pretend to appear nonchalant despite his eyes flickering towards your direction.

At that point in the night, Hyunjae had finished his ‘official’ birthday boy activities. The group all gathered to sing a big happy birthday, off-tempo and off-key. The bottle girls already left a while ago, bringing their ‘Happy Birthday Horny H’ signs, and sparklers down with them. All that was left to do was to party the night away.

Eric and Sunwoo were busy buying endless rounds of shots to give to the birthday boy. Some of the others were on the dance floor, or at the bar with you. A small few had left early, either because they had a big day in the morning, or had found hook-ups for the night.

It looked like you were about to be part of the latter.

Juyeon couldn’t look at you as the stranger you spoke to whispered into your ear. He knew what he’d asked when you grabbed his hand and interlocked your fingers, slowly walking him over to where the VIP section was. He watched you in his peripheral as you approached Hyunjae, who was a few drinks away from being smashed.

Hyunjae cried out your name, wrapping an arm around you and patting your head affectionately. His words were slurred and almost incomprehensible. “Thangyew fer comin’ tonighh! Best berfday evaaaa.”

Juyeon’s heart clenched at hearing your laugh. He almost jumped when you suddenly approached him with a quick tap on his arm. Juyeon almost didn’t want to bend down to hear what you were going to say, what you planned to do with that stranger of yours. “Don’t stay out too late, yeah? I’m gonna leave first.”

Juyeon’s gaze met yours, then dragged upwards behind you to look at your stranger in the distance. Juyeon looked him up and down. What did this guy have that he didn’t? Juyeon was sure he was taller than him, and he knew you liked a man with height. He almost scoffed out loud.

“Okay, call me if you need anything. Be safe.” He eyed the necklace that hung around your neck once more.

“Always am,” you winked.

Juyeon watched you join your stranger, and turned around before he could watch you leave the club. He flopped onto the sofa next to Hyunjae, and pulled out the first of many bottles of alcohol he’d drink to wash down his heartache.

⟡

You forgot this stranger’s name. Jay? Jae? You were sure there was a second syllable in his name but forgot completely. The music had drowned it out.

In one moment, you were leaving the club with your hand in his. The next, he was leaving your apartment in an Uber you booked for him as an apology. The blue-balled guy was annoyed when you suddenly pushed him off and declared that you couldn’t do it tonight. But he understood when you explained your situation, that you thought you could use this as a distraction from your feelings for your best friend. He told you that he was doing the same. With a smile that told each other that you understand each other’s pain, you agreed to part with no hard feelings.

Something about Juyeon’s expression had made you change your mind. How his eyes dulled, and the way he looked at Jae[second syllable]… It was like an abandoned cat, left to fend for itself. You couldn’t help but feel like you were cheating on him.

As you stood in your steaming shower, you pressed your forehead to the cool tiled wall. Is this how it would be for as long as you knew Juyeon? Rejecting suitors because you felt guilty about doing anything remotely romantic or sexual with anyone who wasn’t him? You knew it wasn’t fair to yourself.

By the time the clock struck one in the morning, and you finished your shower, you decided that you would worry about your feelings for Juyeon another day. You wondered if he got home safely as you climbed in bed, and shot him a quick message asking him just that.

Two hours later a loud banging came from the front door, and your phone was buzzing incessantly from an incoming call. Fright and adrenaline pulled you right up out of bed as you answered the phone.

Your name came out in a long, dragged-out whine. It was Juyeon. “Izz your friend still ‘n there? I wan’ meet him.”

He was talking loud enough that you realized that it was him on the other side of the front door. He fist kept hitting the door. You yanked it open to the sight of a red-faced Juyeon, his black dress shirt all askew with the top buttons undone low enough that you could see the ridges of his chest. His perfectly styled hair was now flattened and covering his face. He let himself in, hilariously having enough manners to shake off his shoes as he entered. The boy made a beeline to your room, albeit whilst stumbling.

You peeked your head out into the main hallway, sending apologetic looks to anyone who was also looking out as well.

Juyeon mumbled more to himself than anyone, “Where’s he… Needuh compare heights, ‘n hand sizes and, and…”

You caught his arm as he almost fell into the door frame. “There’s no one here Juyeon. What are you doing here? Let’s go to the living room.”

He sagged onto your couch with a loud sigh. He laid along the length of it, one long leg on the sofa, and the other on the floor. If he wasn’t drunk out of his mind, the sight of him with his legs spread wide like that would’ve been tempting. You retrieved a hot towel from the bathroom to wipe the sweat and grime from the club off of him. You sat on a footstool while you got to work. His head was tilted back off the couch’s arm, his eyes shut and his mouth gaped open slightly.

Juyeon didn’t even flinch as you cleaned him the best you could. You wiped his face, neck, and chest without digging too deep under his shirt. You would have to grab his spare clothes from your closet if he was going to sleep over tonight. It seemed highly likely, judging by the state of him. “What are you doing here Ju?”

His head came up to look at you through adorably squinted eyes.

“Wahnted to see if yorrr friend can fight,” he hiccuped. “Did he like yorr necklace when you were on top? ��Tis my necklus. Mine. Yours. Ours?”

You could not believe your ears. He’s still going on about the stupid necklace. “No one’s here, and no one has had the pleasure of seeing your precious necklace dangling while I’m riding them. Do you want it back? You seem to like it so much…”

“No! Keep i’ forevuh and evuh. I like it on you… ‘N I like yuu.” It seemed like he was starting to mumble nonsense. You shook your head to yourself. He’s drunk. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He sighed dramatically. “Don’ evuh take it off. I love yuu. You’re so good to me. I love yuuu.”

As a friend, you told yourself.

“Water should make you sober, right?” You muttered under your breath as he kept mumbling about how much he apparently liked you. You rose to dispose of the towel, get some water, and his clothes but his hands wrapped around your wrist and pulled you back down.

Shock ran through you as you felt yourself fall onto the couch right in front of Juyeon who folded in his leg to make space for you. He leaned in so that you were at eye level and looked at you as seriously as his drunken gaze could allow.

A pointer finger was aimed at you and Juyeon started wagging it like a parent telling off a child. “Yuu. I love yuuu. Do you hear mee?”

“Loud and clear, Juyeon.”

“I’ve liked you fuh soooo looong, but you never know. Knew? I know I’m drunk bu-but you should believe me. I really like you, ‘n I would be sososo good to you.” He tapped his giant finger on your nose.

He watched your reaction with bleary eyes, almost looking as if there wasn’t a thought in his head. Juyeon head tilted to the side. He brought the pointed finger closer to your face, and caressed your cheek with the back of it. Your heart squeezed at the tender touch. His eyes almost looked sad as he focused on his finger. Sad, with every sleepy blink of his eyes. “Mmmmh, so preeeetty. Preetty girl.”

You sighed. “Okay, time for bed.”

“No, no bed. Wide awake,” he shook his head, dizzying self so much that he almost fell forward.

“Let’s talk in the morning. I need to get you some water, and your clothes so that you can change. Do you want to stay the night?” Juyeon dumbly stared at your lips as you talked. You almost laughed at the sight of him slowly leaning in, hypnotized. You placed an arm on his shoulder to keep him at a distance. “Juyeon!”

“I dun’ know.”

You giggled at the words. He blinked at you, grinning a dopey grin at your smile. The butterflies were back again. Juyeon took your hand from his shoulder and brought his lips to each knuckle, kissing gently. Your heart stuttered at his action. With both hands, he flattened your fingers across his cheek, sliding them up until the fingertips brushed his hair line and his cheek rested in your palm.

Juyeon sandwiched your hand between back of the sofa and his head, using it like a pillow. One large hand kept your hand pressed against his cheek, while another kept hold of your wrist.

You curled into a ball to get comfortable, bringing yourself closer to him. You also leaned your head against the back of the sofa to watch him blink at you until his eyes remained closed.

Earlier you told yourself you’d worry about your feelings for Juyeon another day. So for now, you allowed yourself this little moment. To pretend he was yours and to try to memorize the feeling of his hands holding yours. Because eventually, you’ll have to let go.

“Please look at me,” he softly murmured before he succumbed to sleep.

Your heart squeezed. “I’ve never looked away.”

[vscabarca]

photographer - pablo gavi

summary: gavi has a crush on the club‘s photographer, but he‘s afraid you don‘t speak spanish.

genre: fluff

———

Sitting on the couch with the phone in your hands, you scrolled through old pictures, smiling at all the beautiful moments you’ve experienced over the years. Giggling, you turned your head towards your boyfriend, gavi.

He was watching a random football game when he turned his head and shifted his attention to you.

„what‘s so funny hermosa?“ he asked, stroking your legs which were draped over his lap.

„i just found the picture i took of you when we first met.“ you snickered, making gavi turn his head in embarrassment.

„amor, this is so embarrassing.“ He groaned.

„no it was cute! It just makes me laugh that you told me you were too shy to speak english.“ you replied, shuffling closer to him and put you head on his chest.

———

„¿quién es?“ gavi asked fermin, trying to sound unbothered by your presence.

„who?“ fermin asked, not really understanding what his friend was saying.

„who is the new photographer? i’ve never seen her before.“ he tilted his head towards you, who recently started working as a club photographer. you were twenty, moving from England to Spain, pursuing your dream in sports photography. Pure coincidence led you to this job, now taking pictures of sweaty footballers every day. Couldn’t be better right?!

„ay Pablito likes the new photographer huh?“ fermin nudged him, earning a smack from his friend.

„OW!“

gavi wouldn’t tell anyone for the first few weeks but he found you very cute. During his trainings he glanced over to you sometimes, seeing you do your job and take pictures for the official FC Barcelona account.

After one particular fun practice, he walked back with Ansu to the locker room. On his way back, you stood on the sidelines, encouraging the players to pose for a post-practice picture.

It was the first time he heard your voice, a british accent coming through.

„smile!“ you asked kindly when ansu and gavi walked past. Both flashed you a smile, making your lips turn upwards too.

After the „click“ sound, you glanced back up, holding eye contact with gavi for a few seconds. As the two players disappeared into the tunnel, you couldn’t help but blush at the thought of the nineteen year old.

@fcbarcelona: training done🫡 ✅

———

„just ask her out after practice hermano!“ pedri urged gavi but he just shook his head resolutely.

pedri found out about his little crush not much later. gavi wasn’t the best at keeping things to himself, he just couldn’t keep secrets.

„hermano, I can’t speak english!“ he spoke frustrated after hearing you talk with a british accent.

pedri just laughed out loud, his head flying back as he clutched onto his chest.

„bro, be serious I bet she can speak spanish. At least a bit. You can speak english too!“ pedri argued, encouraging his younger friend to make a move.

„Have you ever heard me speak english? I sound stupid with my accent!“ gavi just waved him off, getting into a shower to clear his mind.

It has been a week later and gavi still didn’t talk to you. His heartache grew stronger over time, seeing you everyday engrossed in your work made him weak. Little did he know, you had your focus more on gavi than on any other player, snapping some good pictures of him during practice.

The next day, gavi came home late, deciding to ask you out the day after. Stressed as he was, he downloaded Duolingo to do about three exercises before he grew even more stressed and deleted the app again.

———

tying his boots, he received a crash course from ansu. he could speak english quite well in contrast to gavi.

mid-sentence he shot up, glaring at his friend.

„how do you know I have a crush on the photographer?“ he asked bewildered as he saw ansus smirk on his lips.

„almost the whole team knows, don’t tell pedri your secrets pablito.“

he was fuming but walked off earning funny faces from his teammates.

you were doing your job like always, trying to get some good shots when gavi walked in front of the lens, doing a silly pose.

you glanced up from the camera, blushing as you saw gavi smiling at you.

„did you get a good shot?“ he asked rather shy, his thick spanish accent coming through.

„yeah. not really hard when you’re the model.“ you chuckled, seeing Gavis lips curl up into a smile at your words.

„could be the other way around too, you know?“

your heart fluttered after hearing the footballers words, a blush creeping up your face.

„i‘m gavi by the way.“

you just laughed, seeing the puzzled expression on the boy’s face.

„i know who you are, silly. I‘m Y/n.“ you said, feeling much more comfortable now after seeing how nice gavi actually was.

he relaxed too, feeling a good connection between the two of you.

„so, i‘ve seen you around for some time now and thought you were really cute. is there a chance to get to know you better?“ gavi asked, before seeing his teammates walk onto the pitch alongside xavi.

„yes of course. i could give you my number.“ you offered and placed the camera down next to you.

„Sería perfecto.“ Gavi answered, forgetting you didn‘t speak Spanish.

„my english isn’t the best, i mix it up sometimes.“ He said and scratched the back of his head.

„don’t worry, your english is perfect. I‘m the one who should learn spanish!“

He smiled softly at you when you scribbled your number on a piece of paper and handed it to him.

„gavi! come here!“ xavi shouted, interrupting the cute moment between you two.

gavi glanced over his shoulder, seeing the whole team staring at you.

