#I have had this damn thing in my drafts since fucking AUGUST

[pcrfide]

He counts his days, counts his time. It’s about 76 days away til the holiday he takes to remember those he’s left behind. The irony is not lost on him as he plants the seeds in the small planter box. The soil is lovingly kneaded, the small bits of plant carefully covered. Black and white, black and white, gol

In five days, they will break free- and in ten, sprout. 

In twenty days, he’ll have a lush series of plants ready to be potted and begin to spread their little roots all over for nutrients and water. In thirty, they’ll strengthen and grow up until they’re only about eight inches high before they spread out. And in forty, they’ll flower- these zempasúchil.

Every year, Alejandra’s mother gives him the seeds to grow his own and every year- he comes to California to spend as many weeks here as he can to tend to these plants, watching them grow from seed to sprout, from sprout to flowering plant. 

And every year, the pots are brought down to the little bakery- the young girl laughingly teases him about his broken Spanish and godawful accent as she helps him decorates the baked clay. And every year, he stays those extra twenty days- putting in work at the bakery to help until it’s time to bring those bright gold and orange blossoms to where they belong. 

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

But this year- this year, he’s aching and hollow. 

His motions are slow, and tired- steps dragging a little as he makes his way down the sidewalk, a batch of sweetbreads in a bag dangling from his wrist. Brightly colored papel picado streaming banners loop everywhere, turning the normally adobe and brick city into something that looks festive and bright. There’s singing in some spots, hymns and catholic chanting in pulpits and by fountains. 

There’s guitars and accordions, drums and singers in others- a strangely mournful cacophony that manages to be cheerful despite it. The people here, like it’s city- tend to be a mix of the living and the dead, the mourning and the cheering, the bustling and the quiet. 

The space between the heart and the beat.

Every year they offer him a space on their own ofrenda for his loved ones, but every year he turns it down in lieu of the one he makes for himself out of broken wood and old cinderblocks in a forgotten cavern outside of the city. Gold and white candles with their flickering flames over photos long since turned sepia with age and bad ink. 

Flanked with those golden zempasúchil- reminding them how to find their way home. 

Ana and Reinhardt- Fareeha swinging on Gabriel’s shoulders. Jesse laughing with his hand on Genji’s shoulders, who glowers into a photo. A birthday party, a candid moment with Blackwatch half asleep from a long mission. 

The Strike Team in repose. 

Winston at his computer, lost in the beauty of an equation. Angela with a foam ring on her lips, savoring a coffee after an all-nighter. He smiles as he counts down the memories, a wrapped package beside him. There’s one more ghost he has to hunt down. One more thing he has to do, but it’ll wait until it’s time. His heart is a tired, bruised thing- beating despite the dents in it’s armor. 

The ghost is not his, never has been- but nevertheless has hooks somewhere in his ribs, despite the fact he wishes it wasn’t so.

And in the nest of it’s wrapping, the statuette with it’s black wings unfurled- the scales. 

A feather.

And a heart. 

And in the dimness of the cave, the silence of the dusty and dry wind outside- a soldier idly wonders just whose heart it might be. 

He’s tired of carrying these memories around, but he clings to them regardless because if he doesn’t- who will remember them? Who will make sure that they aren’t forgotten? Who will make sure that they have a way to cross over, that they can be back home for one more night. It’s silly to think of something that way, but these little moments- these little traditions he’s made for himself. Little rituals and little habits- they’re all he has left.

 Still, the heart on the scales beckons him, and he picks it up- feeling the weight of the sculpted stone. It warms in his palm, leeching from his body. So many things said, so many things he’ll never say. It’s easy to understand, he thinks- the point of burying your feelings until death. The heart is placed back within the bowl of the scale, and he touches the fine detail work. He only wishes his own were that sturdy. 

And that strong.

But he’s only human, and in the end- that’s all he ever was. 

He supposes that’ll have to do.

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

@quodmessorem

[acciojaeyun]

salt air and rust. | draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x gn!reader warnings: slight mentions of smut, angst. cursing prompt: whispers of "are you sure", "never have i ever before"

summary: y/n and draco were what you consider a summer fling. something that had happened at the end of fourth year that y/n wanted to continue until fifth year at the back of their mind. but draco? he was not so sure.

Y/N saw Draco entering the Great Hall. Platinum blonde hair ruffled, something Y/N have taken to be a new thing of his. Y/N remembered how polished Draco’s hair used to be, as if it was almost gelled into place. 

Draco stood up from his position on the bed, shaking his head while wiping the sweat on his forehead using the back of his forehead. Draco looked at Y/N, embarking in the sweet aura of ecstasy and euphoria. He smiled at them, pulling them in a side hug, lips reaching for their sweaty forehead.

“Draco,” Y/N groaned, “I’m sweating!” they chuckled.

Draco smiled, wiping their forehead and kissing it yet again. “Draco!” Y/N whined, smoothing out the wrinkled cloth of their trousers. Y/N’s eyes wandered over Draco’s figure, taking in the sight of Draco. It was a sight that they would want to wake up with and sleep with after. They didn’t want this to end.

“I love your bedhead,” Y/N chuckled, reaching for his tie to tighten it before straightening his vest and placing a kiss on his jaw after. 

“Really? I thought my hair was annoying?” He challenged.

“When it’s styled as if you wouldn’t want the strands to stick out.”

“I should keep it like this, yeah?” Draco licked his lips, now then running his hands through Y/N’s hair.

“Yeah,” they breathed.

Y/N smiled at the recent thought of the scenario. It happened before the day of going back to Hogwarts. Words were at the tips of Y/N’s mouth. August 31st, a day where Y/N was certain that they were in the same spectrum, a spectrum that they were certain the both of them were on the same side.

Oh, how they wished it was a reality.

Y/N met Draco’s eyes as he wandered towards the Slytherin table, eyes quickly averting to meet that of a younger Slytherin. Brunette hair, jawline defined even at a young age, skin between that of porcelain and caramel. 

The moment Y/N landed their eyes on her, they knew they would be damned. The moment Draco’s eyes met theirs for a split second, only to linger on the younger Slytherin - August slipped away like a bottle of wine.

"I’ll be lying if I say I don’t want this,” Draco muttered, meeting Y/N’s eyes as Draco barged in Y/N’s house common room. “What?” Y/N’s eyebrows raised in surprise, grip loosening on the spine of the hardbound Magical Drafts and Potions.

Draco didn’t utter a word, instead, they were met with a harsh grip on the wrist, only to find themselves on Draco’s bed, lips hungrily meeting as hands wandered around each of their body.

The blonde pulled away from them as he whispers what Y/N was sure of was, “Are you sure?” 

Y/N smiled, running their hands through his hair, disheveling Draco’s slicked hair, pointer finger then poking Draco’s swollen bottom lip. “Never have I ever before.” 

And that’s how it started, really. In the middle of the hectic fourth year examinations as well as Draco’s increasing desire for Y/N, these were all the push Draco and Y/N needed to become a memory, memories that were twisted in the bedsheets, memories that were within cancelled plans.

“Draco!” Y/N called out after the Slytherin as they saw him scurrying towards the Slytherin dormitories. Draco visibly flinched, yet never took the time to face the person which Draco had considered a mistake.

A mistake then, and still a mistake now.

“Draco, please!” they pleaded, pace increasing to match that of Draco’s.

Draco was visibly stressed. He didn’t want the past to come running back to him. All Y/N ever was to him was a distraction, or so he thought. Why would he think otherwise? Y/N was running through his head, but he was - no, is - in love with Astoria. The Slytherin whom he had been seeing before and during Y/N.

He had already made a promise. One that Draco was determined enough to not break anymore. A future was what he saw with Astoria, one that is not sure, but a future that is. 

“It was just a summer thing! I didn’t know anything, Astoria!” Draco pleaded as he reached for Astoria’s cold hands that visibly tried so hard not to shake. “Would you trust me, would you believe me?”

“Oh, fuck you and your excuses, Malfoy!” Astoria screamed, almost that of a whisper. Her voice, hoarse. Her mind, wandering. Her life, almost sucked out of her body.

“You knew! You always knew! You always came back to me!”

And Draco, then, at that time, knew that he would trade the world for Astoria’s happiness. He was torn between two people, yet somewhere in him knew home was where Astoria is.

How Draco regretted thinking of this, he wished he shouldn’t have dragged Y/N into this whole fiasco. But he did, and he wished he shouldn’t have and if he could ever go back in time to reverse it, he would.

In Y/N, Draco found sanctuary. But that sanctuary was founded in desire and euphoria, not what he found in Astoria which was of a home. 

Lost in thoughts, Draco didn’t realise his steps were slowing in its pace, making Y/N able to scurry towards him easier. “Draco,” Y/N panted, reaching for his hands that became stiff the moment Y/N’s touch was felt and was seeped by the deepest of his bones.

“Draco,” Y/N repeated once again, pulling on Draco’s sleeves, urging him to face them.

“Please, Y/N, not now.” Draco muttered.

“Draco,” 

“What couldn’t you understand?!” Draco screamed, making Y/N flinch in his sudden outburst. “This was a mistake, we were a mistake!” He explained, turning his body to meet that of Y/N’s. 

Draco closed his eyes, head tipping upwards, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “We knew, we saw it coming. We knew the end was just around the corner, but we - no, I turned a blind eye. I dragged you into this.”

“I was so foolish - Y/N, you don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.”

Y/N sadly smiled, hands warily intertwining with Draco’s. That action alone seemed to tense Draco, as his eyes trailed towards their clasped hands, he knew what Y/N was doing: closure.

For what had been.

“We are fucked up,” Y/N laughed. Thumb circling on the back of Draco’s palm. “But I would never regret it since that brought me you.” they said, finally meeting Draco’s eyes who mirrored all feelings of regret and nostalgia.

“I’m sorry,” was all Draco could muster, even at the faint crack of his voice. He has never felt defeated before, until now.

Y/N found irony in all of it. Irony as to how this is what haunted Y/N throughout August. A moment that could turn any sweet moment into something that of regret. Within the salt air and rust on the door of Malfoy Manor on the 31st of August, just before the first of September. 

But they knew what they both wanted: closure.

For what should have been.

“That’s all we are now, I guess. A memory, what should have been, a failed potential.” Y/N sniffled, every word seemed to make their insides churn.

Draco laughed despite his pain, “Shit,” he said in between his laughs. Their eyes met in his laughter, a familiar melody in Y/N’s system. “I loved you, you know,” he paused, licking his lips. “You know I loved you?”

Y/N nodded. 

The blonde sighed. “We both don’t want to do this. But we have to understand that we need to,” he sighed. “I’m not ready to lose both a lover and a friend, Y/N.”

“I know,” Y/N breathed. Pulling Draco closer to them. “And I love you, too, Draco.” They said before pulling him down to kiss him on his forehead. Inhaling the soft waft of Draco’s perfume that Y/N had grown to become accustomed with, embracing them with the familiarity that will soon become a diminished tone.

Y/N was selfish. They knew how Draco loved forehead kisses. That for the sake of their sanity, and for the hope of it all, they had given what had been a reminder that they had once shared a love so bright that they would only keep to themselves.

Draco closed his eyes, and how it quickly came to contact, quicker did it also leave his grasp. He opened his eyes to see Y/N walking past him. Walking past what they once had.

So much for saying love, when they were never each other’s to lose.

alternative ending (a happy one)

[astarryon]

Another Lifetime: Shouldn’t Have Gotten Shot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Description of war and battle injuries, mentions of blood, gunshots, language, etc.

Summary: Bucky doesn’t like talking about her, but Dr. Raynor isn’t an easy person to argue with. And now that it’s summer –– now that he’s living through the months they’d shared together all over again, only without her by his side –– fighting the memories becomes all the more difficult.

A/N: Listen, I really don’t know what’s gotten into me but ever since tfatws started I have been INSPIRED! Hoping to update this fic sem regularly, but we’ll see where the new school term takes us. As always, I hope you enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think!

Bucky Barnes has never been overly fond of the summer.

One aspect was the fact that he could remember what it was like to be a miserable kid living in a cramped Brooklyn apartment with no air conditioning and three baby sisters who never stopped whining about the heat. Of all the jumbled, foggy memories bouncing around the confines of his skull, that one is clearer than most. And though he still finds it difficult to picture the faces of his little sisters –– can’t hardly remember arcs of their noses, much less the colors of each of their eyes –– a nostalgic, brotherly feeling washes over him all the same.

There’s also the little detail that he’d received his draft notice in the summer months. That Bucky remembers perfectly, one of the few memories strong enough to remain unmuddied by all those years of shitbag scientists rooting around his head and picking his brain apart. The heat that year had been sweltering, and once his mother found him in her kitchen with that damned letter clutched between his fingers, he felt it burn right through the strings of his heart. 

The first week of July delivered the news. The last saw him shipping out to bootcamp. 

He guessed he didn’t mind the sunshine. That part had always been nice, and it helped to calm him on occasion these days, to remember that the golden rays licking comforting heat up his skin were the same ones which had shone down on him back in the 40s, before and during the war.

Before Hydra had condemned him to seventy long years of dark and cold.

To that end, logic said the season he really should hate was winter, but he’d never felt any ill will toward the colder months, and found now, in the present, that he’d only grown fonder of them. When the rain came down from the sky in sheets, or when snow fell so thick it resembled white, puffy clouds blanketing the ground, he took walks. Partly because no other soul would be idiotic enough to trudge through a borderline natural disaster at three in the morning, meaning he wouldn’t have to put up with prying eyes and conspicuously pointing fingers, and partly because experiencing said natural disasters in solitude did wonders for the soul.

Steve thought it was strange. Hated that Bucky did it, kept insisting that he at least take a goddamn jacket, there isn’t any actual proof he can’t get pneumonia. But Bucky always shook his head and declined, rolling his eyes and muttering beneath his breath about how apparently the tables have fucking turned.

But, no. The winter, the rain, the cold –– none of that could ever draw half as much ire from him as did the gentle beginnings of June, the scorching heat of July, the fading light of August. Because those weren’t the things which served as reminders from before.

Reminders of her.

“James. Did you hear me?”

Bucky blinks hard, freeing his gaze from the wall calendar tacked up and viewable just over his doctor’s shoulder. Glancing down, he sees the familiar green of the velvet armchair –– one of three options for patients to choose from in her office, and Bucky’s personal favorite on account of the way its textures did something to sooth him as he gripped its arm anxiously with his flesh hand –– and the worn, fraying knees of his black jeans against it. He doesn’t bother meeting his therapist’s gaze. He already knows which of her expressions he’ll find her leveling at him, if he does.

“Sorry,” Bucky mutters, sucking his teeth. He hopes his voice isn’t quite as strained as it sounds –– though, judging by the way Dr. Raynor clucks her tongue as her fingers twitch toward her pen, it definitely is. “Guess I’m a little scattered today.”

The sardonic hum Raynor gives in response as she knowingly tilts her head nearly makes him open his mouth to finish the silent argument she’d started, but Bucky knows better than that. The moment he starts up, she’ll feign innocence and inquire as to why he feels the need to defend himself when no verbal accusation has been made. God damn, it would be just his luck to end up with the one government assigned therapist actually capable at her job.

“That’s what you said yesterday,” Dr. Raynor offers. “And the two days before, if memory serves me right.”

Bucky shakes his head and tsks, tapping a metal finger against his temple. “Not a funny joke, doc. Remember the audience you’re dealing with here.”

“‘Deflecting.’”

The word drops from Raynor’s mouth with a simpleness that puzzles him.

“‘Scuse me?” he prompts when she only goes on to stare at him owlishly.

“Oh, that’s what I’d be writing in my notebook,” she explains simply, folding her hands together in her lap and leaning back in her chair. “If we were using it right now, that is.”

Again, Bucky rolls his eyes, and has to make an active attempt not to cross his arms like a forlorn child. The threat in her words is easily recognizable, not that she’d really bothered trying to conceal it. She knows that damn notebook irritates him more than any other aspect of their current arrangement, and he knows she’s not bluffing. If he doesn’t start talking, Raynor starts writing –– and if Raynor starts writing, he gets tailed by government watchdogs to ensure there are no imminent incidents lurking in the near future.

He sighs dejectedly and meets her gaze. “What was it you asked me?”

“What it is about the month of June that makes you so uncomfortable.”

Bucky blinks, red alarm bells shrieking in his head. Fuck, he can’t help but think. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Caught red handed.

“June’s fine,” he tries, but even to his own ears the assurance sounds weak. To think, he’d once been the most prolific tool of espionage around –– now he can hardly deliver a lie with a straight face. “Don’t have any feelings toward it one way or the other.”

“Strike two,” Raynor quips, glancing one again toward her pen.

Fuck!

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Bucky sits a little straighter in his seat, searching for any semblance of comfort to be found while already knowing he was bound to come up short. Damn it all. She wasn’t going to let him out of this one.

“Alright, hold your horses,” he sighs, waving a halting hand. Raynor’s expression doesn’t shift. She simply continues peering at him with her dark eyes, waiting patiently for his next few words to come. “Why do you assume I’ve got a problem with June?”

“Because you didn’t start staring at that calendar until it switched over from May,” Raynor supplies. “Like I mentioned, today isn’t the only day you’ve been scattered. Seems like something we should consider talking about.”

“No,” Bucky answers quickly. Too quickly. Shit. If she thought he’d been deflecting before, he didn’t even want to know the words running through her mind in regards to his behavior now. “I mean–– well, no. I don’t think it’s that important.”

Raynor arches a brow. “Funny,” she tells him, “the way your eyes keep drifting back to the word ‘June’ tells me otherwise.”

He sighs, worrying the inside of his cheek with his teeth. Caught between a rock and an even bigger, weightier rock. The universe really wasn’t one to take his side often.

Bucky knows there really isn’t any choice here. Either he does what Raynor asks and elaborates on his suspicious behavior, or he risks facing the repercussions of those notes she’ll be jotting down in her notebook. Which of the two evils is more definitively the lesser, he can’t rightly say, but he knows which of the consequences he’d prefer to suffer through. And they’re certainly not the ones which see him robbed of the ability to walk freely down the street without a detail of armed babysitters.

So he figures that, maybe for once, being honest can’t be the worst decision to make.

“A few years ago, back before the blip,” Bucky tries, “I spent a summer in Wakanda.”

“Housed by the royal family,” Raynor nods, tone soft. “We’ve spoken about that before. You said you found it peaceful there. That you liked it.”

He did, and still does. On the nights when his mind isn’t quiet enough to let him find sleep but his heart feels light enough to forego the slideshow of horrors he’d been made to suffer throughout the years, Bucky’s thoughts often return to the bliss which life in Wakanda had offered him. He’d remember the farm he kept there, the little children who would come to sing and play and dance in trees to keep him company in the afternoons. He’d remember Princess Shuri –– Just Shuri, James, come now –– and the kindness she’d displayed in deactivating the deeper, most concerning parts of his programming. The day she’d told him it was done, turned off, that he’d never be forced to revert back to the Soldier against his will again, he’d rushed her and caught her up in a bearhug so relieved and forceful that her Dora Milaje detail had actually pointed their spears at him. He’d remember the tranquility of it all, the simpleness.

The peace.

There’s no hope of him being able to return to that place any time soon, much as he’d like to, but the memories sit resolutely concrete in his mind. The first of a new set which he’d never have to worry about being stolen away from him by the currents of an electric shock.

“It’s a nice place,” Bucky affirms, sighing wistfully at the thoughts swirling up in his head. “I bring it up because back then, that summer… I started remembering a few things. From before.”

Raynor keeps her face smooth and composed, but Bucky notices the twitch in her cheek that says she’s got a question. “When you say before,” she asks, voice gentle, “do you mean your time as the Winter Soldier?”

He shakes his head, swallowing thickly. Ironically, things would be easier, were that the case. He might not be so miserable in the present, seeing the month of June start all over again. The melancholy might not be so strong. “No, not then. I mean from before. From the 40s, during the war. I don’t know if it was Wakanda’s heat that did it, or that my programming was officially deactivated. But one night I went to sleep in my hut like normal, and then the next morning I woke up, and… and I remembered.”

Raynor clasps her hand together in her lap, the pen, the notebook, the hesitation all forgotten. Bucky sees it in her expression, the shock at the fact that he’s speaking, that she’s actually making progress in getting him to talk about things so painful he often wonders if they aren’t better left in the past. He’s still trying to figure that one out. Miserable as he’s been for the first four days of June, he figures nothing good or relieving or positive can come from retelling this particular tale. It’s all behind him now, and there isn’t anything to be done to change the ending in any significant way.

But… but he figures he owes it to her. As painful as the memories are, they can’t be anything in comparison to what she must have gone through in the aftermath of it all.

Slowly, Raynor crosses one ankle over the other. “What was it that you remembered, James?”

Bucky sighs, closing his eyes and inhaling as deep a breath as he can pull. He lets it loose after counting to six, then opens his eyes again and crosses his arms over his chest. “It started back in June of 1944. I got shot.”

––

June 1st, 1944

It was damn lucky you weren’t sleeping much these days.

A funny thought, really. One which brings a sarcastic, bitter smile to your lips as you bend your neck to get a closer look at your handiwork. Wasn’t it just two nights ago that you’d been laying in your cot, staring up at the moon through the flap of your tent and counting all the reasons it wasn't fair that the bliss of unconsciousness evaded you? Wasn’t it three that you’d considered sneaking into the med tent and downing a few of the sleeping pills meant for the soldiers? You hadn’t, of course –– god only knew the sort of trouble you’d get in if it came to pass that you were caught –– but the consideration had been there all the same.

“Fuckin’ shit!”

The foul language, mixed with the rough jerk of the body beneath your dexterous hands, was enough to steal your attention back from your jaded inner monologue. Nearly two years back, when you’d first signed on to work as a field nurse, the pained outburst would have sent you flinching. Now, the swearing isn’t anything new, and thankfully for the soldier whose leg you were currently stitching up, it was no longer anywhere near enough to give you pause.

“You better hold still unless you want this to scar even worse than it's already going to,” you tell him matter of factly, gently tugging the thread the rest of the way through your current stitch.

The soldier –– Matthews? Moore? You can hardly remember the name he’d gasped at you in pain, but you’re sure it started with an ‘M’ –– rakes his dirty hands over his even dirtier face, brown eyes squeezing themselves shut as his fingers quake with agony. “Sorry,” he rasps, skin paling. “Just… Jesus, shit hurts so bad!”

You cluck your tongue, guilt racking your heart as you push the needle through his skin once more. “Shouldn’t have gotten shot then, genius,” you murmur, shaking your head disapprovingly.

It works. For a moment the soldier’s face twists in disbelief, and in the next, a shuddering, wheezing gasp of laughter expels itself from his throat. The sight is bleak, but it’s enough to twist your heart with warmth as you once again pull the thread through the stitch. You’d learned in the first few months of working as a nurse on the frontlines that the last thing these men wanted or needed was to be coddled along over their injuries, especially by a woman. Vulnerability was more averse to them now than ever before.

Personally, you don’t much understand it –– but your work isn’t, and has never been, about yourself. 

“Look, why don’t you tell me something,” you start, glancing up to… Morrison’s…? face in apology before sticking him with the needle yet again. He jerks, but not quite so violently this time. Another one down. Only about a thousand more to go tonight. “How’d all this happen? I thought you boys weren’t meant to scope the new territory until tomorrow afternoon. Y’know, in the daylight? When you can actually see whether or not someone in the distance is pointing a gun at you?”

“Unit leader was gettin’ jumpy,” the soldier coughs out, groaning against the pain. Guilt stabs your heart like a knife. You’d have given him something for the pain if you had it, something to numb the wound. But shipments of med supplies were behind, and it would be at least a week before you got your hands on anything like that again. “Said going at night would be better, that we could get the drop on them before they even knew we were coming.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Never mind the fact that their soldiers know the land better than ours do.”

So, the unit leader had jumped the gun. You’d figured as much, when two of your nurses had run into your tent with messy hair and sleep addled expressions, panicking about the oncoming slew of injured soldiers who needed immediate medical attention. That had been two hours, six patients, and about one hundred and ninety seven stitches ago.

Again. It was lucky you weren’t sleeping much these days.

The soldier whose leg you were currently stitching up opened his mouth to speak –– whether to snark along with you at the poor choice made by the unit’s leadership or to blindly defend his superior’s decision, you couldn’t be altogether sure –– but before he could even fix his mouth to properly shape the words, a sudden roar of someone else’s agony effectively cut him off.

Steadying your hands, you carefully turn to peer over your shoulder, searching for the source of the commotion. All night, you’d been surrounded by a cacophony of screaming soldiers, but that yell of pain is one you’re certain hasn’t yet met your ears. And, as you watch the flap of the med tent swing back before admitting entry to three people –– one of your nurses and two soldiers, one leaning bodily against the other –– you discover that your assumption is correct.

“We got a bad one,” the nurse –– Sally, curly haired, nearing twenty four and a bit more capable than the other girls when met with the sight of blood –– shouts. Her eyes scan the tent, searching and searching until her gaze finally lands on you. She pauses only a moment to turn and direct the uninjured soldier to drag the one he’s supporting over to an empty cot before barrelling in your direction. “Gunshot wound to the abdomen. I haven’t really had the chance to get a good look at it, but he’s–– well, to be frank, that man has lost a shit ton of blood.”

A gutshot. Poor guy would either go through a sickening amount of pain just to die, or he’d survive, and end up having to endure even more pain. Either way, in light of your depleted supply of painkillers, ‘excruciating’ didn’t even begin to describe it.

Oh, damn it all.

“Take over here for me,” you command, gesturing with your chin to the needle perched between your fingers. Sally’s already moving to pluck it from your hand before you’ve even finished speaking. “He’s got about fifteen to go before we even think about sending him back to his tent. Don’t let him convince you otherwise.”

“You don’t think I know better?” Sally remarks drily, but you don’t have the time to come up with a witty comeback. You’re already on your feet and rushing toward the soldier writhing in pain across the tent, reflexively grabbing a collection of gauze, thread, tweezers, and rubbing alcohol along the way.

This isn’t going to be much fun for either of you.

The first thing you do is excuse the uninjured soldier, the one who’d carried him in. For one, there isn’t any need to keep him witness, and for another, you work better when an addition of unnecessary eyes aren’t tracking your every move. Besides. You doubt the poor soul laying on your med cot is at all interested in one of his peers –– one not sick or out of his mind due to his own pain, that is –– see him in this state. So, you simply thank the young man for his assistance and shoo him back in the direction from which he’d come, waiting until he’s passed the tent’s entrance before turning your full, undivided attention to your newest patient.

He’s got his eyes screwed shut tight in pain. You can hardly blame him. Of all the wounds to suffer through, a gutshot has the potential to win least desirable. It’s easy enough to see why, as the young man’s handsome features carve themselves into an expression of despair. A slick sheen of sweat coats his pale forehead, dampening his dark hair and sticking it to his skin. He’s biting down so hard on his bottom lip in effort to swallow his screams that you’re genuinely shocked he hasn’t drawn blood.

Though, part of you wonders if there’s even enough blood left in his body for his lip to bleed. Deep scarlet blooms stain his green shirt, so thoroughly soaked through that the fabric has turned almost black. Swathes of red cover his torso, his pants, the pale skin of his arms. It’s everywhere, already leaking onto the white sheets of the cot.

Sally wasn’t kidding. He really has lost a shit ton of blood.

“Hey there, soldier,” you start up, setting your collection of medical supplies down before taking a closer look at his torso. Shirt sticking to his skin the way it is, you aren’t going to be able to get much done until it’s out of the way. And, given that this man is certainly in no state to shrug it off himself, you’ve got no choice but to cut it. Lucky that you’d thought to grab a pair of scissors too, you suppose. “Don’t suppose you might be able to help a girl out by telling her what year it is?”

His jaw works for a few moments, teeth grinding together so forcefully the sound is audible. You think he might be gearing up to let loose another scream before he shakes his head a single time. “I got–– got shot,” he wheezes, whole body shaking, “not concussed. Don’t–– ah, don’t really… get how the year’s relevant.”

You exhale a bemused scoff through your nose, considering your response as your scissors work their way through the bloody fabric concealing his wound. You’re working as gently as you can, and so far it seems to be doing the trick. The soldier hasn’t flinched once since you started, though it’s hard to tell if that’s more due to the fact that he hadn’t noticed any difference one way or the other, or if it’s because he’s dedicating what strength he has left to keeping his head screwed onto his shoulders.

“Fair point,” you reply, still carefully cutting through his shirt. “How about a name, then? Little more relevant to the conversation, I’d say.”

It takes a few moments of silence for him to respond –– almost as if he’s trying to remember that he’s got a name –– but eventually, it comes.

“James,” he tells you, the single syllable leaving his mouth in a pained grunt.

You nod, cutting away the last of the fabric. “Nice to meet you, James,” you tell him, carefully peeling the tatters of his ruined shirt from his abdomen. “You just hold tight a little longer for me, alright? We’ll fix you up good as new.”

It isn’t a pretty sight, what you find beneath. Under all that red is a nasty wound, jagged and swollen at the edges, punched into the flesh just beneath the southmost edge of his ribcage. Thankfully, no bones have been hit –– a shattered rib would be immediately evident, both in the pitch of his screams and the deformed shape of his chest –– but the wound is more than a little inflated. There’s a puffiness to it that you can’t comprehend, a stiffness to its perimeter that doesn’t click in your mind, until––

Until you see the small, dark center, and suddenly it does.

You swear beneath your breath, a filthy, ugly word that you’d picked up a few weeks back from one of your patients. You don’t even know what it means, not really, but speaking it feels cathartic enough that you don’t altogether care.

Oh, sweet, holy hell.

James cracks an eye open, muttering, “Darlin’, you rea–– you really gotta work on your bedside manner.”

“Alright, listen to me, James,” you tell him, forgoing a witty response. You don’t have the time, not considering what you’re now dealing with, and you figure James will appreciate your working hands more than he’ll appreciate your shitty attempts at banter. “There’s… there’s something I need to do for you, before I can start patching you up. Now, normally I could give you something for the pain, but we’re out of the anesthetic I need. So this isn’t gonna… it’s not gonna feel very good.”

James looses a labored sigh, oddly calm for the clear anguish marring his face. “Shit, well good news,” he mutters, swallowing thickly, “it already doesn’t.”

His lashes flutter in a telltale manner, one which lets you know he’s getting closer to the brink and you’re running short on time. It’s easy enough, not to give in to the panic this incites in your chest. You’ve been doing this job a long time now, know that what James needs is your calm, your level-headedness. Those things have a higher chance of keeping him alive, of seeing to it that he comes out of this on the other side. Scarred up, maybe, and without the ability to breathe as deep as he once could, but still alive.

You shake your head, grabbing the tweezers from where you’d set them down before planting your forearm against an uninjured section of James’ bare chest for leverage. “Alright, big breaths, James. You scream as loud as you want or need to, but just… try and stay as still as you can, okay? I won’t be able to stop until it’s done.”

The only answer he gives in response is a shaky nod, the thick black fringe of his lashes brushing his cheekbones as his lips begin to move at a speed with which your eyes can hardly track. A prayer, you figure, or a plea for a quick end. Whichever it is, it helps him to relax just the tiniest bit more, slightly smooths out the lines of pain and suffering etched into his face.

Until you start digging with the tweezers, that is.

Then it’s all white hot screams of pain.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper beneath his cries, words drowned out by the sheer volume of the howls ripping out of his throat. But you don’t stop working, don’t withdraw the tweezers from his bloody wound. You hadn’t been joking when you told him starting meant you couldn’t stop until you finished. Abandoning the task now meant leaving James to bleed out in a matter of seconds. “I know it hurts, I’m sorry. You’re doing good, though, alright? You’re doing amazing. I’m sorry.”

It takes a moment for the tweezers’ edges to find the metal bullet lodged in his skin. At first, all you can feel is a mess of flesh and muscle, shredded and frayed from the impact of the gunshot. For a few short seconds, you wonder if your eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on you, if it would have been more wise to search for an exit wound on his back than to simply jump straight in without taking the time to stop and think.

But your worries are unfounded –– proven two seconds later when your tweezers make contact with the tiny, foreign object threatening James’ life. Carefully, you maneuver the tweezers into the correct position to properly take hold of the bullet. Then, with one last whispered apology, you slowly and carefully begin to pull.

James’ legs buck hard against the cot, arms straining at his sides where he’s got both his hands fisted into the sheets in an attempt to hold on for dear life. His teeth chatter against each other, knocking and clacking as he tries to get ahold of the screams pouring freely from him, and that thin sheen of sweat coating his skin has turned into a full on tidal wave.

But his torso doesn’t move –– not a single inch.

“We’re almost done,” you assure him, keeping your hand steady as you continue gently easing the bullet up, and up, and up. You can just make out the silver edges of it now, slick with blood and dented. It won’t be long now, before it’s out and you can start working on staunching the blood leaking from his body. Maybe you can lift his spirits with a joke or two then, a witty comment to ease some of the pain. Maybe––

The bullet slips from the tweezers, catching you off guard and jerking your hand to the left. It’s only by a centimeter, not a huge distance, but given that you’ve got edges of metal inserted into this man’s wound, to him, it makes all the difference in the world.

James throws his head back and screams, loud enough that you can instantly hear his vocal cords go raw beneath the strain of the volume. A single word leaves his lips; it sounds like Ma, only it’s warped, strangled. Much as you detest the fact, you know the sound well. A soldier crying out for his mother while under the thrall of delirium and pain isn’t exactly a rarity around these parts.

Guilt twists your heart with the razor sharpness of a cruel knife.

“Stop,” he gasps, voice hoarse. “P-please–– please stop!”

“I can’t,” you tell him, already repositioning your tweezers and going back in. Luckily, the bullet is much closer to the surface of his wound now. It only takes a second before you find another grip on it, instantly deciding to forego gentleness in favor of speed. “But the good news is––” With a slight bend of your wrist and a soft, wet pop, the bullet comes loose from his wound. “––we’re done with the shitty part.”

James’ eyes, glassy with pain and pupils blown wide, fall first to the bullet you hold up for his perusal, set against a backdrop of lowlight and your blood covered hand, before wandering their way up to your face. It’s then that you notice his irises are water blue and clear as crystal. You’re not sure why, but their color fascinates you.

“I wanna keep that,” he mutters weakly.

Then, his lashes flutter rapidly and his head lolls to the side, his lungs expelling a great, big breath before shuddering to a halt.

Your heart lurches at the sight. For one, awful moment, you think you’ve just put the poor man through all of that pain and agony only to end up somehow killing him in the process –– never mind the fact that this isn’t the first time you’ve extracted a bullet from a soldier’s abdomen, and certainly isn’t likely to be the last. But then his chest starts up moving again, at a much less worrisome pace. It’s slow, and his breaths are shallow, but they’re still breaths.

Unconscious –– not dead.

The realization is enough to make you send a mental note of thanks to whichever being was kind enough to have shown James mercy.

You allow yourself the shortest of moments to bask in the relief –– that you’d successfully extracted the bullet, that James hadn’t died during or after your attempts to do so, that you aren’t now left to set in motion the process of another condolence letter being shipped across seas to his family.

And once it passes, once you’ve inhaled and exhaled and wiped your hands on a cloth, you grab a cloth and press it to James’ wound, setting to work on stopping his bleeding –– but not before wrapping the bullet you’d just dislodged from his body in a pad of gauze and tucking it into the breast pocket of your uniform.

––

Chapter Two: Someone Good

[whump-town]

See, How The Most Dangerous Thing Is Love

Where you go I'm going So jump and I'm jumping Since there is no me without you

She can’t stop running and, like an idiot, he keeps chasing. 

warnings: i don’t think there is anything to warn against which seems odd... considering... but I did use some weird fucking metaphors and I don’t know if they make any sense... 

Hotchniss

If the tension between Aaron Hotchner and Emily Prentiss wasn’t apparent upon their reunion following Elle’s leave, it was painfully clear after Tobias. Eggshells be damned. He inquires around her compartmentalization, tone dark, and judging where JJ had just meant to build a bridge. He had aimed to tear one down. To remind her just how out of place she is in this unit.

There can only be one lone wolf in the pack.

“You came off of a desk job--”

She narrows her eyes, feet shifting. He’d come out of nowhere, as she’s finding he often does, and that just aggravates her even more. She’s a trained spy and Interpol agent, he shouldn’t be able to sneak up on her. The shield she throws between them does nothing when he already has his own firm in place. Feet planted in preparation for her attack.

Her revenge is sweet.

It starts with the way her back draws tight as a bow.

“No, stop. Stop. All right everybody right now-- what’s my worst quality?”

The flip of her dark hair, drawing the limp branch of a tree towards her chest. Poised ready to strike out towards him and the tight coil of childish glee derived from mischief in her chest. Her words the fiery snap of its release, the edge catches his cheek to leave an open, jagged wound. “You don’t trust women as much as men.” The room’s attention lays in the silence of that lashing. Their eyes watching the dark crimson of his blood trickle down his cheek.

And he wipes it away. Unflinching as he powers on. He can see it in their eyes, the way they keep looking back at the wound on his cheek. Thinking about the words and their implications. How they each drew back and laid into him with their strikes.

He can see it in Emily, the way she awaits her second chance. She’ll draw that branch back again. There are more branches, he suspects, in her forest of mistrust and impatience with him. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t have a few branches of his own he’d like to hit her with.

It is only in the most fundamental way that they trust one another.

“Don’t get me wrong, Johnny.”

A drop of sweat runs along his hairline and down the back of his neck. The heat of Alabama in August is worse than Virginia and even stripped of his suit jacket, the weather is insufferable. The rickety old pisshole of a house groans under the weight of the four adults standing in the attic. With no draft and dust covering every visible surface, it smells like something’s crawled up here and died. He suspects, if he were to look hard enough, he’d find that to be true.

Johnny and Mark Wrights have been murdering and raping teenage girls from the local high school. Grown men covered in grim and old denim-- the epitome of the white trash that comes to mind when they set out to solve these kinds of cases. It makes Hotch feel a deep shame for being raised anywhere near the south. Now, as he stands pinned to Johnny’s chest, the heavy scent of pig shit and sweat covering the man, he feels deep condemnation for the south.

He wants to get as far from this town as possible.

Prentiss’ gun is steady. As far as agents to come to have his back, he’s lucky that it’s her. Her brows raise a fraction when she steps into the room, surprised that it’s him. It takes him off guard that she’s choosing empathy with these men. She repeats her earlier statement. “Don’t get me wrong, boys,” she shakes her head and her eyes flicker to Hotch. “That’s my boss you have there.”

Johnny digs the barrel of his gun into Hotch’s face, the metal biting his flesh. He’s antsy. Emily must see that… surely, she must know that she won’t be able to talk her way out of this.

“Now,” she smirks. Her inflection has risen to nonchalance as if talking to a friend. Her shrug of indifference makes his chest feel dangerously tight. “He’s a dick,” she informs them. “Makes my life a living hell.” His eyes glued to her index finger. She’s talking and moving and if she’s distracted him with her words then she’s distracted the Unsubs too. “He’s got a little boy at home though,” her eyes flick to him.

He’s hit with a sudden understanding.

“So…” he watches her back once again. A bow, bending to snap. He ducks, this time, when her branch comes flying back at his face. Throwing his weight to the side, he takes Johnny by surprise, and before he can blink there are two quick shots that ring the end.