„go, or else xavi will kill me for talking to his beloved youngster.“ you chuckled as Gavi laughed at your joke, pulling you in a short hug.

„see you around. i‘ll text you.“ he spoke, already running to the group before he earned a slap on his head from pedri. fermin basically jumped onto his back as he told them what the two of them were talking about.

———

„if you didn’t speak English that day, i probably wouldn’t sit on your lap right now, don’t you think?“ you asked and put your hands around his neck, pulling gavi closer to you.

He just smirked cockily, pulling you into a sweet kiss and mumbled a quiet „mhmm“.

[jqmalikhsgib]

midnight sky

one

what you were doing was absolutely insane! you just met the man not even twenty four hours ago. but the connection the two of you had was incredible, almost like you were made for each other. maybe you were.

the day started off like every other morning. you groaned as your alarm clock went off, got out of bed, took a quick shower, brushed your teeth, and finally made it down town to your favorite local coffee shop.

you ordered a basic coffee and a pastry before sitting in your normal spot, far in the back. you took your laptop out of your bag and began grading papers, groaning and rolling your eyes at the students who didn’t turn in a paper yet.

after about thirty minutes you heard commotion outside. normally you’d ignore it. it’s new york city after all, it was always filled with nosy people. today was different! flashes came from the window, almost blinding you more than the sun.

you heard people screaming as if someone fell and died. you looked up and saw the paparazzi outside. frowning, you grabbed your things and headed for the door.

“shit! im sorry, love!”

groaning at your coffee spilling on the ground, you were ready to yell at whoever this pretentious actor or whatever he was! not caring if the media and his fans tore you a new one.

“watch where you—”

you couldn’t even finish your sentence. he was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. from his buzzed hair cut, beautiful brown eyes, tattooed neck, and his attire. he was the most attractive man you’ve ever seen.

“are you alright, babe?” even his accent was perfect.

“uh—yeah—yeah! im sorry.”

he chuckles, “it’s my fault, really.”

you were frozen. completely mesmerized by this beautiful man in front of you. your heart skipped a beat.

“it’s fine—um, i should get going.” you began walking away, pushing through the loads of paps. you needed to get far away so you could get that man out of your mind.

unfortunately the moment you got home you looked him up. you needed to know who he was and where he was from. you searched the location of the coffee shop and found tmz reporting the images.

“zayn malik. fuck, even his name is perfect!” you dived into everything zayn malik and began to sigh. soon you find his instagram, noticing he only had a few post. you assumed he deleted his old post due to him starting a new era for his next album.

biting your lip you sigh as you close your eyes processing. god, where you an idiot for even thinking about messaging him. maybe? you knew he probably got thousands of messages everyday, but it was something about him. you click on his profile, clicked on message, and began typing.

‘hi..god, you probably won’t see this, most likely won’t even open it, won’t bat an eye, but i thought i should text you. i guess im intrigued you could say.’

you wait patiently until you heard your phone vibrate. you had never picked up your phone so quickly. you smiled hugely when you saw it was him that sent you a message.

‘hey! normally i don’t open this app unless im posting something about me music or a selfie. coffee shop girl, right?’

smiling, you typed,

‘yeah! sorry about spilling that coffee by the way. im normally not that clumsy.’

‘haha!’

‘it’s cool, babe. got a three year old! use to clumsy.’

‘oh? didn’t noticed you had a kid. gonna be honest, i kinda went on a bit of a stalker session finding you.’

‘really? that’s cute!’

‘yeah! got a daughter. she’s the sweetest thing ever!’

‘i love kids! i always wanted to teach kids instead of middle schoolers. kids love to color and draw. middle schoolers love to gossip and fight.’

‘ha! not ready for that at all!’

‘you’re a teacher, huh? that was my career path before i became a musician.’

‘i enjoy teaching! wanted to since i could remember!’

‘you guys are doing great work! deserve a pay raise!!’

‘tell that to the us government. 😩’

‘fuck them all!!!’

‘agreed!’

‘how bout i meet you up for a coffee? promise, no paps this time?’

‘right now?’

‘yeah…is that okay, babe?’

‘yeah—yeah! ill be there in twenty.’

‘cool! see you soon ;)’

you never got ready so fast in your life. heading downstairs from your building and walking a few blocks to the coffee shop, you spot zero paps and zayn sitting inside your booth. you smile before walking into the building. when he spots you, he smiles at you, stands up, and gives you a hug.

“hey.”

“hi.” you sit in the seat right across from him.

“never got your name. your instagram account doesn’t give it away.”

you blush. you created your instagram when you were in middle school. being overly obsessed with harry potter as a kid and extremely dorky, you had to go with ‘voldedork_hp,’

you never got around to changing it. now you regret that decision one hundred percent. “im sorry about that. a little embarrassed.”

“don’t be! it’s cute. im a huge harry potter fan myself. i went as voldemort last halloween as a mater-of-fact.”

“my names yn.”

“it’s nice to meet you yn. you have a lovely name by the way.”

you snort. feeling like your name was completely bland compared to his!

“may i ask where you’re from? your accent, it’s pretty thick, even for someone born in the uk.”

zayn chuckles. “yeah! m’from bradford england. my pops is pakistani so my accent comes out a little bit stronger i guess. what about you? you don’t sound like a new yorker.” he takes a sip of his coffee.

“im not! born and raised in texas actually.”

“texas, huh? you’re a little way from home, yeah?”

“i got a full scholarship for new york university! i couldn’t pass on that opportunity.”

“brains and beauty, huh?”

you blush. he was definitely a flirt! the two of you got to know one another for the next four hours. you both lost track of time. zayn phone blows up and he continues to ignore it. enjoying his time getting to know the pretty woman across from him. you were loving the company and conversation. it felt like you knew each other for the longest time. you were both laughing and listening to each other tell some crazy story. it felt right.

“how about we get out of this coffee shop, yeah? maybe walk around new york? i promise, no paps. i know places they’ll never go.” he winks at you. you nod before getting out of the booth. zayn grabs your hand and interlocks your fingers.

you were surprised but you didn’t object or pull away. zayn paid for his coffee, leaving a generous tip before leaving. you walk hand and hand around new york, enjoying each other’s company. you continued to talk about everything. the two of you got along so well, you felt crazy for already falling for him. you just met the man! how could you already have such strong feelings for the musician? were you seriously losing your mind? you just couldn’t help how you felt though.

zayn felt the same way. it’s why, standing in front of a courthouse, holding your hand as the moonlight shines, he got the craziest idea. he stops, looks you in the eye, and caresses your cheek. “may i kiss you, babe?”

you blushed, nodding nonetheless. when his lips touched yours, you felt the whole world stopped. god, how could such a beautiful man be this perfect? when he pulls away he grabs your hand and runs across the street. it was like faith, standing in front of a kay jewelers and a bridal shop. you laugh as he looks at you with the biggest grin on his face.

“what?”

“this is gonna be the craziest thing ive ever done or said but, i just—i feel like ive known you for the longest time. you’re beautiful, funny, smart, and amazing. i—i feel like we’re meant to be, meant to meet each other. and you, god maybe this is insane! you can totally say no, kick my ass, slap me, whatever you want, but this is just perfect. it’s almost like faith,”

“what is it?” you asked nervously.

“a jeweler, a bridal shop, and a courthouse right across the street. maybe this is the universe telling us to just go for it. let’s get married.”

normally if a man had asked you this you’d laugh in his face. you’d think he was absolutely insane for even suggesting this idea. but seeing all the key details, it’s like a story from a fairytale! who were you to pass up a fairytale story?

“okay!”

“yeah?”

you nod your head. zayn kisses you passionately before calling up taryn to be a witness! once he convinced her, he grabs your hand, head into the jewelry parlor, the two of you pick your rings before going to the bridal shop and grabbing the most gorgeous dress and a suit, before heading across the street to officially get married.

“are we doing this, forreal?”

“yeah, yeah we are! let’s get married, baby!”

and before you know it, you become misses malik. a true fairytale.

i really hope you all like this fic! it’s not enough zayn fics out there and i need people to make some!

what do you think?

if you wanna be added to taglist please don’t hesitate to ask!!!

[starburts-addict]

Aftermath

Note: I did my own aftermath version of the Shiny Jr fic. Some details were heavily inspired by Qeirxing's fic. Because I really did like how some things played out in their fic, but mine has noticeable differences. This work isn't 100% original fanfiction material, but it was just a fun thing I decided to write. Also it isn't 100% proofread.

CW: graphic recollection of choking, paranoia, PTSD-like symptoms,, obsessive behavior, threats (on the reader's side), unhealthy coping mechanisms

How long has it been? How long has it been since you arrived at what was supposed to be a wonderful and bittersweet experience? You don't know, nor do you care. Being stuck in such a cursed place that used to be your escape from reality was terrifying. Hell, you may have physically recovered from the multitude of attacks that day, but you haven't been the same. Constantly lacking sleep due to nightmares and you being paranoid if anyone who had the balls to break into your 'home away from home' would do so. You couldn't even call it your home away from home. It felt more like a prison you decided to isolate yourself in as Grim comes and goes as he pleases. You don't get mad at him for staying indifferent to what had happened. After all, he knew what these guys were like before your arrival in this game world.

Things were okay. You just had to stay inside, make sure you only go outside at certain times to get fresh air, and remove any social apps from your phone. That includes deleting any accounts it came with. It was just Magicam, you wished you could delete the calling and messaging in your phone, but all you could do was block any calls and texts that weren't from the teachers and faculty. Honestly, it was just the Teachers and Sam. You had half a mind to block Crowley as sometimes he would call you to start attending classes with Grim. Saying that the students have been rowdier with each other. Whatever that meant.

Grim still hung out with Ace and Deuce like normal, but ever since that attack, he's been more annoyed towards them. Fucking! Not just them! He's been annoyed at the entirety of the main cast!

Not only have they been badgering him with questions about your status, but they have been sending him home with stuff for the both of you. And most uncanny of all of this, they've been nicer to grim. Which, honestly? Has been very disturbing to him. Grim was so used to the hostility he's seen that seeing their desperate and futile attempts to get you to forgive them was terrifying.

Crewel, Trein, and Sam have the major staff who have come to visit you. Vargas was too busy making sure none of the boys could come to impose on your privacy. Crewel and Trein would sometimes tell you how holing yourself in the ramshackle dorm, but you reminded them that you aren't in a world that you don't belong in and have consequently received a trauma that you should have never gotten in the first place. Sam sometimes had to mediate when things almost turned into an argument. The three of you end up apologizing to each other. The only people you would ever apologize to in this game. Crowley would sometimes come visit and even try to demand you start attending classes. Saying he just wanted things to be less hostile between the students. Every single, annoying time he did, you'd end up threatening him with your departure to the rival school, saying that they will most definitely be the better school to take care of you. You knew that was a lie. You were actually unsure if the main side cast of Royal Sword Academy were any less dangerous. If you do end up running away, you'd rather stay on the island with the NPC residents of Sage Town.

It has just been another day that you have lost track of. Grim had come back from classes just like every other day. It's not like they get weekends off, Maybe in the story, but not within the actual mechanisms of the game. Once again Grim is watching videos on the phone on the couch, and this time you watched along. Usually, you'd spend your time cleaning the rundown place or even talking to the ghosts about your life in your own world. Beyond the game. You missed a lot, but today you were bored. You didn't like having that phone from the game. It only has reminders that this isn't your world. You started to get bored with the videos. It was starting to get dark, and you were tired of having Trein and Crewel open every single library book for you and find you a way home. You were tired of waiting. So you decided that right now seemed like the right time to go to the library. You stood up and looked at Grim. "Grim, I'm going to the library, want to come with?" Grim looked at you surprised, as if you just told him something shocking, well, it might as well have been because ever since you got here you haven't really gotten beyond the Ramshackle dorm ever since that day.

"Are you sure? You avoided stepping out further than the back door." He was worried, which brought you comfort. Out of everyone in the game, you could trust Grim the most. After all, he saved you from an untimely death and apparently cleared up a misunderstanding. A deadly one. Thinking about it, you nodded at Grim and gave him a simper. "Of course. I need to help find a way home." Grim exhaled. "As your protector, I must go. Just in case you get uncomfortable." You petted him as you got up from the couch.

Walking out the front door, you hesitated to open it, but in the end, you ended up opening the door. Off in the distance towards the mailbox that seems to stand barely. You see the plethora of packages and letters they have sent you after you blocked all their numbers and had Vargas fend off anyone who dares enter. It wasn't like the headmaster would fully prevent them from coming to your doorstep. Once you made sure the coast was clear you walked towards the gate where the mailbox was. Curiosity filled you as you wanted to see what the letters held. Although you had a huge idea of what they held, which held you back. As you patted the mailbox sorta to praise it for standing like this, one of the letters fell down. You picked it up and noticed it was from Malleus. The one who almost killed you.

You wanted to rip apart, cut and leave it on the mailbox to show the others what you would start doing if they didn't quit sending you things and harassing Grim about you but against your wishes, you decided to open it up. Grim looked at you with a concerned look. "You don't have ta if you don't want to." You shook your head. "It's fine." You opened up the letter carefully, tearing the wax seal off first and then tearing the flap off. The contents disturbed you, to say the least. The letter was desperate as soon as you read the beginning. You looked at the back, and that was even more disturbing.

The back had started off as a continuation of the beginning, but when the letter was supposed to stop at one sentence of 'I'm Sorry', it continued. The sentence 'I'm Sorry' continued towards the page's bottom. You couldn't tell if it was a diary entry that he decided to mail or what. There were two things that you can deduct. Grim had severely underestimated their obsessive admiration for you, it was beyond that. There were hardly any words that could describe this beyond deplorable behavior. Without a second thought, Grim swatted the card from your hand and tossed it alongside the pile of cards and packages he made without you paying attention. Before you could do anything, he burned it all. "No more of that. Besides, you're on a mission! Don't get so distracted [First]!" Grim stated, marching his way to the library. You followed behind catching up to Grim. Feeling relieved that Grim still wanted to protect you.

Eventually, you both arrive at the Library. You were actually surprised to hear from Grim that the library is open all day and night, but you are in a game, so you ended up losing that surprise. You wandered the library trying to find a starting place to even think where you could start looking. Eventually, you and Grim decide to split up. Hoping that maybe one of us can find a good starting place. As you were walking on the other side of the library, you felt a pair of eyes on you. Your paranoia was kicking in, and bad. You tried so hard to ignore it, but your feelings from being chased came back and you turned around.

To your horror, it was Malleus. He was about to approach you and you just stared at him. You couldn't move. The feeling of your throat being squeezed and the feeling of blood trickling down your throat, the pressure of the nails, and the feeling of air under your feet as you dangle up in the air all come rushing back as you hold back the urge to hold your throat. You didn't want to insult the dragon prince and face his wrath again. It was quite terrifying the first time, it will be the second time.

You couldn't squeak out anything, you seemed like a deer in headlights, but when you were about to open your mouth, Malleus spoke."How have you been?" He uttered. He seemed to be walking on a minefield, making sure that what he does is correct to not set off anything. You wanted to sneer at him for even asking that stupid question. You wanted to respond by saying, you clearly weren't doing well if they haven't seen them in a long time, but you advised yourself against it. "Okay, I guess." Malleus clearly wanted to rebuttal but didn't. "Have you received our cards, me and the others have noticed you haven't gotten the mail every time we drop something off." You almost physically cringed when he brought that up. You remember the card of his you read and how truly disturbing it was, but you don't bring it up. "I don't really leave Ramshackle itself." You shrugged. "I just saw the letters today, I'll read them when I get back." You said. It was a lie, of course. Grim had burned everything to a crisp after seeing you look terrified again. You couldn't tell him that though, you don't know what would happen to Grim if he found out.

There was a pause of silence. Both of you glanced away from each other to avoid awkward staring. It was annoying to you how Malleus so far has been pretending as if he didn't almost kill you. That was until Malleus spoke. "I really want you to know how sorry we are for hurting you. How sorry I am for hurting you and causing physical pain." To you, he looked absolutely pathetic for even trying to apologize. You wanted to humiliate Malleus for almost killing you, but you held back. That would make you as bad as the main cast. "… Don't worry about it. Just drop it." You ended up insisting. The fae prince seemed saddened by your response but didn't say anything. After all, he isn't the type to beg from what you gathered from his character when you played the game in the comfort of your room.

More silence ensued, but instead of Malleus breaking the silence, you did. "What brings you to the library?" Malleus seemed surprised that you asked him something about him, even if it was to ask about the purpose of his arrival. Just for a second, he seemed a little too happy for your taste. "I'm here on club activities, I would like to see the architecture of the library." He sounded a little too desperate. That caused you suspicion, instead of egging on, you thought it was best if you didn't.

Then you heard more voices coming in through the library, they sounded loud. Well, at least one of them did. The other one tried to shush the loud voice. You knew who they were. It sounded exactly like Silver and Sebek. "It sounds as if Silver and Sebek are here, I'll leave." You bluntly stated. Before you could turn around, you heard loud footsteps coming closer and almost at a running speed and then you heard him. "MY LO-" Sebek had cut himself off as he saw you. You recoiled at his voice, which was the loudest thing in the library. Then Silver and Grim came along. You weren't as scared of Silver as you were of Sebek and Malleus, but you were terrified of him nonetheless. You took a small step back and Grim took the initiative to stand in front of you just in case.

You were surprised to see Sebek kneel in front of you. Before Silver could say anything to prevent him from saying anything, Sebek yelled his apology. "Player, please forgive me for my insolence! Punish me as you see fit!" Malleus was left stunned and Silver grabbed Sebek and pulled him up and covered his mouth. It seemed out of character to you, Silver isn't really the type to get physical unless he has to. Grim was stunned at Sebek, dumbfounded even. The sleepy knight turned to Malleus and tried to hold himself back from scolding his lord. "My Lord, please stop trying to run off like that. We're lucky that Sebek has a good eye and saw where you ran off to." Malleus cringed when he said that. You looked at Malleus suspiciously. "I thought you said you were here for club activities." Silver looked at you and Malleus, he seemed to have had the color of his face drained as he still held Sebek who sounded muffled and tried to shake Silver off. Malleus couldn't even look you in the eye and turned his head in shame.

Grim shook his head in disappointment. "You guys keep making things worse for yourselves." You looked at Grim and then at the three Diasomnia members before speaking. "We'll take our leave, let's go Grim." You walked off towards the end of the row of books to avoid going through the three men who tried to bring harm to you once. Grim followed behind you and three other men seemed like they wanted to protest your departure, but they walked in the opposite direction.

The way back to Ramshackle was quiet, but you were busy thinking about that interaction. Maybe it would be best if you visit the library later in the night whenever you want to do research.

[dalamjisung]

feel something ❁ lee minho

genre: p u r e  a n g s t

word count: 5835

pairing: reader x lee minho

description: he was a habit that was just too hard to break, but you did it. two years ago, you broke the vicious cycle that was him... until he came back.

[to be read as a continuation of Habits of My Heart, but can also work as a stand alone!]

You are in his apartment.

How the fuck did you end up in his apartment?

And is that– yes, that’s his arm, laying heavy on your naked waist.

Fuck, is all you can think, raising your head from the oh so soft pillow while blinking your tired eyes awake. This is not how you planned to spend your holiday, but alas, there you are. Under his soft, striped sheets that, moments ago, you held onto for dear life as you moaned his name so prettily. That, you are sure, is something he would love to talk about once he is up, and that is why you start stirring, slowly moving despite the anxiety rising up your throat having you ready to run. It’s still quite dark, the cold, winter days taking their time with sunrise, but you could see enough with the dewy shine coming in through the sheer curtains. Your underwear is thrown by the end of the bed, and somehow, you still manage enough strength in your legs to drag it up to where you can reach with your hands. Unfortunately, your body is trapped under his weight, half on top of you and half taking every little free space available, and you can’t really move too abruptly or else he’ll wake up and you’ll be forced to face a reality you’re not quite ready to.

You’ll be forced to face Lee Minho.

“Oh come Y/N, are you really back on that dating app?” Sam asks, laughing her guts out over the cup of coffee that has long gone cold. “You didn’t even last the month!”

And she is right– last time you deleted that god forsaken app was three weeks ago, with the promise of taking a break while things at work started to pick up. Cue to now, 21 days later and counting, and you are back on it, swiping left and right whenever you feel the odd tingle of boredom creeping in. It’s an easy distraction, is what you always say; the amount of men in that app giving you a bit of a power high at the opportunity for choice, but the conversations bringing you way back down to the sad reality of the dating world. In between ghosting people and being ghosted, finding ‘the perfect match’ is impossible. For those that claim that they found true love on such places, you simple smile and nod– there is no point in debating your beliefs on modern if they are living their own happy ending. All you can do then is bubble a little in your jealousy, pretending is not big deal.

“Let me see your profile,” Sam is one of your closest friends, and definitely your biggest enabler. “Are you still using that photo of you I like? The one in the red shirt with– yes, you are, amazing.” Her feedback is overall positive, from the pictures, to the prompts, to the profiles of the people you matched with. “Oh! Miss dating app has 23 new likes! Let’s check them out, I’ll swipe– no. No, no, no, no way… right? No way!”

You are not sure what she’s talking about until you catch a glimpse of your phone in her hand. And there he is, that same photo you had swiped right on two years ago. Black and white– a dramatic flair, you’re sure– with him in the centre, smirking in a way that it seems almost taunting. It’s like he hasn’t changed at all, like time stopped when it came to him, and you can’t help but gasp in shock. Your hands are trembling when you grab the phone from your friend, bringing it closer to you in a way that very much so said you didn’t believe your eyes. “Holy shit.”

Two years. “Holy fucking shit.”

Two years without talking to each other. Without seeing each other. Without texting. “Holy shit, it’s Lee Minho.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” You mutter like a crazy woman, and it gets on his nerves. It would get on his nerves, that is, if he was awake. Minho likes to tease you; he likes to push you away only to make the pull that much more appealing. And you fall for it, every single time, no matter how many times before you promise you won’t.

The routine is the same, as if you two are following a script. You get to his place– he never have and never will step foot into you apartment– and you text him. It feels oddly detached to ring his doorbell and announce your arrival, so a message is more than enough. The first thing he does is basically roast you for being unable to open his door, and really, who is he kidding? That old thing is so stuck in place you’re a bit surprised he’s able to have guests over. You try to tell him so, but he just clicks his tongue in that condescending way that makes your eyes roll as you follow him inside.

As always, the apartment is impeccable. He might be many things, really, with annoying being one of them, but the man is neat. The floor is clean, the lighting is perfect, the music in the background washes over you like calming waves trying to still your racing heart. Minho has this power over you, making you nervous in a way that no other man ever has, even if this is not your first encounter… by far. But you don’t show. Actually, you refuse to show, purposefully acting a bit too nonchalant about being there at all, loving how you can see it ticking him off by the second.

But before that– before the flirting, before the fucking, before the sneaking around with your underwear in your hands, there was the game. And boy, did you hate playing that fucking game.

Hey :D

What do you want, Minho?

What do I want?

I don’t know! I have a lot of things to say sorry for! :)

So… sorry! I acted like an immature dick back then.

I had other reasons to behave the way I did, but I don’t want to use them as excuses and just wanted to apologize

Apologize? You want to apologize after two years… on a dating app?

Well, okay… Uh, thank you, I guess? You did act like an immature asshole and I appreciate your apology.

But you do have my number, so I’m a bit confused as to why you just didn’t text me?

I do have your number, but… sometimes all we need is a push, you know?

I got this app yesterday and you were literally the third profile that showed up. Seeing your face again felt like a punch to the gut haha

And I thought I’d just say that if I could go back and do it all over again, I’d be better. For you. You were never anything but nice and understanding, and I should’ve treated you better.

So if you ever feel like… trying again… I’d love to give it a shot.

Are you serious, right now?

With all due respect, Minho, you gave me no reason to want to try and give it a shot. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the apology and I hope you are good and happy, but there is no way in hell that I’d ‘try again.’

Just thinking of the messages has you cringing. It was probably the stupidest thing you’ve convinced yourself of– the fact that you wouldn’t fall for his pretty words. It’s like he has a way with them that truly makes you wonder if he’s in the wrong profession. You tell him that, too, saying he should have been a poet or a fiction writer; the pictures he paints to you with his words do look better in your head, after all.

It takes him five days to get into your head… by literally doing nothing. After the conversation dies, with many more attempts of ‘let’s try again’ and empty ‘I miss you’s, you feel like you’re on a runner’s high. You feel like you’re on top, like you’re the winner of this stupid game you two always end up playing. But then he doesn’t text again. No ‘good morning’ or ‘how are you?’. No ‘thinking of you’ and definitely no begging for you wonderful, amazing presence to be back in his life. Now, it’s a little foolish to believe he’d ever do any of those– not even when you two were actually dating, two years ago, did he do that, so why now? What’s different now?

Well, to start, you. You are different, and he knows it. You’re grown now, more mature than you were. You are smarter, too, despite falling for the same words you feel for before. And now, you want different things too– no more silly ideas of a perfect relationship; no more giving your heart away in a whim, no more letting him handle you like a little stupid toy, no more wanting to call him when things get tough. All you want now– more like all you need, really– is some relief. Things have been hard… and that is putting it lightly. Work is hell, the winter is harsh, and life is just… a mess. So yes, safe to say you are desperate for some sort of soothing relief, looking to ease that growing tension on your shoulders.

Hence the dating app.