For a stunned moment, he’s laid out on his back. His eyes are on the ceiling just breathing and shaking.

She comes to stand at his side, offering him a hand up.

He takes it.

“Don’t,” she says before he can thank her. Her eyes are dark. She’s displeased. Not only with him and the stupidity that got them in this mess, to begin with, but for the girls. Emily had wanted to bring those girls justice. To sit at Johnny and Mark’s court hearings. To drink herself numb and to see them thrown in jail so they’d never see the light of day ever again.

Executed in the attack of some rickety old house just isn’t the same.

He nods his head.

They part ways.

But he can see her back.

And she sees his hands.

She lashes out and he pulls scabs apart. He agitates old wounds. His thumb works across his finger, picking at a scab, and then he draws blood and she watches as he dumbly looks down at his hands. As if he’s confused at why it would bleed.

A serial arson typically leaves little room for emotional collateral but, of course, he makes an exception. He digs his thumb into his finger, rubbing back and forth, voice breaking, and attention split as he makes connections that no one else sees. Gideon steps to his side, calming Hotch and stopping the trickle of blood over his callused hands. Holds his own hands over the wounds.

She sees that day, the scars that litter his ledger. The scabs… Aaron Hotchner is an open wound. He can’t let anything go. Won’t let the wounds heal. He needs the pain the way she needs the bows. She hates that she’s starting to understand this man that she hates so passionately.

Hearing him shout, the pain in his voice as he tears viciously after Evan Abby makes her falter. There he goes again, picking at wounds that should have healed. Who exactly is he saving? It’s not Abby. The man is a walking corpse, riddled with cancer. Watching as Hotch sinks into Morgan’s arms, his dread and hopelessness bringing him to his knees.

The blood falls down his hands.

But he picks at a wound that makes her bow and all is right, once again, in their little world.

“I want you on that plane with me.”

She finds him on a bender a few days later. The case is solved but that doesn’t mean she feels any better about the way that they left things. A boy swept up in their carnage-- “the boy brought me this last one. Didn’t even ask him to.” She sits down one barstool away from him and wonders if he’s thinking about that too.

But he’s scratching. Not at his hands but at the tumbler he twirls lazily around, mesmerized by the amber liquid in it. He throws what little is left into his mouth and grimaces, not at the taste but at the scab he’s just pulled free. She watches the blood fall.

He gets good at stopping her attacks.

“There’s nothing we could have done,” he breathes, the hurt in his voice the only reason she doesn’t shoot him down with a scowl. For some reason, he takes the seat across from her and pushes a coffee to her. She looks at the mug and then at him. His head dipped, eyes on the sludge he’s calling a peace treaty.

She wraps her hands around the mug. The effect of the warmth is immediate. “I know,” she admits, sipping at the liquid. God, that pisses her off. He always makes the coffee perfect. She can’t even make her coffee the way she likes.

He hums, shaking his head. “I think…” he glances at her and looks out the window. “I think I’m still trying to convince myself that.” The soft admission is so… unlike him. Where is the gruff push? The fire in his eyes. She finds only hard truth. Standing rooted where he is, he frowns with something he can’t convince himself isn’t worry.

Where does she go? Tonight, he will go home and find it empty. Which is fine because he can’t be around Haley and Jack on a night like this. He is no husband. No father. He needs to remind himself of the emptiness that is Aaron Hotchner. The pain and the torture. He’s not meant to be a father and he pushes his father’s legacy a little harder each day he pretends his marriage is a happy one.

If she can not get lost in these faux realities… What does she do?

Him. She does him.

For a month he convinces himself that he can fix the little pieces of his marriage but finds his hands covered in the jagged wounds of the glass carnage. As it turns out, some things simply refuse to go back together. He bleeds and bleeds and Emily, of all people, comes to mend his aches. Moving him away from the fragments, forcing him to let go.

The sex is harsh. He’s rough and she lets him. Urging him on with the roll of her own hips, his hair gripped tightly in her hand. They’ve hurt one another gravely and to know his weaknesses makes her that much better at drowning out his pleasure. She’s surprised to find that his mouth isn’t just good for smart ass remarks.

It sparks something deep within them both.

“Garcia thought she heard…” JJ tightens her mouth, forcing her smile down. She glances over at Garcia, the two sharing smiles that can’t be hidden. For the first time in a while, Garcia came with them on a case. Meaning their usual splitting of the rooms didn’t work so Emily, instead of rooming with JJ, roomed with Hotch.

Garcia smirks at Emily, “I just heard someone up last night.”

Emily knows exactly what they heard. She feigns innocence none-the-less. “Late?” she asks. “I was in bed as soon as we got back.” Which is true because she had Hotch pinned to the wall with a hand down his trousers before the door could swing completely shut behind them. It didn’t take long for him to flip the script and have her on the bed. “I doubt it was anyone from the team, weren’t you all exhausted?”

Garcia accepts that as an answer. For now, that’s reasonable enough. It’s rather silly, is it not, to assume something is going on between Hotch and Emily, of all people. They really sell their pitch with the heated, just under their breath, argument that they have only an hour later. Though it isn’t to save face but because he’s an asshole sleep-deprived and she’s, truly, exhausted for the same reason. JJ and Garcia both feel rather stupid for having thought the commotion the night before could be them.

Six months later, it happens again.

“We were arguing,” Emily offers with hefty-sigh. She’s not just selling her role. Lately, they’ve had to repeatedly come to a heated, uncomfortable debate. Their relationship, what it is and what is really isn’t, is being questioned. Are they enough to power through the last year? Should they be something that makes it through the next?

She rubs at her eyes, careful to keep her hair brushed over her neck. While she’d checked and double checked this morning for any marks on her neck, Hotch has been rather nippy (in all sense of that word) and the last thing she needs is explaining some rogue hickey he’s placed. Unlike him, she doesn’t have a high collar to hide behind.

JJ raises an eyebrow but says nothing. The two of them are going through something, the whole team has noticed. Though, if they’re honest, they don’t suspect the rocks and tumbles of a relationship getting onto its feet. They’re waiting for one of them to snap. Whether it be Emily, who will likely pack up her belongings and leave. Regardless of her love for the team. Hotch… well, he’s losing his grip on his so solidly built and reinforced shields. His pain and discontent are slipping through his armor.

“Arguing?”

Emily sighs, nodding. “He’s an asshole,” she mumbles. “What do you want me to say?” Her tone, tense and defensive, raises a little more attention than she meant it to. Lowering her head, she digs her fingers into her temples. She’s not sure if it’s better or worse that Hotch notices immediately as he walks into the room. There’s a tense moment, the two of them just staring at each other, before he clears his throat and jumps right back into the problem at hand.

The case always comes first. Their relationship after every other conceivable thing.

It makes sense, for them, until it doesn’t.

“This isn’t what you signed up for.”

Up until that moment, he’d considered himself hiding fairly well behind his scowl. Aaron is safely nestled where Hotch can’t hurt him and, what scares him even more, is how protected he is from Prentiss. Because Emily might have tears streaming down her face right now but he knows he’s looking at Prentiss. From the steel in her dark eyes to the conviction that feels, and is, so misplaced.

He swallows around the stupidity that tries to come fumbling out of his mouth. Something sentimental, foolish. “I don’t understand,” he manages. It has taken him his entire adult life to admit to that. To find the courage to say when he doesn’t follow and all for what? To sit here, at her hospital bedside, and grit out the confession. He can’t fucking say I love you but he can consume the poison of letting go.

To succumb where he should fight.

“Please,” she whispers, softly. But she hadn’t been the other half watching. Unable to do a damn thing while her screams, the muffled sounds of her body hitting the walls, had filled his head. He’d listened as Cyrus beat her. In a way, no he didn't sign up for this. No one in a relationship wants every thought about their partner to be about the end. Will it come soon? Leaving one partner to grieve the other longer than they knew each other? To answer to that mourning call-- what is left when all you are is taken? What parts of him are really her?

“If it’s what you want.” he rasps.

She turns her head, barring to him the sight of the bruise that takes up the right side of her jaw. That’s answer enough.

Dave takes her home from the hospital that evening, wondering what exactly it is that’s happened. He noticed the two of them today. He’s not stupid. “How are you feeling?” he asks, looking over at her on his passenger seat. Getting hurt happens but this is the first time she’s ever had to call someone to pick her up. Dave knows, in that way a parent knows that the silence of their children spells encroaching doom, who was supposed to drive her home tonight. One might call it, also, parental intuition.

She doesn’t lift her head from the window. Doesn’t even look at him. “Fine.”

Dave knows Hotch will answer with the same answer Monday when they return from the office.

Calling the two of them tense is an understatement.

Emily returns to work and they steer clear of her. The whispers follow her weary body around like a cloak. That she can manage. That is nothing.

It’s his absence that she feels.

Her coffee tastes odd. She’s grown used to the way that he makes it. Too strong and with no creamer but no matter what she does it just doesn’t taste the same. He’s even ruined tea. His mouth always tasted of Earl Grey or the bitter remnants of his coffee. Now, even smelling Earl Grey twists a knife within her. One she buried herself.

He’s fucking everywhere.

It’s driving her mad.

The worst part is that he’s not there.

In her bed, she rolls over. Throwing a leg over where his hips would usually be. She finds nothing but soft, used cotton. Not even the pillow carries the lingering scent of him.

His sweater hangs over a chair in her room but it’s absent of his warmth. She’s worn it too often and now she can’t even bring it to her face to pretend he’s here.

Nightmares plague her sleep and she wonders if this is penance for breaking his heart or if he’d just kept them away.

She watches, one night, as her nightmares crawl out of her ears sneer right back at her.

“Where’s Hotch?” Emily falls into step with JJ.

The blonde shrugs, “I called him twice. He’ll just have to meet us here when he wakes up.”

Though she falters, body stiffening and pausing, she tries to carry on unbothered. Seemingly unbothered by this progression. Hotch never lets his phone go to voicemail.

She’s the one that finds him four hours later. Lying supine, unresponsive in a hospital bed. The doctor’s words roll right off her, she takes in only that he will, eventually, be okay. And she wonders what it would have been like to really lose him. Not to just yearn for him but to not even avoid his eye in the hall. To hover with her finger over his contact and for there to be no possibility that he’ll answer.

Dead.

He could have died.

Stupidly, foolishly, she takes his hand. His eyes crack open and she pretends she doesn’t see his immediate relief followed far too closely by the pain. Physically brought on by the wounds of both her hands and Foyet’s.  “I almost lost you,” she says.

He closes his eyes when she kisses him but when they pull apart he grimaces. Consciousness is painful, miserable. Her hand clutched by his, he manages a few weak breaths. Each one builds the strength to speak. “You can’t lose what you never had,” he answers, a moment later. By the time the cruelness of his truth has hit her, he’s slipped back under the drugs. His hand limp and clammy.

He’s right, though.

They both knew where he was coming in. The ins and outs of his embrace. That he’d pull her in and push her away in the same breath. Afraid, too afraid, to try at this again and, yet, he’d tried. He might not have had the strength to manage love but he’d held her through the nights. He knew her favorite foods and was never shy about tearing her apartment apart for missing the heating pad if she needed.

And what had she done for him?

She’d tricked him. Lured him in with the lies that she could do this. But she’s still drawn tightly. A bow that lashes out. Hurting others before they have a chance to hurt her and, as a result, she’s killed him more than Foyet could have dreamed.

Mostly, what he means is that she never allowed herself to have him. She never had him and, yet, she misses him every step of the way.

They have one another one last time.

She settles her hips over his and looks everywhere but the agitated, raised scars across his chest. He’s not cleared for strenuous activity but if he can’t have her, can’t feel her lips moving up his jaw and her fingers snaking up his side he’s certain that will kill him far sooner than any strain to his body. He’d rather die by her hand anyhow.

After that, there is no more, but it lingers thickly in the air.

She’s still Emily when her name comes out of his mouth. She still watches his lips, wondering if she were to capture them with her own if they would still taste the same. He looks for her first when things get dangerous and it’s his name she wakes up crying.

Haley dies. Emily puts distance between them but he still looks for her first.

“Please,” she places her hands on his chest. Forcing his body away even though just the feeling of her palms pressed to his chest sends yearning straight down her spine. “Aaron,” his name comes choked. “Please, if you knew me, if you had any idea of the things that I have done you’d run. I need you to run, don’t you understand that?”

He looks down at her, mouth open. Can she not see him? That he is a man made up of scars and scabs. A wound that bleeds. He picks and pokes and he bleeds all over everything. “I don’t run,” he says. He hadn’t run from the carnage of his marriage. Can’t she remember picking him up after that whole affair. Digging the glass from his hands where he’d stabbed and ripped himself to shreds to catch the falling debris of a life he thought he still had.

She deflates, sinking into the realization that her love is the worst thing for him right now. It’s a drug to him and she’s given him far too much. “I know,” she says, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Because you never know what’s good for you.”

His fingers ghost over her cheek and holds her face in his hand. “You let me decide what’s good for me,” he whispers. “I can protect myself, Emily.”

Not against this, she thinks. Not against her. He’s never known when to pull away and when to fight harder. It’s going to get him killed.

But it’s her laying on the ground, impaled, gasping for breath.

Hotch sees her blood all over Morgan’s hands. The hitch in the younger man’s choked breath as he recounts what happened. Attempting and failing to keep the details straight as he tells Hotch, in great detail, what happened. The way she’d lost reality for glimpses. Asked for him. Called out for Aaron, not Hotch, but Aaron. And Hotch doesn’t know what to say when Morgan rises to his feet and challenges-- “What the fuck was that about? What did you two do?”

But it’s fine because JJ comes out and places Morgan right back into his chair, silencing him with seven words. All hitting a little harder, too solidly across his shoulders. “She never made it off the table.”

Emily Prentiss never let herself love Aaron Hotchner but that never stopped him. And, in the end, she’d been there. Through Foyet, she’d been there. Where was he when she needed him?

He sends her to London with JJ, his goodbye rushed, and guilt.

She’s in London. He goes to Afghanistan. Neither make it home entirely alive.

She should have known. 

Admittedly, she is a little wine drunk. Tipsy, really. Inhibitions lowered in the warmth of Dave’s living room. She’s missed them all so terribly that the ache of their absence being lifted has left her exhausted. She’d been in a near daze when she’d taken her wine and moved to the couch. Leaning into Dave’s side when he’d taken the seat beside her. While Jack and Henry recount the events of every day she’s missed according to their greatest accuracy.

Their silly little stories are well worth the soft laughter it draws from the others.

“Where are you going?”

So now, as she stands and leaves Dave’s side cold-- she’s not sure what she was expecting to find in the depths of his eyes but the fear is startling. “Water,” she says, holding up her empty glass. “Water and to pee, I’ve had way too much wine.” She tips the glass and winks at Jack. Trying her best to lighten the mood she hadn’t realized she’d tank just by standing.

Garcia peels herself from the chair she’s sharing with Morgan, ignoring the way he seems to startle at the aspect of losing her pressed into his side. “I’ll join you on the bathroom run, pumpkin,” she says, collecting her glass and Morgan’s from the table at their side. “Another drink, my chunky hunky?”

Morgan smirks but shakes his head, “no thanks, Baby Girl. Someone has to be sober for the drive home.”

As good as that plan sounds, Hotch still grunts. The room’s attention shifting to their leader. He’s been startlingly silent, even for him, all afternoon. Seemingly tucked away from every encounter they’ve had amongst themselves. “You’ve all had too much to drink to drive home,” he says. “You should… calls cabs.” The strength of his interjection leaves his voice as Emily meets his eyes. He lowers his gaze and with it, the point of his statement.

Dave does not fail to notice this. Clearing his throat, he agrees. “I’ll go call your cabs.” He stands, rubbing a hand down his face. Fingers working into the creases of his lips. “Aaron,” he nods his old friend over. “Give me a hand?”

That sets about the motion of the room.

Emily’s making her way down the hall when Garcia catches her. “What is it,” Emily asks, playfully. She waits for Garcia to catch up to her, holding out her hand for what she’s expecting to be a trip full of the secrets of her and Derek’s relationship. Something good. A win.

“Can you make him stay?”

Emily desperately wants to pull from Garcia’s hold. Her grip is intense, desperate. She tries to pull away from Garcia’s hold. “What?” she asks softly, looking over her shoulder for some help. “Who? Who needs to stay?”

The desperation in Garcia’s eyes is unsettling. She lowers her voice even more pulling them closer. Her voice breaks as she says it. Tears swelling and running against the mascara over her eyelashes-- “Hotch.” She clenches her teeth, showing the most self-restraint Emily’s seen since they stepped foot in this hall. “He left us,” she breathes, sadly. “A month after you were gone. I went to his office--” her eyes dart as she speaks. “I started bringing him coffee every morning to cheer him up.”

Emily swallows thickly around the guilt that creeps up. Her death had broken them. She’d known that, of course. She just hadn’t considered Hotch. Brave and strong and it’s so hard to tell when he’s hurting. Then to bare her lie? Another cross on his back. More weight on his shoulders.

“I went in--” the tears fall as Garcia’s voice shakes. “He wasn’t there. He’d cleaned his office up and you know how he is.” That big oak desk is always littered with paperwork. One side to the other. He stacks it everywhere. Leaving pens from one end of the room to the other. You can’t even sit on that old couch of his without getting stabbed in the ass by a pen he’s lost. “Clean,” Garcia whispers. “He just left, in the middle of the night. By the time we came in, by the time we could find him he was already over there. Afghanistan.”

The word makes Emily’s chest tighten. What the hell could he be doing over there? That station is always looking for profilers but it’s a death trap. Hotch had said it himself, warning her when they’d sent her the special request. They’ve been operational for five years and gone through seven profilers. All of which have died. No one makes it out of that station alive.

And he’d gone.

“Why would--” she doesn’t even want to finish the question. Doesn't want to put the truth into action. Admit that she knows exactly why he did it.

At least over there he’d die a hero. Leave his son a flag and another parent to bury.

It’s faster than anything he could swallow over here.

Garcia squeezes Emily’s arm, bringing her back to the present moment. To the thing in question. “Can you bring him back,” she whispers frantically. “Can you make him stay?”

Emily doesn’t honestly know. Has she ever been able to make him do anything? “Garcia, I--” Her mouth snaps shut as the man in question steps into the hall. His eyes dart between them and Emily feels rather like a mouse caught in a trap.

He clears his throat and scratches uncertainly at the beard he’s let grow back in. “I was just…” he looks at Garcia and then back at Emily. Clearly caught off guard. “Dave-- I… You’re, ah, the hotel is close to me. I thought I’d save you the cab fare if you wanted to ride back--”

“Yes.” Emily nods, far too quickly. “Thanks,” she says, looking anywhere but at him. “I’d, ugh, I’d appreciate that.”

Hotch looks between Garcia and Emily, before nodding and ducking his head. He leaves the hall, with a slightly awkward nod and steps out. Hands going to his pocket. Hiding.

“Will you try,” Garcia whispers.

Emily watches him walk away. The apprehension in his hesitant movements. His hand scratching at the back of his head until he can hide behind the shield of Jack’s eager talking. Sinking down beside the boy on the couch and hiding himself there. “I don’t know,” she admits, honestly.

The only person that can pull him from the ledge is Hotch and she’s seen him toe it once before.

Packing things up is simple enough.

Hotch stands towards the edge of the hall, Jack slowly falling asleep in his arms.

“Sleepy,” Emily asks Jack, running her fingers through his soft brown hair. Jack shakes his head but doesn’t raise it from Hotch’s shoulder. Hotch has wrapped him in his jacket rather than choosing to fight the boy into it. It’s more a blanket. She pulls it up around him a little better. “You’re not tired,” she asks. “I am. I can’t wait to get to bed.”

Jack smiles but doesn’t admit to the exhaustion weighing his little bones down. “Are you gonna sleep with us?” he asks. He looks down at her with the soft of his father’s. Same impossible depth is hidden behind light brown iris’. It breaks her heart to see the turmoil within him.

Emily frowns but she’s not forced to tell the little boy no. Instead, Hotch’s hand comes to the back of his head. Cupping his neck as Hotch turns to face her. “You don’t have to do anything,” he clarifies with an all too familiar look in his eyes. Mischief. A plan. “We do have the guest room. With clean sheets. You could come home with us.”

Home.

To a real bed.

“I…” she can’t force out the polite no her mother has solidified in her mind the answer to be. No because that’s not fair or right or-- she really wants to sleep in a normal bed.

He bumps her shoulder, “just say yes.”

She looks at him and then at Jack. It’s not a hard thing to want to go home with the two of them. After Foyet, she’d spent many nights camped out on their couch. Waiting for father or son to wake in a panic. He’d done the same in the hospital after Doyle, sleeping on an uncomfortable little cot just so the first thing she saw each time she woke up was someone she knew.

Now it’s different. The dynamic has changed. While he might not know the course of the night has changed, she does.

She just doesn’t know it’s a futile battle.

There is no use fighting over stupid things like sleeping. He tucks Jack into his bed and meets her in his room. She’s already pulled on his shirts over her head. Refraining, forcing herself from burying her face in the material.

It doesn’t stop her from curling into bed beside him. Pressing her face into his shoulder and focusing solely on his hand slipping under her shirt. “You tired…” he asks. She shakes her head. He hums as he thinks. Dragging his thumb over her hip bone, stroking the soft skin. “First crush,” he whispers, ghosting his lips over her neck.

She laughs at that, twisting in his grip to tilt her hips across his. Settling closer to his chest. Drawing her hand up she draws against his skin. “This girl named…” she taps at his chest as she fails to remember the girl’s name. “I can’t remember her name,” she admits, faintly. Blushing. “Does that surprise you?”

Hotch’s eyes have slipped shut, his face turned into her hair. He hums, scrunching his eyebrows. “Surprised about what,” he asks softly. “That you can’t remember her name or that it’s a she?” He pulls her closer, wrapping an arm around her hips.

Emily just… looks at him. He hasn’t even opened his eyes. He’s not even going to comment? She bites her lip and lowers her head back down. “What about you?”

“None. It’s… I’ve only ever--” he blushes, averting his eyes. “Only Haley and you.” He clears his throat… “That’s why I always tried,” he whispers. “Why I tried so hard…”

“It’s not like I didn’t try,” she defends, pulling away from his embrace. “I was trying to protect you from this whole mess. You’re the one who didn’t know when to stop.”

“I don’t know where you get off blaming me,” he says, pulling himself away. He sits up in the bed, turning himself so she can sit and stare at the wall of his back. Little scars marking up his back as he places his arms on his knees. “You ran, Emily. Every single time, you run. Not me.”

Neither look at the other.

“I’m sleeping on the couch,” he announces. “Stay. Don’t make me explain to Jack why you’re not here in the morning.”

She stays where she is. She turns this over in her mind. His words are an open palm slap to the face. She sleeps in his bed, holding onto his pillow and burying her face into the scent. She doesn’t leave but only because she doesn’t want to have to walk past him. This feels like winning so she stays. She eats breakfast with them in the morning, playing and laughing with Jack like she always has.

Like she always does.

“I leave Thursday, if you care.”

She says nothing which is perfect because he’s not sure he can handle anything she might think of.

She knows, without having to be told, that they blame her for not being to keep him here. And, maybe it’s her fault, because she didn’t really try, did she? She did what also does, she hurt him. Now she’s sitting here all alone, wondering what she could have done differently.

Everything.

“We’ll see you when you get home.”

She stands at the back of the group, watching the other’s pull him into hugs. Dave holds Hotch for a long moment, speaking softly so only the two of them can hear what’s being exchanged. Hotch pulls away from that hug with tears falling down his cheeks. “Don’t make me bury another son, Aaron. Please be careful.” And that’s when he sees her.

Derek pushes her forward and she feels all of them watching as she makes her way to him.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he confesses. He doesn’t care that the others are watching. They know enough. They’ve always known.

She feels guilty and she should. “You told me goodbye,” she reminds him. He’d kissed her right before they sent her to London with a packet of new names and passports. To be someone other than Emily. For a second chance. “It--” she looks away. She’s running, again, she knows. And she has to stop running. “It was the only thing that kept me alive, Aaron. I couldn’t let you leave without having told you the truth--”’

He glances up and back to her. Just for a moment, he wonders if the others should be hearing all this but--maybe they’re past all that. Pretending is how people get killed, they learned that with Emily, and he really doesn’t feel like being their repeat.

“I love you,” she confesses. “I know you love me, you always have. I’m sorry that I keep--” fucking it up. “I love you and I need you to come home, okay? So I can stop running.”

He doesn’t believe her. He wants to believe her but everything about Emily Prentiss always hurts and he knows it’s stupid to trust her. “Okay,” he says, afraid anything more will send her for the hills before he can even leave the country. And like an idiot, he bends his neck into her touch. Letting her rise up on her toes to kiss him. “I promise,” he whispers.

Jessica gets the call at midnight. The Bachelor finale had ended hours ago but she’d been sucked into some History channel rerun about ancient Mesopotamia. It’s the haze of the light hour, the warmth of the undertones of sand, the steady deep voice narrating, and the blanket curled around her shoulders that puts her to sleep. She doesn’t stand a chance after the day she’s had.

The call comes at 12:34 and the urgent ringing of her cell-phone makes her heart kick painfully at her chest. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes with one hand, she accepts the call without looking to see who it is. Not that her tired eyes would have recognized the caller anyway.

Not serving as a soldier, the process for notifying the family of any health changes requires a different take. For Aaron Hotchner, it’s put into the FBI’s hand. He’s their tool after all, not the US Army’s.

“I’m sorry to wake you, ma’am,” the voice offers.

Jessica scowls at the formality, sitting up on the couch and desperately searching for the remote. She kills the screen and the room is bathed in silence, aiding her ability to understand and think about what’s going on. “Ugh, can I help you?” She pushes her hair up out of her face, searching the ground and coffee table for a spare hair tie.

“I’m calling in regards to Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. I understand this number is supposed to be the personal line of Jessica Brookes? You’re his emergency contact--”

He deployed in October. Giving her only a week’s heads-up. He’d had the decency to look ashamed of himself, of the state of being he’s caused for them all. She’d understood his situation. Losing his friend had broken him irreparably and he’d wanted to talk about that even less than he had Haley. At least he’d warned her, she knows he hadn’t extended his team the same courtesy.

The man on the line goes on. Something about moving bases and a promise to get back to her as soon as possible.

“Thank you for your service,” the man concludes.

Jessica blinks, frowning at the phrasing. Aaron wasn’t serving. He was punishing himself. This was penance.

“Goodnight.”

She sits back on the couch, eyes vacantly taking in the wall in front of her. He’s on his way home. That’s good but she can’t help but… he’s hurt. Hurt enough for them to discard him back here. How bad is it?

Emily can’t deny her horror.

His eyes move to the blanket. To the empty space of where his limb once was. “It’s… It’s just a leg,” he whispers. He blinks heavily once, twice, and sighs softly as he fails to keep his eyes open. Humming, he parts his chapped lips but can’t find any more words. He’s too tired. “Could be…” his voice slurs and he exhales a heavy breath. “...worse.”

Emily wants to hit him but she’s done being defensive. She’s tired of being the first one to pull away. For once, she just needs to be the one that holds onto a hug a little longer. That lingers. “You could have died,” she whispers thickly. Gently, hesitantly she touches his hand. To her surprise he is the one to move, intertwining their fingers. She sits by his side, eyes glued the empty part of the bed. The nothing of where his leg is supposed to be. Does it really matter that much, though? A single leg?

Not to her. She’s had months to pretend. Every night she has escaped to a new reality with him. Come up with every variety of reality that might occur. What she’d do if he’d come perfectly fine and how they’d have kids and he’d never wake in the middle of the night with nightmares because she’d kill his monsters. How she would cope if he came home horribly disfigured or entirely different. Would it matter? They’d still be Aaron and Emily.  

“I’ll never walk again,” he informs her. His head is tilted into the pillows, casually watching his news wash over her. He wants to know if she’ll stay if he can’t go. If all these years were about the chase, would she stay if he can no longer follow?

She sits down in the chair pulled up to the side of the bed. People have been in and out all afternoon but she’s the first one to receive this news. The other’s don’t really matter because he knows the script, can imagine how each of them react. Garcia will cry. JJ will too but not until she’s leaving. Dave will take it well but he’ll utter something strangely sentimental and sober with the realization that walking was never the priority of Hotch coming home. Morgan and Reid are his wild cards and he doesn’t want to tell them at all. But that’s just not how this works.

“At least you won’t go running off on me.”

He knows what she means, the implication and the diversion. With a huff he raises an eyebrow, “I’ve never been a runner, Emily.”

Emily.

No, she supposes, he never has. “If you can’t run,” she says, heart skipping around in her chest. She feels it pulsing in her throat, tossing itself around in her stomach. “If you can’t run then I won’t run.” She stands, swallowing thickly around the swell of fear in her throat. He watches her, looking up at her as she hovers for just a moment. When she kisses him there are no sparks. Something cold, icy runs it’s fingers into the grooves of her spine but she’s not gripped by any startling realizations.

It’s too late for that.

But he tastes like Aaron and to a girl who’s never had a home in one place, she’s only ever running. Here, against him, she knows what people mean they say a person can be a home. Because she wants to curl into him and forget the edges of Emily. Aaron. It’s always been Aaron.

It surprises him that she stays. She waited until things got hard.

“I’m going to have to go to physical therapy every week.”

She shrugs, “I’ve got a library of books waiting for me to read them. I’ll tackle my reading list.”

“I can’t walk,” he reminds her.

She raises an eyebrow, “so? I didn’t love you before because of your ability to walk.”

“Emily--” he needs her to understand this isn’t as easy as she’s making it. Using the bathroom, showering, sex isn’t even going to be easy. She can’t just brush it off like it’s not going to bother her. It’s bothering him! “Emily, I can’t hold your hand when we go downtown. I’m going to need your help taking a shower and getting to the bathroom. I’m going to have to look for a new apartment because the one I have, there’s no way I can work a wheelchair around in it. It’s-- I’m not the same! We’re not the same!”

She knows. Yesterday she asked Morgan to rig up something in the bathroom. She spent hours with Morgan trying to put a handle or a rail in beside the toilet without ruining the wall. Ordered a shower chair last week that Morgan is probably putting together right now. Garcia and JJ are looking for apartments with larger floor plans because she doesn’t want to be presumptuous and assume he’d want to move into a house with her. But she’s waiting for the right time to bring it up.

“Maybe that’s for the best,” she says. “That we’re not the same. I’m different too.” Does she need to create her own list? Dedicating it all to words for him to comb over. She can’t sleep through the night. Even though it had been a wooden stake that had “killed” she can’t hold a knife. Her hands tremble, this weakness she can’t explain. Her abdomen is just scars, riddled with ugly skin hardened by trauma. Is he prepared to see that?

“Look at me,” she says, squeezing his hand. “It’s been me and you for years. You’re the only thing I really know. So, I’ll take you as you come. However you come. You loved me when I ran, I can love you with a little baggage.”

He frowns, trying to find an out. Not or himself but for her. But she’s unwavering. “Baggage,” he finally caves. He smirks, shaking his head. “Of all the words in the language you know and you pick baggage?”

She cringes, shrugging, “I didn’t really think about it. It just came out.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

She smiles, “you love it.”

He hesitates for a moment but nods, “I do.”

[boogiepilgrim]

thanks for tagging me @taste-thewaste, love ya ⭐

fic writer interview

name: bethany (bluemoves98)

fandoms: ok first off i wanna say i dont . consider myself a fic writer? the one on my account ^ began on a whim. back in the sweet days of yore, summer 2019, on like my fifth watch of rocketman. the part where bernie says "we'll go to my raench. we’ll hide awaehy" hit, and i was like...... um. holy fucking shit. the idea was born. and so i was like, omg i bet ppl ARE writing fics about this. so i went, and i 👀, and i saw the dynamics people were wanting to read about, etc... & the particular one i skimmed through didnt do it for me. like, it just wasnt.. believable where it needed to be, stuff like that. ppl were wanting to read/write about an abusive relationship, but that random one, to ME, was totally off the mark. so, i took the idea i had (the ranch idea, which had branched by this stage into the telephone thing..), and concocted a story that depicted that in a more accurate, there-is-absolutely-nothing-sexy-about-this way. the answer to this question is: rocketman

two-shot?: i..do not know what this really means. i know what a one shot is? hmmm. perhaps you could consider nlh a two-shot considering im lich writing a companion story for it ☺️ xx stay tuned for that x

most popular multi-chapter fic: there only is one babey. out now. sequel coming soon........ im hoping august 8th... . but lets call it "soon"........ . ..

actual worst part of writing: like you said, ambie, finding the time to actually do it. with work n whatever else, it's hard to find stress-free time to do it sometimes

how you choose your titles: in true traditional fashion, title and chapters were all lyric excerpts that i felt pertained in some typa way

do you outline: i doooo. i think you need to, to some degree. like even the bare minimum. i DO love the freedom of taking it in any direction at any given time, but i also enjoy knowing where im headed and where i need to bring everything. the one im writing now, i think, is a lot more steadily outlined than the first one was.

ideas you probably won’t get around to, but wouldn’t it be nice: i dont actually plan on writing any more after this. ALTHOUGH i have a like lighthearted funny fantasy story based entirely on captain fantastic (the song) that has nothing to do with this, that i started writing on the side, in ye olde drafts. so who knows hunniez

callouts @ me: bitch, you didnt need to do bernie the fish so damn dirty. im sure ppl like @luzff, @rocketthem, @hobbit-with-tea, @killmypiano or anyone whos read it could answer this more accurately. or colourfully. fkhsjfjsjf id love to know

best writing traits: i havent got any idea. again, someone who has read it might be better at answering this.. ummm. something i wanted to accomplish w it was making it one of those fics you'd read that stays with u for some time, ur invested, it’s full of detail, lore. relatability. which i feel like i did. theres stuff to piece together or like draw ur own conclusions about since it's told strictly from one pov. a fair amount lies between the lines. another thing is it's obviously dark, but it's also like . not too serious in places, and as a whole has got like a charming element (regarding the good stuff). SO, more self promo: if you at all cared about nlh n the characters i made up, u may love the second (2nd) pov of it. because there is SO much that i put into nlh that will be brought to light and wrapped up in a NEAT little PACKAGE 🎁 in little miss qat

spicy tangential opinion: im on board w yours amber. one of mine would be: if youre going to write about experiences you havent experienced, even in a fanfic, i feel like you should at least do a lil research on the way. it helps your writing, and also prevents you from putting potentially harmful content out there

idk that many fic writers; i dont read them myself anymore. but i tag: @axlnchas, + anyone else who sees this and wants to 🧡

[msmarvelwrites]

The Winter Ghost - Part 11

Info: A Devastating car crash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn’t and because of that, everything you knew was about to change.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: swearing, ptsd, fluff

W/c: 2.4 k 

A/n: Wow, its been a week! I dont know about you but August is something else honestly! I hope you guys are enjoying the read and as always if you have any feedback, or youd just like to chat, hit me up! Thank you @cutie1365​ for your help with this one! 

It had been a whole week since you woke up in Shuri’s lab, but the fifteen minutes it took her to perform the final analysis felt like it droned on forever.

In the days that passed Wanda had come by your room the most. She had changed, but then again, so had you. Her eyes bare a worry that never seemed to go away, no matter how much you reassured her. It wasn't her fault. But even still, every time she saw you she tiptoed, afraid she’d set you off at any moment. You were used to this coming from Steve, but a tiny part of you broke at the thought of Wanda fearing you. She had always accepted you, no questions asked… 

Nat would usually come for dinner, giving you the full breakdown of the day. Since waking up and remembering everything it was hard to trust the people around you, but she made it a little easier. She assured you that Sam wasn't angry, and that he had recovered with very minor injuries. You were thankful she didn't bring up your other opponent. 

Then there was the Captain himself. You haven't really seen Steve much, but you heard him through the walls of your room. He visited his friend every day. He never actually went into his room, however. He would only stand outside and apologize over and over for something you could never make out.

On the fourth day, he spoke to you. You were half asleep, it was probably sometime past midnight when you heard his voice. 

“No! Please NO!,” His voice woke you from your sleepy daze. “Y/n, please. I’m so sorry. I didn't know. I- I'm so sorry, I never…” The sound of your name on his lips caused a shiver to rush down your spine. His words came out breathy as he choked on a sob. It was clear to you he was having a nightmare. There was a part of you, albeit small, that wanted nothing more than to rush to him, and sooth his fears. But you didn't. You just listened while he screamed for you, unmoving. That's what he deserves, you thought, but you didn't believe it. Not fully. 

“Okay, lets go over this again. What's your name?” Shuri rolled across the room on her chair scribbling something down on a tablet. You rolled your eyes, this had to be the fifth time she had asked you. 

“Y/n L/n. Born in Philadelphia.  Joined S.H.I.E.L.D after my family died in a fire. Moved to Jersey to be closer to work, met Agent Beson, got engaged, and then The Winter Soldier killed him… Did I miss anything?” You rattled off. Shuri only nodded, writing something down you couldn't see. 

“You developed a super soldier serum that could absorb the powers of your opponent.” Shuri ‘reminded’ you. 

“Right, how could I forget what got me into this shit show in the first place.” You scoffed. 

“And you remember how you made it?” She asked. 

“Yes… No… Maybe? I think with some time I could recreate it, but I’d need to run a few tests, get the ingredients at the corner store. The serum was created for me and me alone. In case it got into the wrong hands, I didn't want anyone else to be able to use it.” You shuttered at the memory burned into your mind. The wet cement room Hydra had locked you in for days, torturing you for answers you wouldn't dare give. “It’s flawed, obviously. It was never ready to be used. We were trying something new. I was never the best candidate for the serum, as it amplifies what's already within and in my case, was pretty fucked up already… Not to mention the nasty side effects.” 

“And what would those be?” The small scientist spoke, now on the other side of the room pulling up a hologram of Dr. Erskine’s original serum from World War II.

“Psychosis mostly. But there was a chance it would enhance trauma or cause permanent brain damage… You know, the good stuff.” You chuckled but Shuri didn't look quite as enthused. “Look, I didn't say the serum was perfect. It was my first draft.”

“Hydra doesn't care about perfection. They want it, and they're going to do anything to get it.” Steve voiced from the doorway you only now realized he was standing in.

 “You look like you're feeling better.” He said. 

“Well, thank you Captain.” You saluted him in a mocking way that only made his jaw clench, “Here’s hoping you can say the same for your friend.” Your words dripping with sarcasm. 

Steve's eyes went dark at that. He looked like he was going to rip you in half. Of course he couldn't, at least not with your homemade cocktail coursing through your veins.

“She’s not ready.” Steve barked refusing to make eye contact with you. You tried to play it cool, but if the Captain was the reason for you staying locked up in this lab for another day you were going to throw a full blown temper tantrum. 

“She’s passed all psych evaluations, and seems to have control over her emotions.” Shuri aspoke matter of factly. 

Damn right. 

“I don't care about some evaluation. If I say she’s not ready-” That was it. It was, after all, pretty easy for you to lose your temper these days. 

“You can't just keep me here!” You shouted, causing Steve's head to snap back in your direction. 