Going on dates is harder than you remember, when you begin again, but you simply amount the exhaustion to work and push yourself to get past your door, and out onto the street. It’s like you have a schedule for your free time as well as one for work– Hyojoon Friday night at the bar, Juyeon Saturday afternoon for lunch, Mark Sunday evening for an early dinner, and the list goes on and on and on. A few are first dates only– actually most of them are– but the ones that make it to a second or even a third date remain as that. A second or a third. As bad as it is to say, none seem to excite you as much as Minho did. Some are boring, and those are, oddly enough, the ones you try to stick to the most. If they are boring, you think, they won’t surprise you with any hurtful realisations of how you are not enough, or how they are better alone, or how they ‘can have some fun, but otherwise, just don’t have time.’

And it’s one of these boring ones, the ones you want to work so badly, that is the last drop in your very, very full bucket.

“And what do you think of climate change?”

You try so badly to ignore the itch in your hand, making you want to grab your phone and check that useless app again. You have your notifications off as a way to not allow an obsessions to arise but it’s futile and, honestly, quite naive to believe you’re not going to overthink every little thing that man said; and so you check, again and again, to make sure you don’t miss a message you know it’s not coming. It has been two days since he sent you anything and yet, you still check, and check, and check. The funny thing is that you meet Jeongin on the same app that Minho reached you on, but unlike Minho, your first date with Jeongin is one that you count the seconds to end.

“Climate change?” You repeat, eyes wide a bit in surprise. There is a smile on your lips, stiff and so well trained that, at this point, you don’t think it’s even believable. “I worry about it, of course.”

“But you eat meat?” He asks. The glint in his eyes tell you that he finds amusement in caging you against a wall. “That’s not very environmentally conscious.”

“No, I suppose it’s not.”

The close-lipped smile and the way your eyes discreetly check your wrist watch should have been enough, but he still manages to drag you to a coffee shop, running from the rain that poured all over you two as you marched out of the park. Tomorrow is a Monday and you have a presentation to prepare for, but still, he ignores you. And talks, and talks, and talks. By the time you make it home, you barely have any energy left to re-read your slides before passing out in the couch.

Date two isn’t much better, but at least it is a nice day and there are some musicians out playing in the park to keep you entertained as you two sit in complete silence. He’s not a chatty one, and you’re kind of tired of putting so much effort in and getting nothing back, so when you get home after that, you promise to not go out with him again. It’s a bit of an ego trip, how much he tries to contact you for a date you’ll know he’ll silently through, but you keep up with your dedication to your peace of mind. It’s not that deep, once you think about it. All this guy knows about you is the basic stuff– what you work with and how busy it keeps you. You take ages to respond to his message, and yet he still tries, and, at one point, he tries too hard.

It’s more the joke he makes than anything. You are mid report writing when you get a notification about an Instagram account trying to send you a message.

Hey Y/N, found you.

Who is this?

Kai!

Oh! Hi :) hahah how did you find me?

Took me hours lol

After that you just tell him that you’re not really ready to date and that you’re too busy, but it was lovely meeting him. After that, you get scared, and tired, and defeated. It’s like no matter what you did, you still couldn’t feel safe. No matter how many times you went out with them, how many chats over coffee you had, how many slightly intrusive questions you asked… it was never enough. It was still strange and new and unfamiliar and, quite sadly, unsafe. The slight touches have you flinching and the hungry looks make your curl inwards. Dating is hard for you, mainly because you’re not adventurous or fearless, quite the contrary– you are very, and with all the right, paranoid.

So when you text Minho, on your way home, regretting every words typed, you know that despite breaking your heart and acting like a class A idiot, he is, and will always be, familiar.

Familiar. Yes, Minho was familiar— everything about this situation was fucking familiar. The way that you hurriedly got dressed, the way that you walked on your tippy toes in hopes to make less noise, the way that, when you did make noise, you flinched, looking at the door in panic. Waking him up is not an option. Throughout the night, multiple times he tells you about how busy he is; how he has to write a speech for work, and how he has to present in front of a very important crowd, and how he is oh so nervous to do what he always does. And multiple times through the night, you nod and smile and say that ‘everything will be okay’, even if you don’t quite know what you are nodding and smiling about.

Is it because you’re there with him? No, that’s not it. There was a time Minho made you happy; a time in which the aftertaste of him lingered in your lips and you smiled, wide and unabashedly, every time your tongue poked out to lick your lips. A time in which the smell of his cologne that clung to your sweater would make you blush at the memories of limbs intertwined on the couch and whispered words floating in the air. Yes, there was a time in which Lee Minho made you happy. But that time is now long gone.

“Why are you here, then?”

And isn’t that the question of the hour? Why are you there? On his couch, laughing with a cup of wine in hand, retorting every little quip he throws your way. There are quite a lot of them– Minho is a man that likes being right, he likes being on top… in all facets of life. Winning, for him, is extremely important, and you wonder just how much he’s willing to sacrifice for that first place position in a competition with no one else but himself.

Actually, you know how much he’s willing to sacrifice. You know it very well. “I was bored,” You shrug, taking a sip of your glass. “And horny.” It’s no secret why you’re there. Or at least, it shouldn’t be. You know he’s trying to get a rise out of you, as he always does– something about how cute you look when you’re all flustered and annoyed– and you wonder if he knows how cuter you can get when you’re excited and driven. You wonder if he knows how much you can talk about something you love, instead of having to talk about something irrelevant. You wonder if he knows you at all and it’s quite depressing to even question that, chuckling to yourself at the thought.

Of course he doesn’t.

In some odd self-defense against yourself, trying to ease the admonishing conscientious voice in your head, you tell yourself that his laughter is nice. It’s quite loud and free and his shoulder wiggle in amusement, and you like when he laughs. The same way you like when Sam laughs, or when your flatmate laughs, or when your work teammate laughs… the same way you like when anyone you care for or about laughs. And this is not news to you, you’ve always known you care for Minho. His opinion matters to you, and his words, as fake as they can be, still get to you. You might be blinded by youthful impulses and thoughts of immediate satisfaction, but you are definitely not an idiot– you see reality, but you wilfully ignore it for a few hours or so. Minho allows you to do that, and it’s quite a relief to allow yourself to do it, too.

The moment he sits next to you is impactful. The air stills, and it’s more out of expectation than anything else– will he make a move now? Later? There is no dance in between the two of you, as ironic as that sounds, but more of a game of who can surprise who. He enjoys the moment he touches you first, you know he does; it’s the smirk on his lips that gives him away. He adores tugging you closer, even if it ends up with you two crampled up in awkward positions on his couch. And he lives for the moment of the first kiss of the night.

It starts like it always does– a simple touch of lips, a bit of space for reassurance, because Minho is many things, but he is not forceful; and then the lunge. You smile everytime he does it and maybe you’re at fault for how smug he looks about it, but it doesn’t really matter. You like the lunge, you love it, even; it appeals to something inside of you, a need to be needed, to be wanted, that has you putty in his hands with one single move.

There is time.

You convince yourself that you still have time, and that maybe rushing around the empty apartment at 7 in the morning is not needed. Minho sleeps like a log, and unless you break something, he’s not waking up. And even if you break something, he might not wake up… or he might just not care. The later hurts a little, but you’re used to being hurt by him and you accept that you have no one else to blame but yourself… after all, you’re the one that told him you wanted something like this– casual, noncommital, stress free.

All in all, the plan is supposed to be fail proof. It’s that youthful impulsive behaviour, you see, and you are quite embarrassed to admit it, but you are not, in your core, a casual person. You are not noncommital and stress free. If anything, you are probably the most commital and stressed person you know, dedicating a full 110% of yourself to everything you do. It’s why you are always so tired, so burnt out… it’s why you avoid, with everything you have, debates and discussions. You just don’t have the energy to do all that anymore. You are still young, but you’re not stupid, anymore, and that’s what changed.

Sitting on the couch as you pull your sweater down, you sigh. “What the fuck am I doing?” It’s laughable, the amount of times you sat on that couch and asked yourself that exact question. Your friends don’t even want to hear about this anymore; they get annoyed, with you, with the situation, with him, and it’s always the same. 'You’re too good for him' or 'he doesn’t deserve you.' They are not wrong, but there’s only so many times you can try to tell them that you know that. You know; you know better than they ever will, and as much as you embrace their annoyance as love, you’re annoyed too. You want to vent too. You want to laugh about stupid shit Minho does too. You want to make all the mistakes you just weren’t allowed to make when you were supposed to make them, and he is definitely one of them. You want to not have to think about everything al the time, to be right all the time, to make the smart choice all the time. You want to simply not think all the time, and better than anyone else, Minho lets you not do that.

“Arms up.”

It is easy to ignore the bossy tone of his voice when his mouth is working on your neck, kissing, licking, biting. It feels good– it always feels good and, sometimes, it feels too good. Right now, however, it just… feels good. Feels peaceful and serene. It’s like time doesn’t matter when you’re kissing him, like all you have to do is follow his lead and not think and you love that. You love that feeling, even if you don’t love him. “Good girl,” He whispers, smiling as he pulls your sweater over your head.

It’s cold outside. Really cold, actually, and you shiver the moment the air hits your skin, goosebumps littering your arms as you shiver. Minho is on it, though, warm hands touching you all over, spreading a path of fire through your back and stomach and arms and breasts. “Cold?” He asks, and it’s a stupid questions, but it makes you giggle. These are the moments that are okay to pretend… okay to pretend he cares, with his hands tracing patterns all over until your bra goes missing, your pants are open, and his fingers are slowly brushing against your wet underwear. With his voice, mellow and soft, whispering sweet nothings and everythings against your ear, calling you all the names he knows you like to hear. With his restrain, cock hard against his jeans but not rushing or pushing until he knows you’re good and ready for him.

The thing about his house is that, as much as his living room is this sea of mood lighting and comfort, his windows run from the floor to the ceiling. You dream of the day you’d be brave enough to fuck him right there, on the same couch you two always start but never end– but right across the street is a bar, filled to brim every night you’re there, almost as if he had invited a crowd to watch you crumble at his fingertips. “Room,” You gasp, air being knocked out of your lungs just as his fingers tug your underwear to the side, teasing your entrance while playing with your clit. It’s amazing, how he moves his hand in the little space your pants allow him to, but with every push and pull of his fingers inside you, you gasp. Minho knows your body just like you know his– he knows what you like and it just so happens, he likes it too. Likes seeing you like that, breathless and limp; likes kissing you as you moan his name, wiggling on his lap as you make out on his couch. Likes when you beg him, to go to the room, to speed it up, to make you cum. He likes being in power, you assume, as much as he might not like you.

“You wanna go to the room?” He chuckled, speeding up his movements in a way that has you too distracted to event think. “Not a fan of exihibitionism, are you?” You would have laughed if that wasn’t the exact moment he chooses to pull his hand out, fingers dragging up, up, up to your clit for a little tease. A taste of what you can you have if you just let him work. “Come on, let’s go.” But before he can even take a step towards the familiar room, you tug him by the collar for a kiss, filthy and wet, and you basically rip his shirt off of his body. He is soft and hard at the same time, pun intended. For a man, he takes a lot of care of himself, and you envy the clear and soft skin of his chest, feeling self conscious about the blemishes you know you have. It’s an anxious impulse to pick at your arms, and it’s times like these that makes you cuss are your longish nails.

You forget all about it when he moans at the feeling of those same nails scratching down his chest, stopping just below his bellybutton. These moments are rare, you never have a chance to have some resemblance of control in how things unfold between you two, but something about it makes your eyes twinkle… and you want more. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re so hot.” And you are– you feel like you are and that’s all that matters as you pop the button open, making space for your hand to slide down, under pants and underwear, to grab a hold of him. “Oh…”

There’s a draft coming from the room, where he insists on sleeping with the window upen as snow covers the entire street outside in white, and you shiver almost the same way you did last night. Except this time, you don’t have his sweaty, overheated body on top of yours, and it’s not as pleasant anymore. You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting on that couch, but you do know it’s time to get up and go. At one point or another, Minho will notice the empty space next to him in bed, and you don’t wish to be there to find out if he cares enough to come look for you or not.

You grab your jacket as if it’s made of glass. He hangs them neatly at the front door, which is right next to the room entrance, and you are scared to even step on his wooden floors. If the wood gives you away, then you are not sure you’ll have the guts to face him again. Usually, when you leave like this, doing the classic Irish goodbye and disappearing for a couple of weeks or so until someone falters. To be fair, so far, t’s an equal score. You wonder if there is an unspoken agreement between you two that dictates whose turn is it to text first… last night, it had been him.

“Fuck!” You moan, and just like before, you wiggle in place in a silent plea. Sometimes, in your opinion, Minho takes too long with his teasing, but you know it’s on purpose. Like how he is right now, brushing the tip of his dick between your folds. If it wasn’t for the condom, you’d feel the way he leaks in excitement. But alas, that’s one level of intimacy you are not, and never will be, ready to have with him. Someone, maybe, just not… him. You will never give yourself that fully to Lee Minho, because you did, once upon a time two years ago, and it was a struggle to get yourself back. “Minho, please, please just– oh my god…”

He’s a calculated lover. He knows just when to push and pull, and just then, as you beg and buckle your hips into him, hoping to feel that delicious, burning stretch of him, he pushes. Despite everything, you don’t quite like feeding his ego, and so you try and hold back the whimper that threatens to escape.

The build up of sex with Minho is slow. He pauses, moaning into your neck as he gives you a couple of seconds to get used to the feeling of him. “Y/N, fuck,” He whispers, moving to give you a bruising kiss and that’s when you know your time is done. The way he pulls back and pushes in again, and again, and again starts to build up inside of you, making you throw your head back into the pillow, fingers sinking into his back. You enjoy keeping him close, knees pushed up to his hips trying to feel him deeper, harder. You like the way he picks up the pace little by little, hipbones harsh in how they snap against yours, letting you know you’d be sore for next day with the echoes of his skin on yours. “Minho!” You moan, feeling his harsh breathing on your cheeks. A shiver runs up your spine when he fucks you harder, mouth everywhere until he finds bliss sucking marks on your chest. “Fuck, baby, please, please, please–” At this point, you’re not even sure what you’re asking for, just wanting to feel that tension in your stomach explode and tingle everywhere, blanking you out from existence.

It’s not an easy job, making you cum, but he never fails to impress you with how determined he is. Not that he has ever been successful, but as you explained before, it’s not about the destination, but the journey. Sometimes, you think the reason why he keeps calling you back is the fact that you are a challenge. Sure, he had made you cum with his mouth before, those sinful lips wrapping around your most sensitive part as sucking like he was trying to drink you fully. Or those hands– long fingers drawing an orgasm out of you as if he was simply beckoning you to come closer and closer to him. But cumming from his dick, as much as your mind loved the fantasy, is hard. It’s more of a you thing than a him thing, but he is relentless in his mission. He pushes away from you, as much as your grabby hands try to keep him in place, and raises to his full glory, standing on his knees while holding your hips up to match his erratic rhythm. “So tight… feels so fucking good,” He groans, bringing one leg over his shoulder and you can’t handle it anymore. It’s odd, feeling this good yet feeling pain at the same time. Your leg is cramping up, and your hands are holding onto the bedsheets so tightly you might just crack your fingers out of place, and your core… god, your core is on fire.

“Minho, please, just– oh my– cum, please baby,” Your twisting your whole body in a sensation that is foreign to you, and for a moment, everything stops. This is the first time you know it’s coming… you feel it, so close yet so far, and just as you’re about to tip over the edge, that euphoric sensation starting to spread in advance as your stomach coiled tighter and tighter as he pounded into you harder and harder… until he groans, impossibly loud, and his hips slow down to a stop. “You have got to be kidding me.”

What comes after is not that important– mainly because it’s not you, even as he slides his body down the bed, throwing your legs on his shoulders to get to work. If there is one thing Minho excels at, besides driving you absolutely nuts, is coaching you to the brink. It’s a shame, really, that you panic early, never letting him push you off the edge and make you cum so hard you scream his name in that high-pitched tone he loves teasing you about.

It’s a hard relationship you have with yourself, really. On one hand, that’s the only reason you’re there, the sex, the panting, the hours that pass by and you don’t even notice. But then, on the other hand, as much as you chase that orgasmic feeling like a madwoman, you don’t want it to end. No the sex, no– sometimes, all you want is for it to end, because you’re close, so so close to cumming that you might just ruin it all.

You don’t want to lose.

If you cum, you lose. It’s a sick game, and you’re playing it with no one else besides you, but you refuse to lose. This time, you’re on fucking top.

This time, if anyone is getting heartbroken, is him. If anyone is ending up on the floor crying, it’s him. If anyone is desperate for answers, it’s him.

This time, if anyone is losing, it’s fucking Lee Minho.

“Leaving early again.”

Chuckling, you don’t really acknowledge him yet, finishing tying your boots and wrapping your scarf around your neck, your chin, your face. You cover everything his eyes trace, smirking under the soft fabric and enjoying how it brushes over your lips so gently… he’s never that gentle with you, so it’s a welcoming contrast, your inanimate scarf to Minho.

It’s cold out, cold enough for the little skin you have on show to numb. With every step you take away from him, you numb. With every goodbye wave, every nonchalant glance, every uncaring smile– you’re numb to the point of feeling like you’re hypothermic. The cold, you find, opening his front door, only brings you back to a state of being you’re awfully too familiar with.

“What can I say,” You shrug, refusing to admit the defeat that is when he simply leans against the wall, smirking as if he knows what you’re going to say next. “I have nothing else to do here.” And with that, you step out, ignoring the pang in your stomach when the door actually slams shut behind you.

You can’t lost, you remind yourself one more time, marching to the subway station just a block away.

You can’t lose because if you lose, you lose him. And if you lose him, you’re numb forever.

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

Hi lovelies!!! Oh my god, this one was a wild ride >.< I hope you guys enjoy it, my little heart needed to write this as a venting session haha

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

Connected ch2

pairing: chan x reader

genre: hurt/comfort

word count: ~1.5k

warnings: crying, overall sadness, mentions of food

an: this is a repost from my recently deceased blog hyunjins-orange-slice. may she rest in peace.

masterlist * previous chapter * next chapter

today was hard. it seemed like every day had been hard for you recently. and not for any particular reason that you could pinpoint. life just felt.. hard. everything just felt so heavy. all day long your mind is constantly going with ‘you’re so fat’ ‘why did you say that? you’re weird.’ ‘remember that embarrassing thing that happened in 6th grade?’ ‘no one likes you.’ ‘everyone hates you, of course they do.’

“why can’t i just have a good day?” you said aloud to yourself, feeling defeated. all you wanted to do was go home, crawl in bed, put your headphones in and turn on some music. or maybe a comfort audio, though you felt you were a little dependent on those these days. so when the time finally rolled around for you to get off work, that’s exactly what you did. you unlocked the door, not even bothering to say hello to your cat, you headed to the bathroom to change your clothes. you avoided the mirror at all costs, not able to look at yourself. once the comfy clothes were secured, you went to your room and flung yourself on the bed. finally you thought. you curled under the cover, pulling it up to your chin, phone in hand. you slipped your headphones in and opened your music app.

you turned on some stray kids, because of course you did. hearing their voices, especially chan, you immediately felt somewhat soothed. you closed your eyes and let the music take over.

i tried to hide away from all the sorrow and pain

but little did i know that i was going insane

the tears started to gather then, at the corners of your eyes. you squeezed them shut tighter, a few tears slipping past and down to your pillow. you really loved that part of the song. the whole song is so beautiful, but chans voice there really makes you emotional.

you thought back to his messages from the other day. by the other day you meant it had been a few weeks. you had felt down and have had plenty of nightmares, but you never reached out to him again. you felt like you would be bothering him. you would be a burden to him, just like you are to everyone else. he only reached out the first time because he felt bad for you. he only told you to message him just to be nice. he didn’t really mean it. but sometimes, just to soothe yourself, you’ll open the chat and reread the messages he sent. thats what you did now, opening instagram you read through the chat again, smiling at his flirtatious attitude.

•

at some point you must have fallen asleep. you wake with a start from yet another nightmare, covered in sweat, tears streaming down your cheeks. it’s dark outside now, the middle of the night again. you just want one good nights sleep. just one. your phone is still clutched in your hand, instagram chats still open. you go to close the app, but hesitate. maybe you would send him a message. he probably won’t answer, but you thought it was worth a try. you could really use the comfort. but you found yourself struggling again with what to say. you had typed out a few messages, but deleted each one. you sounded too desperate. too annoying. until eventually, you had almost talked yourself out of it altogether. you drafted one last message:

“had another nightmare. came back to reread these messages. they comfort me. thank you again.”

and before you could talk yourself out of it, you hit send. you don’t know how long you sat there, phone in hand, chats open, staring at the screen. but you eventually fell asleep again, not waking up until morning when your alarm started blaring in your ear. you rubbed at your blurry, sleep filled eyes. rolling over, you see your phone. it was still open to instagram, the battery almost dead. you grab for the phone, your chest filled with hope, only to be crushed by the last message you sent. he hadn’t answered you. of course he didn’t, why would he? he’s busy, and you’re a nobody. you plugged the phone in and dragged yourself out of bed to get ready for work.

•

a few days had passed, and things were still the same. every night after work, you went home and crawled into bed. some nights were better than others, those nights where you could actually stomach some food and force yourself to take a shower. and other nights were bad, where you couldn’t do anything but stare at the ceiling and let the dread creep in.

tonight was one of the bad nights. you stared at the ceiling, the same old fan slowly spinning overhead, the same comfort audio you had listened to about a million times played in your ears. you knew you needed to eat something, you hadn’t had anything all day, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. you just continue to lay there.

suddenly, your audio cut off and a weird ringing filled your ears. a sound you had never heard. you looked down at your phone and you had an incoming call from instagram. who knew you could call someone through instagram. you were more shocked to see who was calling. it was chan. you immediately started to panic. what do you do? was he calling to tell you to stop contacting him? was he mad? why wouldn’t he just block you if that was the case?

with shaky hands you reached out and accepted the call.

“he-hello?” you stuttered.

“hi!” he answered. he sounded a little nervous, but it was clearly chan. there’s no mistaking that voice. “i’m so so sorry i didn’t answer your message. i didn’t see it until just now. i had my notifications on, i promise. but instagram never notified me. i’m sorry. are you okay?”

your brain short circuited. was he just calling to check on you? he didn’t sound mad or annoyed.

“you..” you started your sentence but lost it after only one word.

“you’re upset with me.” he sighed. “i really am sorry, i don’t know why i didn’t get notified of your message.”

his voice sounded sad. you could hear a little commotion in the background, what sounded like playful arguing and laughter. but it was muffled, almost like the rowdiness was in the room next to him, the loud voices traveling through the wall.

“i’m not upset with you.” you told him. “just- just a little surprised is all”

“surprised?” he asks.

“yeah. i never would have thought you would call me.”

“is it okay that i did?” he asks. “i noticed your message and wanted to apologize for not responding. and i felt like it was too important to say over text… so i called.”

“oh. well, i don’t mind. you’re very nice, chan.”

he nervously laughed a little at that, and you could feel the corners of your mouth turn up slightly at the sound.

“you never answered me.” he said. and you were confused. you were pretty sure he was the one who never answered you. that’s why this call was happening, right? “are you okay?”

oh, he meant you didn’t answer his question from before.

“yeah, i’m okay.” you tell him.

“that didn’t sound very convincing.” he says, chuckling.

“no, i’m okay.” you reply. “just, the last little while has been hard. but i’m okay. i promise. you don’t need to worry about me. you’re so busy.”

“but i do worry about you. im always here if you need me, im never too busy for that.” he promises.

“i-i wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“you’re not bothering me. you deserve to be happy. you deserve someone who will listen. and that’s me.” you could tell he was smiling, you could hear it in his voice. you really didn’t know what to say. you didn’t know what you ever did to deserve someone like chan in your life.

“hyung, minhos ready to start practice again.” you faintly heard someone, who sounded a lot like han jisung, say in the background.

“okay, i’m coming. just a sec.” chan answered. “i have to go.” he says to you now, “i’m sorry i couldn’t talk longer. i’ll text you, okay?”

all of this felt so surreal to you. you had to be dreaming right now and it would soon take a turn for the scary and you would wake up screaming.

“uh, yeah, of course.” you say. “only if you have time.”

“i’ll make time.” he tells you. “try to get some rest. and don’t skip meals, yeah?”

you shyly nodded, but then realized he couldn’t see you. “yeah. okay.” you answer.

“okay, bye.” he says, his voice soft, almost like he is sad to be hanging up.

“bye, chan.” and then the line goes silent.

to be added to the taglist for this series, just let me know.

🚨reminder: this blog is 18+ only. i’ve been getting a lot of new followers (which i greatly appreciate) but if there’s no age identifier on your blog, i’m blocking you no questions asked. (for my own sanity and peace of mind.) ik some people don’t actually go to my page to read the warnings, so im going to start attaching a warning at the bottom of all my posts. thanks for understanding. 💕

[moonstarhui]

through the phone

Pairings: afab!reader x minghao Warnings: smut, masturbation, phone sex 

───────────────────────────────────

How could you have expected that you would be having phone sex, just because of a single story your boyfriend, Minghao, posted?

Going back and forth from one app to another while simply scrolling through your phone. After all, it was a dull afternoon.

You almost put your phone down after yawning when you unexpectedly received a notification that Minghao had tagged you in his Instagram story. Even though you were tired, you contemplated checking it when you woke up, but curiosity won out.

what a bad decision…

Tapping the notification, you were baffled with what you just saw. How can your boyfriend just post something like this?

It was you on his lap, inside the dressing room. Pants discarded and you remembered too well what you felt when that picture was taken. His erected bulge against your heat. Of course, it did end up with him fucking you. Before you even know it, you already feel yourself getting tensed and feeling that wet sensation beneath you.

You replied to his story :

baobei???

minghao is typing . . .

do you not like it?

should i delete it?

NO

it’s just

nothing nvm

what’s wrong?

nothingg

say it

baby you know i’m just human ahhaha

brb

whyy i wanna talk to you 

:(

can i call?