“I can and I will. Until we are sure you're not a threat.” He seethed.

“Well, she’s not. And you're not in charge here. I am.” Shuri matched his tone, causing a small smirk to play on your lips. What a badass. 

Steve only blinked at the small girl, unsure of what to say next. So she continued.

“She’ll be back in her room on the compound by the end of the day. If you don't like that, by all means leave. Wasn't that yours and Bucky’s plan after all?” Shuri snapped. This new information made you stiff. They were leaving? Both of them? You weren't sure why this made you feel nauseous, but it did. 

“Yeah, like he’d ever leave without her.” He pointed an accusatory finger at you, causing you to imagine how satisfactory it would be to snap it off and shove it right up his tight-

“If you stay, you listen to me. You're not my captain here, Steve. Show me some respect.” Her voice was powerful. You weren't sure how a sixteen year old could hold herself with confidence, lord knows you were a mess at her age, but nevertheless, she did. And she did it with an unmatched grace. 

Steve opened his mouth and then closed it, lost for words. Shuri held her stare, unwavering as she looked up at the 6 foot man. Seriously, what a badass. 

“If she loses control, it's on you.” He all but shouted while Shuri only chuckled causing a rage to wash over Steves face. 

“Actually, I think if she loses it again, it will be lost on you.” She looked at you while you nodded giggly. Steve shuttered at the idea, making you smile from ear to ear. With that, he stormed out of the lap. The two of you stared at each other before bursting out laughing. 

“Did you see his face!? He looked like he was going to shit his pants!” You cackled, holding your stomach for some sort of relief. 

“I don't think he’s used to being told no. Big baby.” She cooed, laughing to herself. “To be fair, you almost killed his best friend, so if I was on your bad side I might be worried too.” That shut you down. Steve was one thing, if he feared you, so be it. But you weren't dangerous. Okay, you had squashed Barnes like the bug he was, but that wasn't here nor there. 

You signed. They had every right to fear you. You feared yourself at times. But the reappearing of your memories seemed to ease you, for now at least. Everything was back on the table. You knew who you were and you could finally see the whole picture. 

“Okay, but seriously Y/n. We have to talk about a few things before I release you.” Shuri spoke, pulling her seat back up beside you. You attended to her newly serious tone and looked down at her from the bed. “Hydras after you. They need that serum, for who knows what. We have to know, can it be cloned while in your bloodstream? Is there anywhere else but that lab you blew up where they could get the blueprints to recreate it?” She asked. 

“Nope and nope.” You popped the ‘P’ as you spoke. “Hydra can’t reacreat it without me, and that will never happen again, so they're screwed. I didn't tell anyone what I was working with, not even Tommy.” Your voice fell flat at the mention of his name. 

“That's good. Steve’s going to want to hold a team meeting to brief everyone on what's going on and Natasha’s been chomping at the bit to get you back to training. You think you're up for that?” You only nodded, reassuring her. 

“Just get me the fuck out of this damn lab. No offense but if I have to look at your face for another second I’m going to find out about that psychosis side effect.” Shuri giggled at that. 

“You're free to go.” She gestured towards the door. Your eyes went wide, but she didn't have to tell you twice. In seconds you rushed out of the door and down the hallway towards your room. 

As you passed through the kitchen, you noticed Nat sitting at the island eating breakfast. You waved and her face fell. Peaking around the corner you noticed why. 

There, sitting on the large couch was, Bucky. 

Fuck. 

Bucky noticed Nat’s stiffness and turned to see what had her so nervous. That's when his eyes landed on you. All colour washed away from his face, leaving him pale. A ghost of who he once was. Before he could get up, you were gone, sprinting down the hallway. When you thought about seeing Bucky again you imagined feeling a million emotions. Murderous rage being one of them but this, this was not one of them.

When you were finally in your bedroom with the door locked, you allowed yourself to sob. Tears streamed down your face as relief washed over your body. You despised yourself for feeling anything but disgust for the man who had slaughtered any chance at happiness in your life. But, here you were, crying into your pillow like a heart broken teeager, because the man you loved wasn't dead. You wished with every fiber of yourself that he had been gunned down on that bridge, but there he sat, in the living room, steel blue eyes fixated on yours, heart still very much beating. 

The loud knocking from the other side of your door was what ripped you back into reality and out of your all consuming thoughts. You closed your eyes, and tried to keep your sniffling quiet, hoping they would just leave. When another three knocks echoed through the room, you groaned, grabbing a pillow from your bed and rocketing through the air.

“I’m busy.” You shouted to the insufferable knocking. 

“No you're not.” Sam’s voice shouted back. A smile pulled at the corner of your mouth at his mocking tone. After a moment of battling with yourself, you slugged off the bed and opened the door. 

Sam smiled down at you, a small pink cut traced itself over the top of his brow down to just below his eye. By now it was almost healed, but you could tell it once was deep and raw.

“Did I do that?” You winced, gesturing to your face where his gash resided. 

“Nothing I can't handle. Can I come in?” He asked.

You nodded, opening the door a little more and allowing him access. He looked around your room. What once was bare, now had boxes and bags filled with items that were important to you. 

“So, how ya’ feelin’?” He asked, taking a seat on the reading chair next to your coffee table. You followed him, tentatively as you sat on the edge of your bed. You hadn't spoken directly to Sam in over a week, you weren't really sure if he still trusted you like before. Hell, you wouldn't blame him if he didnt. 

“Nothing I can't handle.” You mirrored his response, causing him to chuckle softly. 

“Guess were both pretty tough, huh?” He spoke, just over a deep whisper. You nodded your head once in response, feeling the awkward tension to hover in the room before it became hard to breathe. 

“Sam, I-” You stated, but your voice broke. 

“Hey, hey,” He started, crossing the room and in a second he was at your side, kneeling just below you, he took your hands in him. There was no hesitation, no fear in his eyes. He reassured you before placing a soft kiss on the back of your palm. “Dont. Just don't. It’s not your fault. I have every sense to blame that little witch, but it's not her fault either. I’m just glad you're okay, Y/n” He said.

You hadn't noticed the small tear that had escaped until Sam wiped it away, his warm skin seering into yours. 

“Besides, I kicked your ass like, twenty to one. I’d say I still win this match.” That caused a small laugh to bubble out of your chest. 

“Thank you, Sam.” he nodded, getting up and sitting next to you on the bed. 

“You hungry?” he asked.

“Starving.”

“Lets go get some dinner.” He took your hand in his and stood, but you didn't budge. He looked back and raised a brow in question. 

“I think I’m just going to eat in here… If that's okay?” You signed. Feeling like the old broken Y/n who was weak and pathetic. 

“Great idea. I’ll bring you something. We can just hangout. I know for a fact Nat’s been dying to see you, care if she joins us?” He asked, eyes soft and full of understanding. 

“Only if I can pick the movie we watch.” You said, a smile pulling at the corner of your mouth. 

“Done deal.”

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

A/n: Thank you for reading! Please, like if you like and  reblog if you want to fule my ego! Honestly, thank your for just reading it... I feel like, yeah its lousy, but its really nice to write again. Sending you guys all some postive vibes this week <3

@kalesrebellion​

@projectcampbell​

[makeste]

Bnha is a little too irregular for me right now (covid is the worst :( ), so I started reading One Piece and it's like, soooo long. Got me thinking, how long do you think Bnha will be? Personally I think we're just before time skip and it will take, like 300-400 chapters to end? So manga would be 600-700 chapters long. I could be wrong of course. Thoughts?

One Piece is fucking awesome, and the beauty of it is that is is 12 million chapters long so it will take approximately 182 years to finish reading, and you are almost guaranteed to be entertained for the vast majority of that time lol. I actually took a break from it a little ways into the Wano arc (sometime in the middle of what would later become volume 92) because it was getting harder for me to keep up with the plot week by week, especially since I was really into BnHA fandom by that time. my plan was to binge it once Wano ends. however when I was looking at the list of chapters on Wikipedia just now I saw that Oda is only 11 chapters away from breaking the 1k mark, which is pretty awesome. so I might try to catch up in the next month or two in celebration of that milestone, because damn.

with BnHA though, my own guess for how long the series will be is actually a lot shorter than most estimates I’ve seen. first of all, full disclosure that I am definitely biased regarding the timeskip part, because I personally am not the biggest fan of BnHA timeskip theories, unless they’re really short timeskips like the 3-month one we got recently. the thing is, this is explicitly a manga about their time at UA. it’s in the title and everything lol. and I like that. I like reading about them as kids, little hero eggs gradually growing into little hero chicks who will eventually become big hero birbs, but not just yet. a lot of the story’s appeal for me comes from that. there’s a certain... I don’t necessarily want to say innocence, but idealism, maybe?, that’s associated with stories about young adults, and doesn’t always carry over into the stories about those same adults once they’ve grown up. and I want the story to keep that.

there are a lot of things about the current setting that I’m very attached to and don’t want to lose. I like that they’re kids, and that they’re full of potential but don’t always know what they’re doing, and they screw up and make mistakes and get in over their heads, and are dealing with all of their messy jumbled teenage emotions. I like that they’re living with each other in the fanfic dorms and seeing each other every day in their classes. I like that romance isn’t a big part of the series (though there’s still plenty of shipping fuel to go around). I like that we get to see them interacting with their parents and siblings and get to see those relationships. and most of all, I like that -- unlike almost every other young adult series I can think of -- BnHA acknowledges that they are just kids, and the adults by and large actually treat them as such. and yes, I’m even including the child soldiers arc here, because the decision to basically draft them into a war was handed down by the HPSC (an organization that likely has a history with child abuse from what we’ve seen). U.A. was against it, and tried their best to keep them away from the front lines, chilling out in the woods and helping with evacuations instead of fighting villains. contrast this with, say, a:tla, which I love, but which is very much one of those series filled with full-grown adults who are all “it’s up to this 12-year-old and his assorted 12-to-15-year-old friends to lead the battle to save the world lulz.” and this includes possibly the most beloved full-grown adult of all time, who nonetheless peaces out with an ironclad argument of “while it is true that the final villain is my actual brother, I’m still going to let the 12-year-old handle it because something something politics slash destiny.”

but anyways lol got sidetracked there. so steering this back on course now, I genuinely, truly love that in BnHA there are all these adults in the characters’ lives who are trying to keep them safe and nurture them and shield them from that extra burden of responsibility for as long as possible while they’re still learning. and so the kids have that extra safety net of support, which to me as a reader is just... comforting, I guess. like, I understand that it’s not going to last forever, but it’s reassuring to know that it exists for them for now. and I’m not in any hurry to say goodbye to that in favor of just tossing them out into tHE REAL WORLD!! lol. like omg no my babies.

anyway but so the point is that, with respect to everyone else’s theories, I personally don’t want a timeskip lol. and tbh I don’t really see the need for one either? if anything, we’re about to enter the most chaotic period in the entire manga once this arc ends. I’m assuming Tomura will survive this and escape somehow, the better to live and fight another day. and so if that’s the case, I feel like this would be the absolute weirdest time to do a timeskip, because how far ahead can we even jump lol. too far and we’d basically be coming back to an already-destroyed world lol whoops. basically I just don’t see how we can jump ahead more than a few months at the most, assuming that the threat of Tomura is going to be looming over everyone’s heads the entire time. plus we’d miss out on what I’m betting is going to be some of the most intense worldbuilding drama in the entire series, with our beloved characters potentially being swept up in like half a dozen political controversies. I sure don’t want to miss out on any of that. we didn’t wait so long to see this war play out only to skip out on the highly entertaining aftermath of it all.

anyway so that’s my as-usual-longer-than-necessary rant about timeskips. so now let’s talk about the series length. and here, I’m basically just basing my guess off of what Horikoshi has said in interviews. off the top of my head, there are three times he’s mentioned the ending of the series in interviews. first, there’s this interview, published in July 2018:

Interviewer: Previously in SUGOI JAPAN*, you mentioned that you would like Boku No Hero Academia to be a short and concise story and not drawn out, but what percentage of the story is complete at this point?

Horikoshi: When the decision to extend the series happened, I personally thought “I guess I want to end it here” and it was around Volume 30.

Interviewer: So then are you 2/3 done with the story?

Horikoshi: That’s what I had originally planned, but when I think of all the things that must be set up before getting into the last arc, I realized, “Ending the series at Volume 30 will be impossible” (laughs). However, the current arc that is going on all has purpose that will be relevant in the last arc.

*this is referencing a remark he made back at an awards ceremony back in March 2017.

second, we have this interview from August 2018, where he again mentions wanting to keep the story concise:

Do you know what the ending of My Hero Academia is? Do you think it'll be 80+ volumes like One Piece?

No, it won't be infinite – I don't have the stamina for it to be as long as One Piece. I'd like to keep it concise.

and lastly,  this one which was published in December 2019:

What can you say about the future events of the manga?

I’m conscious of the end of the series, and writing towards that. I think the story will always be moving in big ways going forwards. My Hero Academia has a lot of characters, a lot of characters doing different things with different motivations, and the story is heading towards a conclusion where all of that comes together and heads towards the end.

my takeaways from these interviews are that (1) he originally planned for the story to be about 300 chapters long, (2) he’s had a clear idea of his overall endgame for a while now and has been steadily working towards that (as he put it in another interview, he knows all of the dots, but is still figuring out the lines to connect them all), and (3) he specifically said a couple years back that he did not want to write a long One Piece-length series, and his goal was to write a more concise story than that. Horikoshi’s pacing has always been much faster than Oda’s (or Kishimoto’s, or Kubo’s, etc.), and so I think it’s a realistic goal for him to wind up with a significantly shorter story in comparison.

my best guess is that BnHA won’t be much longer than 400 chapters, or a little over 40 volumes. he said back around chapter 180-something that he was nowhere close to being two-thirds of the way done. but it’s been two years since then, and if we haven’t reached at least the two-thirds mark by this point, I would honestly be very surprised. it would mean we’ve barely made any progress at all, and I don’t know about you, but the past few arcs have felt very purpose-driven to me. I think he has a pretty good idea of where he’s heading at this point, and that to me supports the idea of a shorter story than a lot of people have speculated. mind you, he might end up doing a sequel or something afterwards (although I kind of cringe thinking about all the ways we’ve seen that kind of thing go wrong in the past, ngl).

but as far as the series proper, yeah, I’d say 400 chapters is my best guess. ultimately I just hope he’s able to tell the story he wants to tell and gets as much time as he needs to do so, without feeling any pressure to then drag it on past that. knowing when to end your series is so underrated honestly. I have my fingers crossed that it’s a skill Horikoshi hopefully possesses.

[fenweak]

As requested! This rec list features Kazer Kid Fics -- Jonny and Patrick both with kids and babies AND as kids and babies, with a small dash of de-aging and a spoonful of mpreg. 

⭐ for my personal faves

My Other Rec Lists 🍭 Rec me a fic? 🍭

The Ones Where They Have Kids

No Capes by sorrylatenew ⭐ - j/p as parents; implied mpreg

Husbands. Dads. Retired superheroes.

The Reeducation of Misters Kane and Toews + timestamp by jezziejay - single dad Patrick, teacher Jonny  ⭐

In which Kaner sort of has a kid, and Mr. Toews doesn't know which of them is the bigger brat.

AU featuring teacher!Jon and hockey-player!Kaner. With bonus 'Hawks characters, love notes, pasta jewelry, Be Better Pizzas, pirouettes, a sprinke of angst and guest appearance by Derek Jeter.

trust your intuition (it's just like goin' fishin') by poeelektra - 1988 as parents

They’re on the periphery of the Home Wares section of Target, heading with purposeful stride toward Sporting Goods, when Gabe declares that he wants a doll for his “Been Good” toy.

Every Little Thing He Does (is magic) by jezziejay - single dad Patrick

Jonny Toews is a bewitching man who moves into a mysterious mansion in a small town. Soon, he opens Bell, Book & Candle, a curiosity shop full of candles, lotions, etc., and is enthralling the children of local police chief (Patrick Kane), who believe he is a witch (but not a bad one.) But not everyone in town is appreciative of their quirky new neighbor, and it may take a little bit of magic for him to truly become part of the community.

Under Cover by heartstrings - 1988 as parents

"Just get in the fucking blanket fort, Kaner."

Feels Like Family To Me + prequels by exmanhater - 1988 as parents

Jonathan Toews and Patrick Kane plan, create, and obtain their family.

living next door to alice series by cinderlily - 1988 as parents

"It started with a phone call."Patrick and Jonny are suddenly given the opportunity to be parents. This is how they stumble through it.

some say love is a burning thing podfic by exmanhater - 1988 as parents

If anyone had told Johnny upon entering the NHL that thirteen years later he'd not only have a kid with Patrick Kane, but would be getting ready to go on a 'date night,’ he'd have said they must be smoking some pretty good shit.And then he'd have to wait a decade to eat his words.

In the Middle of the Night - 1988 as parents

Gone are the days when it took a cold, wet washcloth on his face to wake him up. Or: Five times Pat and Jonny's daughter wakes them up, plus one time they wake her up.

so show me family - single dad Patrick

Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family. Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one. ~Jane Howard

Fill It Up With Love by Frosting50 - single dad Pat; implied mpreg

So Pat’s senior year doesn’t turn out exactly like he’d planned. He still gets his degree in accounting, but he also gets a little girl named Emma. She’s all fat pink cheeks, curly brown hair, and blue eyes. She might have Ryan’s chin, but she’s all Pat’s. And the first time she falls asleep on his chest, chubby hand curled around his thumb, skin so soft and sweet he damn-near feels bowled over with how much he loves her. He didn’t know he could love anyone so much; it makes his heart feel too big for his chest, and he knows that he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to give her the world.

peas & carrots by altri_uccelli - 1988 as parents

Unapologetic Halloween fluff, or: Jonny forgets what day it is, but Kaner's on it.

Can You Lyft Me Up? by Mullsandmutts - single dad Patrick

Even high profile athletes like Chicago Blackhawks Captain Jonathan Toews are forced to utilize paid transportation from time to time. An accidental "share my ride" selection on an app results in a life-altering ride with an mouthy Russian driver (Artemi), an unfairly attractive single father (Patrick Kane) and his adorable sassy (and color-matching-challenged) preschool daughter (introducing Molly Donna Patricia Amelia Kane aka Mo). Jonathan refuses to feel too sketch when he negotiates a plan with the driver to "accidentally" have more shared rides with his new friends. When Mo has a traumatic incident at day camp, Patrick's heart is broken and Jonny enlists the help of Temi and the ever-meddling Patrick Sharp to get smiles back on both Kane faces. Jonathan finds himself more and more drawn to Patrick but Patrick's fears of being a good enough parent for Mo and meeting all of her needs could keep them apart. Will Temi, the Sharp family and a trio of nosy aunts in Buffalo be enough to help Jonathan and Patrick realize what they could have together or will Patrick's stubbornness and Jonathan's fear of ruining their friendship keep them apart? Stay tuned to find out ....

Three by Linsky - i won’t spoil it 

Patrick doesn’t think he’s a pervert. But how would he know? Maybe a pervert is just a thing you are, and it doesn’t feel any different from being a normal person, until you do something perverted. Maybe that’s him.After all, he does have two names on his wrist.

All Your Memories by toewsandconfused - 1988 as parents; amnesiafic

Pat went to sleep a bachelor in the Trump Towers and woke up next to Jonny in the suburbs with three kids calling him Daddy. Struggling to figure out his new reality Patrick had ruled out dream, was banking on delusion because even though it meant he was losing his mind, it seemed safer than some kind of late-onset amnesia. He didn’t want to face that idea that this really was his life; that Jonny was his, that those beautiful kids were his, and he couldn’t remember any of it. The idea that the memories of their life together could be lost forever was too terrifying to deal with. Losing his mind was preferable to losing his memories.

Chelsea, Chelsea I Believe by empathapathique - single dad Pat ⭐

Patrick meets a girl his rookie year.

Don't Let Go by aohatsu - 1988 as adoptive parents

“So you were already with the boy you saved when the fire started?”Patrick pauses, but shakes his head. “No, there was an explosion—I don’t really know what it was, but then it was just me and Tigre, and it’s like, in a situation like that, you don’t really think? You just do. So I grabbed the kid and went through the fire escape. It’s not like I decided I wanted to save anybody, it was just the only option.”

Always Be My Baby by juliusschmidt - single dad Patrick

The thing is, you don’t just grow up once.

as careless as you are certain - single dad Patrick 

March through August, 2015.

the one with the baby yentas series by forochel

Tazer has a son and Kaner is his son's kindergarten teacher.

It's the Magic of Risking Everything by conformityissuicide - single dad Jonny

When Jonny is thirteen he meets a small kid from Buffalo at a hockey tournament.

Then he has a gay crisis, a baby girl, and gets drafted 3rd overall by an Original Six franchise.

When he meets Patrick Kane again at prospect camp he doesn’t feel anything but excitement.

And then it all goes to hell.

"of gifts and fireflies" by huntersandangels - single dad Jon

Patrick Kane hasn’t lived a charmed life despite money flowing through his veins. The journey he is currently on, though paved with good intentions, proves to be a harder challenge than he could ever be ready for. The people he meets along the way give him a much more valued gift than his grandfather could ever dream of giving him. 

I'm gonna love you til my lungs give out by arenadomatthews - 1988 as parents

“Papa, Dad, you guys are retiring today?” Bryan asks, looking up at his parents.“Yeah buddy, we are. Are you gonna behave while Dad and I are doing our press conference?” Patrick asks.

“Duh, Dad. I'm not a baby anymore,” he scoffs.

“He's right, Pat. He's our big boy now,” Jonny adds.

“Yeah, I'm going into 4th grade,” Bryan boasts pridefully.Patrick and Jonathan are finally announcing their retirement after 20 NHL seasons. However, their retirement ceremony will come with a twist: they'll be publicly coming out and revealing their family

Your Daddy's Aim Is True by thefourthvine; podfic by isweedan - cup wish baby! ⭐

patch it up by gasmsinc - 1988 as parents

Jonny stares at his daughter for a long moment. She stares back, eyes unwavering. She has Kaner’s baby blues, but at five she’s already mastered Jonny’s dead on the inside stare. Her kindergarten teacher claims she uses the unwavering look to bully other students into doing what she wants, and it’s something they should work on at home, but Jonny’s baby is a natural born leader, and he’s not going to get in her way of becoming the president, or, better yet, the supreme ruler of the universe.

Your patch,” says Jonny.

Baby, It's Hot Outside by toewsyourheart - single dad Pat 

 Jonny goes for a popsicle and gets a little bit more than he bargained for.

Take All That's Left - divorced single dad Pat

It’s been 6 years now, and he’s grown to enjoy the city since signing with the Rangers to follow Anna, who’d found a job in Brooklyn.

But Chicago; Chicago was Patrick’s first love, all his important firsts – it’s all been hers, and having to leave had been heartbreaking. Too many memories from Chicago were heartbreaking, and yet he always yearned for the city, always felt more comfortable walking her streets than any other place in the world. No other place quite felt like home the way Chicago did.

Isn’t She Lovely by windsthatwhisper + podfic by kanetcews (lavenderharry) - wish baby!

It's nine in the morning when Pat and Jonny stumble down the stairs, sluggish with sleep.

There’s a baby carrier on the kitchen island.

Jonny blinks, blinks again, then turns to get a cup of coffee.

Recreation, Entertainment, Art, or Sport by trademarkgiggle

of course jonathan toews can juggle

so show me family series by peeks, tazer - teacher Pat

“Just admit you like him.”

“Shut up, Sharpy,” Patrick says, before he rolls his eyes and tries to ignore the smirk widening on Sharpy’s lips. “Don’t you have your kids’ parents to bother?”

“No, my last kid left a couple minutes ago, so I’m totally here to watch you and Jonathan Toews make heart eyes at each other,” Sharpy laughs, waltzing into Patrick’s classroom. He immediately makes his way to see Sadie, who greets her dad with a hug.

(In which Patrick Kane is terrible at feelings but luckily, Patrick Sharp is a total bro.)

The Ones Where They’re With Kids

In My Blood and In My Bones + Nothing Sweet or Gentle by fourfreedoms ⭐

Patrick’s not really into dudes—he’s done that whole thing a couple of times—that’s rock-n-roll after all, but god, when Jonathan smiles, he looks really good.Johnny is a nanny. Patrick's a musician. They fall in love. Inspired by the movie What Maisie Knew.

the kids are alright

Patrick works at the sporting goods store Jonny takes his peewee team to for equipment.

given to us as free-flying souls by Mayhem10

Jonathan had never really considered himself particularly good with kids. He didn’t avoid them or anything and it’s not like they burst into tears when they saw his face, but he never was exactly sure what to do with them, these little people running around at waist height. It just wasn’t his area.So, of course, Patrick was basically the child whisperer.

(or five times Jonathan saw Patrick with kids and one time Patrick saw him)

Hide Your Face So The World Will Never Find You (Paper Faces On Parade) by huntersandangels

Jonathan Toews, farm owner and guardian of his nephew, is in desperate need of capable farm hands. Patrick Kane certainly does not fit the description but when a mutual friend confides in him that Patrick has lost everything he owned and is in serious need himself and offers Jonathan money to hire him, how can he say no?

Patrick Kane loves statistics and spending his money on thoroughly planned ‘adventures’ for his friends when he’s not partying away the rest of his fortune. If he wins the bet he can continue to plot freely but if he loses his extra curriculum activities have to stop. He agrees to go on an ‘adventure’ himself and settles in the Toews Farm posing as a farm hand. But as the time goes by, the less pretend it feels-and the more he enjoys Jonathan and Etienne’s company and the quite life in the farm; to the point where he’s not sure whether he wants to win the bet or lose...

Baby, You're the One by jezziejay ⭐

6k words of Jonathan Toews having feelings about babies. And feelings about Kaner. And feelings about putting a baby in Kaner.

The Ones Where They Are Kids

The Cat and the Fiddle series by james - childhood soulmates!

When Donna's son is four, he creates an imaginary friend.

i want to know what you know by sointimate - childhood sweethearts

Patrick is six years old and he's about to do the scariest thing he's ever done in his whole life.

Colorblind by july_v ⭐

Jon is five when he meets Patrick. It's also the time he begins to understand colors as more than an abstract concept.

How to become a man  series+ coda by liketheroad, mockturtletale

In which Kaner gets spontaneously de-aged into a six-year-old, and he and Tazer both have a lot of growing up to do.

Romper Room by james - de-aged 1988

Sharpie doesn't really think this should be part of his duty as alternate captain. Luckily, none of this is his fault. A.K.A., the one where Kaner and Johnny are five.

you ruined everything in the best way by thisissirius + podfic by exmanhater .⭐ - de-aged Saader

Kaner's looking down at the kid, though, frowning. He crouches down. "Hey, kid, where are your parents?

"The kid's bottom lip juts out and starts wobbling. Fuck, that means he's going to start crying, right?

"Oh shi—oot, kid, don't cry," Kaner says. "I mean, if you don't know where they are, we can find 'em?"

"Kaner," Sharpy presses. "That's Saad."

don't worry about your body - de-aged Jonny

No one said anything. Everyone stared at each other then down at the tiny human being that was standing where Jonny had been. Kaner felt his mouth go entirely dry, and his stomach drop out from underneath him.

What the fuck, man.

Can You Picture It? by RemyJane

In which Kaner turns into a baby and everyone besides Jonny seems to understand. Includes excessive cuddling, ridiculously adorable baby-Kaner, and feelings. Jonny eventually figures everything out.

Never Getting That Shirt Back by ice_hot_13 - de-aged Pat

Patrick is de-aged into a toddler, and when he's with Jonny, he isn't a holy terror.

Je T'aime by banks99 (Nodiggity15) - de-aged Jonny

“He won’t take a bath. He’s arguing with me. It’s like he didn’t even change at all.” Kaner’s not pouting, fuck you very much.

MPREG

I Got a Love (That Keeps Me Waiting) by svmadelyn ⭐ -mpreg!pat

There's a lot of different ways this summary could go, like:Patrick Kane gets more than a gold medal in Sochi.

Or, the classic: It's too late to pull out now.Or: Patrick Kane continues to thrive in high pressure situations.Or: Patrick Kane gets knocked up, goes to White Castle, and finds love, not necessarily in that order.

But, ultimately, all that really matters is this: Patrick Kane is keeping his baby.

private passions and secret storms (all the secrets series) by CoffeeKristin, Frosting50  - mpreg!pat

Jonny’s life is good - great even. He loves Patrick and their kids, and even if they don’t always have time for each other, he wouldn’t trade it for anything. But when Jeff Carter comes into his life, Jonny’s world gets turned upside down. It’s going to take everything he’s got to convince Patrick to give him a second - maybe even a third - chance.

Patrick’s blindsided by Jonny’s betrayal and putting his family back together is a lot harder than he expected when their past comes back to haunt them.Can love conquer all?

Forever & Always, My Baby You'll Be by windsthatwhisper - mpreg!jonny

Jonny and Pat's life is a cycle of curse words, late night feedings, and five minute handjobs in the hallway closet.

Aka, I wanted some 1988 w/ a baby feels so I wrote this blurb of a thing in about seven minutes.

efficacy by thirteentorafters - mpreg!patrick

“You,” Patrick says, jabbing a finger angrily at Jonny. “Are gonna fucking help me, dickface.”

Opening his mouth to ask what the hell is going on; Jonny’s eyes drop to Patrick’s stomach. Jonny is acquainted with Patrick’s naked body and the last time they met, Patrick wasn’t fat. Or paunchy. Except that doesn’t look like usual fat. “Oh fuck.”

“Yeah, ‘oh fuck’,” Patrick says, imitating Jonny’s tone. “You knocked me up, asshole. What are you gonna do about it?”

Forever & Always, My Baby You'll Be by windsthatwhisper - mpreg!jonny

Jonny and Pat's life is a cycle of curse words, late night feedings, and five minute handjobs in the hallway closet.

Looked So Fine (I Just Had To Speak) by svmadelyn - !!!! ⭐

Patrick Kane’s talking penis maintains a ‘to do’ list. It is as follows:1. Jonathan Toews

Phone Tag by hawkeytime (jayyloo) - mpreg!Jonny

"Hi mom. Sorry I couldn’t catch you, so I guess I’ll just, uh.. leave a message. See, the thing is… my super-potent sperm may or may not have managed to knock Jonny up. Okay bye."

"Yes, hello, is this Hockey Canada? I just want it written on the record, today, June 31, 2015, that my incredibly improbable unborn child with Jonathan Toews will be playing for America. Yes, I’ll hold.

"Or: Pat accidentally knocks Jonny up. A saga told in a series of voicemails

A Royal Baby - mpreg!Pat

A cough from the doorway cuts Seabs off mid sentence. Duncs is standing watching them, a particularly somber expression on his face. "Jonny, I'm sorry to interrupt but you have a visitor that you'll want to go see right away.""Now really isn't a good time," Jonny tells him, not even putting down his fork."Trust me Your Highness," Duncs says, "This will be worth it."

[Patrick and Jonathan think their time brief time together at the Olympics is all they can ever have. Patrick's ensuing pregnancy proves otherwise.]

sun sweet berries of the earth series by gasmsinc - mpreg!Pat; a/b/o

There is a spirit living in Patrick State Park.“Listen,” says Jonny. “I didn’t mean to step on your crown.”The spirit’s bottom lip wobbles.

Tame the Roads That Can't Be Tamed by Linsky - mpreg!Pat; a/b/o

Patrick’s flown a million times. He’s never gotten airsick before. Even on last year’s epic flight to Denver, when they hit massive turbulence and half the team was groaning over barf bags, Patrick’s stomach was fine. And maybe he’s sick, sure—but why doesn’t he feel sick the rest of the time? Why is it only mornings and—

Oh.

Oh, no.

Oh fucking no.

(Or: In which it is difficult to be a wolf in the NHL, especially when you're not that good at condoms.)

Carve His Name With Pride ⭐  - mpreg!Jonny

Jonny leaves behind a home, a house, and a hockey career the month after he learns that he’s pregnant.

Eyass - mpreg!Jonny

"I dunno," Kaner tells him. "Whatever you need, man. You’re having a baby! That’s a lot of work. I want to be here for you."

Somehow, in the dozens of conversations he’s had with teammates and friends and family in the past few days, no one has said those exact words to Jonny: “you’re having a baby”. He has to comb his fingers through his hair and take a deep, steadying breath to compose himself.

Kaner notices and smiles at him; a crooked, beautiful thing. “It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?”

Heartburn and Survival by dedougal  - mpreg!Jonny

They were in Canada when Jonny found out he was pregnant. Afterwards, Jonny used that as a point in his bulleted list of arguments about why Jack should represent Canada but, to be entirely truthful, finding out in Canada - finding out anywhere - was pretty disastrous.

Three Cups and a Pup by Miss_Psychotic, nommedeplume  - mpreg!Patrick

The Story of Alpha Jonny and Omega Kaner getting their shit together and learning how to be Adulting Adults (Finally)

Chips and Cribs by whatislife - mpreg!Jonny

“What do you mean there are no chips,” Jonny asks from where he is standing by the island, hand resting on his stomach. “Weren’t they on the list? Did you not buy them?”(Patrick just wants to sleep.)

[teacherintransition]

IT’S STILL NOT FIXED? @#%&.$€£§?} Liberty Bell Take me Away!

"Ladies and gentlemen: the story you are about to hear is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent”*

From me …”your time is your own when you retire.” Not exactly the case my friend, we will, all of us be captive to the throes of incompetence and being “shushed” by some in certain service business. The only thing you can do to maintain your sanity is to nestle up to your favorite barstool for the panacea when in pain and obtain sanctuary. This becomes problematic when your home away from home, the place where everyone knows your name, the place where the omniscient bartender has your required libation already poured when you cross the threshold … when this establishment has been closed for 1,193 days. Et omnis gloria eius…. The Liberty Bell.

The days since I announced my retirement in August 5, 2020; have for the most part, been pretty damn cool. I’ve started a website, a business, am a writing a book, am writing a blog that I plan to transfer into book form, I’m walking, I’m painting like crazy and have read around sixty books. All in all with honey do’s included, I’ve been a very good boy. Not everyday has been grand and nor should it. I can often find peaceful solace upon my lawn mower, lawn tractor, the throne of the most high to be the right balm for almost any emotionally taxing time; I’m pretty damned easy to please. For those that know me, I’m kind of Hank Hill about my lawn. Neatly cut on a weekly basis and verdant green, “I mean to tell ya!” OCD? You bet your ass I am… and I’ve got one of the best lawns on the block. My red, powerhouse mower had been “injured” for the last four weeks… scratch that SIX weeks which has reduced me to the bourgeoisie practice of paying some one to do my yard work. Not me, not ever… or at least not for long.

Without retreading over the bloody, battle ground of indignation, “the customer is always right,” “you need to understand sir,” blah, blah, blah yada, yada, yada, Yoda,” get over it you must?” I find my self like the French and the Germans at the Marne in World War I … at a stalemate. In times like these when a man, who realizes that deployment of WMD’S, would only escalate the matter beyond all reasonable proportion, he must know it’s time to lick his wounds, catch his breath and refresh himself at his neighborhood pub with tasty libations and good conversation. There was only one place in my town of Nacogdoches that could fully restore me with vim and vigor and had all the requisite charms to soothe the savage beast: The Liberty Bell Aug. 2013-May 2018.

As mentioned previously, I shall use pseudonyms to protect the identities of the people who were my superheroes. K opened the Liberty Bell in August of 2013. Kim and I thought we’d “try out the new spot,” and had dinner there the first weekend. K billed it as a wine bar with pub fare and live music. She underplayed her hand… pub fare? More like steaks, shrimp and grits, shepherds pie that transcended finger food pub fare. Over the years, we would enjoy countless bands and singer songwriters. But a wine bar? You sneaky little proprietor of manna and flowing nirvana… she had beer(s), bourbons, gins, vodkas, ….Scotch Whisky with names like Glenlivet, Glenfiddich, Maccallan , Johnny Walker R,B, and B, the Balviene and others. K had prepared and provided an oasis from what St. Anthony Bourdain referred to as the sea of TG Mcfuckdies, Appledon’ts, and other prefabricated restaurant grill ideas that could be found at the end of every feeder road on any highway in the country. The Liberty Bell my friends was something completely different… at least for us small town folk in Nacogdoches. Our first waitress was KC who showed all the charm, wit, and politesse one would expect from an high end dining establishment. This it wasn’t, but it damn sure wasn’t an all you could eat food buffet and salad bar either. As we exited that balmy August evening through the doors, Kim and I looked at each other and, with the stars gleaming in the sky declared, “we really like this place.” In truth, I was holding something back, in my mind and in my heart, I was really thinking, “no, I fucking love this place!”

The decor was simple: dark wood flooring, a mid tone oak bar with the all important brass railings, multi colored earth toned brick that appeared subdued and solid with the look of being an older establishment that gave a feeling of reliability and solidity. A row of draft beers that provided the patron with an eclectic variety of artistic fermented malt beverages. K was presenting a true farm to table dining experience that filled out a fresh, fantastic menu. An eclectic mix of your American staples, southwestern fare, delicious steaks for we carnivores and a few surprises thrown in and expertly prepared.

H worked for K and was the kindest sweetest, fun, personable soul I may have ever met. It was a definite, “YES!” moment if you got her table. You were not only going to get wined and dined, but we’re guaranteed laughter and a hug. Choosing extraordinary personnel, was the magic intangible that made the Liberty Bell … my spot. H was also a fine arts major and ran the art gallery in the restaurant. There were many works from the university Art school, but H sought out local talent and even displayed my art. My paintings were hanging in a gallery! This local flair of coxing the locals to put their talents “out there,” was another draw to get you into this place…this wondrous place. We made friends there … that enjoyed you … not just because you were going to spend money. They would come and sit with you if things were slow and if they weren’t slow, they’d damn sure make the superhuman effort to let you know that they knew you were in house. The master of this service industry art form was J. He was genuinely happy to see you enter the door followed with a hand shake, a smile and a from the heart, “good to see you man!” J and later his protégée N, loved a challenge. You wanted a special nightcap to close out the evening? There was none of this, “duh, I’m sorry we don’t make that,” no, no my friend. J and N knew how to make it or would research right there or suggest a perfectly acceptable substitute. The next week you could safely bet the farm that your drink request was on the menu often being named after you. How could you expect anything better? They wanted you here and they damn sure wanted you back.

All of these niceties, these actions that you could never expect from the chain bar, grill and swill were what made The Liberty Bell transcendent.

“A good local pub has much in common with a church, except that a pub is warmer, and there's more conversation. ”

William Blake

This my friends is the money shot for a personal pub…. not the drinks, not the grub, not the large plant by the door… can the place that you’ve chosen really lift you up when your down? If the whole week has been filled with smart ass criticisms by some passive aggressive mid management flunky who hovers around 5’ 5”, wears shirt sleeves with a polyester tie can two hours spent within the confines of said pub wash away all the smatterings of the Napoleon complex supervisor and have you smiling and laughing and your not even drunk yet….this is the place to be mi compadres. If you congregate with others also beaten down by the soul crushing 9 to 5 and can find commonality in the struggles of your fellow proletariat and can see the good in SOME of the human race, well baby, you’ve found your sanctuary and hold on with all your strength, because one day it might be gone. For four years almost every Friday, Kim and I would meet at the Liberty Bell and commiserate, vent, fuss and heal. Going home, twisting open a beer and mindlessly watching Sports Center was not the ticket. An early afternoon at The Bell was truly good for what ails you. The pub, K, KC, H, J, N, C and the others are all gone… and The Liberty Bell has been replaced with … uh … something. All too many afternoons call out for that salve that soothes the savage beast. I’m reminded often when things just don’t turn out like you want….not to the degree of break down status, but just to the point that a familiar face, your comfortable bar stool and genuine conversation would make everything right with the world again … at least for awhile.