You knew you were doomed if he rings you up, but you also knew you could never say no to him. How could you? He was missing you, but he was clueless with the effect he has on you. Groaning, how can he call you when you want to touch yourself so fucking bad.

You've made the decision to reply to him, you're completely unaware that it's been five minutes since you last left him on seen.

unless you wanna hear me fuck my fingers, sure

oh

why not ask me to fuck you

i’m impatient and need it now, you’re like 20 minutes away from me

hmm.. okay

go do your thing

you want me to join you? joke lol

sure :)

You told yourself that it was just a joke, but a part of you did wish that he would call. The ringing of your phone hit you back to reality, fuck he’s really calling, huh?

You answered the phone, shuffling around on your bed trying to get comfy.

“Hey.” you said, but more of coming out as a whisper.

“Hi” he replied turning on his camera.

Of course he’s fucking shirtless.

Removing every piece of clothing you had except your underwear, more than ready to fuck your fingers. “Fuck, you’re really testing me.”

His voice was stern, lust visible in his tone. “Turn your cam on, baobei.”

You turned your camera on and placed your phone on the bedside table, your boobs flashed on his screen. He licks his lips, definitely aroused with what he’s seeing and you can hear him whisper “gorgeous” under his breath.

“Go touch yourself, baby.”

“Oh, I fucking will.”

You began to squeeze one of your mounds with one hand while simultaneously reaching down with the other to touch your clothed pussy and sticking one of your fingers inside of yourself.

Minghao groaned with just hearing your light moans which eventually made him start palming himself through his sweatpants. “Move the camera so I can see all of you.”

You fixed the position of your camera, moving it farther so he can see every inch of skin you have, and proceeds with rubbing yourself through the lace.

It was one thing for Minghao not to be there to please you — but him grunting into the microphone made you feel even more helpless.

Your hand traveled all the way to the inner of your laced underwear.  Visions of him clouding your mind.

His lips turned up in corners, proud that he can make you this wet with just the thought of him. He hummed and rubbed his shaft, still wanting it to be you giving him this pleasure. “Good… you’re touching yourself so well huh?”

Getting your phone, you wanted to show him your amorous actions. You positioned the camera between your legs, showing all of your cunt to the camera and continued rubbing your folds. “Wonder who could’ve gotten me this wet.”

“I haven’t even done anything, baobei. What more when I ruin you later, hmm?”

Heavy breaths filled your room, thrusting your fingers in and out of your clit. Lewd noises every time your fingers go deep down you. You squeezed your boobs, nibbling with your nipples and trying to picture it was Minghao who is playing with your body.

“Show me how you are right now, Minghao” You plead wanting to see the state of your boyfriend who is in no better condition than you.

He moved the camera upwards, showing all of him. His eyes closed, lips getting bruised from biting, hand rubbing his dick. Oh what a sight for sore eyes.

His grunts made you envious, wishing that it was your hand making him moan out those pretty noises, instead of his.

“Want your lips on my pussy right now, you to eat me out.”

“Do you me to come over after? Fuck you into your mattress while you be the good girl you are?” He managed to laugh out between his whimpers.

You practically begged for him to come over, feeling pitiful of yourself for being so weak for him, for wanting him so bad that you can’t even manage to be a tiny bit patient for him to get to your place. No, you needed him as fast as you can, even if the means would be displaying both of yourselves in the camera.

You hear him moaning your name, fuck him I swear (you wished). “Do you not have any toys?”

You get your phone and hold it above you, flashing your boobs while you squish them making him groan.

“I do, do you wanna see me use them?” You chuckled out, watching him react to the way you’re playing with your breasts.

He smiled. “go on, use your favorite one.”

You placed down your phone back on your nightstand, opening your drawer to reveal your vibrator that you haven’t used in awhile. I mean, you had no purpose for using it, your boyfriend was there to give you more than enough sex (not that you were complaining).

You laid back on your bed and turned on the said toy, “This doesn’t make me feel as good as you though.”

“I know, baobei” he murmured, “Your toy can’t even come close to how good I make you feel.”

You looked at him, still seeing him rubbing himself. “Can you spit on your hand and rub it for me? Only rub your shaft until I tell you that you can touch yourself.”

He did as what you told him to, rubbing it on the tip of his cock and spreading it all over. “Fuck, if only this was your spit.”

This made you grow wetter, moaning to his words.

“You sound so pretty, my baby.”

Hissing at the sudden feeling of your vibrator entering you, you start moving it and told him to start pumping himself.

Minghao followed you, still groaning and moaning your name. “I’m really close what the fuck, you got me so hard.”

“Eye contact when you finish, baby.”

From being the one who was extremely horny and was practically drooling, to him following your orders. How ironic. You increased the speed on your toy, thrusting it in as much as you can while looking at your boyfriend. This made you clench and realized that the knots in your stomach are getting harder to hold in. “Baby, I’m gonna cum soon.”

His breath got heavier as his noise becomes gradually louder, and getting ahold of his phone. He showed you his torso, and the way his cum lands on his abs as he chuckled, “This should’ve been your mouth, baby.”

You whimpered his name as you finished, wetting your sheets and telling him how much you need him.

He hummed as you dropped and attempted to regain your breath, “Let me get my keys and I’ll be on my way to you. See you in a bit, baobei.”

He smiled and cut you off before you could respond, leaving you speechless.

Your body remained stunned.

he’s coming over already?

Before you even got to gather your thoughts, you suddenly heard the doorbell rang.

:P

[sanyu-thewitch05]

Hunter's daughter doing the loli dance trend

She became an internet sensation in a night and Hunter is gonna go hunting down the predators

He's making sure if his daughter becomes a child star, she'll have the best protection

A/N: Sorry, this took so long to answer. College is pilling up on me again. Also, I made Hunter's daughter a teen (15 going on 16) in this because I don't know how to write children who are really young.

"You did what?!" Hunter shrieks, waking you up.

"Hunter, what are you fussing about now?" You ask, getting off the couch.

"Come see what your daughter has danced to on that clock app!" Hunter yells, making their preteen daughter, Melody go into the kitchen.

You look at Lauren dancing and are slightly impressed she can dance so well.

"She got my moves," You say, smirking until you see Hunter's face."But, of course, the lyrics of the song are very inappropriate."

"Mom! That's so unfair! You've danced to much more inappropriate songs when you were on the majorette team when you were my age," Lauren whines, making you go still.

"Oh...true," You mumble, looking away from your eldest daughter.

"Don't use your mother's past against her. You're not going to dance to songs with lyrics like this on the internet for who knows what to save and view. In fact, I'm going to Henry to completely wipe this from the internet," Hunter says, storming out of the house.

You and Lauren look at each other and then laugh.

"How about I cut you a deal? You can still dance, but you join my old majorette team?" You offer, passing your daughter her phone.

"Deal!" Lauren exclaims, hugging you. "I wonder how long it's going to take for Dad to realize that the video of me doing the loli dance trend was in my drafts?"

"Oh, probably a while. Despite your father's job, he's not very smart. I remember when we were dating, I asked Hunter to get me a B-cup bra. He brought me a literal bra with bees on it. I laughed so hard that water spurt out of my nose. The best part was that the bra was an A-cup!" You laugh, making Lauren burst into laughter. "Oh, and then there was the time at our high school graduation, Hunter nearly fell off the front of the stage!"

You and your eldest daughter crack up and eventually stop.

"Mommy, what are we going to do for food?" Melody asks, tugging on your sleeve.

"Hmmm...how about GIRL DINNER!" You scream, making all of your daughters shriek with delight.

You give them your phone and they order their favorite dishes from their favorite restaurants. You pay for the order with Hunter's debit card and go into your room for face masks and salon care.

"Ugh! What does Elliot want now?" Lauren groans, flopping onto the bed. "Oh, Dad wants to know why there were four transactions on his debit card."

You had almost forgotten Henry has children. Elliot VanHelding, the eldest of Henry's children, goes to the same school as Lauren, and Delilah. Not only that, but he seems to fancy Lauren, which makes you worried.

"Just tell him we decided to take a girl's day off," You respond, sipping a strawberry lemonade margarita from the fridge.

"Ok, mom!" Lauren says, high-fiving you.

Hunter receives the text message and smiles a little.

"So, is the video deleted?" Hunter asks Elliot, crouching next to him as his friend's son does his magic.

"Yep! Completely erased from her drafts!" Elliot says, turning around to face Hunter.

"Drafts? So it was never published?"

"Nope."

"I've got to get back to my house."

By the time Hunter had gotten back, you, Lauren, Delilah, and Melody had locked every door, entrance, and window.

"Honey, this isn't funny! Open the door!" Hunter yells, pounding on the door.

"Sorry, babe! It's girl's night now!" You exclaim, shutting the curtains.

Hunter sees you wearing a fake scarf with cheap star-shaped sunglasses and hides a smile. Hunter grabs a pillow and blanket from the trunk and makes a bed for himself in the backseat of his car. He takes in the smell of the blanket and takes comfort in knowing that it smells like your perfume from when you went to the beach with Hunter for the summer before your senior year in college. His mind fills with summer memories, and they carry him to sleep.

[creativekha0s]

Rhea Ripley x Liv Morgan oneshot! You know one of these times I’ll stop myself from cutting it short before the good stuff happens. But you have to keep the readers wanting more 😅 Anywayyyys, enjoy!

————————————————————————

She was stood up. Again. This was the third time in the last two months and exactly why she hated these modern dating apps. No one knew what the hell they wanted these days or how to make their mind up.

In the corner table of the bar, Liv Morgan sat with two glasses of beer. Well, the one she ordered for herself was empty. The one for her supposed date she downed more than half of its contents while she waited patiently, and then impatiently. She checked her phone one last time at the messages she had sent that were left unanswered before she ended up blocking said person. But in her sudden frustration, that wasn’t enough. Three times in two months? Liv deleted the app from her phone and down the second glass of beer before heading over to the bar counter and took an empty seat at the very end.

“Can I order a Manhattan please?” Liv asked the tall tattooed bombshell of a bartender that she didn’t remember seeing on her way in here earlier, but she was also really excited for this date tonight that she put a lot of positive vibes towards. “You know what? Fuck it, make it two.”

“Coming right up, love.” Liv wasn’t expecting the accent, she stared for a moment with a smile then leaned her elbows on the counter with intrigue. “Rough night I take it? I’ve only started my shift half an hour ago, but every time I glanced toward your table you were by yourself still.”

Liv nodded her head and let out a soft sigh. “Yeah, you could say that. Sort of one of those ‘disappointed but not surprised’ kind of deals.” A frown flashed across her lips. “They didn’t show up again.”

“You poor thing. Well love, my name is Rhea and my job tonight is to make sure you walk out of here in higher spirits.” Rhea put together one of her finest Manhattan drinks she could make and set it on a bar napkin in front of Liv. “Starting right now. Oh, hang on. This one’s on me.” Two shot glasses were set up on the bar counter between Rhea and Liv so Rhea could poor them out two shots of straight whiskey.

“To new friends?” Liv asked while raising her shot glass.

“To not letting down pretty girls.”

“You can call me Liv.”

“To Liv.” Rhea raised her glass with a slight smirk and tapped their glasses together before knocking it back at the same time as Liv. She noticed how the blonde wasn’t affected by the stinging sensation in the back of her throat and raised her smirk even more.

Throughout the night, Liv sipped at her Manhattan while she got to know Rhea the bartender, or Rhea Ripley as she soon found out. It was a slower night than steady being only a Tuesday night so Rhea didn’t have much to do other than tend to the occasional patron that walked up. Some tried to get her attention more than others but it was almost to no point, as her attention was completely fixated on Liv Morgan the entire night. They talked about various topics from where they were from, what they did for a living, a few embarrassing stories from their childhood to present, etc.

It didn’t take that long for either of them to memorize each other’s smiles and what they sounded like when they laughed.

Liv was more pleased at the fact that she stuck around here in the first place rather than calling it an early night with some ice cream and late night television. And she was glad that she did. The only depressing part, after sharing another shot with Rhea and ordering another Manhattan, was how quickly the night passed by talking with her.

“Get them in everyone, last call.” Rhea called out.

When Liv closed out her tab for the night, she waited patiently at her stool for Rhea to close up for the rest of the night, the two chatting casually as the bartender wiped down the counter, refilled ice and replace empty bottles. Once everything was in order for the night, the two walked out together as the last two people for the night.

“You sure you’re okay with getting yourself home now??” Rhea locked the front door to the bar and grabbed out her car keys while noticing Liv didn’t do the same. Then she looked at the parking lot and then back to the blonde.

“It’s a long story.” Liv giggled out. “I’m just going through it right now. Got stood up tonight, my car broke down a few days ago, everything’s a mess. But I’m fine with-“

“Oh get in, would ya?” Rhea chuckled and the two got inside of Rhea’s car, taking Liv around their quiet town at the end of the night with light music on the radio playing, she took directions from Liv to find the way to her apartment. When she parked, that was when the tension slightly built up when the radio was the only sound they heard other than complete awkward silence.