*Webb, Jack; Dragnet; Mark VII Productions; 1951-1970

https://youtube.com/channel/UClK_MAvZtDiLmlp-4HIN7NA

https://instagram.com/loveandwinemedia?utm_medium=copy_link

http://labibliotecacoffee.com/

[daddychims]

The Muse

Genre: Smut, PWP, Author AU

Pairings: Fuckboy!Tae X Author! Reader X Colleague! Jungkook

Other BTS members all make a cameo as well because I’m an OT7 Trash!

You find yourself in a dead end , contemplating if you should just quit your job as an author in a big publishing company when your boss demands you to add more “Edge” to your writing. But your best friend is quick to give you a hand out of your misery, suggesting he could be your “Muse” for the night to help you in desperate times.

Word Count : 30K

Warning:

Smut, Dom!tae , Fuckboy!tae , implied DDLG , Cum play , Throat fucking, Gagging , a bit of Breath play, Choking Kink, Thigh riding, rough sex, Unprotected sex, Spanking, daddy kink, alcohol use, swearing, PWP, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Pure filth basically! Read at your own risk!

Author’s Note: If you think this fic is familiar is because I posted this a long time ago. While I was polishing my masterlist I accidentally deleted all chapters. I was devastated but I figured I’d just edit it and repost it as a one shot. If you’ve already read this and enjoyed it please reblog and like! If you havent, well enjoy 30K of pure filth, you’re welcome! 

Inspired by It Aint My Fault by Zara Larson

You knock the black file on the table, the sight of it makes your stomach turn at the memories associated with it. You spare a glance at the guy flipping his purple hair away from his face, totally ignoring the masses of people behind the bar waiting to be served with their cash in hand.

“You alright Babe?” He asks in pure concern and you nod settling on the chair that is too high for your height.

“Can I have something strong, anything will do!” you breathe out with an exhausted tone and he quickly turns around and reaches for one of the higher shelves, pushing a couple of bottles to grab the hidden bottle before coming back to where you’re sitting

“Is it that asshole again?” he asks as he grabs a big piece of ice and starts shaving it skilfully into an Iceball before placing it in a glass and filling it with some of the magical drink.

“This is why you shouldn’t get married, Jimin.” You say as you take a sip and wince at the stinging burn rushing down your throat while the guy standing in front of you waits patiently for more elaboration on your bizarre statement “Because then when your marriage is fucked up your employees will have to pay for it”

He laughs as he quickly fills the top of your glass with the bottle in his hand “Maybe you should just fuck him and relieve some of the stress his wife gives him.” he suggests and receives a glare from you as your indulge yourself back on the hard liquor

“Fuck who? me?”  The deep voice echoes in your ear and you sigh, already annoyed at the guy who’s done nothing but is settling beside you.

“Jung is giving her a hard time,” Jimin explains to his friends before placing the bottle in front of you two and making his way to the rushes of people his colleague can barely take care of at the other side of the bar.

“So you wanna fuck him?” Taehyung asks as he leans in over the bar and grabs a glass for himself, a couple of weird looks being thrown his way, he can’t care less about. He practically owns the place so if anyone has any right to lean in and use and abuse the bar all he wants, he would be the rightful owner.

“He’s already fucking me up in that meeting room every single day,” you scoff gulping down the rest of the glass and he quickly fills it up for you “And I let him and his assistants take turn fucking me like their little corporate whore, like the idiot I am.” you scoff bitterly, the rageful words leaving your lips one after another

“Damn … you really are a writer. You just described a really good gangbang. Are you into writing porn these days? ” He muses receiving a scolding hiss from you “Easy!” he spits back holding his hands defensively.

You place your elbow on the table and rest your head on your palm as you mutter “He says my final draft doesn’t have enough edge to be published, He wants something that is enough for people to either drink or masturbate.” You roll your eyes as you repeat the man’s quote from your meeting earlier

“So he wants either a sex scene or a tragic death?” Taehyung clarifies as he shakes his head “Jesus, Seokjin Hyung wasn't joking when he said his marriage is fucking him up.”

“I fucking know,” you groan in agreement “He either really wants to bone his wife or he wants to kill her in her sleep,” you scoff “Either way I’m the one being mind fucked here.”

“Well …” Taehyung presses his back on the high chair as he calmly suggests “If he wants it so bad, just write one.”

You knock the glass on the table “As If I haven’t considered that Genius.” you snarl

“Well, I mean you’re a fucking writer. You’ve written more ridiculous things than a tragic death or two people banging. Can’t you just push one in?”

“The main character has already had a near-death experience she lived through, its gonna look super cringy if I push another tearjerker”

“Then make them fuck,” Taehyung shrugs “Can’t be that hard if your character is a modern-day thot.”

You gulp biting the corner of your lips at his statement “I don’t write erotica, Tae” you say through gritted teeth

“You’re making a big deal out of this. just think of the last time you got laid and put it into words-” he pauses midway through his sentence as the corner of his lips curves into a smirk “Ah Right!” he nods “I forgot it’s been too long since you put your genitals near any other human being.”

“Shut up!” you growl back at him like an angry wolf being nudged at the sensitive spot.

“This is why I tell you, you need to come out of your room instead of writing fanfictions all night long and just get fucking laid.” He nags like the mother in law you don’t have but have described multiple times in your pieces.

“I write for a living Mr Get fucking laid,” you reply with a sarcastic tone “I don’t live to fuck any living, breathing creature I can find like you.”

“Boring,” he snorts looking away as he eyes the group of  hot girls in the not very far table that give him a look and all laugh together when he winks at them “We are mammals, we were designed to fuck and enjoy it.”

“The sole purpose is to reproduce and continue the human species. Which I think is the only last thing on your list when you bone a girl.” You mention turning on your seat to face him

"Well …” he nods in agreement “That’ll happen sometimes later, We’re still young, we can just fuck for the sake of pleasure and curve the system”

You sigh, realizing the argument you started with your best friend was as useless as the alcohol you tried to flood your system with. “Alright Casanova, why don’t you go and put your dick somewhere to curve the system and leave me alone?”

Taehyung’s eyes are fixed at the group of girls, his eyes squinting as if he is onto something. Considering how much of a fuckboy he is, you assume he is trying to imagine which position he can try with the poor girl who will be the prey of his one-night stand.

“Hey Nerdy,” his eyes glances back at you “I have an idea”

“Oh really?” you laugh asking in a mocking tone “So when did you develop the ability to think? That's quite a new one.”

“One day I’ll put your smart little mouth to some good use,” He uses the husky self-proclaimed “dom voice” he uses to seduce girls as he furrows his eyebrows.

“It’s a pass from me, I’m sure there are many others opting for that position,” you reply unfazed “Not sure if they’re as smart but you should settle you know!”

“Listen to me,” he ignores your statement completely, not very unexpectedly since the guy has a great selective listening for only hearing  things that boost his ego “I have a bomb idea for your fanfictions.”

“I told you they are NOT fanfictions, Jesus!” you growl, your voice rising as the alcohol starts to get to your head and make you bolder and louder than your usual calm and collected office worker self.

“You write while looking at the images of rapper August Rush or whatever his name is, most of which are half naked selfie mirrors. Even five years old can tell your last novel’s male lead’s character was exactly based on him.” He says with an anger tinted voice as you watch him with tipsy and amazed eyes.

“Since when do you read, Tae? You’re surprising me too much tonight!” You ask batting your eyelids slowly at him “also it's August D you idiot, not August Rush.”

“Anyways …” He clears his throat as his face hardens “Since you don’t have intentions to get that pussy working in any other way than your vibrator, I have a better idea”

You bring your not very hopeful eyes to him, slight anticipation blooming in your heart “What?”

“Second-hand experience …” he suggests crossing his arms across his chest as if he is one great intellectual “You can watch me fuck and write it.”

You stare at him for a few seconds before bursting out and laughing, your eyes travelling to his messy silver hair as you ruffle the strands playfully “you need to change your dealer Tae, the new pills are messing with your head.”

“you already know I don’t do drugs anymore,” he hisses through gritted teeth “I’m not joking, since Jung wants erotica so bad, just write one for him.” He smirks, confidence radiating off his body and his cocky tone “I’m sure people would bust a nut over my sex scenes”

“You’ve lost your mind,” you shake your head as you turn around and reach for the bottle of whiskey in front of you “It must be pussy deprivation, please go and get laid. you're scaring me with your nonsense”

“No, No listen to me Y/N …” Taehyung grabs your shoulder and turns you to face him “You’re good at writing what you see, you remember that time you wrote that whole scene based off our summer camp in high school.”

“Tae, can you hear yourself?” You said in disbelief “You want me to watch you while you bone a random girl just so I can write a sex scene for my draft?”

“Exactly” He nods in an excited tone, “I think It’ll turn out a bomb ass sex scene.”

“You know what, I wanted to believe you’re still sober but this is dragging it. I’m leaving.” you stand up grabbing the black file in front of you as you pull your backpack on your shoulder only to be stopped by Taehyung’s firm hold around your wrist.

“If you think about …” He starts with a deep voice, deeper than usual as he mutters “Jung is looking for an excuse to push you to redundancy, I heard from Seokjin Hyung his company isn’t doing so well.”

You pause, biting your lips in rage as you knew deep inside what Taehyung was saying is not totally wrong. The company wasn’t doing so well for the past year, having published many unsuccessful books.

On top of that, his wife was on bad terms with him after he caused a scandal with one of the female interns. So he was finding excuses to redundant any female employees he could to kill two birds with one stone and redeem himself.

“I know …” you sigh looking back at the guy and slapping his hand away “But it still doesn’t make sense to intrude someone’s intimate moment just for the sake of my job.” you sigh ruffling your hair in frustration.

“I mean …” Taehyung pulls you to stand In front of him as he looks up at you “first of all that person is me,” he then smirks naughtily as he continues “And those intimate moments you’re talking about, we usually share them with a couple of other people down my balcony.”

“You disgusting bastard,” you wince, face scrunching with disgust at the guy’s explanation as you protest “I … I still can’t …”

“why?” He smirks as he stands up and leans closer “Are you scared you might wanna join?” he smirks as he messes your bangs "We can always negotiate a threesome if you want."

“Yeah sure, as if I haven’t seen you pee your pants before,” you roll your eyes “You’re the only human with a dick I wouldn’t wanna put my genital anywhere near.”

“That was in middle school okay?” he hisses, his face contouring in anger as he reminisces the memory that flashes through both of your minds “Also Don’t worry, you won’t be able to handle me anyways.”

He then releases your hand, quickly running his eyes around for a good target for the night as he mutters “come to my apartment, I’ll come home with the lady of the night,” he says as he manages to annoy you one last time by digging his hand in your hair and completely messing it before drifting away from you.

You sigh as you watch the guy walks through the masses of people before standing behind a girl who’s wearing a short dress, barely covering her nonexistent panties. He wraps his arms around the girl’s lower waist, dangerously close to her ass while whispering his dirty seductive words in her ear.

You turn around and wave for Jimin who flashes a warm smile and mouths “Take care,” with his usual bright energy as you make your way to the exit. The club is a frequent place for people like your age to get wasted at nights so you don’t have trouble catching an Uber to make your way home.

You fish for your earphones and place it in your ears, playing your favourite sad song, staring out the window as if you’re the main character of your favourite novel, weeping over a lost love.

You smile bitterly as you realize how lame your life is, everyone else around you either getting laid or getting their heart broken but you’re here, at the back seat of an Uber tearing up over the company that doesn’t appreciate your pieces because they’re not as “Edgy” as they want.

You flinch as the phone vibrates in your hand and you roll your eyes at the name on the screen “Yes?” you reply, tone dangerously low and raging

“Ooh cold …” the guy across the phone winces at your formality “The meeting must have had a toll on you.”

“Piss off, I’m too tired to deal with you Jeon,” you snap back, knowing the guy over the phone already knows the reason behind your rage “I’m hanging up!” you warn him but he’s quicker than you

“Hold up Hold up,” he replies and you can clearly hear his smirk through the phone “Don’t be a bitch Y/N.” He hesitates, the sound of lips smacking on his skin with the nasal moan of a girl you could clearly imagine based on his ideal type echoing in the device “Do you want a hand?”

“I think you need a hand, Jeon!” you scoff “I’m hanging up before your girl cums on her own.”

“No need to be jealous,” he laughs darkly as he shifts over the phone the sound of the girl’s lips rising even more and you bite your lips “You could be in her place if you want, you just have to ask nicely!” he suggests and you immediately scoff

“Thank you for the offer Jeon but I have a draft I need to submit tomorrow morning,” you reply through gritted teeth “9:00 am SHARP” you mimic the way Jung threatened you about your deadline earlier that day.

“You think you can pull it off on your own?” he asks and you can feel the teasing in his voice

“Isn’t it better for you if I don’t?” You ask with a sarcastic tone “You get off  seeing me fail don’t you?”  

“Mhm that’s your issue Y/N, you never believe me but …” he mutters in a lower voice “I’ll rather cum in your mouth ”

“You will,“ You bite your tongue “Probably in your next porn script, make it good, I’ll watch in my free time.” You say in a mocking tone

“Brats like you need to be taught a lesson instead of sitting behind a desk and write all day,” he says through gritted teeth and you smile at the taste of victory “call me if you change your mind, I have a good “edgy” scene sitting on my drafts, just like the ones Jung loves. I can prepare for tomorrow at 9 am SHARP!”

“Send it to him instead,” you reply sharply “It seems like his wife sucks just like your girlfriends!” you don’t hesitate to receive his response as you press the button on the cord extension of your earphone and press your head on the cold window.

Your eyes then perks open as you lean closer to the driver “Sorry, Can you take the next exit to left, I have to go somewhere else?”

The middle-aged man nods without any words and takes the next exit to your destination. You’re still contemplating your decision when the car pulls over in front of the apartment complex you frequently visit, you quickly press a few buttons and pay the driver with your phone, thanking him for putting up with your sudden change of mind.

You step out of the car and enter the complex , the old man who you barely know his name smiles at you and calls for you “Oh, you’re here again”   You nod flashing a smile to him as you walk to where he’s sitting to show him your ID when he quickly says “You can go up, I know you’re with Young master.”

You mutter a quick thanks as you make your way to the elevator that leads you up to the penthouse at the very top of the building where Kim Taehyung lives.

He is the youngest son of the very well known Kim Group. You truly never knew what exactly his family were up to, but you knew that they “live comfortably” as Taehyung would love to describe.

But one thing you knew for sure, was that his definition of comfortable was owning an apartment complex in the heart of the city while yours was maintaining grocery budget to the end of the week after paying the bills.

He was a rebel, very much different from his older brother Seokjin who was also the heir of their family business. Since he barely had any hands in the family business, he used his privilege as a rich kid to party and hook up with girls, his ridiculously attractive face and body helping him in the whole process.

He bought the club a year ago, realizing his passion for partying might also be a venture to explore his business side. Which thanks to his prolonged history in being one of the “Gangnam Rich Kids” immediately received attention and customers from all over Seoul.

Your friendship with him, amazes you till this day, considering you were just a scholarship transfer to the private middle school he attended. You started off hating him since from the beginning he was the typical snobby, cocky rich boy who just wanted to dominate everyone around him including you. so you promised yourself to steer clear of him.

But your new school year resolution didn’t last long when the guy offered you to do his homework for a “couple of bucks” a week as he said. The money that was equal the total allowance you received from your parents for the whole year.

Your nerd ass decided God doesn’t knock the door with a stupid rich guy who can’t even do his homework, more than once. So you took the offer and became his personal homework slave for the rest of your school years.

Well, not much has changed since those years, Taehyung still trying to dominate, girls mostly these days considering he grew up to have a ridiculous amount of stamina.

And you … you hate to admit it but you’re still a slave for money, writing for Jung’s publishing company to pay your bills at the expense of your creativity. Because as Jung loves to remind you “Rainbow and unicorn” you love to write about doesn’t sell well.

Well except for one thing. you somehow managed to developed a surprisingly close friendship with Taehyung from school years into adulthood which made your decision to watch him while he hooks up with a  girl sound even more absurd in your mind.

You sigh, stepping out of the lift as you make your way towards the door of his apartment, already imagining that cocky smirk on his face once he sees you.

Especially considering you already texted him right after you exited the club telling him you won’t be showing up at his place, not realizing a phone call from Jeon Fucking Jungkook would be enough to make you angry enough to change your mind.

You furrow your eyebrows as the door opens quickly after you press the bell button and a freshly showered girl, with the water glazing her skin and the bathrobe covering her body greets you.

“Hi hon, Come in!” she says with a smile as she opens the door and moves away so you can enter the apartment “We were waiting for you”

You stare at her with lost eyes when Taehyung’s voice echoes in the hallway.

“Y/N,” you turn around and your face heats up at the sight of Taehyung’s  half-naked body, with the towel loosely hanging his lower body which had a fall hazard any second coming to your sight “I told you it’ll be a good idea, Come In,” he says pointing at his room before bringing his teasing gaze to the girl and she giggles in return.

The girl pats your shoulder and moves in excitement ahead of you, as your heavy footsteps take you to the last room in the hallways. You enter Taehyung’s master bedroom, quickly searching for his study desk which he probably does anything  but studying on it, placing your backpack on the wooden surface

“A-Are you guys sure about this?” You ask, hesitation resonating in your tone, your eyes travelling between Taehyung who’s drinking from his can of beer and the girl who’s spraying herself with some expensive body mist.

“Yeah Hon,” The girl smiles as she drops herself on the abnormally huge king sized bed, batting her eyelids at you “So you’re gonna write your story based on us?”

“Yeah, I guess!” you reply with an awkward tone, the whole situation suddenly feeling too surreal. In a moment both of the people in the room will be naked, doing God knows what and you’ll have to watch.

“That’s so cool,” the girl says clapping her hands in excitement “Hon, Make me look pretty in your story okay?”

You stare at the girl, nodding your head in disbelief that the only concern the girl has about you watching him get dicked down is looking pretty. People are indeed strange, you wonder as you sit down on Taehyung’s comfortable wheely chair and open your tablet to set your tools up.

“Just so you know, you can both stop and tell me to leave the room at any point!” you firmly point out, eyeing both of them as if you were a referee explaining the rules of the game.

“I’m sure you’ll leave this room earlier than us, Hon.” the girl chirps in a jolly tone, laughing with Taehyung and you can’t help but grit your teeth at how much of a joke this situation is to both of them.

“I told you it won’t be a problem,” He says winking teasingly at you. He then walks to you placing his can of beer just beside your tablet “your muse is a bit of exhibitionist” he smirks as he turns around and attacks the girl on the bed like a hungry beast, devouring her mouth in a swift motion.

You’re still trying to set your instant sync function working on your word document, when the sound of their lips smacking together echoes in the silent room and your stomach drops as you peek at them through the corner of your eyes before immediately looking back at the screen in front of you.

Ironically the sound of their intense makeout session reminds you of the phone call you had earlier with Jungkook and you grit your teeth with determination, reminding yourself that the only reason you’re here is to not give Jeon Jungkook the satisfaction of your failure.

Your eyes slowly glaze on the pair in front of you, perfectly angled so that you get a pretty decent view of both of them, Taehyung covering the girl’s body with his huge built. Since they really don’t care, you might as well get the most of this experience and write a good erotic piece.

You place the tablet on your thighs, facing them with the turn of the chair, your fingers quickly dancing on the keyboard to describe the way your best friend digs his tongue in his one-night stand’s throat.

Do people actually like this? You wonder as you keep searching your brain for appropriate words other than the ones already popping up in your conscious while the other part of your brain scolds you to not judge your reader’s preferences.  

You try to find enough decent words to describe the girl’s lips being bruised by Taehyung’s. Since she is sharing her most intimate moments with you, you might as well play along to her request and make this sound as pleasing as possible on her side.

They part their lips with a gasp from each other, you almost shout at the top of your lungs like a movie director to get back to work but then you remind yourself, you’re watching two people actually doing this for pleasure and they also need to breathe.

You quickly finish the description on each of their faces since their panting moments was probably the last few seconds it would look normal for the rest of the night as you hear their little conversation in the background.

“So,“ the sound of the girl’s lips rising even more and you bite your lips “safe word?” Taehyung asks in a deep voice, the girl giggling and squirming under him.

“Is it really necessary, Taehyung?” you flinch at how needy the girl’s voice sounds just after a quick make out, wondering what exactly is about your best friend that has girls losing their shit over him.

“Trust me, Once we get too deep in this, you might need it” he groans leaning closer and nibbling her ear and she moans

“Carousel,” she replies with a giggle and you furrow your eyebrows at her strange choice of safe word but again you gotta push through the night, reminding that the only person deserving to be judged is you for sitting in the middle of two adults having sex and try to use them for your creative purposes.

Taehyung pulls away and kneels on the bed, your eyes quickly travel to him to see what he’s up to. He grabs the hem of his towel,  tearing it apart and immediately a small gasp find its way out of your lips at what his action uncovers, his dark orbs travelling to yours.

You assume the girl is as surprised as you about what’s standing proudly between Taehyung’s thighs because what echoes in the room while you gulp catching Taehyung’s eyes on yourself, is her breathy gasp.

“Mhmm …” he hums to the girl but his eyes are still on your dilated pupils “You like what you see?”

You get a grip on yourself quickly bringing your eyes to the screen, your fingers which stopped drumming on the keyboard quickly getting back to pace around as you hear a small groan from the guy.

You bring your trembling gaze back to the scene and realize his groan is only because his ginormous dick is being pampered by the girl with slow strokes and small kitten licks along the shaft.

"Foreplay", you quickly think before pressing enter and quickly typing the girl’s skilled actions, his dick now growing into more of a hard-on and starting to lay flat against the girl’s welcoming lips.

She parts her lips and devours him into her lips in a quick motion and you wet your lips as your eyes travel between her little show and Taehyung’s head which falls back with a loud husky moan falling off his lips.

“Fuck …” he groans as his hand quickly reaches for the strands of blonde hair, holding firmly onto her head as he thrust his hip forward “That feels good.” he compliments with a groan of pleasure and the girl starts to bob her head.

You quickly write his words just like the way they leave his lips, wishing you could record his voice and use them later, OF COURSE FOR WRITING PURPOSES, you remind yourself while the muscles of your inner thigh clench painfully closer together reminding you that you also are a human with needs.

Maybe this is why people loved sex scenes in a book, sex in writing although was portrayed through the dry black and white fonts plastered on a piece of paper, it gave them enough freedom to manipulate and grow it in their own horizons of imagination when they were in need, just like you were now.

You lick your lips in anticipation as you try to describe the way your friend fucks the girl’s mouth in the most pleasing way, tinted by slight hazy bits and bobs so you give your readers the perfect amount of imagination to grow.

Your breath cages in your lung when Taehyung snaps his hip forward against the girl’s lips, keeping it firmly against her throat as the slight sound of her gagging echoes in the room and your heart beats in concern. You quickly look for the girl’s expression in worry before her eyes curves into a tiny smile as they sew themselves to Taehyung

"You like that slut?” He asks biting his lips as a smirk plasters on his face watching her faint smile “You like it when I gag you on my big fat cock huh?” He pulls away, moving the girl’s head away from his hip just reaching his tip before snapping his dick back into her mouth, this time tears  with a mixture of the girl’s mascara running down her cheek

“You messy little slut, you like it when Daddy fucks your throat huh?”

You quickly try to write the words down on the screen before bringing your gaze back to the girl, for some reason expecting her to look unhappy with her gag reflex constantly being stimulated

But instead the scene you witness has another muffled gasp leaving your lips, the girl nodding persistently as one of her hands are dipped between her legs indicating she’s touching herself.

“You dirty little slut,” Taehyung groans as he keeps her there for a few more seconds, watching her touch herself “You wanna cum while sucking Daddy’s cock?”

The girl nods again, more tears leaving her eyes as she continues to move her fingers on her clit In speedy circular motions.

“I wanna see you try dirty slut,” Taehyung smirks and your breath hitches as his eyes momentarily glances over you as he mutters “Try and cum slut … cum while Daddy fucks your nice tight throat, ruining your mouth and your makeup.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as he orders the filthy words, looking directly into your eyes. Your brain screams at you to write his dirty talk down, since you would never, in thousand years come up with such filthy words on your own.

But your widened eyes are fixed on his until he spares you and looks down at the girl as he starts fucking the girl’s throat, who’s rubbing her clit in an insane speed searching for her release.

But her hopes shatter, as much as yours when Taehyung’s hip stutters and he bursts with a couple more thrusts, his head falling back and his loud moans echoing in the room as he cums in the girl’s mouth.

The girl swallows every drop attentively like she’s been dehydrated in Sahara desert for a few days and the only way for her to survive is to swallow Taehyung’s cum.

You make a mental note, not to describe the scene in the way you just thought of as probably not many people will find your strange example sexy and arousing but rather hilarious. Taehyung’s head snaps back up and the first thing he does has you struggle with your breathing pattern again.

He glances over at you again, biting his lips with his orgasmic and fucked out face as you rub your thighs together unconsciously. You avoid eye contact, quickly bringing your attention back to the screen to make sure you haven’t actually written how suddenly thirsty you are for your best friend by accident.

“Naughty little slut,” You hear his dark voice but continue to finish your sentence when the sound of his hand coming into a slap on the girl’s body has you jolting up on your seat and your attention is quickly back on him “No touching now.”

You watch as he grabs the girl by her hair, pulling her up on her knees to face him, the girl’s lips parting to pant for air as the droplets of cum are dripping on the corner of her lips.

“Daddy, Please …” she begs to stare at him with seductive eyes but Taehyung is not having any of it.

“I said you can only cum before I cum,” He says as he grabs both her wrist and pins them in one of his own big hands above her head before bringing his other palm into another sharp smack against her ass cheek “You know dirty girls get punished. You wanna be punished, little whore?”

“Yes,” the girl nods “Punish me, Daddy,” she licks her lips in anticipation “Punish me like the little slut I am.”

You furrow your eyebrows at girl’s request , quickly typing the words leaving her lips with the description of how fucked out and needy she looks like with her hand above her head, her towel lying on the bed away from where It should be on her body with some juicy description about the red marks of Taehyung’s hand on her bottom.

“Yeah?” his eyes perks at the girl’s words “You want Daddy to teach you a lesson?”

“Yessss -Aaahhh …” she gasps as another smack comes into contact with the flesh of her ass and you have to bite your lips harshly to stop the breathy sound leaving your lips.

He is ruthless with his “punishment”, you start to judge his scene as your eyes dance on the harsh red flesh of the girl’s bottom. But she looks somehow content and aroused as if she wants even more of the harsh treatment more.

“Is this why you’ve been a bad girl?” Taehyung asks in a husky tone and the girl moans in response nodding her head

“Yes, Daddy … I’ve been bad … I’ve been really really bad …” she purrs in response, igniting a fire in Taehyung’s eyes as his hand comes into another whiplash against her bottom.

You flinch as a drop of arousal slowly trickles between your legs, your fingers immediately stopping their actions on the keyboard as you watch Taehyung “punish” the girl as she asks for, while the girl’s loud, wanton moans ring in your ear.

You were never the type to be aroused to such type of scenes, your taste rather being “vanilla” as Taehyung would love to usually tease you about. You weren’t particularly pressed about your taste, preferring your sex rather sensual and romantic than wild and kinky. Even the porn you’re watched reflected your taste, with your most recent search including things like “romantic couple” and “porn with a romantic plot”.

You believed your life had too much of angst in the office you had to spend your day at, typing words after words describing a fantasy that had people clench their fists in anger or blink their tears away while reading that you preferred to keep it all chill and relaxing back at home.  

But yet again, you’re here, watching your best friend executing his kinky actions on his one night stand and you can’t totally deny that your body is somehow enjoying the scene.

shifting up on the seat, you press your thighs together, the ticklish arousal between your legs distracting you too much from your writing but you immediately regret your decision when Taehyung brings his lust hooded eyes to you as the chair under your screeches due to your weight shift.

You gulp like a kid being caught shattering the fish tank in the living room, the unreadable expression on Taehyung’s face not helping your nerves either.

You’re still contemplating if your best friend can sense the damp spot on your panties that you are desperately trying to ignore when his next action has you drip even more from your core. He keeps his eyes fixed on you while he strokes the red flesh of the girl’s ass cheek, reaching for her clit with the other hand and pinching her bundle of nerves.

“Aaaahhh …” she whines, shuddering at the harsh touch

“You’re so fucking dripping for Daddy” he gasps as he touches her arousal and makes a mess of her cleanly shaved pussy with the juices he acquires from her “All wet and ready for Daddy’s cock huh?”

You stare into his eyes, your eyes glancing back and forth between his face and his hand on the girl’s private part, blush to creep into your cheeks as the juices smearing all around her inner thigh somehow resembles the mess between your own legs. You let out a gasp of relief as Taehyung finally tears his gaze from you and looks back at the girl

“I’m sure if you sit  on Daddy’s cock, you’d just slide right down” he suggests as he fastens his finger on the girl’s core

“Yessss Daddy … I’d take you well … I’d take all of your cock…” she promises with a needy tone and Taehyung nods before shifting back from her, the girl whining as his hand leaves her core.

You quickly finish the girl’s part, your goal at this point being to just write down their dirty conversations and memorise the rest of the session in your mind to elaborate on later. You didn’t wanna admit but your own pussy was already too aroused for you to think straight and write a decent scene with enough details.

Taehyung sits down at the head of his bed, his back resting on the bedpost while his long muscular legs part to unravel his proudly standing cock even more. He strokes his shaft which you can swear has grown larger since he first took the towel off while looking at the girl standing right in your line of sight.

“Come ride Daddy then” he orders staring at the girl with unimpressed eyes

The girl moans in excitement quickly shifting closer to his lap, straddling his big thick thighs while holding onto his shoulder. You bit your lips realizing the girl’s back is now facing you and a sigh of disappointment leaves your lips knowing you would have to improvise the girl side of the scene on your own.

You secretly hate Taehyung for choosing that position instead of choosing a more conventional one like missionary or doggy so that you get a better view of both of them. But then again you realize you’re writing a sex scene, which you’ve never done and could have never pulled off without his help so you better stop being an ungrateful bitch and take advantage of the situation.

You glance up from the screen as you hear a wanton sound leaving the girl’s lips, watching in anticipation of the event as she slides down on Taehyung’s cock painfully slow. You take a moment and just blink your eyes at how his thick girth parts her pussy lips apart, admiring her for her flexibility down in her kitty.

Before you know, you find your mind drifting as you imagine how would it be if that was your pussy and imagine your tight walls that haven’t experienced much would probably rip apart with the first few inches at the tip, considering he’s the thickest up there.

You quickly shake the thought off and your fingers fasten their pace on the keyboard as if the keys under your fingertip are being punished for your dirty mind.

“Fuck” you hear the girl sighs in a weak tone and you look up “Daddy … It’s so big …” you gulp and silently agree with the girl as you quickly write what she says along with a couple of sentences explaining the reason behind her statement being your best friend’s abnormally huge dick.

You furrow your eyebrows when you patiently wait for Taehyung’s response but nothing comes out and you find yourself looking up at him with almost annoyed eyes. Your eyes tremble as you see his eyes fixed on you, a cocky smirk plastered on the corner of his lips as you raise an eyebrow as if you wanna convey to him your frustration over his silence.

“Mhmm …” he hums , his gaze still fixed on you “I thought you said you can take me” he growls with an arrogant tone “Come on” the girl shrieks as a sharp slap comes in contact with her ass “Take it like the good slut you are” he says all the dirty words looking past the girl’s body which was directly in your line of sight, into your eyes.

“Fuck Daddy …” the girl digs her nails on his shoulder as she pushes herself lower “AAAHH … I can’t”

“You can’t,  can you?” He asks with a teasing tone as he grabs her ass and holds her right there, filled to the brim as the girl whines  "Its okay, you’re not the first one that failed to take me.“

You roll your eyes at Taehyung’s proud statement, hating that the girl’s inability to take him to boost his ego immediately. This is why he is the cocky bastard he is, you think as your quickly type his remark at how proud he is about his size.

"Cheeky whore” he slaps her ass again receiving a soft whimper from the girl “Thinking you can take Daddy just because you fucked some dick” he scolds and you tilt your head in confusion as you hear his tone changing to more of a dark and angry one “Move” he orders as his fingers dig into her ass flesh and moves her on his dick “Ride Daddy like a good girl”

The girl quickly complies and the room soon fills with the sound of her loud cries of pleasure, the sound of skin slapping with the mixture of the girl’s wanton cries being your background music as you continue to describe the intercourse with your limited knowledge of what you’re watching.

“Aaahh … Daddy … your cock feels so good …” The girl whines fastening her pace, riding Taehyun’s cock as if she’s riding some kind of racehorse “I wanna cum all over your cock, Daddy, I wanna cum …”

“Yeah? You wanna cum little slut?” He asks as his hands reach for her throat and grasp her windpipe tightly “Then beg like the little whore you are, beg for Daddy”

“Please … ” the girl pants as little air reaches her lungs but her moans only intensify in sound “Please let me cum Daddy”

“You think you deserve it? You think you deserve to cum on Daddy’s cock?” Taehyung asks as you watch his other arm moving down between the girl’s leg which is not totally clear to your eyes. The girl’s head falls back and you realize where his hands are working, her sensitive clit, you assume, pushing the girl closer to the edge.

“Yessss … Yes, Daddy … let me cum … I wanna cum while you fill me up” the girl voices out the words in a rushed tone, tears  tinted by her mascara  flowing down her eyes again

“You want Daddy’s cum in your tight  cunt huh?” Taehyung smirks, his eyes suddenly dancing on you while he says “You want Daddy to fill your messy cunt with his cum huh??”

You gulp, feeling your own walls clench around nothing, your carnal desires and possibly your deprived vagina screaming at you for the same attention the girl is receiving between her legs like a jealous ex-girlfriend. You dig your teeth into your bottom lips, tasting the blood having you hope that the pain might help distract you from your whiny pussy down there.

“Yes Daddy …” the girl finally musters up a sound “Fill me up with your cum”

Taehyung thrusts his hip up, helping the girl to reach attain her wish as he’s nearing his own release while his hand continuously works on her clit. Your finger has completely stopped working, the only thing you can do is watch the mess between their legs as they both work towards their big moment.

“Fuck …” Taehyung’s lustful groan echoes in your ear and you look up “I’m gonna cum …” he says his eyes glancing over your before closing for a few seconds as he stills the girl’s hip and ruts himself into her ruined cunt.

He grits his teeth, his eyes still fixed on you when he suddenly frowns and a deep groan leaves his lips as his head falls back but his hip still works hard deep inside the girl’s walls.

“Aaaahh … Daddy …” The girl shudders, her body shaking violently on him and you can safely assume she’s experiencing some great moments of pleasure by the way her mounds bounce in the air with every shake of her body.

Taehyung’s hip stutters and you know he’s reached his climax when the transparent droplets of his cum come rushing down where his cock is thrusting deep inside the girl’s pussy.

Their sloppy moans and groans are your last few sentences, describing the magical moment of sparkling stars and breathtaking orgasm your readers probably love to read.

You’re slightly bummed out you have to sit there watching your best friend have a blast while you just get to watch and write it in the best possible way for other people, your poor muscles clenching around nothing but air. Become an author they said, its very fun they said.

“Ughh …” Taehyung’s deep groan has you looking up at the guy who’s now coming down from his high, blinking your eyes nervously as you make eye contact with each other and his eyebrows furrow closer into a deep frown.

You quickly press the save button on the top of the screen, knowing better not to trust the sync function as you quickly stand up and grab your bag “I’m gonna leave you guys alone now” you quickly whisper , trying your best not to ruin the intimate moment they probably would have preferred you not to disturb “Thanks Guys , I’ll buy you dinner some time” you quickly suggest as you make your way to the door and rush out of his apartment.

You sigh in relief as your Uber finally arrives in front of the apartment complex and you settle in the car. It’s only then that you realise so much tension and stress in leaving Taehyung’s apartment had you forget the wet spot in your panties that are sticking right to your slit.

You sigh as you make a promise to your neglected kitty that you’ll treat her to a nice, exciting high induced by the new rabbit vibrator you ordered last week from Amazon on sale once it arrives.

You open your tablet and glance over the quick messy document you wrote in an hour, already starting to see how you can elaborate or change details so its appealing enough to Jung’s taste.

-

You nervously click your heels on the floor as you pull your phone out of your pocket, glancing over the secretary who is doing her paperwork before pressing your iMessage app and press on the first name.

You furrow your eyebrows noticing the seen icon with time indicating two hours earlier flashing underneath the message you sent to Taehyung earlier in the morning.

After working on the draft you pulled off at Tae’s house, you ended up spending the rest of the night polishing and using your short term memory to recall the parts you missed as it was happening.

Once you were happy with the draft it was already 5 in the morning, meaning you could have exactly two hours of sleep before getting to the meeting you had with Jung. Which also meant you would have to use makeup and heaps of concealer to give the world the illusion you have had a good night sleep.

“Y/N … You can go in” the secretary who knew you very well notifies you and you quickly push your phone back into your pocket and enter Jung’s room.

He is sitting behind his desk as always, glancing over his iMac screen with his attentive eyes. You can’t lie, you sometimes find yourself intimidated by his gaze since his job is being a critic, imagining he judges everything about you even and it’s not just your writing.

“Sit down,” he says and you take a seat on the couch across his desk, glancing nervously at the glass plate reading “CEO Jung Hoseok” which runs a shiver down your spine.

You are nervous, considering the meeting you are in, could determine if you should go home and buy the new Gucci handbag you wanted to buy for a month or you should start looking for a new job; Your desperate wish being that the first possibility is the one winning.

You gulp as he finally departs his gaze from the screen and he walks around his desk to the single sofa set at the tail of the two couches

“Sorry I had you waiting, I was still looking at the draft you sent me this morning”

You nod flashing a fake smile “That’s alright Sir” you reply softly, hoping your manners would be any help on his decision

“You know why I like you Y/N?” He asks and it takes you a few seconds to really digest his words. Jung? Likes me? The fuck is he on about!

“I’m not sure Sir” you reply deciding the stupid silence is not gonna help you get anywhere.

“Its because I can see the determination in you …” he says as his eyes settle at your lost expression “I’ve seen many writers come and go in my company, but none of them has what you have. You know why you write, and you’re not afraid to push your limits.”

You stare at the guy with confused eyes, in all of the worst-case scenarios you tried to come up in your creative mind, none ended up as you being praised by Jung Hoseok, the single most difficult writing critic of this company who almost never had anything good to say.

Oh, the realization hit you, your face falls as you realize what the guy is doing. He wants to parts ways in good terms so he’s trying to fool you with nice words.