“Well Rhea, you certainly performed well above my expectations. My spirits could not be any higher, thanks to you.”

“What’s that saying again? When you love what you do, you’ll never have to work a day in your life?” The accented Aussie chuckled to herself for throwing a cheesy line at her so suddenly and then cleared her throat. “It was great meeting you tonight, Liv, and-“

“Would you be okay with walking me to my front door?” Liv suddenly asked. “I mean, I’m not staggering or anything. But hey, wouldn’t wanna hit my head or anything?”

Rhea nodded her head and turned her car off while hurrying to grab the passenger door on the other side for Liv to exit from. The two walked up slowly to the front door to Liv’s apartment and their slight height difference showed better now that there wasn’t a bar counter between them as the two gazed at each other.

“It was beyond amazing meeting you tonight as well, Rhea. And if I’m being honest?” Liv took out her keys and turned towards her door to unlock it. “Like brutally honest, actually. I haven’t connected with someone like this in, like, forever. And I really would like to do it again, so maybe-“

When Liv turned back around, Rhea had closed the space that was between them, leaning her head down to capture the blonde’s lips between hers. It wasn’t too sudden to take Liv off guard but just at the right time for her liking. Their kiss broke slowly to turn into another kiss with Liv’a hands finding Rhea’s waist and Rhea’s hand cupping Liv’s face.

After a few several moments of locking lips and testing how well their tongues danced together, they broke off and the two chuckled at one another.

“Can I be brutally honest too?” Rhea asked and Liv nodded her head. “I thought about kissing you probably….twenty minutes after we met.” The taller girl bit her lip nervously unsure of where to go from here. “Maybe I should spend the night with you. You know, to make sure you don’t hit your head on anything besides your pillow…”

“Yeah…and in the morning?” Liv asked with an innocent look in her eyes, biting her own lip cautiously as well. “I might suffer a hangover and could smack my head on the corner of my drawer. Or slip in the shower.”

“You shouldn’t even be walking right now if we’re being honest.” Rhea raised her eyebrow and Liv caught the hint instantly. The blonde’s arms wrapped around the taller girl’s neck and Rhea hunched down to pick Liv up and wrapped her legs around her waist tightly. “Much safer this way.”

“So strong, my hero.” Liv giggled with their faces close together, alcohol infused breath coming out of their mouths, with something so much more sparking between them that they both felt. Reaching back, Liv opened her door and crashed her lips back to Rhea’s as she led them inside the apartment, quickly locking the door back up, and carrying her and Liv quickly but carefully to her bed, quick gasps escaping both of their mouths after every time as they craved each other more once behind closed doors.

[1mnobodywhoareyou]

A Bex verse deleted scene because I'm going to take it apart and repurpose it for other things that fit the main fic better but I want to share it as is anyway:

Alex unlocks the door and swings it open, walking into their entry hall with Willie and Reggie trailing him. They’d just come from yet another appointment to get everything settled so that their little family expansion could become permanent.

“Bex? Luke? We’re back!” Reggie calls out into the apartment. When he’s met with suspicious silence, he exchanges a look with his partners and all three of them finish toeing off their shoes before making their way further into their home. 

Reggie stops short when they reach the living room, his face immediately softening into an expression that could only be described as deeply fond. 

“Wha-?” Alex starts to ask, cutting himself off when he takes in the scene for himself. The ‘Are you still watching,’ Netflix screen is displayed on their TV and Luke is laid flat out on the couch with one arm bent at the elbow, hand under the back of his head. Laying directly on top of him is Bex, her cheek is smushed into his chest. Both of them are sound asleep.

All three of her parents breathe a sigh of relief when they notice her thumb is not in her mouth.

“Sh!” Willie puts a finger to their lips while quietly pulling out their phone, tiptoeing closer as they open their camera app. They snap a few photos and then creep back to where Reggie and Alex remain planted. 

They watch the sleeping duo fondly for a few moments before turning toward the kitchen. Normally Luke probably would have had dinner ready for everyone when they got back but hanging with a two year old is exhausting so he very likely earned his nap.

Alex, Willie, and Reggie try to be as quiet as possible as they prep and cook, working together in the space like a well-oiled machine. You don’t live together for over a decade, both in the apartment and on board a tour bus, without finding a rhythm after all. 

Dinner is almost done when they start to hear movement and whispering coming from the other room.

“Daddy! Papa! Nomy!” Bex cheers as she toddles her way to the kitchen. She reaches Willie first who scoops her up into a tight hug and nuzzles her with their nose. 

“Did you have a good day with Unca ‘Uke?” Willie asks and Bex nods emphatically. She starts babbling in toddlerese about their day with the adults managing to catch every handful of words. 

Reggie chuckles as he finishes up with his task, reaching for Bex so he can greet her properly. She immediately yields to the handover, circling her small arms around his neck. 

“Hey Munchkin, Papa sure missed you today!”

“Unca ‘Uke,” she reminds him and he laughs again.

“Yeah, I know you had Unca ‘Uke keeping you company. It’s hard to miss Papa when you’re having so much fun, hey?” he kisses the tip of her nose just as Alex comes over and wraps them both in a bear hug of his own.

Bex squeals and lets go of Reggie’s neck to try turning toward Alex. She finds herself a bit trapped and grunts in frustration. 

“Daddy!” she chastises Alex and he lets out a soft chuckle of his own before releasing the pair and taking her into his arms. 

“Did you keep Luke out of trouble today?” he asks her and she nods.

“No trouble!”

“Good. That’s my girl,” he lowers his voice to just above a whisper, “it’s a hard job but somebody’s gotta do it!”

“Hey!” Luke exclaims from the other side of the counter, grabbing the dishes to set the table. “I keep out of trouble just fine on my own.”

“Mkay,” Alex hums with disbelief. 

“And the last ‘disagreement’ with Caleb was what?” Reggie asks with a teasing grin as he takes the food to the other room.

“Completely his fault,” Luke defends. “And also irrelevant to my time with Bex. Though she does need someone to teach her about good trouble.”

“That’s my job!” Willie pipes in with a grin of their own and all three boys roll their eyes.

“I said GOOD trouble,” Luke clarifies.

“Potayto, potahto,” Willie replies as the boys settle in, Alex placing Bex in her chair between himself and Luke.

“No trouble is good trouble,” Alex states, directing pointed looks both Reggie and Willie’s direction.

Reggie puts his hands up in defense, “hey! I got it all out of my system. Y’all are all the trouble I need now.”

“Awww,” Alex and Willie coo at him while Luke pretends to gag. Bex copies Luke, causing him to beam and Alex to roll his eyes. 

“Two freaking peas in a pod,” Alex mutters.

“You’re welcome!” Luke replies cheekily letting a massive, overexaggerated grin take over his face.

Bex smiles up at Alex and he returns it, booping her nose. “What are we gonna do with them, huh?”

“Luvem!” she exclaims cheerfully, causing all four adults to burst into laughter and for her face to scrunch up in confusion.

“Yeah, Bex. You got that right, all we can do is love ‘em. Trouble and all.”

[mumms-the-word]

#17 for the writer's asks. Like you have a schedule for Nautera, and I can't fathom writing fast enough to strick to a schedule 😭, or being certain I wouldn't want to change some parts until the fic is almost done. So I'm interested to hear what your process is!

Oh man this question is so complicated for me haha here we go. Looong answer ahead so I've put most of it under the cut!

17. talk about your writing and editing process

okay so let me start off by saying...I don't have a consistent process haha

I do up to a point. So most of the time for fic, when I get an idea, I'll mull it around in my head a bit, and I might jot down a few lines or notes I don't want to forget in the Notes app (either on my phone or on my laptop), and then I'll set it aside for when I have time to write it. Then I write it, read over it the next day for edits, put it in tumblr for another round of edits, and post it when I feel like I'm happy with it.

But in reality? Oof. It really just depends. (also TLDR, writing is a process, and I love my fanfic community <3)

Sometimes the inspiration to write a whole oneshot or scene takes me and I'll write out a first draft right there in the Notes app (I tend to sacrifice work when I do this, which is bad and often why I end up with so much unfinished work with deadlines staring me dead in the face at the last minute. So I do not recommend this, but hyperfixation will hyperfixate...) I believe I wrote the entire first drafts for Choosing to Live and Ascension, Return in one day each.

Other times, I'll come back to it and play around with it for a bit. Sometimes the writing is easy! Chapter 4 for In Fathoms Below was super fun for me to write (especially the last half) because I had battle music playing and I was just so excited to get to the dragon turtle reveal. Chapter 5, which will be a much more intense action/adventure scene, was significantly harder and took much longer. I think I spent several days, probably a week fighting with that chapter, because I wanted it to be good, fast-paced, and tense...but also make sense. I'll probably still mess with it before it posts on Friday.

Sometimes, I can write a whole scene/chapter in a day. Other times it takes me several days. It really just depends. Sometimes music helps. Sometimes I just can't make one single paragraph work and it frustrates me for days (*coughcoughCHAPTER 5cough*). Sometimes I write myself into a corner and I don't know how to fix what I did, but I'm too stubborn to delete anything just yet or start over. Not every chapter/scene/oneshot is the same!

Once I have a full draft of the chapter/oneshot, however, then I start to edit it. This also changes up depending on the project. For a oneshot, I might read through it twice on my Notes app, adjusting things as I go. I try not to write a full oneshot and post it on the same day so I can sleep on it and come back to it with a fresh brain (mini fics like the Nightfall and alone, finally fics don't count, I'll post those after two read-throughs on the same day because they are asks).

Once I'm half-satisfied with it in Notes, then I'll stick it into tumblr on my laptop and use the Grammarly widget to help catch grammar mistakes. Reading it in a different font/arrangement/format also helps with finding mistakes or catching awkward sentences. Once I'm happy with it on tumblr, I'll queue it up to post, and then copy/paste everything into AO3 and post it there once it goes live on tumblr.

For a chapter of my longfics, however, I might read it several times. I'll go back and read the previous chapter and then the current one to make sure I've kept things consistent and that everything flows or transitions from one chapter to the next, for example. I'll read it once a day for a couple of days (maybe skipping a day if I'm frustrated with it) and see what each new day brings in terms of edits, fixes, and ideas. With the Masquerade longfic, because it's kind of just for me and a friend (though I'm excited that others are enjoying it too!), I'll post the chapter as soon as I'm relatively satisfied with it, maybe only spending 2-3 days on edits (not counting time spent writing a full draft).

For the Nautera/Atlantis fic, however, because I know there's a bit more hype from 2-3 more readers (and people have been SO lovely in their comments on AO3 as well!! <3), I put a smidge more effort into it. For one, I set up a schedule and wrote several chapters in advance, because last week and this week is PACKED with deadlines and work I ignored while doing other things (ahem, like writing the Atlantis fic). I wrote 4 chapters pretty much in the span of a week and then held off posting any of them until I had a good queue lined up. Then I queued them up over two weeks.

The benefit to this is that it gives me breathing room to write at my own pace while still ensuring I have content for my readers...which is different than the Masquerade fic, which I kind of write "as the inspiration strikes" and so I don't update it nearly as consistently (sorry friends). Trust me, if I posted chapters as soon as I had them ready, I would've posted 4 chapters back to back on the same day or on 4 days, and then we'd be waiting 2-3 weeks (or months) for the next chapter. I'd get bogged down by shame, I'd contemplate quietly quitting the project, it would be a whole thing. The queue helps me and my readers. I really need to implement it for the masquerade fic too.

(I still have a queue going, actually. I currently have Nautera's chapter 5 queued up to post on Friday and chapter 6 in a "midway" draft stage, and the start of chapter 7 in Notes. I don't normally write that far ahead! But the idea has me in a chokehold...and I'd rather write it than work, unfortunately.)

HOWEVER. The benefit and downside to having the chapters queued up and being excited for them is that I can still mess with them. So for the Nautera/Atlantis chapters, they might sit in my queue for a week, and every day I might go back in and make tiny adjustments. So for some things, I might only do a day of edits, maybe 2 days. For something like the Nautera/Atlantis fic, though? I have a bad habit of messing with each chapter several times lol sometimes this is fine and sometimes I feel like I'm messing with them too much, you know?

All that said, for some reason, fics don't trigger my perfectionism, even knowing I have actual readers reading and responding to them. You'd think they would, but they don't. Unlike my original book projects, which trigger my perfectionism so bad I haven't finished several of them because I want to keep messing with them, fics are consumed so quickly I feel less pressure about sharing them. I think there's a kind of freedom in knowing that once it's posted, it's out there, for better or for worse. You can fix minor edits, but you don't necessarily have to sweat the small stuff because it's just fanfic, it's posted for free, and if people don't want to read it, it's not personal. It's been really fun, actually, and I love the little community I've built making BG3 fics for people (and for myself).

I think, also, it's been healthy for me to hone my writing craft/skills away from fandom spaces first. I didn't get an AO3 until this year and I'm in my late 20s. I think if I had tried to write fanfic when I was a teen or even in my early 20s, I'd be too obsessed with the numbers. At this point in my life, I'm just happy to get a couple of comments, and happier still that my writing brings 4-5 people joy <3

It also helps to remember the wise words of one of my graduate instructors when it comes to certain projects: Done is better than good. This is a life-saver for essays and school projects, of course, but for fic, I know we want our content to be good. So I'll adjust it for fic here:

Done is better than perfect.

[thatlovinfeelin]

Flightless Bird | twelve | Bradley Rooster Bradshaw

Synopsis: Josephine Wilson Miller is alone for the first time in her life. She got married after her first year of college and became a housewife, but that life is gone now. So she runs to San Diego, to her childhood best friend Jake, where she meets the man who could very well be her salvation.

series warnings: unplanned pregnancy, just pregnancy in general, talks of infertility. past mental and emotional abuse. anxiety. talks of women's reproductive systems (idk)

“What kind of crib are we supposed to be looking at?” Jake questioned as Jose walked him through some baby store in the middle of town. 

“Well, right now I just want a bassinet. They make some with wheels so I can easily move it, or some that are good to have right next to the bed so I can get to her during the night. Maybe a combo. But either way, I don’t want anythin too bulky.”

“Okay, something sleek and simple, got it,” Jake nodded, trying to act like he fully understood, “What is a bassinet exactly?”

Jose smiled and pulled him towards another aisle, “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

They walked the aisles for a few hours. Jose carefully looked over every option, talking Jake through the pros and cons of each. Jake, who knew she was going over all of this more for her own benefit than his, nodded and asked questions here and there to try and help.

Jose had a hand on her stomach the whole time, smiling softly to herself when she felt the baby move. It seemed so strange to her, in a few short months she would be able to hold the little human that was growing inside of her. 

“Have you thought of any names?” Jake’s question came hours later when they were on the way back home. 

She had, of course, but not very seriously. When Jose was younger she had a full list on the Notes app in her phone full of baby names she loved. Sometimes she had their meanings and other spellings, other times just the name and where she heard it. She deleted that particular note after the gynecologist appointment that changed her life at seventeen.

“No, not really,” She replied softly, “I feel like its still too soon to be makin concrete decisions like that.”

“Jojo.”

Jose blinked, he hadn’t used that nickname for her since they were little kids. It was like they outgrew it by the time they were in junior high. The sound alone made her chest feel almost funny. They weren’t kids anymore…yet he was still right by her side. 

“You’re almost in the third trimester,” He reminded her softly, “It’s about time to start making those big concrete decisions. I’ll even sacrifice my dignity and put on a pair of fuzzy socks and go through that book of names you have with you. We can pig out on chocolate and watch those sappy ass movies you like, if it’ll make it easier.”

They were at a stoplight, Jose could feel his eyes on her. But she only looked forward, trying to sort out all of the thoughts running through her head. She was a week away from the third trimester, and she was told to expect a premature delivery. Her team of doctors were going to do everything they could to delay, but she would probably be put on bed rest for at least the last month of her pregnancy, if she made it that far. 

“I think I need to tell my mama,” Her voice was so quiet Jake almost didn’t hear her, “I thought about writin her a letter. That way I don’t have to hear the disappointment, and I can just be done with it. I mean, your mama already knows, and I know she wouldn’t outright go tell anyone since you told her not to…but it’s still such a small town, everyone is bound to find out eventually.”

“You don’t owe that woman shit,” Jake clarified, “She lost all right to be in your life a long time ago.”

She only shrugged, her hands gently rubbing her stomach, “Maybe so, but she was in exactly the same place I am now. I don’t forgive her, and I can’t pretend to understand how she managed to be such a terrible and selfish mother, I really can’t. But, I have to believe that, in her own way, she did the very best she could. And I want to be able to at least tell my daughter, one day if she asks, that I at least tried, for her sake.”

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Jake shake his head, “Josephine Wilson, you are a better person than I could ever be. Because there is no way on God’s green earth I would try anything when it comes to that woman.”

“You’ll understand one day, Jakey,” She smiled softly as she looked down, “The world becomes a completely different place when you have your own child to think about. I haven’t even met her yet, but I know I would do anything for her.”

He reached over to squeeze her shoulder, “ You know, I always knew you would make a great mother. Somehow, even after you found out that kids probably wouldn’t be an option, I still knew you’d have one.”

“Jakey, you need to stop sayin things like that, I’m hormonal and I will cry. You know how much I hate cryin,” Jose laughed, coughing to cover up the tears that still managed to spill.

Hours later, Jose was sitting on Bradley’s couch with her legs in his lap. Occasionally he would gently rub her calf, almost like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. He was sipping on a cold beer as a movie played on the tv across from them. Jose couldn’t help but take note of not only how domestic this felt, but also how right it felt. 

Everything seemed calm and almost perfect until Jose jolted and let out a hiss. Bradley nearly jumped, head snapping over to look at her. Her eyes were closed and both hands were pressed firmly into a particular spot on the side of her stomach. 

“Are you okay?” Bradley rushed to ask. 

“Yeah,” She let out an almost breathy laugh, “Sorry, it’s just," She stopped again and rubbed her stomach, "Yeah, okay I feel you, chill out.”

“Jose, what’s going on?” Bradley was growing increasingly worried. 

She slowly opened her eyes. She could feel her cheeks growing red, slightly embarrassed for worrying him, “I’m okay, I promise. She’s just really kicking. I haven’t felt her kick this strong before, just took me by surprise.”

Bradley blinked, lips parting slightly, “She’s- she’s kicking?”

She smiled softly before holding out a hand for him, “Give me your hand.”

“What?”

“Just, give me your hand,” She nearly laughed, “I promise she can’t bite you.”

He rolled his eyes and put his hand in hers. She paused for a minute, feeling her stomach with her free hand before tugging his hand to lead him. She looked down at her stomach, smiling as she put his hand where the kicks seemed to be directed. Truthfully, Jose wasn’t even sure if he could feel them yet, but she swore she felt the little thumps against her hands.

“I don’t fee-” Bradley stopped mid sentence and moved closer, eyes widening a bit, “Oh.”

“Did you feel it?” She couldn’t help but feel excited. 

“I-” He shook his head, smiling as the baby kicked again, “That’s amazing.”

“Sometimes I forget that this is real,” She admitted, “Like, I’m in a dream or somethin and I’ll wake up and still be in New York.”

Bradley gently cupped her cheek, “I promise this is real,” His voice was deep and raspy, “Every bit of this.”

“I swear sometimes I’ve made you up,” She whispered, “If I’d known you were waitin for me on the other side of everythin, I would’ve left sooner. I would’ve found a way-”

“Shh,” He leaned forward to kiss her forehead, right where a thick crease was appearing in between her eyebrows, “We both had some things to work out first. But we’re here now.”

She shifted so she was now more on his lap than on the couch. He tucked her head under her chin and held her close. He couldn’t help the way his heart seemed to almost skip a beat when she nuzzled into his chest. He liked that he made her feel safe. 

Jose didn’t know how to put it all into words. She didn’t know she could ever have a love like this. Sure, it was still so new, and there was still so much they needed to work out. But he was here, regardless of the fact that she was pregnant with another man’s baby, and recently divorced from that man. He didn’t seem to care about all of the strings and baggage that came with her. 

“I like the way it feels when I’m with you,” She admitted softly. 

“Yeah,” He agreed, “I like that feeling too. I think I might like it more than flying.”

Slowly she sat up, “You don’t talk about flyin, like ever.”

“I love it, don’t get me wrong. Sometimes I feel like I was born to be in the air,” He told her honestly, “It makes me feel close to my dad, it’s one of the few things that does.”

“I feel like there’s a but,” She stated. 

He smiled softly and brushed some hair out of her face, “I like that I don’t have to be any of that with you. All I do all day is talk about maneuvers and how fast and hard we can push our aircraft. There, I’m one of the best of the best, and there is a shit ton of pressure that comes with that title. None of that matters here though, because I’m just Bradley to you.”

She gently stroked jaw, feeling the slightly raised edges of old scars, “I like just Bradley,” She told him honestly, “But I think I could love Bradley Rooster Bradshaw.”

He made a noise, almost like a groan and dropped his forehead to hers, “ Oh honey, I don’t know what I did in this life to deserve someone like you, but I’m grateful for it. I’m grateful for you.”

Warmth spread throughout Jose, she tilted her head so she could gently kiss him. Once, the idea of doing anything with Bradley scared her more than having this baby, but now she wanted to just do life with him. Somehow, she wanted everything with him. 

“I haven’t felt this way in a really long time,” She admitted, “I didn’t realize how much I was missing.”

He knew what she meant. For a moment, Bradley even wondered if this was how his parents felt in the early days of their relationship. Somehow, he knew that his parents would approve of the girl that was staring back at him. He wasn’t sure if his heart ever felt this full before. 

He kissed her again, one of his hands gently holding the side of her neck while the other was on her back to steady her. For a man who swore he wanted to go through life alone, Bradley was far too content to imagine going through life with Jose. 

It almost scared him. 

When they pulled apart, there was a look in Jose’s eyes that only served to spur Bradley on. He couldn’t help but smirk a little as he really looked at her, “Do you remember that joke you made when I told you what my call sign was?”

Jose more or less whimpered and dropped her head to his shoulder. She could feel her cheeks turning red. She thought he forgot all about that, since he never mentioned it again. Of course, she blamed it on the hormones, and would gladly tell him that now that he knew she was pregnant. But at the same time, even though she didn’t know him at that point, there was truth to what she said. 

“Don’t make fun of me,” She whined, “I told you I turn into a runaway train sometimes.”

Bradley’s laugh shook his whole body, “Honey, I’m not making fun of you. I thought it was funny actually, this sweet shy, southern, little thing making a joke like that. You have no idea how-”

She slid off of him almost too quickly. The movement made her a little dizzy, but she needed to say a few things herself before he got any sort of ideas. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were a few shades darker. In another life, she would be climbing right back on top of him. Hell, she wanted to climb back on top of him and never leave. 

“I have some…restrictions,” She blurted out. 

His brows scrunched together, not quite understanding what she was saying. She looked worried as she chewed on her bottom lip. Maybe a little guilty too, which made no sense to him at all. She had nothing to feel guilty about. 

“What do you mean, honey?” He asked her gently, stroking her hair. 

“I can’t-I mean it’s not-” She took a deep breath, somehow feeling like a teenager, “I’m on somethin called pelvic rest. It’s to cut down on any potential complications, because I’m already at risk for a whole lot of ‘em.”

He was rubbing her back now. Somehow it made her feel even worse. They were grown adults, yet she felt like a little teenager turning down her prom date at the end of the night. Granted, her prom date was Jake and she ended up pulling him into the bed of his truck with her in the middle of a field. But…she just felt guilty. She felt like she was leading him on. 

“I can’t have sex,” She nearly whispered, “I can’t do anythin related to it really. I’m not even allowed long walks. I understand if that isn’t something you can-”

“I’m not an animal,” He replied calmly, “I would never try to pressure you into that anyway, or heaven forbid force you. My mom raised me better than that. While I’m sure sex with you would be amazing, I’m in no hurry. I’d much rather both of you be safe.”

Jose’s heart nearly melted, “I wasn’t trying to insult you…I just…I don’t think I’ve ever really done this before, Bradley. I mean, with Jake we grew up together and it all just kind of happened, it's like we never even thought about any of it. With Michael…I’m not even sure what happened with us now, honestly. I feel like I’m just fumblin around in the dark when I’m with you.”

He smiled sweetly, “Then I guess we’re both flying blind. Because I can promise you that I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. If I haven’t told you before, I’m at your mercy. You call all of the shots here, you get to be in control.”

“Why?” She found herself asking.

“Because you deserve all of it,” He whispered, “Every good thing this world has to offer, you deserve it and then some. I’d give it all to you, if you’d let me.”

She sighed, tipping her head back to his chest again, “How are you okay with all of this?”

He wrapped his arms around her again, but looked at an old picture sitting on the mantle across the room. In the few months since he met Jose, sometimes he swore he could feel his parents guiding him towards her. He even went as far as to talk to Mav about it once or twice. 

Bradley always seemed to feel restless before, almost like he just didn’t belong where he was in the world. Yet, with Jose, everything went quiet. Yeah sure, he had no idea what he was doing with her. He really was flying blind when it came to really loving another person, but he sure as hell loved Jose. Even if he knew it would scare you shitless to tell her  that just yet.

He could almost imagine introducing her to his mother. Maybe Jose would have her little daughter in her arms. His mother always loved babies, she made him promise to save the box of his baby things for when he had a family of his own. He knew that his mother would’ve cried when he told her that he gave away his blanket, but they would be good tears. He knew Carole would be proud of him. He wished that he knew for certain that his father would feel the same way, but he seemed pretty sure.

“Because, honey, I feel like I was meant to find you.”