“Thanks, Sir … but you don’t really have to do this. I already cleaned up my desk, I can hand in my resignation by tomorrow” you say, your voice trembling despite having rehearsed the words a couple of hundred times already

“Wait what …” Jung looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, his expression hardening “Where are you going? Did you get any offers?” He raises an eyebrow suspiciously

“Well no … but I’ll be onto it as soon as you issue my resignation … “ you sigh finding the guy caring for you slightly hypocritical since he was practically firing you “Anyways, it’s not something that concerns you …”

“Y/N” he calls with his stern tone “What the fuck are you talking about?” He raises his voice, using the f word he almost never uses even in his most furious moments “You still have a contract with us and I’m not accepting any resignation until I know the reason”

“Sir …” you sigh as your blood boils at his statement “I know you wanna redundant me, So I’ll just play along and hand in my resignation. I think I at least deserve the redundancy claim, don’t I? How am I supposed to survive until I find another job …” you pant as the lump in your throat doesn’t allow you to finish your sentence without your voice trembling

“Wait a second …” he shakes his head in confusion “Who said I’m gonna redundant you?”

You stare at him with dazed eyes, tears pooling in your eyes as you whisper “You’re not?”

“God …” he whispers as he watches the tears run down your cheek and quickly reaches for the tissues on the coffee table In front of you “I mean I knew you have a creative mind but Christ, your imagination went wild didn’t it?”

You grab a couple of tissues in a rushed manner and wipe your tears as you hear him explain

“I was about to tell you, send the draft to the editing team and get it edited before we send it to the printing department.”

You bring your teary eyes to him, the lack of sleep and the tears not allowing you to see him clearly ”W-What …”

“What I told you yesterday was a way for me to test you “ He explains as he quickly stands up and walks to the mini fridge across his office to grab a bottle of water “I want you to step out of your usual writing style and experiment a bit. Your pieces are already doing fine but since you’ve come so far, why not try the mainstream writing a bit!”

He opens the bottle and places it in front of you “When I read your draft this morning I felt happy about my job after so many years. This is why I do what I do, I need to critique your work so you can push further out of your comfort zone and try new things” he hesitates as you grab the water and gulp it down to calm your nerves as he continues “And as far as I’m concerned you did beyond my expectation”

You choke on the water in your throat at his words before looking at him in disbelief “Sir …”

“Yes?” He replies firmly

“Is this a dream?” You ask with a disappointed tone and he smiles shaking his head watching your burst into tears again

“ go home and sleep for a bit first, you look awful.” he says and you wince at his unkind words “Then send your draft and prepare for a meeting with the printing team”

You nod your head, still In daze as the guy explains what you need to do next before patting your shoulder

“Now quickly leave my office before someone comes in and thinks I made you cry. I have enough rumours roaming around. ” He laughs standing up and walking back to his desk

You quickly mimic what he did and jump to your feet bowing deeply for him “Thank you, sir, I’ll work harder.” you say in a determined tone

“Alright, Go get some rest.” he nods and you quickly turn on your heels and march your way out of his office.

Your heart is beating fast as the whole news is suddenly settling in your body. You’ve finally received the green light on publishing the book you worked on over the past 6 months and not only that, you were finally acknowledged by the grumpy and harsh critic, Jung Hoseok.

You quickly reach for your phone in your pocket, your eyes scanning over the screen you forgot to press out of, the seen icon under your message still flashing to your eyes like it was before the meeting with Jung.

But you’re too excited to care as you quickly press on Tae’s name and press the green button and press the device on your ear. You sigh as he doesn’t answer you, expecting it as Taehyung almost never replies your calls on time, either he is too drunk, too sleepy or too busy hooking up to do so.

“Y/N …”  You turn around and see Jungkook walk towards you with his smug smirk plastered on his devilishly handsome face as soon as you get off the lift on the first floor “heard the news … must be a party In your pants huh?”

He stops right in front of you and you swear you would have punched that smirk off his face if you were gonna resign from this company anytime soon. But for now, you’re too happy and content with your job to let him win over your nerves

“Well, it can’t be that its always in yours can it? That’d be too ...” you scoff as you smile victoriously “sexist!” Jungkook’s dark eyes settle on you in amusement, his silence creeping a tension between the two of you that you soon brush off  "Now excuse me, I need to go home and prepare for my meeting with the printing team" you wink at him mischievously before turning on your heels

“That scene, it’s not yours, is it?” Jungkook’s voice reaches your ear and you turn around

“What are you talking about?” you raise an eyebrow

“You’re telling me you pulled off your first sex scene, mind you a good one, in one night while you’re spending all your life in that office doing anything …” he hesitates before a mocking smirks fly through his lips “but get laid”

“Why? Does it hurt your ego?” You ask tilting your head to the side “Don’t worry, this is gonna be my last sex scene for life. The porn scripts are all yours. You know I don’t usually do dirty work.” you say in a sarcastic tone

“That’s not any of my concern …” he says , his expression hardening while his smirk is still persistently adorning his lips “Jung sent the draft to me to have a look before he gives you the green light,” You grit your teeth knowing, in the end, you needed his acknowledgement even when clearly Jung liked you work “what you wrote, mind you if it’s yours,  cannot be from watching porn or a reference text.”

You gulp, nervously reminding yourself that what Jungkook is saying is totally right but he still necessary doesn’t have to know your strange, unconventional ways of writing a crazy sex scene.

“I take it as a compliment Jeon,” you flash a sweet smile “If you wanted some of my reference texts, hit me up. I’m more than happy to share.  We’re colleagues after all.” you bluff, knowing very well you wouldn’t be able to actually share Taehyung’s intimate moment with anyone but you also know that Jungkook is too much of a proud head to actually ask for it

“I’d rather be your reference next time … ” he chirps as his smirk deepens “Specially now that I know I’m exactly the type you like your references to be” he hesitates before your face that turns pink in shade as he looks around to make sure no one is around “Rough and Kinky.” It is his turn now to wink your way before he walks past you to the lift that leads him upstairs.

Your hand falls on your side as you sigh, It wasn’t the first time Jungkook acted this way. You always shrugged it off thinking he just has some kind of insane fantasy of boning someone in the office and probably the nearest target would be you considering you both live half of your life in there, writing your way through the day and night.

But his last couple of words rings in your mind, catching you off guard as you start to wonder if what he said is right. Obviously, the piece you’ve written was not based on your personal experience, But you couldn’t deny the persisting tingle between your legs since the night before. You quickly shake your head, putting it on the sexual frustration you’ve been delaying to address for a month now as you make your way outside the office.

 -

You place your bag on the bar table, the specific high seat you always occupy that catches Jimin’s attention as always. He smiles at you over the till as he politely serves the young girl who’s handing him the dollars for her drinks.

He quickly passes the changes with a customer service smile that makes his eyes almost disappear as he makes his way to you.

“Hey Babe …” he chirps as he grabs a tequila shot adorned by sugar and a piece of lemon as he fills it with an opened bottle he already has idly rested against him “Good to see you finally in good mood.”

“First of all, I had some proper sleep in a while …” you say as you lean in to show him your nonexistent dark circles “I didn’t even use the Tarte concealers after months, can you believe that Park Jimin?”

“You look great babe. Is it your ovulation?” He teases wiggling his eyebrows playfully

“No I’m not ready to get pregnant, ” you roll your eyes before licking your lips in excitement “But I’m ready to publish my next book”

“SHUT THE FRONT DOOR!” he screams at the top of his lungs, a couple of people around throwing their confused and questioning looks at you as you rush him to be quiet

“Hey Hey … We’re in a public place Park Jimin. Keep your loud ass for someone else,” you scold him with a smile that unconsciously finds its ways at your friend’s happiness

“God,” he gasps “You’re finally publishing it Oh My God!” he says in disbelief

“I know … I almost thought It’ll never happen,” you pout with a smile before leaning “You’re the first person that knows!” you say with a jolly tone

“he’s the first person to know what?”

You body tenses at the signature deep voice of your best friend, quickly turning around and watching the guy who’s ignored your message and calls all day.

“If you were interested enough you should have answered my calls,” you snap back at him, feeling annoyed that despite ignoring you the whole day he’s standing there, all cocky and haughty as if he’s done nothing wrong

“I was busy,” He shrugs off walking closer to your seat and sits beside you “so are you gonna tell me or should I ask Jimin?” he points out at the guy who’s smiling and keeping his silence over your quarrel like always

“They decided to publish my book,” You say crossing your arm across your chest and watch his expression soften into a smile

“For real?” He asks leaning closer to you

“Yes and if you answered your calls instead of spending the whole day get laid, You might have been the first one to hear the news.”  you hiss back at him in anger, not knowing why you’re so pressed about the fact that he’s ignored you considering he almost never answers his phone anyways

“That’s … Great, ” he says as his soft smile dances on his lips and you look at him in surprise, not seeing the cocky expression or his usual teasing comebacks when almost immediately his expression turns all around into his fuckboy self “And that’s thanks to who?”

“Well, ” you clear your throat as the memories from the night before rush all your blood to your cheek “I was gonna thank you for your contribution if you weren’t a dick and didn’t miss my calls.”

Taehyung studies you having a hard time making eye contact with him when your voice is called out by a stranger’s voice

“Y/N,” 

your head snaps back at the source of the voice and you internally sigh at the sight of your colleague who forced you into buying him drink because as he said “You owe him” for winning Jung’s heart 

“Seriously, did you have to come all the way here for just drinks?”

“Well, you could have just … not come I guess, Jeon” you roll your eyes at his whining,  missing Taehyung’s careful gaze which examines the guy walking to you

“Who’s this?” He asks, only then you look at your best friend and realize his hardened expression

“Jeon Jungkook, a colleague from work”  you quickly reply him

Jungkook raise his hand into a small wave before bringing his attention back to you "Are we staying here?”

“Of course,” You furrow your eyebrows, before realizing his eyes which stops at Taehyung who’s occupied the only seat beside you “Oh, he’s leaving.” you say patting Taehyung’s shoulder, so he knows to empty the seat for Jungkook.  

But he just sits there, his gaze dancing on the guy who’s standing with his arms across his chest waiting for him “Taehyung” you call and finally he tears his gaze from him and back to you

“What?” He growls in an angry tone

“Get off the seat,” You hiss, urging him to do as you say by pushing against his big arms and he finally picks his weight off and makes the seat empty for Jungkook

“Thanks, I guess.” Jungkook finally occupies the seat before grabbing a menu and looking through the drinks

You glare at Taehyung who’s still standing there, watching Jungkook with furrowed eyebrows, sighing in relief as he finally leaves the two of you alone.

“Boyfriend?” Jungkook asks raising an eyebrow as he points at Taehyung who’s now sitting idly with a couple of his rich friends

“Friend, an old friend who also owns this place.” you shrug it off as you grab the menu of his hand “He doesn’t charge me so we can drink all we want” you bring your gaze up to Jungkook as you hear him snort

“You really brought me all the way here for free drinks?” he says in disbelief

“Why not?” You shrug your shoulders “Who knows if the book does well or not, I need to save up just in case the royalties are not enough for a living.” you say as you wave your hand for Jimin

“Woah …” he shakes his head in disbelief “You’re a different species Y/N” he groans “A very cheap and stingy one.”

“Hey Hey, you asked for a drink, I’m getting you some. Stop being a dick.” you scold him as finally, Jimin makes his way to you

“Mhmm Who’s this new face I see here?” He teases you eyeing Jungkook who drums his finger on the bar table in front of him

“Jeon Jungkook” you quickly reply and Jimin’s lips form an O shape indicating he knows immediately who he is

“So what would you like me to serve you Jeon Jungkook?” Jimin asks with a flirty smile he usually offers the customers he wants to impress

“What about ... ” he hesitates as he scans through the menu “Some Johnnie”

“Oh, Thank Jesus I brought you here. You would have maxed my credit card at this rate.” you whine as you quickly face Jimin “Just the usual Jiminie. ” you sing song with a smile and thank him as he walks away to prepare your drinks

“Why? You were worried I make you pay for my drink?” He smirks as he turned on his seat to face you

“Isn’t that what you were trying to do?” You scoff in response “obviously I was smarter enough to not fall for your trap.”

“Y/N, ” he sighs as he leans closer to you, as you watch him travel the distance between your bodies “I’m gentleman enough to not allow the girl to pay,” he tilts his head to the side as his smirks deepen “Also you’ll fall for my trap someday, dont worry.” he mutters the words with a haughty tone

You gulp at his suggestive words, despite it not being the first time he openly flirts with you, finding it weird with the context of now being in a club rather than the safe four walls of your office.

"Well you don’t need to impress me Mr Gentleman,” you quickly reply shaking off the momentary tension that arises between you and Jungkook quickly pulls away and Jimin places your drinks in front of you

“Keep your money for the next girl you wanna get into her pants,” you say teasingly as you look around and grab your shot of tequila, immediately gulping it down in one go.

The fluid still rushing down your throat when your eyes double take at the scene. There he is, Taehyung sitting back on the soft and comfortable sofa, the girl draping over his body kissing her way up his neck as he drinks from his glass of alcohol you recognise as a glass of Henney.

That’s his favourite drink, you think as the scene along with the alcohol flooding your blood starts to flash back to a not very foreign memory of the girl riding his thigh in the same position.

You lick your lips as you quickly try to tear your gaze away from him so you don’t fall to the black hole you were trying to avoid all day, reminiscing every moment of your best friend fucking the shit out of that girl.

But then your eyes stop at his dark orbs, which are directly staring back at you. Your mind quickly flashbacks to those suggestive glances he gave your during his erotic action that had your pussy dripping like your whole body needed some release right there and then.

This time, however, his eyes glaze with a tint of something else, something you couldn’t properly read. His thick silver dyed eyebrows knitted into a frown as he parts his lips, perhaps due to the girl’s sinful action on his neck and it takes you all the willpower in your whole body to finally snap your gaze back at Jungkook.

“I gotta go to the loo!” you whisper as you quickly get on your two feet

“I’m gonna order more drinks, the same one for you?” He asks pointing at your shot and you nod, mouthing a quick thanks before making your way to the bathroom, you would be able to find your way to even if you were blind because of how often you have gotten drunk at this place.

You carefully make your way down the small hallway to the bathroom which is hidden at the back of the bar, almost reaching the women’s section when a hand grabs your wrist and pulls you back, pushing you to the nearest wall.

You gasp in the sudden coldness of the stone wall greeting your back, feeling the person’s weight pushing you to the wall and allowing you small to no room to move.

Your head snaps back up at the figure of the guy, with the silver strands of hair covering his forehead messily, The mixture of alcohol and his expensive cologne that usually persisted on your pillows when he came over to sleep at your place for the night hitting your skin.

“Kim Tae … ” you call softly, looking at the guy’s expression contouring in anger “What’s wrong?” you ask dumbfounded

“Am I joke to you?” he asks through a clenched jaw, his eyes burning in dark rage  “Huh?” He’s panting, his eyes travelling between your two dilated pupils as he demands an answer.  You just look back at him, in pure shock as you witness the side of him, you’ve barely seen before.

-

Taehyung sighs for the nth time that morning watching the director presenting his achievement in his very recent business trip, at the tail of the large table.

There is a reason he hates being a part of his dad’s business and these painfully tedious business meetings formed by men, who are mostly in their 40s and 50s, with the exception of him and his brother, make a big part of this reason.

He grabs his phone lazily, scrolling through the notifications as his eyes trace through the bunch of messages he’s received from you

“Tae, I didn’t find you at the club that night? where were you?”

“Is everything alright?"

"Why aren’t you answering my calls?”

"Pick your phone up, I wanna talk to you!"

"Tae, call me when you’re free!"

"Tae Tae? Hello?"

"Earth to Kim Tae, Earth to Kim Tae!"

"WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU TAE?”

“KIM TAEHYUNG, I’LL KILL YOU IF I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!”

“PICK YOUR FUCKING PHONE BEFORE I COME TO YOUR HOUSE AND STRANGLE YOU TO DEATH!”

“Fine, dont answer me! you’ll regret it once I find you!”

“YOU KNOW WHAT, I DON'T NEED YOUR LAME ASS! DONT EVEN ANSWER ME!”

His heart clenches at the sight of the last angry message, his slender fingers carding through his silver coloured hair. After his impulsive actions with you that night, he decided it was for the best to avoid you for a while until the topic becomes that of memory for both of you, more specifically for him and he can face you again.

His mind flutters to the night from a week before, the memories still fresh like he’s still in amidst that hallway, with you caged across his arms.

“What’s wrong?,” you repeat staring into the hooded eyes of the guy pressing your body to the wall, concern creeping on your expression “What? You’re scaring me with your ugly face Tae.” you chuckle nervously to try and ease the tension but he seems to not take your lead

“I guess it’s all a joke to you-” he mutters but his sentence is interrupted with a familiar voice

“Taehyung”

You both turn to your side, observing Jimin standing there with stern eyes that are directed only at Taehyung.

“What?” Taehyung spits back in an annoyed tone that catches your attention “I need your help with the accounts, one second.” Jimin quickly replies, his eyes still intensely boring into Taehyung’s.

Taehyung hesitates, his hands still firmly pressing you against the wall, a gasp leaving your lips only realizing how firm his hold can get when he loosens his grip and you shift forward towards his chest.

“Fine” he hisses as he glares back at you for a few seconds, biting his lips as if he’s chewing the words that are about to slip out.

“Taehyung, I said I need your help!” Jimin rushes him with an angry tone. You furrow your eyebrows examining Taehyung’s face before bringing your eyes back to Jimin.

“Tae, I think you should go,” you suggest pointing at the guy who’s waiting for Taehyung to react but the guy standing against you don’t have any intentions to move.

“Let’s go,” Jimin says as he grabs Taehyung’s arms and pulls him behind himself while you just stand there and stare at the back side of your two friends drifting away from you.

Jimin pulls the guy behind himself throwing him inside the first empty VIP room he finds before locking the door behind himself.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He shouts back at the silver-haired guy who’s brushing his messy hair off his forehead.

“What?” Taehyung asks in an unfazed tone receiving a mocking scoff from Jimin.

“What? Are you really acting dumb with me?” Jimin frowns in disbelief, examining his best friend “Kim Taheyung, she’s your best friend”

“So what?” Taehyung growls bringing his dark eyes to the guy “Just because she is, it doesn’t mean she can’t be more.”

“Oh yeah?” Jimin mocks in disbelief “So you want her to be more huh? That’s what you want?”

“She’s fucking around with that fuckface from her company” Taehyung snarls through gritted teeth “Why can’t she do the same with me?”

“Do you really want me to answer that question Tae?” Jimin furrows his eyebrows watching the guy avoid his eyes nervously “fine, I’ll answer it for you. Its because you’re the type of guy who’s gone to STD checkups on a more regular basis than visiting your own parents and she-” Jimin sighs, hand carding through his rainbow-dyed hair “she can count the guys she’s slept with on one hand.”

“She’s as pure as virgin mary is what you’re saying” Taehyung nods in agreement “I already know that Jimin, you should be more creative than this old cliche story of bad boys dont fuck with good girls. I already know that by heart.”

“Do you?” Jimin jeers, his eyes widening in amusement “Is that why you’re trying her?”

“What do you wanna hear Jimin?” Taehyung’s dark, vulnerable eyes gaze at the shorter guy who’s staring back at him in rage “I fucking love her-” his eyes wander around as a small sigh leaves his lips “No, I  always fucking loved her. I loved her since the day she pulled my shredded pieces together and forced me to face myself and quit being a fucking coward, hiding behind drugs and alcohol.” Taehyung brings his tear glazed eyes to his friend “Are you happy hearing it?”

“Taehyung you can’t,” Jimin shakes his head “You’ll hurt her and you know it as much as I do”

“I know …” Taehyung sighs, falling down on the soft single sofa as he dips his head into his hands, his voice barely audible as he murmurs “I just fucking lost my mind when I saw her with that guy,” he then brings his head up and faces the guy “Who the fuck is he anyway?”

“Jeon Jungkook, one of the writers at Jung’s company” Jimin replies in a quiet tone and his friend scoffs “He’s been hitting on her for a couple of months now from what I know,” Jimin adds the extra information in an attempt to hint his friend at the possibility of you with another man.

Taehyung clenches his jaw, the fine line on his jaw protruding as the thoughts of you and Jungkook flashing in his mind.

“Get yourself together before you come out,” Jimin walks closer to the guy and presses a warm grip on his shoulder “Think about a creative explanation too, she’s not like the dumb girls you sleep with. You gotta give her something she believes.”

Taehyung sighs leaning back against the headrest of the sofa in the quiet room as the door closes behind Jimin and he’s left on his own and the silence that creeps in the four walls of the room.

After his eye-opening conversation with Jimin, he decided that he was too drunk to come up with a good explanation for his childish jealousy over you and your colleague. So he did what every other emotionally immature guy his age would do, he started avoiding you.

Well, one could argue that the move was even dumber than giving a vague explanation to you. It could perhaps spark even more suspicion in your mind that something is really going on but he couldn’t come up with a better plan so he just went with what his guts told him to do.

His attempt, however, was barely successful as you guys basically were all over each other’s life at this point. Your favourite place outside the office you practically lived your life in, was the club he owned where you downed a concerning amount of alcohol, your system could barely handle.

So he locked himself in his apartment, knowing you’d never visit him without letting him know first because of the number of times you walked on him while he was fucking a random girl.

He winces at the thoughts, realizing how he’s been basically labelling himself as a fuckboy in your eyes, practically all the years you’ve known him. All the times you visited him at his apartment only to be greeted by the sight of him boning a girl.

It is practically idiotic of him to even imagine that you would accept him as a possible significant other, considering you’d be one of the few people who know exactly how many girls he’s been with.

His eyes travel from his phone to the director that concludes his talk with a couple of flattering sentences for the Chairman of the company which happens to be his dad.

he has to stop his pupils from rolling to the back of his head, thinking the middle-aged director probably badmouths his whole family in his late-night drunk conversations with his colleagues, while sucking his dad’s dick in this meeting room.

The meeting is over and the Directors greet them one by one, their obvious flattering greetings for his brother and very reluctant greetings to him not going unnoticed from his observing eyes.

He is known to be good for nothing son of Kim Corporation, being famous to be on the list of useless rich kids who basically contribute nothing to their family business.

So it wasn’t much of a surprise for him to see the directors treat him with such underwhelming attitude, considering he’ll be not much of a use to them anyway.

“Both of you, come to my room!” his dad orders sternly, before leaving the two young men in the meeting room, the room now completely empty after everyone leaves.

“I shouldn’t have come,” Taehyung sighs in frustration, ruffling his messy hair as he grabs a bottle of water from the table and looks at his brother “I mean honestly no one really cares if I’m here or not.”

“Dad cares,” his brother replies in a soft tone “and I care, so you’re attending the directors meeting until we are here.” he then glances over the guy before asking “You alright? you look a bit out of it, Tae?”

“It’s alright,” Taehyung replies, feeling slightly taken off guard by his brother’s question “Just some personal shit.”

Seokjin isn’t always indifferent to him, but the age difference between them hasn’t allowed the two brothers to be super close to each other. He doesn’t blame Seokjin for it. after all, he was taking care of all the responsibilities since forever and he was always thankful for it. But still, it was quite hard for him to open up to the older, considering they barely had much one on one time growing up.

“By the dark circles under your eyes and your unwashed hair I can tell its girl issues,” the older suggest, watching Taehyung tense on his spot at the remark “I’ve been there, dont worry! I know how it usually goes.”

“You’ve had-” Taehyung asks with a frown on his face “lady issues?”

“Of course,” Seokjin laughs at his surprised expression “What did you think? that I’m just a heartless jerk?”

“No It's just that-” Taehyung scratches the back of his head “You dont seem the type to be into that shit!”

“What shit?” Seokjin raises an eyebrow “Love?” he asks mischievously

Taehyung clears his throat, blushing like a little kid being who is caught doing something embarrassing “Yeah, Whatever that shit is called.”

“Oh dear,” Seokjin shakes his head watching his younger brother “poor girl, If I ever meet her I’ll tell her to run.” he scoffs, watching his brother grimace at his remark “let’s go, dad is waiting!” he says before leaving the room ahead of him.

-

You press the green button beside Taehyung’s number for the 100th time that week, pressing the device to your ear as you murmured “Pick your phone up, you little bitch!” under your breath

The phone continues to ring for a few more times before sending you to the nasal voice of a woman asking you to leave a voice message. Well, the first few times you did, you left angry voice messages on his phone, screaming at the phone for him to stop ignoring you but you have given up by now.

You reach for your bag on your desk and push the phone in it as you whisper “Fine, ignore me all you want. I’ll just barge into your house and confront your ugly face by force.” you mutter the angry words to your computer screen as you quickly save your drafts when you hear Jungkook’s voice.

“Should we go for a drink tonight?” He stops by your desk, looking at your sour expression  "Having a bit of slump?“ he asks lightly, not realizing he’s playing with the edge of the knife considering how angry you are "I could probably help-”

“Piss off Jeon,” you hiss, throwing an angry glare at him “I dont have the nerves to entertain you right now.”

“Jesus,” he mutters, frowning at your heated tone “I was just trying to be helpful, you dont need to be so aggressive all the time.”

“No thank you, Mr Jeon,” you face him after grabbing your handbag and standing across him “I haven’t changed my mind and I dont wanna fuck you.” you say in a calm tone complemented by a fake smile.

“Seriously?!” he scoffs, leaning closer as you take a step back unconsciously, caging you between his body and the desk “After all this, you still think I just wanna get into your pants?”

“I …” you breath out, you expression softening as you realize perhaps you overreacted a bit “I’m sorry, I haven’t had the best day. I shouldn’t have vented my anger on you.”

He’s taken back by your apology, you can tell by how his dark eyes soften into those round, soft orbs that sometimes, although you desperately want to deny has you melting for them.

“It’s alright,” he takes a tiny step back, but still close enough to be face to face with you “My offer is still on, do you wanna have a drink tonight?” he hesitates before sighing “It’s on me, you dont have to take me to your friend’s club for free drinks.”

“Did you hate it that much?” You furrow your eyebrows at his remark

“I mean-” he hesitates before muttering “He was onto us the whole time we were there, It was a bit awkward.”

“What?” you laugh at his statement “No he wasn’t! Taehyung is not like that, he’s never the type to be counting how many drinks I have there.”

“Oh Gosh, ” he sighs with a mocking tone “You’re a bit dense, aren’t you?”

“Jeon Jungkook-” you hiss but he’s fast to interrupt you

“You didn’t answer me?” he raises an eyebrow “Drink? tonight? Yes or No?”

“fine,” your roll your eyes at his impatient tone “I’ll save you from wasting time, finding a chick to drink with if you’re that desperate!”

“That’s so nice of you Y/N,” he nods as he leans closer and licks his lips seductively “Do you also take responsibility for my other needs?”

Your jaw drops in disappointment, realizing men are looking for one thing after all, “Changed my mind,” you reply with a forced smile “Go find a chick to meet all of your needs, It’ll be easier for both of us.”

You walk past him when he grabs your wrist and stops you midway

“8 PM, the bar across the office!” he says in a firm tone as if he’s implying that he won’t accept any rejection

“I’ll think about it,” you reply, refusing to give in till the end as you leave the office.

You get into the uber you called a few minutes ago, apologizing to the young man for making him wait, cursing Jungkook under your breath as you hand him the address to Taehyung’s place.

It’s been a week now; since the night Taehyung stopped you in the hallway leading to the bathroom you frequently visited in the club. He was looking with a displeased expression and as you started to recognize the type of anger glazing his eyes, you grew even more concerned.

It was the same type of rage you witnessed once before when you sat there in Taehyung’s living room while his dad lectured him with venom in his voice about how disappointed he is.

He then went on to scold Taehyung for living like scum and hanging out with beggars like you.

You sat there, barely feeling any anger for the older man, at this point in life you were old enough to know a thing called the gap between rich and poor and how people from the higher socioeconomic status perceive those like you.

His dad was a dick but what concerned you the most was Taehyung glaring at his dad’s direction while panting heavily in anger, looking like he might charge towards him any second.

Your prediction turned out to be right when the guy shifted on his spot, about to do exactly as you guessed but your hands were quick to cover his thigh, urging him to contain himself by pressing as hard as you could on his quads muscles.

You remember this expression very well because what followed after his dad left his apartment was him screaming the anger he felt for the older man followed by the two of your drinking until you could barely speak.

When you both had enough alcohol in your system and your words started to become more of a slur than a clear speech, Taehyung cried in your chest and apologised for all his dad said to you while you reassured him that you were fine. The next day both you decided to forget the night.

But it was different now, there was no involvement of his dad and the only person in the equation he could be angry at that night was you. because you somehow managed to piss him off enough to bring out the worst you could ever imagine out of him.

Your heart sinks as you remember once again what happened after your discontinued conversation which was interrupted by Jimin. These days you never see Taehyung in the club at nights, barely receiving any replies to your calls and texts.

Although you decided to not read much into it and try to give him time, you started to become more suspicious that he’s avoiding you as he continued ignoring your calls. And today, you finally lost it.

You were looking at the edited version of the scene you’ve written based on him, every line reminding you the buried anxious feeling you had about losing him. He’s been your best friend for years now, and even the thought of losing him over a mistake that you weren’t even aware of committing it, was suffocating for you.

The car pulls over and you quickly get off the backseat, greeting the driver in a rushed manner as you run in the apartment complex. The old security greets you with his usual friendly tone but you’re too anxious to return the favour as you press the button on the side of the lift.

After a few seconds, the door opens and you get in, pressing the number that leads to Taehyung’s flat a couple of times as if it will help get you there any faster.

You grab your phone and attempt to call him one last time, you’ve already decided to barge into his flat even if he doesn’t reply but it doesn’t hurt to try and be respectful of his privacy before you say fuck it and force yourself into his personal space.

You’re not surprised when the phone sends you to voicemail, considering this has been the pattern of you attempting to contact him for the past few days.

You stand in front of his flat, inhaling air into your lungs as you feel all the anger and emotions that have been piled up in your heart finally get to your head as you punch the passcode in the key slot and twist the doorknob.

“Don't you dare blame me for invading your privacy when I fucking warned you Kim Tae-” you start to rant your way in with a raised voice as you throw your shoes off your feet on the side, bringing your gaze up only to see Taehyung with another unfamiliar, older guy sitting in his living room.

“H-Hi!” you force the greeting, suddenly all your anger disappearing upon seeing the two men

“Y/N,” he calls, his tone hoarse and breathy “What are you doing here?” he stands up walking to you

Your eyes travel between him and the guy who’s drinking from his pint of beer, eyeing you from head to toe as you reply “You kept ignoring my calls,” your eyes are still at the guy who smiles with himself, taking a bigger gulp of his beer upon hearing your voice “So I came here.” You finally bring your focus back on Taehyung as you abruptly ask “who’s that?”

“His brother,” the guy finally stands up and waves at you “Glad you asked. I thought I’m gonna have to sit here awkwardly the whole time. I’m Seokjin.” he then eyes his brother with a playful smile “and who are you?”

“Y/N-” you mutter but your self-introduction quickly comes to an end after a word when Taehyung grabs your arm and pushes you to the door

“Look, I’m actually busy now. I’ll call you and we can talk later!” he says as he reaches for the doorknob, while you repulsively move towards the door

“Tae, I think she can join us,” Seokjin calls for him and you look back to see if the guy is serious about his proposition “I mean she must be pretty close to you, to know your passcode. She might be able to help with your issue.”

“Help?” You quickly perk at the words as you pull your arms out of Taehyung’s grip and step closer to where his brother is sitting “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Taehyung says gripping your wrist this time and pulling you back towards the door “It’s nothing you should be concerned with-”

“He’s getting married.” Seokjin declares and your eyes are about to pop out of socket as they travel between him and Taehyung.

“What?” you shriek with lost eyes “W-When … How’s that even possible?” you ask as you shake your head in disbelief “Kim Tae? Getting married?” you laugh hysterically, trying to cover up the sinking feeling in your heart. 

You’re not even sure why you’re feeling so out of breath hearing about your best friend’s plans for marriage “Is that a joke?” you ask with a mocking tone

“Does he look like he’s joking?” Taehyung frowns at your response

“So you’re telling me, you,” you hesitate to point at his chest “Kim Taehyung is getting married?” you laugh again before pausing to look at him “Its must be a  joke , right?”

Taehyung sighs as he releases his grip on your arm before throwing himself at the nearest couch, shutting his eyes closed. You realize at this point, that perhaps, it’s not a joke after all so you quickly sit across him and look at his brother.

“But he’s not ready!” you protest in a rushed tone, not even considering the implications of your word before his brother speaks out.

“Mhmm Interesting,” he nods as he eyes his younger brother “And why do you say so?”

“Because-” you start the sentence, watching Tae bringing his gaze up onto you as you clumsily make the sentence “Because he’s still immature and-” you bat your eyelids trying to think of the next word “and he’s a fuckboy. he messes around with girls and he’s not the type to commit to one girl. How can he ever be bound to one person by marriage?”

You dont realize how the words that are leaving your lips carelessly could be interpreted as you’re saying them, but only come to your senses when Taehyung’s eyes darken.

“So that’s what you think of me huh?” his husky voice rings in your ear and you gulp, feeling intimidated by his tone for the first time in your years of friendship “That I’m immature, that I can’t commit to girls and I just mess around with them huh?” He scoffs, his head falling back as he shuts his eyes closed, making the bulging vein on his neck come to view.

“I mean- I, I-” you stutter as you try to form a response, eyeing his older brother who’s watching the scene in silence “I’m not totally wrong, am I?”

“No,” he nods, his eyes still shut and his voice lowered an octave “You’re right!” he nods again with a dark smirk plastered on the corner of his lips as he brings his gaze to you “But that’s not any of your concern as I said. So why don’t you mind your own fucking business?”

“T-Tae,” you call softly, your eyes glazing with tears that are threatening to fall down your cheek. It's been a week since you’ve seen him, you’ve missed him so much that all you want to do is to hug his stupid gigantic chest and feel at ease again. but instead, you are sitting across him being told that you should mind your own business right into your face “I … you’ve been avoiding me … and I just wanted-”

“Stop invading my personal space,” he spits back, his voice filled with sharp venom that cuts right through your heart “And you’re right, I’m immature, a fuckboy, a scum as my everyone else say. But that’s not any of your concern,” his jaw protrudes as he pauses before adding “That’s my future wife’s concern and she’s apparently fine with it.”

“F-Future wife?” You repeat, the words somehow translating to the fact that you will lose your best friend very soon “You’re really getting married? With who?” You ask in disbelief

“The daughter of JH Group,” its Seokjin’s voice that responds you this time and your gaze drifts away from your best friend “she really likes him,” he suggests, a playful smile fluttering on his lips that for some reason makes you want to punch him right there “I guess she doesn’t mind his past with other girls.”

I don’t mind his past, you scream in your head but you quickly have to shake the thoughts off and scold yourself for thinking of such an absurd thing. You have to blink rapidly to stop the tears from rolling down your eyes.

“Good,” you nod flashing a forced smile to his brother “I was just worried,” you dig your teeth onto your bottom lip “Watching him play with girls like playing cards, changing from one to another so fast because he got bored of them easily had me worried, wondering which stupid girl would ever want to stay with him.” you say through gritted eyes, your gaze piercing into Taehyung’s dark and furious orbs as you stand up “Good for you, I better go before I’m late for my date with Jungkook.”

You’re not sure why you include that extra information about your so-called date with Jungkook; probably one of the many questions that sparked during this conversation along with others like why you were so heated over Taehyung’s marriage and why you felt jealous of this girl you didn’t even know just because she was Taehyung’s soon to be wife.

You shut the door behind yourself after bidding Seokjin a polite goodbye, leaving the two guys on their own.

What you dont know is that the two remaining men sit there, conversing about no other person but you.

“That’s it?” Seokjin asks the guy who has his head between his hands, falling low against his body “You’re not gonna even go after her?”

“Hyung,” he breaths out facing the older guy with rage “With all due respect, can you please shut the fuck up?” he’s panting, his nose flaring with air that he exhales every time “Why the fuck did you tell her about the marriage?” he scoffs , his gaze wandering on the empty couch that you were sitting on a few seconds ago “To see how she belittles me and calls me a scum?”

“You’re an idiot Tae,” the older shakes his head in disapproval “You both are.” he sighs as he stands up from his seat, placing his pint of beer on the glass tea table “I did what I could, but I can’t make two blind people see eye to eye when they both refuse to even open their eyes." 

he says as he walks closer to the frustrated guy "Open your eyes, or you’ll have to watch her sleep in another man’s arms. That’s all the advice I can give you.”  he says before walking to the door and leaving Taehyung on his own.

-

“Hey,” you flash a tipsy smile which has the guy furrow his eyebrows as he gets closer to you “sit down!” you offer the seat beside you to him

“Are you planning to kill me?” he asks in a suspicious tone

“Not today, Jeon!” you chuckle and watch his expression contouring in more confusion “Maybe some other time. for tonight I need a drinking buddy.”

“Are you sure?” He flinches at your strange behaviour as he continues “You’re acting really weird.”

“I’m trying to be nice,” you roll your eyes at him as you fill up his glass with the bottle Johnnie  you ordered earlier “Your favourite right?”

He nods, gulping the shot down as he eyes you carefully “Spit it out, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you gulp a gentle sip of your glass “I just had an argument with my friend.”

“Kim Taehyung?” he asks and you look at him in surprise

“How do you know?” you ask, tensing at how easily he can read you

“He was giving me death glares the whole night,” he smirks as he turns around to face you on his side “Are you sure you guys are just friends?”

“Y-Yeah,” you nod, feeling slightly uncomfortable about the question, after your earlier conversation with Taehyung and his brother you are still baffled about your confusing emotions about him and his marriage “why?”

“He seems to like you,” he shrugs “I mean if he was really just your friend, he would have never cockblocked you like he did that night?”

“Wait, What?” you shake your head at his statement “he never cockblocked me?”

“He was literally watching us for the first half an hour I got there,” he smirks looking at your surprised expression “I guess you have things to clear out with your "friend”.“

You consider Jungkook’s words for a few seconds before quickly shaking it off with a bitter smile "There is no need. He’s getting married soon, that should be enough to clear things out.” you reply and Jungkook raises an eyebrow

“Interesting,” he nods, tapping his shot at yours “Okay then.” he shrugs indifferent and gulps the shot down “To your friend’s marriage.”

-

You enter the familiar space of the club you visit almost every night, greeting Jimin who’s cleaning the shelves filled with different bottles of alcoholic drinks.

“Hey Jiminie,” you call for him, catching his attention as he looks at you and flashes soft smile “How’s it going?”

“You’re early tonight!” the voices out with a grin

“I thought maybe I can find Tae if I come early,” you reply in a hesitant tone, avoiding his piercing gaze which is trying to figure you out “Is he here?”

“He … ” he starts, hesitantly glancing his way up at the VIP rooms upstairs and you immediately know you finally found your prey as you make your way to the stairs

“No, wait-”

You hear Jimin calling for you from behind but you can barely stop yourself from barging into each room at the second floor, checking in to every single one of them, one after another to find him.

It’s been 3 days since you talked at his place, 10 days since he’s been ignoring your calls and texts and you were not having it anymore. If it took another confrontation and an argument to come to closure, you were prepared to go all the way.

It’s the 5th room you open the door to when you find him, half sitting on a couch while a girl in her lingerie’s is kneeling against his thighs, pleasing him.

His eyes are shut, resembling the way he closed them the day you argued in his flat, droplets of sweat running down the side of his neck while his plump lips part and wanton moans leave his lips.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, holding onto the girl’s hair firmly as he orders “Deeper, suck me deeper.”

The girl complies and you lick your lips, watching her gag on his girth, this time not very surprised by his ridiculous size since you’ve seen it all before. You have to leave, you clearly tell yourself that in your mind but still your feet are stuck to the floor, your eyes not tearing themselves apart from the erotic scene of your best friend receiving pleasure from another girl.

You dig your teeth onto your bottom lips as you remember the weekend you spent at home, bringing yourself to orgasm again and again just by the aid of your newly arrived vibrator and the dirty erotic scenes you’ve had saved in your memory from watching your best friend fuck another girl.

You just blamed it on the time of the month, your ovulation, the fact that you missed Taehyung and also was immensely pissed at him that he was the key to your delicious highs all weekend.

But you can no longer deny it, you are thirsting over your best friend and his seductively large dick. You bite your lips, feeling a drip of arousal running down your thighs as you confess to your sin in your mind.

You gasp as Taehyung suddenly parts his lids and bring them to you, pupils, dilating in surprise as he catches sight of you. but what follows causes your eyeballs to practically popping out of the socket.

“Y/N-” he moans in a whiny tone, holding onto the girl’s head as he thrusts his hip forward into her throat “Fuck, Y/N …” he calls again, throwing his head back “Its feels so good, Fuck …” he sighs, shutting his eyes closed again.

Your eyes travel to the girl and that’s your epiphany, you wanna be her. you wanna be on your knees, with your lips around Taehyung’s girth, deep throating and gagging on his ginormous cock until he calls your name like how he is now.

The rush of arousal drips down your core as blood races up your cheek and you finally come clean with yourself and realize you should no longer stay there. You turn on your heel, finally tearing your gaze from the sensual scene before rushing out of the room and down the stairs.

“Y/N … what happened?” Jimin asks in concern, his eyes examining your crimson tinted face

“N…Nothing …” you say panting heavily as you practically ran down the stairs “I gotta go, see you later.” you manage to form the words clumsily before you rush out of the club.

-

It's been officially two weeks since your quarrel with Taehyung. If for the first ten days he was the only one guilty of avoiding the situation, now it was on your side too. After practically finding yourself drooling over your best friend’s cock in another girl’s mouth, you decided you really need to get your life together.

Your first defence mechanism was to bring up excuses, it’s been long since you were in a relationship, its been even longer since you put your genital anywhere near another human being. So you assumed you were just confused and flustered by the carnal desires.

There is still that turn of your stomach at the thought of Taehyung marrying the girl you secretly hated even before meeting her, that was kind of nagging you to prove you otherwise. but you are stronger to let it sink into your thoughts and make their destructive effects.

You decide to organize your room on your day off, the whole organization giving you both time and venue to organize your mind at the same time. you aren’t even surprised when you spend the whole morning cleaning the room you basically leave in the morning only to come back late at night, intoxicated by alcohol to sleep in.

You sigh as you pull out all of your drawers, emptying the content of each of them to vacuum the month old dust that has accumulated in it. sitting in the middle of the pile of notebooks and journals you find your photo album which contains all your memories growing up.

You decide a walk down memory lane would be a good idea for a mundane day like this so you flip through the pages, smiling at how silly you look in each picture.

Your finger stops flipping through the page when there is a picture of you and Taehyung, both in your school uniform making faces to the camera with your graduation certificates in hand.

You dont even realize you’re crying, the wet trail of tear down your cheek is your only clue to the emotions pouring out on a physical level.

“Idiot,” you whisper touching the guy’s tanned skin in the image “I missed you.”

your attention diverts to your phone on your side, glancing at the text notification on the screen from Jung.

“Hey everyone, dont forget the party tonight. We’re all gathering at EVE, the bar across the office. dont forget everyone can bring their partner/significant other. See you all there!”

You sigh, remembering you committed to attending the party that Jung decided to throw to celebrate your new book with everyone else. your eyes glaze over the word partner/ significant other and you heave a sigh. These are the times you hated being single the most.

Jungkook is your momentary option, but considering how much of a big ego he is, you would never bring yourself down to ask him first. it is already late and you have to come up with an idea.

you scroll through your contacts, considering every guy friend you have. Jimin is your go-to option but you know in these situations but you know he works at the club tonight and since its weekend, he won’t be able to leave the place to the inexperienced part-timers either.

you fingers stop scrolling at Taehyung’s name, gulping nervously as your finger hovers over his name when suddenly the phone goes dark and then his name flashes on the screen along with the ring of the phone.

“Hello?” you immediately answer the phone, cursing yourself for appearing so desperate when his voice echoes in the device

“Hey…” he greets awkwardly as he shifts over the phone “H..How are yo-”

“Do you wanna go to a party with me?” you ask in a rushed tone, interrupting him midway through his greeting

“O-Ok …” he replies hesitantly “when is it?” he leads you on to your surprise

“Tonight!” you say nervously as you shift the phone to your other ear, your gaze fixed on the guy’s younger version in the image “Are you busy?”

“N-No … I … I mean-” he breaths out nervously as he murmurs “Its fine, I’ll pick you up then.”

“Okay, see ya.” you disconnect the phone before rushing to the shower to get ready.

The office parties are one place you need to show that you are more than the nerd author who spends her days stuck onto her chair writing fictions. So you usually put a lot more effort than the dark pencil skirt and white dress shirt you usually sport at work.

But this time, you’re not sure why but you’re feeling all giddy inside, like a teenager going on her first date who wants to look good to the boy of her fantasies.

You spend another half an hour staring into your vanity as you try to perfect your makeup and eyeliners, the masses of Q tips and wet wipes messily spread over the table indicating your failure.

You sigh in relief as the final touch of lipstick comes to your lips, and you check the time on your phone realizing you’ve got ready just on time.

A simple text from Taehyung, saying he’s waiting for you downstairs has you rushing down your hallway, with your handbag and heels in each hand. you quickly slide into your heels before finally leaving the house.

Taehyung is in his bright red Audi, which usually has eyes drawn to it, just like its owner. You feel nervous, something in your tummy turns when brings his gaze from his phone up to you as he hears your heels click on the ground.

You hold your breath in your chest, the momentary eye contact fluttering the memories of the last time you saw those dark orbs looking back at you.

“Hey!” you pant as you get in the passenger’s side, reaching for the seatbelt when he leans in and pulls it for you

“Hey!” he murmurs in his deep voice, his warm breath hitting your neck as he shifts away and fastens the seat belt “Where is the place?”

“EVE, the bar in front of the office.” you quickly mutter as you search for your GPS but he presses his hand on yours to stop you

“I think I know it,” he mutters and you gulp, feeling his touch on your hand.

You can’t believe you’re craving for the simplest touch from him only after two weeks. You wonder if spending time with anyone for so long would make you so needy and craving for their existence as you craved for Tae

“How have you been?” he asks, his eyes fixed on the road

“Good, pretty good,” you reply, proud of yourself for not stuttering your answer

“How’s the book going?” he asks, glancing at your for a moment before drifting his attention back on the road

“Good, we’re due to publish it next month,” you hesitate before you add “Tonight’s party is held because of the book.”

“Mhmm,” he hums in response, nodding his head “You should have told me, I would have brought a gift or something,” he says as he purses his lips into a tiny pout.

It takes all your willpower to not lean in and kiss that tiny pout on his lips but you manage to hold back and mutter “Its fine,” you chuckle awkwardly as you add “I mean, you were my muse, so I should be the one buying you something.”

He takes his eyes from the road, glancing at you for a second while having the steering skillfully controlled without having any view of the road ahead, his only view your anxious expression.

“Muse?” he asks, narrowing his eyes “Right!” he nods, his tongue poking to lick his lips as his aura changes into his usual mischievous mode “I forgot I was the reason you finished the book.”

“Yeah,” you agree with him “I kind of owe the publication of this book to you,” you confess honestly

“And as long as I remember you never paid me back,” he says in a sassy tone, while he reverses parks his sports car into one of the spots allocated in front of the bar.

You ignore his words, reaching for your seatbelt when he leans in, his face a few inches away from you as he holds onto the hand your trying to unfasten your seatbelt with.

“So,” he hesitates, his dark eyes piercing into yours “how are you gonna pay me back?”

“H..How do you want me to pay you back?” you ask as you bat your eyelids anxiously “I mean- I mean it’d be ridiculous for me to pay you back in money.”

“right, It can’t be money but there should be another way right?” he asks, a faint smirk glazing on his lips when the click of the seatbelt echoes in the silence of the car and the fabric is pulled back into its place in a fast pace “I’ll think about it,” he says simply before getting off the car.

The party is as boring as it always been. a bunch of colleagues who absolutely have no interest in each other’s life, showing up with their significant others, only to prove others that somehow their life is more than what they do in the company which is perhaps not even true.

You can sense the eyes of the ladies and even some guys on Taehyung from the all over the room. it wasn’t the first time the silver-haired guy attracted attention in a social gathering like this so you were somehow used to having people swooning over his beauty.

But for some reason, you feel your throat going dry every time he greets another lady with his suggestive and seductive words. The guy has a big sign reading “I have the best dick in the room” plastered all over his confident tone and expressions and the fact that you know that is true anger you even more.

Who are you kidding, you were practically one of those girls who wanted to be served by his dick a few days ago and you’re not even sure if you’ve changed your mind since or not.

So you have no right to judge when one of your colleagues who come alone to the party starts to engage him in a heated conversation about the new clothes line released by Gucci which Taehyung’s body was adorned by.

You quietly walk away from the two, walking to the bartender as you ask for a tequila, reminiscing all the times you’ve asked Jimin for one. You miss him, considering you’ve met the guy at Taehyung’s club more often than your own parents.

You down the tequila feeling suddenly down about the whole situation you put yourself in. Was this book even worth it? you wonder as you glance back at the silver-haired guy who’s seducing yet another girl for the night.

Maybe if you weren’t aware of how good he dicks his girls down, if that night you refused to cave in to the temptations of beating Jungkook, if you just wrote the piece from a text reference or something … maybe then your feelings was never ignited for your best friend. Maybe now you wouldn’t be feeling the turn in your tummy from the sight of him flirting with other girls. or that sinking feeling in your heart every time you remember that he’ll be married soon.

“I was waiting for your call!” Jungkook orders a shot for himself glancing over at your best friend before muttering “But I guess you had someone else to come with.”

you glance at your side, hearing Jungkook’s voice, a heavy sigh leaving your chest as your reply “I was waiting for yours.”  at this point you dont even care if you place your ego aside, you’re too tipsy to keep your head high.

“We’re both quite thick-headed, aren’t we?” He scoffs at your response “That’s why we’ve been breathing on each other’s neck for two years in that office and yet …” he takes a sip of his glass of Johnnie “none of us have the balls to do anything.”

“I assumed you’d have the balls,” you raise an eyebrow, the alcohol dissolving in your blood giving you extra courage “I guess not much is happening down there, Jeon.” you motion down at his crotch with your head

“You’re so fucking cheeky all the time … ” he inhales as he takes a step closer to you “I bet that smart mouth of yours would look so good around my cock,” he whispers the filthy words and you have to take a moment to digest the fact that he just suggested such filthy thing in a public place like this.

“Why dont we try?” you challenge him and this time you take a step closer “I’d love to see if you actually have any balls.”

He smirks at your play on words, clenching his jaw as his eyes darken in pure lust “the bathroom at our 3 o'clock, be there in 5 minutes."

he doesn’t allow you to question his proposition for a second time, as he turns on his heel and makes his way to the location he just notified you about.

You take your time, downing another shot since what you were about to do needed a bit more alcohol courage than you already had. You’ve never done public before but for some reason, with the jealousy and frustration blinding your vision, you found the idea extremely appealing.

You place the glass shot before turning on your heels and nervously making your way to the male bathroom that Jungkook disappeared to earlier. To your utter surprise, no one is around and you make your way inside without embarrassingly caught red-handed.

After a quick knock, the door opens and Jungkook yanks you in the small cubicle, pressing his lips on your as he pushes you to the wooden door.

You impatiently reach for his belt, loosening the leather material before unbuttoning and unzipping his pants all in a few seconds.

"Impatient huh?” He breathes out, watching you focus your attention on his crotch as your lower his pants down, dropping to your knee.

“It’s not like we have much time,” you spit back with a frown, keeping your gaze at him as you lower his boxer on his thighs.

You gulp, your eyes slowly drifting down to his toned muscles, wondering how the hell he manages to be so muscular and fit considering he spends most his time sitting on his desk like you.

“I guess you do have balls,” you point out mockingly as you glance up, watching him scoff at your remark

“Are you just gonna examine my balls or you wanna do something about it?” He raises an eyebrow

“Of course …” you reach to grab a fistful of him, pumping his dick to get the blood rushing in his manhood, watching his muscles contract and relax against your hand “I’m gonna show you my balls now,” you say before leaning in and enveloping him between your lips.

“Fuck,” he writes, his head falling back as he thrusts his length even more in your mouth “It feels even better than what I imagined.”

You furrow your eyebrows at his words, thinking exactly how many times the guy imagined you in the current position to have come up with a certain expectation like that.

He’s not as gigantic as Taehyung, you realize within the first few pumps of his cock in your mouth, but he is good in his own league. It doesn’t take long before his hand grips onto strands of your hair, pushing himself further in your throat and your gag reflex starts to get in the way.

“Shit,” he clenches his jaw as he brings his gaze down to you “I need more, take me more Y/N.”

You slack your jaw and ease your throat to allow the guy in even more, as your fondle with his balls at the same time to amplify his pleasure.

“God YES!” He cries as he fucks your throat “You take me so well baby, its feel like heaven.”

The praising words encourage you to move your head faster while using your free hand to hold onto the guy’s iron thighs as a handle. Jungkook picks up your attempt and fastens the snap of his own hip in and out of your mouth and he reaches his high.

“FUCK Y/N … ” he calls in a needy tone “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum in your mouth baby,” he warns and you give him a nod of approval, Jungkook releasing a big spurt of his cum down your throat.

His hip stutters and he slows down before completely pulling out and quickly grabbing your wrist to pull you up onto your feet.

“Fuck,” he voices out “That was-” he tries to form the words but instead he leans in and kisses your lips, tasting his own cum in your tongue.

As you shut your eyes close in the kiss, you can’t help but see Taehyung’s dark orbs glaring your way. a rush of guilt fills your heart, thinking he’s probably out there in the boring party you brought him to, while you’re fucking your coworker in the male bathroom.

“Jungkook …” you gasp as you pull back, nervously shifting your gaze as you  mutter “I should get myself fixed before anyone comes.” you quickly turn around to unlock the door when his voice stops you

“before anyone comes?” His dark voice echoes in your ear as he adds “Are you worried your "friend”, Taehyung,  sees you with my cum all over your lips? “ he whispers against your ear as he leans closer to you, his chest pressing against your back.

You furrow your eyebrows, sensing a tint of evil in his voice, but for now, all you were concerned with was to leave this cubicle and clean your cum covered lips.

So you open the door of the bathroom and step out, bringing your head up to face the mirror only to see your best friend standing there with his hands across his chest, glaring at you as he rests his back on the tiled wall

"Tae …” you call for him, voice shaking at the thought of him hearing all the filthy things you’ve been doing with Jungkook a few seconds ago “W..What are you doing he-”

“I know what I want as payback for being your muse,” he says through gritted teeth as he points at the closed door of the cubicle where Jungkook is in behind you “I’ll have what he had!” he says in a demanding tone and your eyes widen in surprise.

-

You glance over at your friend whose eyes are fixed on the road. After your embarrassing confrontation in the bathroom, followed by his bizarre request, he left you on your own in there.

You proceeded to fix yourself up in the bathroom mirror, not even bothering to bid Jungkook a goodbye as your only goal at this point was to leave this place and all memories associated with it behind.

So here you are now, sitting in your friend’s sports car, driving to God knows where.

You bite your lips nervously upon seeing his well-defined eyebrows furrowing close together. He seems pissed, you can tell by the silent treatment he’s been giving you all night at the party.

He even had the audacity to flirt with every girl who was on her own, completely ignoring the fact that he was supposed to be your so-called “partner” after interrupting your session with Jungkook.

You scoff at the thought, which immediately draws his attention, his hollow eyes travelling momentarily from the road to you. You gulp quickly looking away, not bearing to watch his angry eyes.

No matter how many years its been since you’ve known him, you feel your blood running cold when he gives you those angry glares. He is intimidating, no matter how much you deny it with yourself or him.

The car pulls over and you glance over at the sight of his apartment complex coming to your view, Taehyung stopping just in front of the lobby as the security waves for him.

you watch as he gets off the passenger side, and you have no other choice but to follow as he hands the car key to his security. Your rushed footsteps follow after him inside the lobby, watching him press the elevator button while tapping the front of his shoe on the marble floor.

As you stop across him and attempt to ask what you’re doing here, the lift’s door opens and he steps in. You hesitate to watch him from the outside as he presses the button to his flat.

The door proceeds to close between you when he quickly presses the button and gives you an unimpressed look

”What?” He raises an eyebrow “Are you coming or not?”

You feet unconsciously step in upon his questioning and the door closes behind you. You totally lose all trail of your thoughts, and the questions you were gonna ask, just watching the digit on the lift increasing dumbfoundedly.

The lift stops with the sound of a bell and your best friend steps out. You follow after him silently like a kid who is waiting for her punishment, knowing very well there is something coming up with his angry demeanour.

Taehyung walks in the kitchen which is across the entrance, immediately reaching for a bottle of beer and snaps it open before pressing it against his lips and gulping half the bottle while he glances at you.

you push your shoes to the side, entering the familiar place while making a momentary eye contact with him which makes things even more awkward between the two of you.

”You’re not gonna give me one!?” You chuckle lightly pointing at his fridge trying to ease the mood

“You already had enough drinks for your limit,” he says unimpressed as he takes another sip “5 shots of tequila, I wonder if that’s why you were sucking dick in the bathroom.”

“Taehyung-“ you wince with furrowed eyebrows, suddenly feeling defensive about his statement

”anyways,” he shrugs it off, glancing away as he mutters “I already said what I want, it’s up to you.” He declares as he stares back at you with waiting eyes

“What-“ you part your lips but then gasp, mouth wide open at the realization “Were you serious!?”

“You dont have to do it,” he quickly replies in a rushed tone, raising his shoulder in a quick shrug “I never did it for something in return anyway.”

You hesitate, waiting for him to break that serious expression he’s wearing on his face any second and tell you its all a joke. But he doesn’t, instead, he just takes another big gulp of his bottle of beer, his Adam’s apple moving between the toned muscles of his neck.

”If you’re still on your words, get in my room and think of your safe word,” he instructs simply as if it’s not weird at all “If not, I’ll drop you off at your place.”

You stare at him in a daze, trying to digest his words. He just suggested you go wait in his room like those girls he bones every other night. The image has you clenching your thighs together. You wanna believe you’re weirded out and you wanna walk out. But in reality, you really wanna walk down his hallway and get on your knees to be one of those girls shamelessly.

”Let’s go,” he says as he places the bottle of beer on the kitchen top “I’ll drop you ho-“

”I’ll do it,” you quickly interrupt, retracting your arm from his reach “I wanna pay you back and if this is your preferred method, fine! I’ll do it.” You say determinedly

”you dont have to,” he says looking directly into your eyes, stepping closer across your body

”I want to.” You repeat firmly, looking back at his eyes that suddenly turn darker in lust

”Fine,” he nods, hesitation still evident in his quivering pupils as they travel between your two eyes “Go wait in the room,” he hesitates as he glances down at your body “naked!”

Your breath hitches at the request, eyes unconsciously widening at his words.

“Alright,” You nod, standing there, still on your spot as if you’re still trying to think this plan through “Alright!” You nod again before turning on your heels and walking down the hallway to his room.

There is an odd feeling at the pit of your stomach when you step in the room, the sheet messily curled on the bed reminding you of the other night you were here. the night you watched Taehyung fuck that girl so intensely, it left you high and dry craving for some.

The realization finally hits you, now it’s you, you’re another one of those girls who you always used to mock over the years. sure, Taehyung was always an attractive young man, but you never understood why girls loved to be in his bed just as a playtoy for a night between his thighs.

“I thought I gave you an order!”

you turn around facing the guy, a shiver running down your spine the moment you hear his deep husky voice echoing in the four walls of the room.

“It’s not late,” he explains softly, no trace of anger or authority evident in his voice “If you regret it, step out and leave the apartment. I’ll be out in the lobby in five.”

“Why are you so insistent on me leaving?” You raise an eyebrow as your hands trace down to the hem of your dress “Do you regret asking me?” you step closer to him daring “Do you not want this with me?”

“No,” he snaps, his eyebrows furrowing closer together at the daring question “I dont regret a single thing. I just want you to know you have a choice.”

“And I said I’m fine,” you persist as you roll up your tight dress onto your waist and up to your chest, the fabric creating some friction with the curves of your chest before driving up onto your neck.

You throw the piece of dress aside, gulping nervously as you watch Taehyung’s eyes fixed on yours. You are slightly surprised that he almost resists to look down on your body.

“Am I gonna be the only one naked here?” you ask raising an eyebrow, trying to fight for dominance in the conversation despite your crumbling confidence due to your exposed body.

“No,” He says as his eyes falter away, hand reaching to loosen his tie that is perfectly hugging his neck “We have things to discuss before that.”

“What?” you voice out almost annoyed and impatient

“Safeword,” he replies bringing his eyes back, and for the first time you see his gaze scanning over your cleavage before shooting back to your face “Choose one.”

“Caramel!” you immediately reply, biting your lips as he squints his eyes on your quick response. Shit, you shut your eyes closed before quickly opening them.

“Okay,” he breaths out nodding his head as he steps closer to you “you know the game, if you wanna stop anytime, you say the word.”

“What if I can’t speak?” you muse looking at him with curious eyes

His eyes grow darker in shade, examining your face for more hint on the meaning behind your words. He exhales softly, the combined smell of his cologne and alcohol hitting your nose.

“So you already know what I’m gonna do with you?” he asks watching you closely as he dips his hands in the side pockets of his suit

“I got an idea,” you reply nonchalantly “"I’ll have what he had”, wasn’t that your request?“

You watch his face hardening at the mention of the earlier memories, the line in his jaw protrudes, indicating the pressure he’s exerting with his jaw on the bottom row of his teeth.

"two taps and I’ll know,” he says sternly as he points on the floor with his chin “down on your knees.”

The words are enough for your knees to give in. You slowly drop on your knee, maintaining eye contact with him as you do so. You reach forward for the button of his pants but he slaps it off.

“Hands off,” he shakes his head, looking down on you with unimpressed eyes “Hands behind your back.”

You gulp, lips slightly pursing into a pout before bringing your hands behind your back and clasping them together.

“Since you’re so good at giving heads, why dont you try with your mouth only?” He smirks at you “your skilled little mouth should be able to do that much.”

You blink up at him before drifting closer and tugging on his unbuttoned pants with your teeth. a sense of pride rushes through your veins as you feel his abdominal muscles clenching and unclench under your touch, he is affected by you and you barely touched him and that is enough to rush a considerable amount of arousal between your thighs.

You struggle to lower the fabric of his suit pants down, and after a few attempts whine quietly before bringing your eyes up to him.

“You seemed like you’re pretty good with your mouth when you were deep throating Jungkook,” He tilts his head to the side looking at you with haughty eyes as his fingers trace down to his pants “You need a hand?”

You nod frantically, impatient to have his clothed bulge exposed against your eyes and he senses your longing gaze on his hand.

“Why dont you beg for it?” He asks and your eyes widen, head flicking up to his face to see if he’s serious

“Kim Tae-”

“Daddy,” he bites the corner of his lips with anticipation “That’s what you’re gonna call me.”

You hesitate, eyes trembling on his stern expression, waiting any seconds for him to break out of character and tell you otherwise. But he remains unfazed as if he has planned all of this way before and is in no intention to change his mind.

“Remember Y/N, we’re playing by my rules but,” he mutters, his hand cupping your chin to bring back your head up to face him “You can say the word and we’ll stop-”

“Daddy,” you voice out, head tilted back and chin pointing at his face “Please, help me undress you,” you begin a seductive word and smile in victory as you see the guy’s eyes darken in lust

“You know how to beg,” he smirks, affectionately stroking your cheek “Such a good little whore, I guess I should give you a hand now that you asked so nicely.”

His other hand then travels down to unbutton his pants, before zipping it down and tucking the fabric lower on his thighs. You swoon over the toned thighs that come into your view, all those times you’d see him after his gym sessions with his toned thighs covered with sweats or shorts flashing through your mind.

Your eyes then freeze at the sight of his Calvin Klein brief that hugged his groin firmly, the bulge tightly pressing against the material and begging to be freed from its cage.

You lick your lips, imagining the monster you’ve seen before popping out in a few seconds, core trembling in excitement and urging you to drift closer to him.

“Mhmm,” he hums, hand tracing back from your cheek to the back of your head “Keen aren’t we baby?” he winks at your heated expression, pulling you with your head forward, “I think you can do the rest on your own babe, show me what that mouth can do.”

You keep your eyes fixed on him for a few seconds, taking up the challenge before leaning in and grazing your lips against his lower abdomen, where the hem of his brief is sitting.

You smirk hearing his groan in the background, knowing the touch of your lips on his skin is already affecting him giving you a sense of pride. You then hook your teeth on the hem of his brief and slowly yank the fabric down, against the resistance of the elastic band around his waist.

Taehyung watches you attentively, breath caging in his chest at the sight of your lips so close to his manhood as you pull his brief lower on his thighs, his eager and throbbing cock springing out against your cheek.

“Fuck,” he breathes out as he watches you finishing up your task of undressing him “When did you learn to be so good with your mouth?”

You tilt your head back, leaning in to graze your tongue on his angry red tip before muttering “I haven’t even started it, Daddy” you tease with a smirk

“You’re a fucking Cocktease,” he groans, head falling back as your lips resume their sinful action on his tip “OH FUCK!”

You smile in satisfaction at his cry of pleasure, taking half of his length in your mouth before pulling it all the way out and fondling his shaft with your tongue.

Taehyung’s expression contours in pain and frustration, wanting to slam his dick at the back of your throat any seconds but he stops his urges by firmly pulling on the strands of your hair.

“Why?” he asks, eyes glazing over you carefully “You dont think you can take it?”

“I can,” you raise an eyebrow, cupping his balls between your lips to attain a groan ripping from his throat “I’ve had big things in my mouth before”

“So you really wanna be a cocktease huh?” He squints his eyes at you remembering how you were on your knees with Jungkook’s cock in your mouth a few hours ago “You seemed in more of a rush with that bastard Jeon Jungkook,” he then smirks darkly as he mutters “Or was he too disappointing that you wanted to finish him up soon?”

Your eyes lighten with excitement at the mention of the other guys, lips still continuing to play with his balls and watch his abs clench with your action.

“Not really,” you lick your lips, eyes wandering around as you mutter “He was actually quite impressive for his own,” you gulp as you feel his hand tighten in your hair to tilt your head up but you remain unaffected as you continue “It was more of a quickie before we get to his place, that was if-” your voice trails off to look up at him “thing went as planned.”

You can see a strange tint of anger in his smirk that persistently stays on his lips, it’s quite similar to the rage he presented the other night at the club when he slammed you against that wall.

The difference is it no longer scares you or concerns you, but it only gives you a bit of excitement. The possibility that the high and mighty Kim Tae who never bats an eye on any girl would be pressed about you and another man shoots arousal right into your core.

And even if the thought of your best friend being possessive over you might have been more of a joke till a few hours ago, it was now making you all hot and bothered in all the right places.

“Now that the plans have changed,” he mutters darkly “You might as well go ahead and enjoy it, babe.”

He then grasps your head by the anchor of hair and pulls you towards his waiting cock and you compliantly part your lips, enveloping the warm muscles around his breadth.

“Fuck YES!” he groans, head falling back from the immense pleasure as you take him in, his cock twitching against your tongue as you lean closer and closer on his shaft

You whimper, the vibration making his knees weak as you realize his tip is already stimulating your gag reflex, hitting the back of your throat, but you’re only two third of your way on his cock.

His hooded eyes travel down to you, realizing you’ve stopped “You’ve had big things in your mouth but not this big,” a cocky smirk plasters on the corner of his lips again “You can’t take it all in can you?”

You cough as he snaps his hip forward, your throat closing down on his tip as tears well up in your eyes.

“You dont need to act tough babe,” he smirks watching your perseverance in taking him further down your throat “You know you’re not the first one to fail to take me-Aaahh FUCK!”

His sentence is left unfinished as you ease your throat around him and take him further in, his hand pressing against the back of your head while you push yourself against his pelvis.

Your nose digs into his lower abdominal muscles that clench and unclench under against your touch while your gag reflex continues to try and resist your attempt to keep him in.

“FUCK,” He cries, knees buckling and almost giving in as the sensation of his length completely enveloped by your mouth sends him to cloud nine “You take me so fucking well, God!” he says out of breath and you moan with him deep in your mouth, sending more pleasure shooting in his vein

“I wanna fuck your mouth so bad,” he groans bringing his pleading eyes to you “I wanna slam my cock in your throat so fucking much babe.”

You hesitate, eyes fluttering close and open, considering his proposition before hollowing your cheek and moving your tongue against his shaft to urge him.

“Fuck,” he exhales in disbelief “You want it, dont you?”

You nod, hand reaching at the back of his hips, to press him against your mouth before bobbing your head back and forth on his length.

“You’re such a cockslut,” he mutters in adoration, gripping your head to keep you still “I’m gonna fuck your mouth as you love it, babe.”

You stare at him with anticipating eyes, his firm holds on your head stopping you from bobbing your head on his cock as you planned. He then snaps his hip forward in a sudden movement and starts fucking your mouth in an erratic speed.

You remain still, the sound of his balls slapping against your chin and your gag reflex kicking in every few thrusts echoing in your ears in the background while the sight of the man groaning and moaning to the intense sensation of your mouth around him arousing you more and more.

Your hand travel down to your exposed core, finding the sensitive bundle of nerve that is throbbing to receive any stimulation possible and flick your finger on your clit.

The motion sends shivers down your spine and you moan against his cock, the vibrations attaining a painful groan from the guy who’s about to come undone in your mouth.

His eyes flick back onto you suspiciously and find your hand toying with your clit but the scene is not all too pleasant to his eyes. His eyes darken and he holds himself still in your mouth on the next thrust before harshly pulling back from you.

You stare up at him in surprise, gasping heavily for the air you were denied because of his enormous length in your throat when you meet his angry gaze on you.

“I thought I gave you an order,” he tilts his head to the side, watching your through hooded eyes “you’re not really good at obeying are you?”

Your hand cease their action on your clit and immediately retract back to their original place beside the other hand at your back but the action doesn’t go unnoticed from his attentive eyes on you.

“I-I J…Just-”

“Sssh,” he stops your attempt to justify your action as he wraps his hands around your neck, gently lacing around your throat without exerting any pressure “You disobeyed me and wanted to be a sneaky little whore huh?”

Your eyes tremble as you consider your options out of this situation, licking your lips carefully before leaning to take his cock back in your mouth but he’s quicker to realize your intentions to distract him.

“Tsh Tsh,” he scolds, fingers pressing against your windpipe and yanking you up on your feet “and you continue to be a naughty cockslut huh?”

his other hand travels down to your core, where your fingers were toying a few minutes ago. His fingertips touch the silky rope of arousal that covers your core and he groans.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he whispers as if he’s talking to himself, expression softening for a moment before his dominating aura takes over his expression again “Are you that thirsty for some touch babe?” he says seductively as he grips you by the neck and toys with your clit in a slow manner

“Nghh,” you whimper, moving your hip to make more contact with his touch “Yesss there!”

His eyes lighten, loving the way you move in his control so he proceeds to stretch the lips of your pussy apart and thrust one finger in to retain a cry of pleasure from your lips.

“I guess Jungkook only cared about his own pleasure and left you needy huh?”

“Tae-”

“Yes,” he nods, yanking your head closer against himself and pressing his forehead against yours “Call my name.”

“Tae, please,” you beg, every nerve fibre in your body screaming for his attention

“Please what?” he asks, eyes glazing with anticipation for the next words to fall out of your lips

“I need more,” you roll your hip shamelessly on his finger, “please Tae, please fuck me.”

He smirks, lips curving into a crooked smile as he realizes he has you wrapped around his fingers “This was never about you babe, It was about my payback for being your muse and I haven’t even cum-”

“I know,” you hiss in frustration looking up at him “You can cum then,” you urge nodding your head “fuck me and you can cum in me.”

his pupils dilate at your lewd words, expression then immediately hardening as he presses his fingers tighter around your throat “Was that your plan with Jungkook?” he raises an eyebrow, tone almost sounding like he’s hurt “Were you gonna let him fuck his cum in you like you’re begging me now?”

you look back at him with guilty eyes, gaze wavering as you flashback to the memories of you and Jungkook in the bathroom cubicle. If it wasn’t for your friend’s unannounced presence, you probably would have got in the car with Jungkook and followed him to his place.

“You naughty little girl,” he murmurs, in a mixture of rage and teasing tone as he adds another finger inside you, starting to pace the way he finger fucks you while casually having a conversation with you “You had dirty plans in your mind didn’t you?” his hand then release your neck and travels down to give you a spank on your ass “answer me, babe.”

“Yes Daddy,” you nod, looking at him with needy eyes “I’ve been a bad girl, I’m sorry.” you fake a pout, using your last weapon to melt his walls down and to your surprise, it works on him.

“you know what happens to bad girls Y/N?” he asks, eyes curving into a teasing smirk, following your little act up with his own “do you wanna have a guess?”

“I d-dont know,” you reply simply, batting your lids innocently in response

“bad girls get punished by their Daddies,” he murmurs and he digs his knuckles in your pussy, hitting your sweet spot as a sloppy moan falls from your lips “what should I do with you, babe?”

you just moan in response, the intense pleasure from the way he cuts air to your throat and the fingers pressing against your g-spot making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Fuck, No Tae,” you whimper as he stops his action in your pussy and takes away his fingers immediately, the cum coated fingers travelling up to his lips as he tastes your juices casually against your needy eyes “Please, Tae dont stop.”

“Answer my question first,” he slips his finger out of his lips with a pop, eyes staying stern and hollow “What should I do with a cock tease like you?”

“Punish me, Daddy,” you murmur seductively, needy eyes piercing into his orbs as you whisper “Have your way with me the way you want.”

He inhales sharply, eyes lighting with a new rush of excitement as he eyes you carefully “Are you sure Y/N?” he furrows his eyebrows attentively “Are you sure you want this?”

“I’m sure,” you nod determined before smirking against his cheek “I’ve been very bad Daddy,” you whisper to ignite the fire in him “Why dont you teach your little whore a good lesson?”

“dont worry,” You feel his cock twitching against your thighs, a growl buzzing in his chest as he wraps his arms around your waist “I’ll teach you in a way you’ll never forget babe.”

“Get on your hands and knees,” he demands, keeping his eyes fixed on you carefully

You look at him for a few moments before turning around and settling into his requested position, keeping the weight of your body on your elbows and knees.

“Ass up for me,” he orders, hands gripping your ass and guiding it up against his body “I’m gonna give you 10 spanks as your punishment babe, if you take them well you’ll be rewarded after.”

You remain silent, considering the weight of his words when his hand grazes over your ass cheeks.

“I need to know if you’re fine with this Y/N,” he murmurs carefully, tone suddenly much lower and serious before blending into his act again “Do you want Daddy to punish you?”

“Y-Yes Daddy,” your voice trembles and he gives you hum of approval

*Smack*

The first impact comes to your flesh abruptly and your body stumbles forward on the mattress while a muffled moan rips through your lips. The delicious sting spreads over your ass cheek and you can feel the arousal dripping down the side of your inner thighs from pleasure.

“Do you know why you need this punishment?”

“Yes Daddy, I was a bad girl-Aaah*

*Smack*

"Right,” he mutters in approval “Bad girls need to be punished to learn their lesson. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

*Smack*

“Will be acting like a thirsty whore again, babe?”

“Never Dadd-Aaah!”

*Smack*

“Good, remember the pain next time you wanna get on your knees for another man’s cock like the filthy slut baby.”

“I will Daddy,” you whisper uncertain, the slight genuinity in his voice making you question whether all this is just an act or he is saying all those things seriously

*smack*

You whine as the pain starts to spreads in your body, your core dripping from the pleasurable sensation shooting in your nerves.

You would have never expected such ruthless treatment would turn you on but somehow being the receiving end of Taehyung’s seemingly cruel punishment was turning you on far more than you could ever imagine.

“Can you take more Babe?” he murmurs, hand gently touching the red marks spread on your bottom “you don’t have to-”

“No,” you voice out, sticking your ass up towards him “I can take it, Daddy, give me more please.”

He gulps, as his nervous hand raises up to come back down on your ass but he stops midway and instead leans in to spread gentle kisses on the red flesh of your ass cheek.

“Fuck, you’re so good for me babe,” he breathes out, plastering butterfly kisses on the abused flesh “So good for your Daddy.”

You jolt in surprise, feeling the gentle touch of his lips on your ass making you whimper from the soothing sensation. His lips then trace back to your core, parting your ass cheeks, the cold air making you shiver.

He plasters some gentle kisses on your inner thigh. He observes the dripping lips of your pussy, throbbing and red, inviting him to sink his cock between them.

“You were so good for me babe,” he murmurs as his fingers spread your pussy and stretch you ready for him, “I think It's time Daddy rewards you, babe.”

“Yessss,” your voice trails off weakly as your anticipation for your high finally seems to come to an end “Please Daddy, Please.”

He positions himself against your body and lines himself over your dripping cunt. Spreading your lips with two fingers, he palms himself before sliding it over your dripping entrance teasingly.

“Nghh, Daddy please,” you beg, losing your mind as your walls clench around air “please fuck me.”

“You want Daddy’s cock in your cute little pussy?” He teases with a smirk, enjoying the way your body moves in his accord

“Yes, Daddy Ye-AAAHH” you cry as he sinks his pulsing member deep inside your walls and your body trembles as he slowly moves his way in.

“Just like that baby,” he coos watching his length disappear inside you “I knew you’d take me well.”

“Taehyung,” you call out, hand reaching back with your hand to hold his thighs desperately “Fuck …. give me- give me a second …”

He immediately ceases his movement as he realizes you’re having difficulty with his size, your walls squeezing his cock tightly testing his self-control. He leans closer, careful to not push his length any further as he comes down in level with your ear and whispers

“We can stop if its too much babe,” he murmurs the reassuring words as he tucks your hair to the side carefully as he observes your painful expression

“No,” you shake your head, the sensation of your walls slowly accommodating to him setting your pleasure off to another delicious start “Just a moment, just-” you sharply inhale as he shifts slightly away “No, Tae, Please …” you turn around facing him as your hand comes to hold his chin against your shoulder “I can take it, Please.” You beg desperately

“I don’t want to hurt you!” He murmurs, words tinted by concern

“I know,” you flash a grimacing smile to him, hoping it would convince him “You can move now.”

“Are you sure?” He murmurs, nose digging deep in your neck as he murmurs ever so gently “I can always make you cum with my fingers-”

“No,” you groan in frustration as you move your hip back to him “Fuck me, please Tae, Fuck me!” you demand helplessly

“Alright,” he grunts, voice strained as he tries his best to control his urges to fuck senselessly into you “I’m gonna move now.”

He thrusts his hip forwards slowly, each movement of his hip parting your pussy further apart as your walls slowly adjust to his ginormous girth.

“F-Faster,” you breath out, hip bucking back to his thrusts “Faster Tae.”

“As you wish babe,” he fastens his pace, hip snapping against your walls in an insane pace, hitting every sweet spot in your walls.

“Yes, Yes,” you cry as you dig your head in the mattress, the muffled word echoing in the air “Right there!”

“You like it, babe?” He asks as your pleas flutter his ego, hand reaching forward to toy with your clit “You like me pounding your tight little cunt?”

“YES,” you cry, the bundle of nerves being toyed, shooting pleasure all around your veins “Its so fucking good,”

“You wanna cum on my cock?” he asks as he leans closer and presses his lips against your ear “You wanna cream Daddy’s cock babe?”

“YES YES,” you nod frantically “Please let me cum Tae!”

“Cum on my cock,” he urges, fingers flicking your clit at the same pace as his thrust in your pussy “Cum all over and make a mess babe.”

You scream your orgasm out as the pleasure takes over you, body withering and shaking with waves of pleasure under him. Your sensitive core burns with overstimulation as he continues to fuck through your orgasm, his thrust becoming sloppy and messier by each second.

“F-Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he warns as he presses your hip against his body “I’m gonna fill your tight cunt with my seeds.”

“YES,” you nod in approval, moving your hip to facilitate his thrust despite the burning sensitivity between your legs “Cum inside me Tae, fill my pussy please.”

He suddenly ceases his movement, drawing a whimper from your lips as he retracts his body and falls back sitting on the bed “I can’t,” he breathes out in a vulnerable tone.

You immediately turn your body around with bewildered expression covering your face “What’s wrong Tae?” You ask him in a dazed tone, not bearing with the immense craving to be filled by him

“I can’t Y/N,” he shakes his head, avoiding your eyes “I can’t do it,” he gulps nervously as he shifts away from you as if he is scared of touching your body again “I can’t continue this.”

“This was your idea,” you snap back, brushing your hair away from your face “You can’t just chicken out now. This was all about you getting your payback, for you to cum.”

“I’m s-sorry,” he hesitates as he grabs a blanket and wraps it around your body to cover your quickly, “I think I’m too drunk- No, I was too drunk when we came here-”

“Is it my body?” You ask in a quiet tone, voice weaker with embarrassment “Do I turn you off?”

His widened eyes travel to you, not believing your interpretation of his actions “What are you talking about?”

“I knew it,” you nod as you quickly cover your body with the blanket he wrapped you with “After all, you’re Kim Taehyung, you wouldn’t cum if your girl is not a Victoria’s Secret models.” you chuckle trying to mask your embarrassment

“You need to stop your bullshit,” he yells back as he raises on his knees in rage “it has nothing to do with that.”

“Then what is wrong with you?” You demand, leaning closer to him “Why do you play this game of push and pull Tae?” You ask, with furrowed eyebrows, anger taking over your words “why did you stop me from fucking Jungkook, only to bring me and make me fall on knees for you to just say you can’t cum with me here.”

“Stop fucking talk about him,” he yells back furiously as he cards his hair back from his face “I didn’t plan for things to turn this way. And I- ’m sorry if I messed up your plans with Jungkook.” he continues with venom in his words, as if he doesn’t really mean what he’s saying.

“Tae-”

You watch him with trembling gaze as he starts to build the walls between you, although the physical distance between your bodies is quite short.

“It was a mistake,” he declares looking at you sternly “I can’t just fuck you and pretend to be your best friend tomorrow,” he hesitates before looking away and forcing the words out “I’m gonna sleep in the guest room, you sleep here.”

You then watch as he gathers a few pieces of clothing before exiting the room you’re in, leaving you all alone with your thoughts there.

-

You wake up to a throbbing headache pounding on your temple, squirming on the bed sheet to sniff the familiar scent of Taehyung’s Giorgio Armani cologne you bought for his birthday.

You sigh as the memories of the night before flashes through your eyes, remembering how you fell asleep thinking of the guy abrupt leave after your scandalous time together. Somehow you wish that his warm embrace was what you woke up to instead of the scent of his cologne.

You scoot over the bed, tiptoeing your way to his drawer to grab an extra large shirt that can cover your body for now before leaving the room to find him.

You footsteps cease as you hear his deep voice reaching you from the living room, conversing with someone and from the lack of response you can tell he’s on the phone.

“Hyung, I understand,” he snaps in anger, trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible “but you need to talk to dad about this, I’m really not sure if this will work,”

You drift closer, hating yourself for eavesdropping when he speaks up again

“I know who she is,” He suddenly grunts “Jung Seri, the daughter of JH Group, I’ve seen her in last year’s-”

You’re so focused on hearing his words that you dont realize the increase in the clarity as the voice gets closer to you until you see Taehyung standing at the door, staring at you with surprised eyes.

“Hyung,” he heaves, observing you carefully “I need to go, I’ll talk to you later.”

You stay still, gulping nervously as he disconnects the call and examines the situation for a few seconds before abruptly questioning “How long have you been listening?”

“N-Not long,” you quickly shake your head defensively “I’m sorry, I was gonna say I’m here-”

“What did you hear?” He interrupts anxiously

“Jung Seri,” you pronounce the name, trying your best to hide the slight jealousy that may drip out from your tone “The daughter of JH Group,” you bat your eyelids slowly as you mutter “Is she the girl you’re marrying?”

“I guess,” He shrugs, gaze trembling away from you

“Oh,” you breath out, stomach sinking at his simple response as you lose all the words you prepared earlier “Okay.”

“My dad wants me to!” he adds as he brings his gaze to you and observes your expression carefully

“I heard about their company,” you nod, blinking rapidly to fight the tears “they’re pretty rich.”

“Y-Yeah,” he nods, shoulders slumping down upon your words “They’re an affiliate of our company.”

“Your dad must like her a lot then,” your voice sounds far more bitter than you intend and Taehyung doesn’t fail to notice it

“he doesn’t care,” he responds uninterested “He just wants me to settle down and have kids,” he hesitates before continuing, “he says he’s getting old and he wants grandchildren before he dies and since I’m not contributing to the company I should at least make babies.”

Your heart suddenly drops at the thought of Taehyung having babies, imagining mini versions of him running around the house tugging at the strings of your heart knowing another girl would be sharing that happiness with him.

You suddenly feel a rush of anger through your body, the situation seeming unfair on your end. You were fine with being his best friend, with having only a platonic relationship with him for years.

But he had to go out of his way to change the way you perceive him, tangling you in this complicated tug of war between your feelings only to be declaring another girl will have his babies.

The complicated rush of emotions all surge through you and you find yourself blurting out the words carelessly.

“Then what about me?”

“W-What?”

“Why did you do all those things with me?” You ask defeated, fist clenching by your side “Why did you have to bring me over and fuck me over your sheets?”

“B-Because … I just thought- I mean, It was about the payback …” he explains nervously

“What does that make me then?” You snap back, tears threatening to roll down your cheek “I was your best friend, but after all of this I dont even know where I stand in this relationship …” you inhale sharply as your gaze wanders on his dazed expression before asking “Or you want me to be your side chick?”

“WHAT?” He asks bewildered by your sudden accusation

“Is that what this is about?” You ask as the sudden realization hits “You want to marry her, but you kind- kinda want to have me as your side chick, like friends with benefit-Aaah”

He cuts your sentence short as he grips your arms and presses you against the wall, his eyes tingling with rage and fiery.

“That’s all you see isn’t it?” He asks through gritted teeth “You look at me, and all you ever fucking see is a boy trying to play with girls…” he sighs "a fuckboy, isn’t it?“

"Can you blame me?” You ask, your eyes glazing with fresh tears “You ignore me for days, making me worried sick about you only for me to find you cumming deep in a girl’s throat in your VIP room,”

You press your hands against his chest, trying to create some distance “Then you fuck me on your bed, bringing me onto my knees only to tell me you’re marrying another girl in the morning who you’re probably going to fuck on the same sheets.”

“What do you want me to do?” He yells back furiously “My dad wants me to get married and the only girl I ever imagined a future with is dating someone else … So I’m trying to take it like a man and move on so I at least dont lose her friendship, ” he goes silent for a second before staring directly into your eyes “Can’t you fucking see I’m trying?”

You furrow your eyebrows, still trying to make sense of his words when he shoots the next question

“Are you serious about Jungkook?” He interrupts you as he looks at you with a serious expression, “Jeon Jungkook, I’m asking do you fucking like him?”

“W-What?” you furrow your eyebrows “Why is he coming into this-”

“Answer my question, how far did you guys go?” He asks “Do you like him?”

“No,” you simply shake your head, the train of questions he’s bombarding you with not allowing anything but raw truth seeping out your words

“Did you fuck him?” He asks before quickly adding “Other than the bathroom incident, how far did you go with him?” he asks again, face frowning at the mention of the infamous incidence

“Nothing,” you quickly stop him “We- It was just that-”

“Alright,” he nods, reassured by your responses “So I can still call dibs on you.”

“Call dibs on me?” You chuckle awkwardly at his choice of words not believing him “What am I? a candy?”

“ I like you Y/N,” he shots back in rage, eyes observing your lost expression.

Your reaction is exactly as he expected, eyebrows furrowing closer before your eyes widen in shock.

“Tae … W-What-”

“Right,” he nods panting heavy in anger “I like you so fucking much I couldn’t see you sucking that bastard’s dick, So I brought you back home to suck mine,” he scoffs at the irony of his words “I was jealous like a five years old, that’s why I need to know if you regret following me here and if you’re serious about him.”

“Tae,” you call for him, thoughts rushing to your brain at an insane speed “Y-You, seriously, You …”

Your voice trails off as you try to digest the words that come one after another, your attempts fail completely as your brain shots back a big error to you. Your thoughts are blank as you try and process the guy’s devastated look along with his previous words.

“I can’t even cum without imagining your face,” he exhales bringing his eyes to you “I’m fucking the "Victoria’s secret models”,“ he quotes you with a bitter tone "But all I can ever think about is you and your God damn face.”

“How long-” you ask with a dazed tone “Since when-”

“I dont even remember when it started,” he replies, head falling low as he tries to think “I believe it started when we started going to rehab,” he mutters eyes wandering as he reminisces the memories “I used to lay in bed, sore all over from my cravings for those pills and all I could ever think of was your face.”

You look at him, listening attentively to his words as you remember the days you used to go to his rehab sessions together. Back then he decided to quit his addictions to the recreational drugs he used to take with his rich friends and you promised to help him go through the process.

You never truly realized how deep he was attached to those pills and how much you neglected him until you followed him to his therapy sessions, watching him scream and tremble from his cravings for the drugs that gave him his highs before.

Deep inside you felt guilty for being so careless about what he did or who he hung out with while you were working your ass off to get recruited in a prestigious company.

So you made sure you’d be with him every step of his heart-wrenching battle with the addiction, ensuring you don’t regret neglecting your best friend ever again.

“It’s not my fault,” he snaps defensively as he presses your body against the wall “You were always there at my weakest,” He breathes out as he watches you carefully “I just wanted to close my eyes and die and you were on my bed forcing me to eat and drink into another day.”

“I-I’m …” you start, stumbling through the words “I didn’t know!”

“Of course you didn’t,” he scoffs with a bitter smile “I worked so fucking hard to hide it, sleeping with every God damn girl in this town to hide the fact that I want to bone my best friend every time she hugs me innocently like a friend.”

You sigh imagining how hard you were making it for him all these years, without even realising you might be torturing the guy with your overly affectionate behaviour, barging into his life and his personal space almost all the time.

“I’m sorry Ta-”

“Cut it,” he hisses eyes closing close “That’s exactly why I worked so hard, I dont wanna fucking hear you pity me for my feelings,” he clenches his jaw “I shouldn’t have started this, my jealousy about you and Jungkook got the best of me and I thought with my dick for a moment, I’m sorry-”

“No,” you quickly shake your head “I dont regret a thing about last night Tae. We both made a decision and we did it knowing fully what the consequences could be.”

He goes silent for a few seconds eyes lowering as his grip on your arms loosen and he stands passively against your body.

“Are you serious about what you said?” you ask with a defeated tone, letting emotions take control of your words “about having a future with me?”

He brings his wavering eyes to you, lips parting “All I ever wanted was to be with you Y/N,” he whispers “No matter how many girls came and left my life, It was always you.”

“Then let’s make babies,“ you blurt out, the words slipping your tongue before you even chew them properly

"You- You seriously …” his eyes widen in surprise “What?”

“I wanna be with you Tae,” you drift closer to him "and if this what it takes for your Dad to accept me, I will have your babies,” you then hesitate before biting the corner of your lips shyly and adding “even if he doesn’t, I’ll probably still have your babies.”

“Y/N,” he breaths out in disbelief “You want to be with me?” He asks, eyes about to pop out of socket from your sudden suggestion “Me?”

“Yes,” you nod determined “I dont think I have the confidence to let you go Tae,” you admit, heart trembling at the thought “I dont think I can trust any other woman to take care of you either. That day when your brother said you’ll be getting married, I felt like a piece of my heart was ripped right out of my chest. The only reason I said those horrible things was because I was lost and confused and didn't know how to deal with my feelings.”

His expression softens to a sweet smile, eyes glittering with joy for a few seconds before his mischievous aura takes over his features again. He leans closer to your ear with a smirk as he whispers

“You want to have babies huh?” he murmurs making your cheeks heat up from the suggestive words “and I thought your daddy kink was a surprise, Who would have known my baby has an impregnation kink?”

He then grabs your thighs firmly, picking you off the floor, legs automatically wrapping around his waist as he settles you on the wall “Since you asked so nicely,” he smirks as he hoists his hands around your torso “Daddy will give you babies.” He whispers before crashing his lips on yours.

[alitaimagines]

request: “angst with my boy Ryou!! i’ve been in a daiya mood the last few weeks and I actually forgot how much I loved ryou and harada. this has a lot of timeskips so bare with me here. ”

character: ryousuke kominato, harada masatoshi. 

fandom: ace of diamond / daiya no ace

song recommendation: i dont fuck with you - big sean. 

it was the end of your third year and you looked at Ryou with loving expression. it wasn’t a mystery to see you looking at him with love eyes. the two of you got together at the begging of both of your second year. you managed to fight your way through his heart and at first, he thought you were just going to be some high school girlfriend but once Ryou realize that he actually loved you, it all changed.

the two of you would sneak off at night to enjoy an impromptu date night. there was a few times where Kataoka seen you but he minded his business and turned the other way. he knew that outside distractions did benefit a player as it kept them from over working themselves.  

it wasn’t until the end of the year when everything took a turn for the worst. you had applied for a few universities in Japan but the one you were aiming to attend was Hokkaido University. You didn’t think you were actually going to get in but when you checked your mail and seen the acceptance letter, you let out a scream of happiness. 

“FUJIWARA GUESS WHAT!” you screamed as you slammed the door to your shared dorm wide open, “what are you screaming for?” she asked as she noticed your excitement. 

you slammed the letter on the desk as she smiled, “me too!” she screamed showing you the same letter she received. you gave her a smile before tackling her into a hug, “roomies?” you screamed as she laughed before agreeing. 

“I can’t believe we actually got in!” you exclaimed, “I wonder if Ryou got in. having my boyfriend and my best friend attending the same school would be a dream!” you flopped down on your bed, holding your letter to your chest. 

-

“what do you mean you’re not going to Hokkaido?” you asked as you looked at Ryou with tears pricking your eyes, “did you not get accepted? or are you just denying it?” 

Ryou showed you the plethora of acceptance letters he received and although he did receive an acceptance to Hokkaido, he was denying it to go to Osaka. 

“we’re not attending the same school.” you whispered, “Ryou, you do realize that, right?” he nodded as he grabbed all your acceptance letters and seen that Osaka was not one of your choices. 

he sighed, “did you even apply to Osaka?” you shook your head no, “you knew I wasn’t. I told you that my top choices were the Hokkaido, Kyoto, and the University of Southern California.” 

you jokingly took an entrance test for a school in America and once you got your results back in, you realized that you did get in. your parents pushed you to attend it but after looking at the tuition, all of you agreed it was too much. 

“what are we going to do?” you asked as he mentioned long distance. you knew you could do long distance but that was more work for a relationship that wasn’t promised, “no, I don’t think that would work.” 

Ryou gave you a look, he sensed what you were going to tell him. taking a break or worse, completely breaking up. 

“our only choice is breaking up.” 

you muttered the words he feared the most. he didn’t want to break up with you but you had dreams in Hokkaido and his baseball dreams relied in Osaka.  

“are you serious?” he asked. you gave him a dumbfounded look, “I told you since the beginning of our third year all my choices and all the schools I took entrance exams for. it’s your fault for not telling me you were attending Osaka.” 

Ryou scoffed, “my fault?” he asked rhetorically, “how is this all my fault?” you rubbed your temples, “I just told you why. I told you my choices and you didn’t tell me any of yours. how were we supposed to coordinate schools when you didn’t tell me?” 

Ryou knew you were right but his damn pride didn’t want him to lose the argument, “you could’ve asked, you know?” you let out a sarcastic laugh, “we’re not children, Kominato!” shit, you were pissed. Ryou knew that you when you called him by his last name, you were serious. 

“you knew this was going to come up and if you knew that you weren’t giving Hokkaido an option, I wouldn’t have applied. I’m not the one at fault here, you are.” 

you wanted to cry, you really did, but when it came down to it, you realized how ridiculous it was to feel upset about this. it wasn’t your fault and you weren’t going to cry about a relationship that Ryousuke, in a sense, threw away. 

“so this is it? we’re done?” 

“you’re attending Osaka and I’m going to Hokkaido so yeah we are.” 

-

moving out of Seidou and instantly going to Hokkaido was a relief in one hand but stress in another. both you and Fujiwara found a cheap apartment in the Hokkaido area and moved in only a few weeks after graduating. 

after the break up with Ryou, you returned all of his things except his baseball sweater. not really out of memories but because the sweater was extremely comfortable and that was the only Seidou merch you kept. 

Fujiwara wanted nothing more than you kick Ryou’s ass after finding out what happened but you realized that everything happened for a reason and there was no point in dwelling on a relationship that Ryou seemingly didn’t care about. 

once you settled into the apartment and managed to find jobs that fit around your class schedules, you both knew it was time to get out on the town and explore Hokkaido. 

“hey, there’s a baseball game tonight. want to do that?” you asked. Fujiwara thought about it, “sure, I don’t mind. as long as it doesn’t end too late. I work tomorrow morning.” 

you nodded as you purchased a two front row tickets for the seven o’clock game. outside of being with Ryou, you didn’t care too much about baseball. you did find the game interesting but you didn’t actively seek to watch it. both you and Fujiwara knew going to a game only gave you a reason to leave the house and actually do something. 

the both of you purchased a Hokkaido jersey as soon as you arrived to the stadium but you had completely forgotten was that Harada had gotten drafted to the team at the beginning of the summer. 

“hey, I’m going to buy us some drinks before the game, once you find our seats, text me so I can go ahead and find you.” 

Fujiwara nodded as you went up to one of the stands and bought the both of you coffee. being that it was already August, most days were extremely hot but today, there was a slight breeze in the air. 

after ordering the coffee, you hadn’t realized you weren’t watching where you were walking and ran into someone. 

“oh my god, I am so sorry!” you exclaimed. although it was your fault, you were the one who ended up on the ground, “oh Harada, I didn’t realize it was you!” you exclaimed. 

Harada chuckled before giving you his hand and helping you back on your feet, “what are you doing in Hokkaido?” he asked. you scratched your head nervously, “oh, I go to university here. both Fujiwara and I just wanted to come to a game just so we wouldn’t be trapped inside the house all day.”

 Harada hummed, “where are you sitting?” you showed him your ticket, “players get to have family members sit in the box seats. do you guys want to take the seats tonight?” Harada asked. 

you immediately denied, “no we couldn’t. we wouldn’t even know how to repay you.” Harada chuckled, “no need to repay me. it’s my pleasure hosting you.” your face immediately went warm as you ultimately agreed on taking his seats. 

once you texted Fujiwara and told her everything with Harada, she couldn’t help but smack you on the arm, “I haven’t seen you with a smile like that since you were still with Ryou.” you didn’t say anything back but you knew she was right. 

the seats that Harada had given you were amazing. you were able to see everything from the top and Harada even gave you a discreet wink all the way from the bottom before the game started. 

from the game that Seidou had against Inashiro, you never remembered Harada being so confident but you guessed personalities changed when it came to on and off the field. 

halfway through the game, someone came in with plates of food, “box members get dinner on the behalf of Hokkaido players.” was all the person said before setting the plates down on the counter and leaving. 

you grabbed the small note that was on the tray as Fujiwara grabbed her plate and ran back to the seat to continue watching the game. 

“I figured a way you could repay me. here’s my number, call me so I can properly take you out.” 

you hid the paper in your pocket, deciding not to show Fujiwara until the game was over. you put his number into your cell before grabbing your plate of food and sitting back down. 

“harada❤︎” 

-

once you finally fessed up to Fujiwara about Harada giving you his number, it was the same day Harada planned on taking you out. he picked a cute restaurant in a neighboring city and was on his way to pick you up. 

Fujiwara didn’t take no for an answer and put you in some of the cutest clothes she owned. it was a black skirt that reached your knees, a plain white blouse, and left you to do your own hair. 

“you look great! are you excited?” 

you gave her a nervous smile, “I’m fucking nervous! I’m going on a date with Hokkaido’s catcher! do you know how many girls would kill to be in my spot?” you exclaimed. Fujiwara laughed, “yeah but you’re the one in that position so fucking be excited about it!” 

you nodded as you heard a knock on your door, “I’ll answer it!” Fujiwara screamed as she ran to the door. you ran to the bathroom to make sure you looked okay before going back out. 

“ah, Harada! how are you! she’ll be out in a minute. she just had to use the bathroom.” 

Harada nodded as he sat down on your couch, “would you like some tea or anything?” Harada shook his head no as he gripped the flowers he brought you. 

you took one final breath before leaving the bathroom and walking outside to your living room. Harada’s mouth dropped as he felt himself blushing, “you look beautiful.” you smiled as he handed you the flowers, “they’re beautiful, Harada.” 

Fujiwara squealed, “if there’s any single players on your team, she has my number so you can give it to them.” Harada laughed as you set your flowers on your kitchen table. 

“leave, you don’t want to be late! have fun! make sure everything is consensual!” 

you felt embarrassment rush over your face at what Fujiwara said, “we will,” Harada responded before taking your hand and walking out of your apartment. 

-

after a few months of dating Harada, you felt like everything was back to normal in your life. you had an amazing boyfriend, your education was going great, and Fujiwara managed to get find someone who played for Hokkaido to take her out. 

Harada was everything Ryou wasn’t. Ryou tended to hide his affection in front of everyone while Harada didn’t mind showing you off to the team. you understood that Harada traveled a lot but some how, the two of you made it work.

the off season finally came and you were in your apartment with Fujiwara and her boyfriend. being that her boyfriend was few years older than the two of you, he managed to buy a few cases of beer and two bottles of wine. 

“where’s Masa? he should be here by now.” you asked Daiki. he shrugged, “I think he was rearranging his apartment. at least that’s what he told me.” Daiki brushed off your comment before continuing the coversation he was having with Fujiwara. 

they both knew what he was saying was true but there was more to the story than that. Harada was planning on asking you to move in with him and he was making space to make room for your things. Harada was a traditionalist and he felt it was right in his heart to ask you to move in with him before things got even more serious. 

it had been a few days after that day when you were with Harada in his apartment. you were laying on top of him, adorning one of his shirts as he rubbed your sides. 

“you know I love you, right?” 

you nodded as you gave Harada a peck, “of course. what makes you say that?” you asked. Harada twiddled his fingers as readjusted yourself. you wrapped your legs around his waist as he huffed, “well, we’ve dating for a while and you know with my line of work, I was wondering if you wanted to move in. it would make everything a lot easier.” 

you could tell how nervous Harada was, “of course. is that why Daiki told me you were rearranging your apartment a few days ago?” Harada nodded. you smiled before giving him a kiss, “we can start moving my things in tomorrow.” 

Harada nodded as he seen a smirk play on your face, “we should celebrate tonight. lets call Fujiwara and Daiki and go to a club!” you asked, “but before that, we should celebrate another way first.” 

Harada knew what you meant by that as you took your shirt off and pushed him back on the couch. 

-

it had been a few months since that night. Ryousuke didn’t really pay attention to the news surrounding players as a lot of the news was mostly rumors. or he hoped they were rumors. 

Tetsu had messaged Ryou with a video that Fujiwara had sent him. it was of all four of you singing to “I Dont Fuck With You” by Big Sean. Ryou seen how Harada was holding you as you sang to the camera. he could tell you were a bit drunk as your words were slurred a bit. 

“I guess it’s time for you to move on.” was all Tetsu said in the message. there was a part of him that hoped he could rekindle what the two of you had. he didn’t believe the video and just hoped that the next time he seen you, you were as single as the day you left Seidou. 

-

“Masa, Seidou is holding a gathering and they want alumni to attend. you should come with me!” you exclaimed. he gave you a look, “I don’t think it’s safe for a retired Inashiro player to attend that.” 

you pouted as you wrapped your arms around his neck, “please? I want to show my fiance off!” Harada couldn’t deny your puppy eyes, “fine!” you smiled before giving him a kiss, “it’s this Friday so we could make it a trip to see our families!” 

-

you arrived to Seidou and looked at the campus. it was exactly the same way you left it. you squeezed Harada’s arm as you ushered him inside the gym. you gave the person at the front door the invitation and seen all of your old schoolmates. 

“Jun! Masuko! Tanba!” you exclaimed as you ran to them. they turned around in surprise as they seen you running towards them, “it’s felt like forever!” you whispered as you gave them a hug. 

they returned it before pointing behind you, “uh, is he with you?” Tanba asked. you nodded, “Masatoshi? of course, why wouldn’t my fiance be here?” they all gave you a bewildered look. 

“you’re engaged?” Jun screamed. you nodded happily as you them your ring. they gawked at how huge it was, “my god. congrats!” they all said awkwardly before congratulating Harada. 

they all held your hand to see the ring up close, “it’s fucking huge!” Jun muttered as you laughed, “I know. he’s the best, isn’t he?” you joked as you held Harada’s hand. 

“I know I’m the best.” 

you felt yourself stiffen Ryou’s voice. you turned and seen Tetsu, Ryou, and Chris standing behind you. Ryou with a smirk playing on his face as Tetsu and Chris gave you smiles. 

“hey guys! how are you!” you tried to say as unawkward as possible, “great, how are you?” Tetsu said, “I see the rumors about you and Harada being together are true,” Chris muttered. 

you nodded as you seen your favorite running towards you, “Haruno! Yui!” you screamed pushing everyone out of the way. they tackled you into a hug as you tried to remain standing. 

“you made it!” Yui screamed as she let you go, “of course. I really came here only to see the two of you!” you said as you hugged them again. they smiled as they let you go and noticed the rock on your hand. 

“you’re actually engaged! that’s awesome!” Haruno exclaimed as she held your hand up to see the ring, “holy shit, it’s huge! is that him?” Yui asked as she pointed at Harada. you nodded as they brought you over to the rest of the group, “did you guys see? she’s engaged!” Yui exclaimed as she showed all the boys your hand. 

you felt a blush rise as you tried to take your hand back, “we see that! that’s awesome!” Tetsu muttered as he looked at Ryou. everyone knew that you were engaged but they were all hoping that it didn’t get brought up. 

“well, Fujiwara and her boyfriend Daiki should be here soon. we’re going to find a table for us to sit at. we’re here all weekend so we should all meet up if we can and have dinner tomorrow.” 

they nodded as you waved them goodbye and grabbed Harada by the hand, “well, how awkward was that?” you exclaimed before the two of you let out a belting laugh. 

Ryou felt his eye twitch as he watched the two of you laugh. Ryou got the confirmation he needed. you were in fact engaged and he knew he couldn’t compare to Harada. no matter how hard he tried. 

“sorry bro, maybe it’s better this way.” 

Ryou gave Tetsu a look before turning around to look at you. he seen you give Harada kiss before going back to talk to Yui and Haruno. maybe Tetsu was right. maybe it was better this way. 

ALITA

[allmidaddies]

how to get the girl.

The room stood still when your eyes fell on the tall figure that walked through the door. Your hand was somewhere between letting the wine glass between your fingers drop to the floor or gripping it so tightly that it shattered.

 No. Not here. Not now.

 “Mat it’s not enough anymore!” You cried, angrily wiping away the tears that had slipped down your cheeks.

“How?” Mat asked, his voice equally as distressed as yours.

“Because,” you shook your head, swallowing hard to try and steady your voice, “You can’t keep hurting the person that you love and think that words alone will be enough to fix it. You’ve pushed me away for the last time, Mathew.”

His mouth fell open, shocked at what you were saying to him. In one fell swoop his world was crumbling around him and he had nothing to hold onto. He’d always kept you at arms length, afraid of giving everything up too soon in his life, carefully throwing in ‘I love you’s’ whenever he felt you slipping. He never imagined that one day you’d let go.

“I think you should go to New York,” you said quietly, “And you can do all of those amazing things that you always said you would. And I’ll still be proud of you, but I just won’t be there. You can’t hurt me anymore Mat.”

“I didn’t-”

“Don’t,” you said, your voice more intense than either of you were expecting. Mat recoiled.

“Don’t say you didn’t mean to. You knew exactly what to say just to keep me close enough.”

Mat stared down at his shoes, he knew that you were right.

“You wanted your freedom, Mat? Well now you have it.”

This was supposed to be a happy occasion. Your best friend Sarah and her longtime boyfriend Max were getting married, finally tying the knot. Realistically you should have expected Mat to be there. He’d been an integral part of your friend group all through high school, and even while everyone went off to college, or to start their career, or, in Mat’s case, to become a professional athlete, you all stayed in touch.

 Over the years, though, you had managed to avoid him at nearly every possible interaction. Whether you were on vacation with your family when he came through town or you were off visiting college friends, there was always the perfect excuse to avoid him.

 You should have known it would have caught up to you at some point. You had just hoped it wouldn’t have been here. You were foolish enough to hope that maybe he would already be back in New York, considering the wedding was happening in late August. Maybe training camp would already be well underway, season just a few weeks away. But you knew better. He was one of Max’s closest and longest friends. He wouldn’t have missed this for the world.

 So there he was. Standing in all his glory. His skin was golden from having spent the summer out in the sun and he had that charming smile on his face as he pushed his dark hair off of his forehead. Because it was only the rehearsal he was dressed casually, donning a pair of shorts and a plain t-shirt to beat the late summer heat. Somehow he still looked like a dream. You hated that he somehow looked even more attractive than in high school. Back when you thought he was the love of your life.

 All throughout high school the two of you had been the couple that everyone wanted to be. At least, on the outside. Everyone gushed over how the two of you, so young, had managed to keep a long distance relationship alive.

 “The way you look at each other! I want someone to look at me like that!” Girls would sigh dreamily as they leaned against the lunch tables.

 In the beginning Mat was attentive and showered you in affection. It was easy because the two of you had been friends for a while before you ever started dating. But then his hockey career started to get more serious and he moved away to pursue that dream. And you had been nothing but supportive. You spent countless weekends driving back and forth from Seattle to Coquitlam, just for a few hours with him. And for a long time it was worth it. You thought.

 Until you realized he was keeping a lot of things from you. Not that he was cheating, but that he didn’t share as much of his life with you anymore. Phone calls were shorter and farther apart. You stopped going to as many games, only making the drive when he explicitly asked. Which wasn’t often. It was like he was phasing you out. But every now and then he’d remind you that he loved you. He’d surprise you for your birthday, or send you train tickets to come visit him for your anniversary.

 Then one day you’d had enough. You realized that you had to stop settling for bread crumbs and start looking for the whole damn cake. Mat wasn’t enough for you anymore. It was only a few short weeks after he had been drafted by the Islanders. He was going to be moving across the continent from you and there was no way you were going to give up everything to move there with him. Not when he was becoming so distant.

 So you broke up with him. And it crushed you, both of you. You weren’t sure if you had ever cried so much in your entire life as you did that night, standing on his front porch. It didn’t surprise you that he had expected you to wait for him to figure it out. It did surprise him that you weren’t willing to put up with it anymore. Knowing that he was going to have to move forward with his life without you. All the dreams and goals he had set to achieve with you in mind, he’d have to do on his own.

 Mat’s eyes didn’t miss your figure standing across the room from him. There weren’t many people there to hide you from his view, with it being just the wedding party and all. You looked amazing, like you’d just had the most refreshing summer of your life. Last he had heard you had graduated college and were taking the summer off to have a break. Good for you, he’d thought. He always did tell you you worked too damn hard, burying your nose in your textbook.

 He had intended on being at your graduation but then the season went longer as they got closer to winning the cup. When the season ended he regretted not having at least sent you flowers or a card. Worst ex-boyfriend of the year award. Not that there was such a thing. But if there was he would’ve won it for that, he was sure of it. If you even noticed his absence. Probably not. You’d been avoiding him for so long he’d be surprised if you even remembered what jersey number he wore.

 Mat was pulled from his trance when Max was ushering him to line up so they could partner all the groomsmen and bridesmaids off for the walk down the aisle.

 “Don’t hate us too much for this Barzy,” Max grinned, patting Mat on the back as he gently pushed him towards the line. Mat only had enough time to throw him a confused look over his shoulder before he almost stumbled into the groomsman to his right. He caught himself just in time, straightening up and turning to face the familiar laugh that had arisen from his poor excuse for balance.

 God he wanted to kill Max. Mat just might’ve, if it wasn’t for tomorrow being their big day and all.

 You had your bottom lip between your teeth, an awful nervous habit he had tried to get you to quit.

 “Hey,” he breathed, uncertainty flashing through his eyes as he leaned in for a hug. You obliged, forcing a shy smile, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. There was a wave of comfort and nostalgia that washed over him.

 “Hey Barz,” you greeted, voice quiet in his ears. Chills rushed down his spine at the sound of your voice. He hadn’t heard it in years.

 The only time the two of you had truly crossed paths since you broke up when you were 18 was the summer after your freshman year of college and his rookie season with the Islanders.

 The air was hot and heavy and there were far too many people in the house for you to breathe so you pushed your way out onto the back patio, taking a seat on the steps that led down to the water. All you wanted was a quiet moment to yourself. But a shadowed figure stepped into your sight, nearly making you scream.

“Holy fuck!” You gasped, trying to dry off your legs from where you’d spilled your drink out of fright.

“Sorry, sorry,” the figure spoke, the all too familiar voice reaching your ears. Mat.

“It’s fine, Mat,” you sighed, reaching for the railing to pull yourself up.

“Wait,” he stopped you, now standing on the step below you, crouching down to your level.

“What?” You asked, your voice harsher than you intended. You just hadn’t realized he was back in town yet.

“How have you been?” He laughed gently. The porch light was only illuminating half of his face now, but even in the poor lighting you could tell just how much his face had matured in the year since you saw him last.

“Fine,” you answered shortly, staring down at the remaining liquid in your cup.

“C’mon, Y/N,” Mat chuckled, “You just had your freshman year of college. You’ve got to have something more than that. I don’t believe your life has been that boring.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his comment. He knew you too well. You leaned back against the step above you, finally lifting your gaze to meet his for the first time.

“It was fun, really fun, but probably not quite as exciting as your year has been. My college friends didn’t believe me when I told them I dated the kid who won the Calder,” you teased, bumping his shoulder with your knee.

Mat laughed, one of his real genuine laughs.

“Congratulations, by the way,” you said quietly, “Sorry I never called. I didn’t figure you would want to hear from me.”

Your confession hung in the air as Mat’s face scrunched into one of confusion.

“Why wouldn’t I want to hear from you?” He asked.

You shrugged, not really sure what to say. Did he forget the last time the two of you talked?

“Because we broke up?” Mat raised his eyebrows at you, laughing to himself before reaching out to squeeze your thigh, “Doesn’t mean I don’t like hearing your voice.”

You smiled, resting your chin in your hand, looking down at him.

“I like hearing your voice too Mat, how come you never call me?”

Mat chuckled, scratching that back of his neck awkwardly,

“C’mon now, don’t turn this on me.”

“I’m just asking,” you tease lightly. Mat’s eyes scanned your face, taking in just how much you had grown up in the last year. You looked the same just...older. Your hair was shorter and even though the dark made it hard to see he could tell that you’d dyed it. It looked nice. You looked nice. You looked like home.

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asked suddenly, his voice slightly shaky.

“Have you been drinking?” You asked. Mat shook his head, pulling his keys from his pocket and dangling them in front of you.

“Okay,” you nodded, letting him take your hand. The two of you snuck around the side of the house, not wanting your friends to stop you and lecture you. You both knew where this was going.

Mat opened the passenger side door, allowing you to climb up into the cab of the pickup. Sliding into the leather seats of his dad’s truck brought a wave of memories flooding back to you. When Mat climbed into the driver’s seat you were already plugging your phone into the aux.

“Didn’t even give me a chance,” Mat teased, pulling out of the driveway.

“When have I ever,” you smirked, turning on your country playlist as he sped down the highway. You didn’t even have to ask, you knew where he was taking you. There was a viewpoint only a few minutes down the road from the house you had just been at. One that you and Mat had frequented when you were together. The tension was rising as he got closer to the turn that took you up a dirt road. You subconsciously leaned against the center console. Mat shifted hands on the steering wheel, letting his right hand fall on your thigh. You didn’t flinch and that told him everything he needed to know.

As soon as he had the car in park the two of you were scrambling for the back seat. Mat pulled you into his lap as your lips connected, moving together as his hands gripped your waist, guiding you to grind down against his core. Before either of you could truly process what you were doing, you were naked on top of him, sinking down on his hard length. A quiet whine fell past your lips and you leaned down to bury your face in his neck, gently sucking on the skin of his collarbone. Mat groaned beneath you, thrusting his hips up to meet your painfully slow movements. It had been a long time since either one of you had been with anybody, and certainly a long time since you’d been together. But you remembered his body better than you were proud to admit.

It took no time for him to bring you to your high, his own right behind you. The windows were fogged up from both of your panting breath, struggling to hold on. Almost immediately after he spilled into you, you felt regret creep into your chest. You both stayed there for a moment, trying to catch your breath. Though, your heart never settled. Even after he had passed you your shorts and he had helped you pull your shirt over your head. Both of you were wordless as he climbed into the passenger seat, starting the truck again. It was like you were thinking the same thing.

What the fuck were we thinking?

Neither one of you reached out after that night. You left on vacation with your family and then moved back to college after you got back, gone before Mat was even fully moved back to Vancouver for the off season.

You tried your best to look at him as little as possible throughout the rehearsal but you caught yourself staring over at him as everyone stood up at the altar. He was stifling laughter with one of your high school friends, the two of them glancing at Max and then back at each other, mumbling words you couldn’t make out.

 You allowed your mind to drift, wondering what life might have been like had you and Mat stayed together. For starters you wouldn’t be showing up date-less to this wedding. God, what if Mat had a date? He wouldn’t...would he? If you were still 18 maybe, but somewhere along the way you had to assume he’d matured. Not that it would be immature to bring a date to a wedding, but just that...well...he knew you were going to be there. You were Sarah’s best friend after all. The only reason you weren’t the maid of honor was because she had four sisters. Kind of hard to compete with that.

 You had heard through the grapevine that Mat had dated off and on while out in New York, nothing serious. Certainly nothing that had resulted in bringing home a girl to meet the family and friends, the true testament to whether the relationship would last or not.

 “Did Barz bring a date?” You heard one of Sarah’s sisters ask another. As much as you wanted to resist eavesdropping, you couldn’t help that your ears perked at the question.

 “No, he’s been single and wheeling for a while now,” she replied, only for another to pipe up.

 “Not even wheeling,” she shook her head, “He said he’s been laying low, I heard it from the devil himself.”

 “You did not,” the first sister rolled her eyes, you almost laughed but you pretended to busy yourself with admiring the architecture of the venue.

 “I swear! Ask him yourself. I have it on good authority he’s holding out for someone,” she smirked. If you hadn’t been staring so intently at the window panes, you might have noticed her nod towards you, all four sisters turning their attention to you.

 Mat could hear their whispering from across the altar, his cheeks threatening to burn red. He could tell you were pretending to ignore their comments. Nobody was that interested in the framing of the windows. He was just grateful you weren’t paying attention when four sets of eyes fell on you.

 ~

 You managed to avoid Mat for the rest of the night. It wasn’t hard when Sarah and the other bridesmaids pulled you along with them for a movie night and face masks in order to unwind before the big day.

 But you knew that come morning you would have to face the music. Luckily you had plenty to keep you busy as you got yourself ready before heading up to Sarah’s room to help her get ready as well. You had to admit, she did a good job choosing bridesmaid dresses. It looked gorgeous against everyone’s skin tone and was perfect for a summer wedding. And while you certainly planned on wearing heels for the ceremony and reception, you were wearing a pair of flip flops up until the last possible minute. Blisters and sore feet did not make for great dancing partners.

 You had found yourself so consumed by last minute touches and helping Sarah that you barely even noticed that it was nearly 2pm. Time to start.

 “Shit,” you cursed to yourself, running barefoot through the hallways of the lodge to get back to your room, holding your sandals in your hand.

 “Holy shit!” Mat’s voice was just as startled as your own scream as you nearly ran him down when you turned the corner.

 “Oh my god, I am so sorry,” you apologized, barely processing that it was him. Until you managed to lift your gaze from the broad shoulders and un-fog your mind from the burning touch of his hands.

 He was dressed in black, three piece suit, white button down. His hair looked so soft and perfectly styled you physically had to keep yourself from touching it.

 “Are you okay?” Mat asked, his hands still on your waist. He was very much aware that you had not moved away from him yet. Maybe that was a good sign.

 “Yeah,” you breathed, “Just-I didn’t realize what time it was and I have to change my shoes.”

 His eyes fell on the sandals in your hand and a laugh fell from his lips,

 “Yeah, I don’t know that those are up to the dress code.”

 You laughed softly, shaking your head,

 “Probably not.”

 You stepped around him to head down the hall and he fell into step with you,

 “I’ll wait for you. Can’t leave my partner without someone to walk down the aisle with.”

 For some reason his words left a sick feeling in your stomach. The same feeling you had had only once before, when you broke up with him.

 Mat had always been the person you thought you’d walk down the aisle with. Except, you’d be the one in a white dress and he’d be in a tux and his hand would be in yours, thumb brushing over the wedding ring he’d just slipped onto your finger.

 He watched from the doorway as you slipped into your heels, stepping into the bathroom to get one last look and adjust your hair.

 “You look beautiful, Y/N,” he said quietly. You caught his eye in the mirror, breath hitching in your throat as you watched him look at you.

 “Thank you. You do too.”

 “I look beautiful?” Mat teased, earning an eye roll from you.

 “Yes, Barz, you look beautiful.”

 “I don’t hear that everyday,” he chuckled, sliding his arm around your waist as the two of you headed down the hall again.

 “Somehow I don’t believe that,” you said, your tone light and teasing, though deep down you wondered if that could possibly be true.

 “Wouldn’t matter, if not from you,” Mat smirked, glancing over at you as he pressed the button for the elevator.

 You chewed the inside of your cheek the rest of the walk over to the ceremony and up until it was your turn to walk down the aisle, Mat’s arm in yours. There were tears threatening to spill and while you would tell everyone it was because you were watching your two best friends get married, you knew that it was only because you were realizing that this was still what you wanted with Mat. But you had been impatient and let him go all those years ago. And then you’d been so full of pride that you couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as him.

 “Come on Y/N, everyone is going,” Sarah whined as she stretched out over the couch in your living room.

“Exactly, everyone is going. Which means the one person I can’t see is going to be there,” you argued.

“I don’t know why it’s such a big deal. So you guys broke up, it was three years ago. It’s not like the wound is still fresh,” Sarah sighed.

“You’d think huh,” you huffed, momentarily forgetting that nobody knew you were still in love with Mat.

“What?” Sarah sat up, staring at you like a deer in the headlights.

“What?” You countered, hoping she wouldn’t press.

“Are you….” Sarah trailed off, eyes searching your face for answers.

“Am I what?” You laughed nervously, reaching for your water to avoid eye contact.

“Oh my god you still have feelings for Mat!” Sarah cried, a wide grin on her face as if she’d discovered something wonderful, not something gut wrenching.

“So what!” You deflected, tugging at your hair.

“No no no, this is good. This is so good!” Sarah said, scooting closer to you and wrapping her arm around your shoulder.

“How?” You scoffed.

“Because Mat is totally still in love with you too. He asks about you all the time. Especially in the summer.”

“Being in love and having feelings are two different things,” you shook your head, “Besides that’s probably not true anyway. If he was still in love with me he would have called by now.”

“Except that he’s still convinced he’s not man enough for you,” Sarah shrugged, letting her arm drop.

You rested your chin in your hand, feeling the guilt in your chest. You’d really done a number on this poor kid. What did you expect of an 18 year old who just got drafted into the NHL? Of course he was gonna be a little all over the place. Maybe it had been a mistake.

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter anymore. He lives thousands of miles away and I’m going to school and we never see each other so what’s the point?” You sighed.

You decided against going to the get together that night. You somehow convinced Sarah to tell your friends that you were babysitting for your neighbor. She didn’t want to lie for you but you were desperate. You just couldn’t see Mat. It didn’t stop him from texting you though.

Mat: you don’t have to keep avoiding things just because I'm going to be there you know.

Mat: I thought we were at least still friends.

You never replied.

The ceremony was beautiful, you were crying almost the entire time. Partly from the love between Sarah and Max and partly because of your own selfish emotions. Mat had offered you his handkerchief before the two of you parted ways at the altar. When he stepped up to you to walk you back down the aisle he gently rubbed his thumb over the skin of your arm. Something he used to do when you were back in high school and he could feel you growing anxious or sad or tired. Sarah’s words from that night nearly over a year ago crept into your mind.

 “He’s totally still in love with you.”

What if he was? What if you were both pining after each other despite the years of little to no communication? What if the reason you couldn’t find anybody to settle down with was because you had already found that in Mat?

 Mat leaned his elbows back against the bar as he watched you dance with the ring bearer, pretending to let him lead and trying your best not to flinch whenever he stepped on your toes. God, he was so in love with you. Still. He’d always imagined that one day the two of you would have kids of your own. Honestly he had imagined it would happen quite early on. Maybe if he had gotten his shit together earlier.

 It was probably foolish to think that you had any form of feelings left for him. But, for someone who could barely look him in the eyes when he said hi you sure had no problem keeping eye contact with him during the exchanging of the vows. He wasn’t even hearing Sarah’s voice, it was all echoing in his head with your tone.

 Mat’s eyes never left you as you stopped back at your table, finishing off your wine before making a break for the back door. Against his better judgement he took off after you, brushing off Max’s brother as he tried to get him to do a shot with him. He had more important things to take care of.

 ~

 You finished off your glass of wine, setting down on the nearest table before slipping out of the reception. The air outside the barn was significantly colder than the air inside, thankfully so as you had desperately needed a breath of fresh air.

 You hadn’t expected it to affect you so much. Certainly not four years later. But, Mat was the person you had always seen yourself marrying. Every other guy you had ever been with after him was just a placeholder. As foolish as it was, you had been waiting for him to grow up. And he had, after all these years. But that didn’t mean that he wanted you now.

 You hiked up your dress, stepping carefully across the path that led down to the water. The sun was still above the horizon, though the sky was turning orange as it sank lower.

 You kicked your heels off and climbed up onto the large, flat rock half submerged in the water. The material of your dress pooled around you as you stared out over the view, trying to calm yourself down. You just had to get through tonight. And then you could go back home and never see Mat again. You’d been avoiding him for years and successfully so. What was a few more months of summer and then he’d leave again and this time you’d find someone new before he came back again. You’d move on. Simple enough right?

 “You look like a Disney princess, sitting out here,” Mat’s voice interrupted you. You bit your lip to keep from smiling at his comment, though the heat in your cheeks might have given you away.

 “Says the Disney prince standing in golden hour,” you teased. You hated how easy it was to fall into flirtatious banter with him.

 Mat chuckled, climbing up onto the rock beside you, groaning when he sat down.

 “What are you doing out here? There’s a lot of free alcohol back in the barn, I don’t know if you heard.”

 “I just needed a second,” you said honestly, looking back out over the water.

 “You and me both,” Mat sighed, resting his forearms on his knees.

 “You?” You looked at him skeptically, “This sort of thing is...well it’s your thing.”

 Mat grinned, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes as he averted his gaze.

 “Just didn’t think it would hit me this hard.”

 Your ears perked up at his confession. Mat noticed your shift, looking back at you as he spoke again,

 “I mean, you’d think I’d be over it after four years. But I guess not.”

 He laughed quietly. You nodded,

 “Me too.”

 Mat looked at you hesitantly. This was the first time you hadn’t run from the sight of him in a long time. He took it as a good sign, as an opportunity to finally say what he’d been dying to say.

 “I swore up and down I was going to marry you one day,” Mat said softly, “I still think that sometimes, as foolish as it sounds. I know I should move on, and believe me I’ve tried. And it’s not like you’ve given me anything to hold onto, you know, I mean you’ve avoided me very tactfully over the past few years.”

 You could help but giggle, shaking your head to yourself. Mat’s lips curved up in a half smile as he continued,

 “But I kept thinking that eventually you’d see that I was enough for you now. It was selfish of me to expect you to wait for me to get my shit together, but I wish you would’ve.”

 “Who says I didn’t?”

 Your voice was so quiet he almost didn’t hear you over the sound of the water splashing against the rock.

 “What?”

 “I thought we’d end up married too, you know,” you said, “I just never thought you had your mind in that place. Certainly not when we were teenagers.”

 “I didn’t then, I can’t lie,” Mat said honestly, “But I did love you. I do love you. So if a second chance is something you ever think about...”

 “You love me?” You asked, finally looking into his eyes, “Present tense?”

 “Present tense.”

 You felt a fresh wave of tears fill your eyes,

 “Barz, don’t you dare make me cry right now.”

 “Tell me I’m stupid for still feeling this way,” he said, reaching out to catch the stray tear that was rolling down your cheek.

 “You are stupid,” you said, sniffling as you leaned into his touch, “But that makes two of us.”

 “You mean…”

 You nodded, smiling up at him,

 “I never fell out of love with you, even though I tried for a long time. But I guess there is no point in fighting it anymore.”

 “And here I thought I’d scared you off all these years,” Mat smiled gently.

 “I scared myself.”

 “Max and Sarah are going to be so mad we chose their wedding night to reconcile,” Mat laughed.

 “We’ll tell them in a few days,” you laughed.

 “So where do we go from here?” Mat asked. You shifted so you were facing him straight on now, taking his hands in yours.

 “We have all summer to figure that out,” you reminded him, smiling up at him. The sun was coloring his eyes like honey.

 “I just hope you know I don’t plan on leaving this town without you again,” Mat said.

 “Better not Barzal,” you smirked.

 He chuckled softly before leaning forward, pausing briefly as if to ask for permission. You resisted the eye roll, sliding your hands behind his neck and pulling him in to press his lips against yours.

 Took him long enough.

[l-loneybun]

♡ 2019 Art Summary + updates/plans for 2020

(25/01) sorry for the late update,, I meant to post this on the 1st,, but,, stuff happened;; u_u

TLDR: I’m going on hiatus. I’ll also be privating a lot of my posts here if they’re text posts, or art I just don’t like. I really want this blog to look like a proper portfolio for when I come back;; Probably won’t be back until May or even later,, might go fuq off to a new account just to see how well I can do on my own for a bit,, Ty for support + have a nice year~ _______________________________________________________________

*big sigh I have to rewrite a lot of this bc my computer died and I was to stupid to draft this before*

So basically, this year’s art summary is surprisingly better than last year’s. I didn’t really notice since I’ve actually been feelin p shit about my progress until I put this together. Definitely more variation in style compared to 2018 (can’t believe I said that “I got to experiment a lot” that year haha guess I was really grasping). The second half of this is pretty much just me going over my 2019 (not just art), so feel free to stop reading here!! Thanks for all the new support, I hope you all have a good 2020. _______________________________________________________________ This is just me really wanting to vent/express my thoughts somewhere, and I just find tumblr the most comfortable place to do that since it’s sort of more hidden and people don’t really read personal posts!! So here we gooooo

I can’t really remember most of January - April, just that I was really stressed about not finishing a portfolio for one of my classes hgjfkdls,, I also quit my job near the end of April since management changed for the worse;; Little did I know how it’s harder to get a job while unemployed,, (seriously what’s up with that?? I get that many people need to work 2+ jobs,, but I would like to live too;; qxq) So I gave up on looking for work, since I didn’t think anyone would want to hire me if I would be gone for over a month right in the middle of summer.

May - June consisted of trying to generate enough art pieces to meet my 1 piece per 5 days art schedule. I also started to fall out of the FE fandom while really getting in to Sonic again. I’m pretty sure I wanted to draw a lot of Pokemon and Zelda fanart as well,, but I was (and still am) at the point where I hate my human art, and being able to draw Sonic art — which I'm more comfortable with — was just much more appealing;; uxu I feel more familiar with these characters, and so many creative ideas just come to be (other than memes, like my FE stuff).

From August onward, though,, I just feel like things turned for the worse. I had (what I would assume was) my first panic attack during my exchange program. It’s feels so fucking pathetic that this would happen at 20 years old;; I thought I was so much better off compared to middle/high school when it came to keeping my anxiety in check, bu t guess not,, ahhahhahhahah,,,, and it wouldn’t be the only one this year;; :’)

I still wouldn’t have found a job after my return, but would still have enough money to pay off my first semester with some left over. Unfortunately, due to vet bills, I wouldn’t have enough to pay for a full course load for my second semester. This was also due to some poor planning on my part regarding commissions/adopts,, so oop;; I’m only taking one course this sem, so I’m looking for full-time work, but damn ! ! no job ! ! esp sucks since my mom is the only one paying for things atm;; soooo great

ugh;; I don’t want to talk about this anymore,, so I’ll just go onto plans/bucket list for 2020/2021, since I keep forgetting:: _______________________________________________________________

If you didn’t read the TLDR, basically I’m taking a break from all my art accounts and such. Even though I can see a lot of improval from 2018-2019, I’m still disappointed in my lack of anatomy/technical skills in my art, especially since I believe I told myself I would improve last year;; So I’m going to try avoid going online as much as possible since it’s really just too distracting,, I really want to dedicate all the time I have now to improving/adopting new skills, so my bucket list/new year’s resolutions for 2020 will be:

Improving human anatomy/developing a good artstyle for human art

Developing assets for RPG Maker XP games (???) (I actually forgot about the pkmn one I started in 2018 until I looked through my archive. I don’t think I’m actually going to make any playable games, just some nice things to look at.)

Learning how to use Blender + making many plant assets

Creating designs/inventory to sell at an anime convention for 2021

Saving up for a Canon EOS M50 Mirrorless Camera to document Artist Alley experience

Becoming ~ambidextrous~

That’s all I can remember for now, but I’m sure I’m forgetting some,,, um,, thanks if you read this for far?? I don’t really have much more to say;; ,,,,,, bye :x

[paradisobound]

Sail Away With Me: Part 5

Summary: It was a fluke. Dan shouldn’t have ever gone with Sam to a party on a yacht. He shouldn’t have trusted her to go. But in a chance encounter, he ends up in bed with Phil Lester, a billionaire CEO of a luxury clothing company. When he thinks he’s screwed up enough, he realizes he’s in way too deep. Because Phil Lester has fallen in love with him. The catch: Dan gave Phil a fake name and all Phil has to remember Dan by is the tattoo on his hip and the necklace he left behind.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Brief Alcohol and Drug mentions 

Pairing: Instagraminfluencer!dan and CEO!Phil

This is a chaptered work. Updates every Saturday around 1pm EST

**MASTERLIST | ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN | WATTPAD**

Phil’s POV

“Do you recognize any of these men?” 

Phil looked down at all of the pictures on Jeanna’s tablet. She was scrolling through them all as Phil looked carefully at each picture, trying to figure out if he recognized any of them…so far he hasn’t. 

“No, I don’t.” 

Jeanna bit her lip and then scrolled a bit further down the page. “This is the list of males who were named Ethan who attended a party in Amalfi the same day as yours so I was hoping maybe one would be correct.” 

“None of them are.” 

Phil let out a long sigh and then laid his head down on his arms on his desk. Phil had come into his office today just for this. Jeanna had said she’d done extensive searching and had come up with quite a few people for Phil to look at. But so far, nothing was working. 

“Maybe I can search just for people who were…” 

“It’s not going to work, Jeanna.” Phil said with a defeated sigh. “I’m never going to find Ethan. It’s just hopeless.” 

Jeanna sat back in her plastic chair, the material creaking under her and she shifted her weight from left foot to right foot, crossing the one over the other. She leaned forward and took the tablet away just as Phil lifted his head back up again to face her. 

“But what if it’s not hopeless?” Jeanna asks. “I have some ideas.” 

“Like what?” Phil asks, smoothing his hair back that had fallen onto his forehead and adjusting his now crooked glasses. 

“Just wait and see!” Jeanna said with a smile. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.” 

Phil lent her a smile as he sat back in his chair and tried his best to believe that Jeanna would actually work her magic and be able to help him out. 

It’s been a while since Phil has felt like this over another guy. He actually thinks that last time he’s been so adamant to find a one night stand was well…Lukas. That was nearly 15 years ago and the thought of it being that long since he’d known Lukas was painful, squeezing his heart in all the wrong ways. He fights back the tears that begin to move forward as he thinks about blonde hair and green eyes. 

He’s still thinking about Lukas, tempted to pull out his phone and look through the locked album on his phone that holds all of his and Lukas’s memories from years past. But just as he starts to reach into his pocket, Jeanna slaps down her tablet onto the table and looks at Phil with an excited smile. 

“I have my idea!” 

“Go on?” Phil asks, laughing at how enthusiastic she’s being about this. 

“We’ll put out a search for him! Surely if he knows we’re looking for him, he’ll come forward right?” 

Phil furrows his brows. “This sounds like a really bad idea.” 

“But what if it’s not?” Jeanna asks, pinching the display on her iPad to enlarge a post she’d drafted on Phil’s Twitter. “What if we advertise that we’re looking for a male named Ethan who has a rose tattoo on their hip.” 

“But isn’t that going to make some people go out and deliberately get a tattoo just to try and fit the mould of Ethan?” Phil asks because that’s a serious thing he feels like could put a damper in their search. 

“Well, of course. But only you’ll know the correct Ethan right?” Jeanna asks. “Like if we put out a search and say 1,000 Ethan’s come forward fitting our description, that must mean you can surely pick out your Ethan from the crowd?” 

Phil taps his fingers against his chin and thinks on it. This could either go horrifically or this could go great and he can find the actual man of his dreams. He feels a bit like he’s cheating on Lukas when he says that in his mind. 

But Lukas has been gone for a while now. Lukas would want him to move on and to find someone else to share his life with. But why does he still feel like he’s betraying him when he thinks about Ethan and how much he would love to be with him? 

Maybe this is why he spent so much of the last few years throwing parties and sleeping with the first man he found attractive? Because maybe if he left himself convinced that if he was just mindlessly sleeping with men, then he wasn’t cheating on Lukas because he didn’t feel anything. 

But now that he feels something…

“Phil, are you okay?” 

Jeanna almost never addresses him as his first name. And maybe if his head was a bit more clear, he would warn her against it but this time, he doesn’t mind. He needs someone to keep him grounded and Jeanna does just that most of the time. That’s why he hired her a few years ago when he realized that he needed someone like her. 

“You want to find Ethan right?” 

Phil nods and glances back at her with a sad smile on his face. “This is the first time I’m actively tried to pursue someone since…since Lukas died.” 

Jeanna gives him a watery smile and reaches out, patting his arm with her delicate hand. “He would have wanted this, you know? He would have wanted to see you meeting someone new who you wanted to be with.” 

A brash part of Phil wants to tell her that no, she possibly couldn’t know because she never even so much as met Lukas. But he also knows that she’s completely correct and so he nods and lets his eyes cloud over a bit with unshed tears as he holds them back. 

“I want to find him.” He finally says. “I really want to find Ethan.” 

“Then we’ll find him.” She says. “One way or another, we’ll find you your Ethan.” 

Phil nods back and lets out a small laugh as he glances down at her tablet again. 

“So tell me,” Jeanna says, picking the iPad away from Phil’s view. “What did Ethan look like?” 

Phil feels his lips curl into a large smile as he begins to describe all of the features of Ethan from his memory. 

***

Dan’s POV 

Dan is out with Samantha at a party in some rich guys penthouse in London when he sees the Twitter notification scroll across his phone from a breaking news site. He’s a few drinks down and at least a half a sheet to the wind when he feels like his world is crashing down around him. 

BILLIONAIRE CEO PHIL LESTER IS SEARCHING FOR ETHAN: A MALE HE MET AT HIS PARTY A FEW WEEKS AGO. DETAILS BELOW 

Dan feels like all of his breath is sucked out of him as his fingers begin to shake and he sets down his half-full glass onto the bar and steps away from a male named Johnathan who had been trying to get into his pants for the last half an hour. Dan was close to letting him, if he was being honest. But that was way before he saw that scroll across as breaking news on his phone. 

Phil Lester, Billionaire CEO of the clothing company Le Grand Amour is looking for what he is claiming to be ‘his one true love’. Lester met with a male by the name of ‘Ethan’ at his party in Amalfi, Italy on the night of July 22nd and wants to be reunited with him. He is hoping that he can find the male that is Ethan. 

If you’re the Ethan Phil is looking for, Lester is holding a meeting at his office in Victoria on 1st August at 14:00. More details are on Phil’s detailed post linked below. 

Dan looked down at the date on his phone and realized it was July 28th and he felt his heart beat through his chest. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t show up and…fuck he was going throw up. 

Dan rushed out of the party and into the bathroom which was somehow unoccupied and lost all of the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl. As the hook in his stomach continued to pull, he heard the door behind him open and a familiar set of hands on his back, rubbing it. 

“Couldn’t hold your alcohol tonight?” Sam asked, her voice oddly soothing. 

Dan sat back and wiped his mouth with some toilet paper and then he threw that into the bowl and flushed the toilet. He struggled to gather his breath and composure. He turned his head and looked at how perfectly polished Sam still was despite the bloodshot in her eyes and the smell of vodka on her breath. 

“You didn’t see what’s breaking news on Twitter?” 

Sam shook her head and pulled out her phone from her fanny pack, looking it over. She tapped on Twitter and Dan watched her mouth drop open as she read over the post. 

“You’re…Dan! Phil fucking Lester is calling you his true love.” Sam says, hitting his arm repeatedly with her hand. He pushed her off and mumbled an ow at her excited expressions. “Phil Lester is in love with you!” 

Dan shushed her as he looked at the cocked open door where the lights and sounds were coming through. She noticed his stare at the door and she stood up, shutting it and locking it so no one could get in. “He’s not in love with me, Sam.” 

“He’s literally willing to risk everything to meet hundreds…probably thousands of people to try and find you!” Sam says. “You need to go and meet him on this day!” 

“Sam, that’s a ridiculous fucking idea.” 

“Dan, you’re acting like a fool right now!” Sam exclaims. “Phil Lester is putting out a search warrant for you and you’re sitting here saying it’s a ridiculous idea!” 

Dan looks down between them and lets out a sigh. “He doesn’t want me, Sam. He wants Ethan. I’m not Ethan.” 

“But you are Ethan!” Sam argues. “You’re Ethan…because you were too damn scared to give Phil your real name so now you’re stuck under a pseudonym.” Sam sat back on her heels. “You liked Phil, right? Like you liked your night with him?” 

Dan shrugged his shoulders. “Of course I loved my night with him. It was sex. It was sex with Phil Lester. Of course it felt incredible.” 

Sam rolled her eyes. “You’re acting completely ridiculous.” 

“And you’re not?” Dan pressed back. “I’m trying to tell you that I don’t want to meet him again and you’re pushing me to do so!” 

“I’m not pushing you to do anything, Dan. I’m telling you that you need to meet up with Phil because if you don’t, you’ll regret that for the rest of your life.” Sam lets out a sigh. “But lets not do this right now. We’re both a bit tipsy and this conversation isn’t getting anywhere. Let’s just sleep on it.” 

Dan stands up on wobbly legs and quickly agrees as he moves past Sam and walks out of the bathroom, ignoring Johnathan who was rushing towards him as a last resort. He gets to the elevator just in time for the unshed feelings to unleash as he fell into the corner and cried all 15 floors down to the bottom. 

***

Dan slept on it but in the morning, his mind was still not mad up. He texted Sam and apologized for snapping at her last night and she apologized back too and then they made up by sending each other pictures of memes they saw and everything went well. 

For most of the next day, Dan spent his time working on a new product sponsorship he agreed to do for a new detox tea that the company had given him a lot of money for. He spent a lot of his time trying to figure out what he should do for the photo. 

He decides to put on an athletic shirt and some shorts and pour some water into a cup as he masked it as tea. He used the caption they sent him in the message and he posted the photo with his unique sales code for his followers to use. He would make some money from those who used it but the payout was bigger just to post the photo than the code was. 

With that posted and approved, he chucked the tea into the garbage because he wasn’t about to actually drink a tea with laxatives in it and then he made actual real tea instead. He went onto his laptop next to go through his new emails from companies and he found a new email from Luxor. 

He opened it up and was still sipping his tea when he read the next email and spat it out all down the front of his shirt. 

Luxor x Le Grand Amour: Coming Soon 

Hello Daniel, We wanted to email you to let you know that our collaboration with Le Grand Amour is under way and we would love to have you be the model for our first products. We will get into contact with you in a few weeks time to let you know when you will be needed. You will of course be paid for your time. 

Best, 

Timothy Duvey, Luxor CEO 

Dan quickly wiped down his front and felt his heart race as he read over the email over and over again. This couldn’t be happening. He literally wasn’t going to be able to escape Phil at all. He was going to have to confront Phil at some point. 

But why is that so difficult? 

Dan can admit that he likes Phil. Of course he does. He remembers the spark. He remembers how it felt to be with Phil and when he closes his eyes, he can see Phil behind them. He can imagine his life with Phil by his side, showering him in gifts and giving him so much affection. God, Dan wants that so badly. 

He feels touch starved and its been so long since someone has actually wanted him for more than just sex. It feels overwhelming and maybe that’s why Dan is fighting this so much. He’s fighting back these feelings that he hasn’t had time to ever feel. 

Dan puts down the top of his laptop and then opens his phone, opening the calendar. He puts the date August 1st in his calendar and puts down the time and then locks the screen, sitting back in his chair as he felt tears brim his eyes and break through the dam, skittering down his cheeks. 

[annacwrites]

the wip list

Alright, gang. Buckle up. This is going to be a long one, and at this point I can’t even bring myself to be sorry about it. I meant to put this off but then I started thinking about it, so here we are (at 1:05 in the morning when I have to work at 8:30, what am I doing?). 

I’m going to break this down in a couple of ways—fanfiction vs. original fiction, fandom (if it’s a fanfic), series/universe (if it’s in one), and then the individual books themselves (if I have the ability to do that, because quite frankly, for some of these I don’t because I have no idea what the titles are or where I’m splitting the story yet).

Also, “WIP” is an incredibly broad term here. In some cases it means I’ve already written the whole thing but I plan to 100% rewrite it (and haven’t started yet). In some cases it means I’ve written half of the thing but haven’t finished yet. In some cases it means I have it all outlined but haven’t started writing yet. In some cases it means I haven’t really touched an outline on paper yet but I have it all worked out in my head. Take the “in progress” part of WIP with a grain of salt.

(Putting this whole thing under the cut because it is so freaking long. I apologize if the read-more doesn’t work on your dash. Idk what tumblr is doing.)  

Starting off easy—the fics:

Harry Potter: (JKR can fuck off with her transphobia and cultural appropriation and all the other stupid and fucked-up shit that she’s done/promoted but, as I said to my friends, she can pry my next-gen fanfics from my cold dead hands. Cursed Child is not canon in my life because I’ve never read it and I don’t care what nonsense she came up with.)

The “In Your Arms I’ll Stay” universe (Tedtoire/Scorose): 

The first fic in this universe is the first fic I ever finished. 110k words followed up by a ~137k word sequel. It is a disaster and a half but it’s also my baby and I fully intend to rewrite it one of these days. It is full of standard Tedtoire trope-y nonsense—best friends since childhood! two-year age gap! jealousy about other relationships! obliviousness!—and at 15 I thought it was a really good idea to try to turn it into a mystery too, which is a mistake that I have every intention of rectifying because it was unnecessary and I just didn’t know how to do drama and tension back then. 

Anyway. It will probably be two parts again when I rewrite it because one part per school year just works, yeah? We’re covering Vic’s fifth/Teddy’s seventh year and Vic’s sixth year/Teddy’s first year out of school over the course of these parts.

Within this universe we also have Heartbeat and Bone, which is a Scorose fic that I’ve written probably 75% of already but have no intention of actually finishing before I rewrite it. I want to get the stories in the right order so that I can get details straightened out, so Teddy and Victoire get the rewrites first and then I’ll be revisiting this fic. Also full of trope-y nonsense (and my continued acceptance of the headcanon that the Heads have their own dormitory at Hogwarts, because it’s just too much fun that way).  

some things were meant to be (Tedtoire):

Oh god, another fic with a cliché title taken from Can’t Help Falling In Love. I have zero regrets because it fits them perfectly.

This one is... half-done? I fully intend to finish it but I need to finish the outline first. It was my 2019 NaNoWriMo project and I am 100% just writing it for the lols (and because Teddy and Vic are like... my comfort ship where writing is concerned). I wanted to play with a different universe and change up their relationship and roles at school a bit, but once again... trope-y nonsense. It’s unavoidable with them. There is obliviousness everywhere. 

Star Wars: (it’s Reylo, okay? It’s Reylo. I don’t want to hear it about how the ship is ~so terrible.~ That is literally the furthest thing in the world from a hot take, you can’t say a single thing that I haven’t heard before, and I’m a grown adult and can do what I want. Bite me.)

looking for the map that leads me home (Reylo): 

Stole the title on this one from We Take Care of Our Own by Bruce Springsteen, because why the fuck not, right? 

To put it simply: musician AU. To put it a little less simply: he’s got a dead career, she wants to have even the slightest shot at one, Rose is the best, Poe’s a singing heartthrob, Finn is a love-struck goofball. You know, all that fun stuff. The entire thing is based on a playlist that I made and every chapter has a song that acts as its theme. I haven’t touched it since January 2018. I want to finish it eventually but it’s not really at the top of the priority list. 

There’s a few other fics from other fandoms that I’ve started and never finished but the odds of me touching them again are like... nonexistent, so I’m not including them here. I’ll update this post if anything changes on that front (but it probably won’t).

Now for the complicated part—the original fiction:

Maker’s Magic 

This is a trilogy (or at least, it’s supposed to be). This is also a rewrite of the first story I ever finished—the fantasy novel that I wrote for my first-ever Camp NaNoWriMo back in August of 2011, when I had literally no clue what I was doing at all and essentially stole the plot structure from The Obsidian Trilogy by Mercedes Lackey and built my own story around it. This is not a good way to write a piece of fiction that you want to publish, kids, but it is a damn good way to get your feet wet when you’ve never really written before.

I am reworking this story entirely from scratch. The characters are... kind of the same as the original story. Kind of. Maybe. I’ve changed a few names and merged a few people together and scrapped some others and entirely shifted the backstory of pretty much everyone, but... they’re definitely still the same, right? 

Basically, at this point the plot is really only similar to The Obsidian Trilogy in that we’ve got a trilogy, we’ve got some elves, and it’s your standard good vs. evil fantasy story (in its own unique fashion, of course). I’m still working out the details of this rewrite, but this is kind of the Holy Grail of all of my writing projects and the one that I’m most concerned about getting right, so I’m anticipating that I’ll be in it for the long haul on this one. I’m hoping I might be able to get a draft of the first book done this year, but... we’ll see.

(I also don’t want to give too many details about this project, ‘cause it’s the one that I’d really like to maybe publish one day, so...)

The Willow Hill universe

This started as a single story plus a standalone sequel set in the same universe, conceptualized when I was fourteen and missing horseback riding terribly (so yes, it is a story for all those Weird Horse Girls™ out there). I wrote a good portion of it, then deleted it, then rewrote the entire thing, then deleted it again a few years ago because I was no longer satisfied with the writing quality (after hitting top 100 on the Teen Fiction list on Wattpad way back when, so... I didn’t do too badly as a 16-year-old, but the writing still sucked). I’ve been promising a rewrite to my Wattpad followers since 2016 or something like that (2014? Whenever the hell it was that I deleted it the second time) but haven’t delivered at all.

I now envision this universe as a duology plus the aforementioned standalone sequel, except it’s not entirely fair to call it a YA duology in that the first book is definitely YA, but the second is more romance-y?

I originally just revealed the main character’s endgame relationship in the epilogue of the story, but I love both her and her boyfriend and their relationship so much that I decided that I’m going to be self-indulgent and write the story of them actually falling in love with each other, so that’s book two (so really, you don’t actually have to read book two to understand anything, I’m just writing it because I want to and it’s also kind of a present to anyone who read the original story when they were also a teenager and is now an adult who wants to read other stuff). 

Book one is now about the teenage struggle of crushes and trying to figure out what it is that you actually want out of your life and what you value (I say “now” because it was definitely way more self-insert-y the first time I wrote it and it is decidedly not at this point). It’s also sort of a love letter to trainers who are amazing and the kind of person we should all be so lucky as to be coached by.

These characters are my comfort characters where original fiction is concerned since they’ve been bouncing around in my head for the last ten years or so, and I’m hoping I can get at least the first book rewritten in the next year-ish, partly because I’ve been promising it for so long, and partly because I just really enjoy this world and I want to get back to it again.

The Coffee Shop Chronicles

AKA, I lived in one coffee shop on my university campus for pretty much the entirety of my college experience and it was a very inspiring place to be, so this has less to do with coffee shop AUs and more to do with the fact that I met several of my favorite human beings on this earth over a vanilla chai latte and mutual sass with the baristas.

(One of said baristas is very near and dear to me and introduced me to another regular who is now a very good friend with the statement “You’re both sarcastic assholes. You’ll love each other.”) 

None of the characters in this universe are based on actual human beings whom I know, but I liked the idea of the campus coffee shop serving as this thing that tangentially connected all of these people to one another, much in the way that I am tangentially connected to god knows how many people via my barista friend. Essentially, the idea is that the stories in this universe are all standalone, but the characters sometimes cross paths with one another at Caffeinated, so it’s sort of... Easter-egg-y in terms of who pops up where in which story. 

Currently I only have two stories in this universe that are legitimately plotted out, but there is room for any number of spin-offs based on whichever characters show up in those stories (or don’t—that’s the fun of it being a coffee shop. The barista is the only reliable character). Those two stories are as follows:

Chance Encounters (title so totally subject to change, also stealing the terribly summary from the Wattpad draft that never saw the light of day):

For Bennett McGuire, things with guys just didn't seem to want to go her way. From the disasters that were her attempts at dating in high school to the problem that had been Elijah Becker, she hadn't exactly had the best luck. With all that in mind, it made perfect sense to swear off dating until she finished college—that is, it made sense until one frozen day in February when Gordon Evans walked into her life. After that, who was to say what would happen?

What’s Your Metaphor? (once again, enjoy the terrible summary from the Wattpad draft that never was. I am cringing reading it but also too tired to come up with anything better):

"What's the point?" 

It's a question asked widely, for all sorts of reasons, and it's one that April Hayes didn't know the answer to any better than anyone else. All she knew was that she had her plan, and she was going to stick to it, because it was the only thing that seemed to have any sort of logic to it in her life. The things she thought, the things she believed—well, they all fell before the plan, because she didn't have time to ask herself "What's the point?"

That is, she didn't have the time to know the answer—her answer—until one guy by the name of Drew Collier showed up and made her consider things that she had never even thought of before.

High Blood

Yinz can go read my WIP introduction post for this one. It’s a fantasy story. Just for the hell of it, here’s the summary from said WIP introduction post: 

At the age of seventeen, Thessaly of Averak had a choice—take the crown of her people and her place as her father’s heir, or set it aside to become one of the High Warriors, dedicated to protecting their people and the country that her long-dead ancestor Enred built after leading its citizens out of a long and bloody war. Amidst raids and famine at the borders, she gave up her crown to better serve the people that her family rules.

Ten years later, all is quiet. At least, all is quiet until Beca’s pendant is stolen by a thief who disappears into the night on the journey back from the summer palace, Tess gets herself stabbed, and the discovery is made that the rock-solid foundations of their family’s claim to the throne—and the peace that depends upon them—are laced with hairline fractures.

(I didn’t write anything to speak of for Camp NaNo July 2020 and actually wound up deleting my project for this on the NaNo site because my dad was hit by a car while cycling the Friday before the weekend when I was planning to write like... 30k words to catch up, so obviously I gave up on that plan (he is doing well now, thank you for asking). I’m hoping I’ll get around to this one eventually because this particular universe arguably has the most potential for having multiple stories set in it, fantasy-wise.)

Emerson’s Lights

Natalie Flynn has been best friends with Evan Acheson practically since birth. They've stuck together through thick and thin, from her braces in seventh grade to his jump to stardom as a singer-songwriter their freshman year of college. 

She’d do anything for him, but spending a week with him on tour involves a lot more than she bargained for, culminating in the turn of events that is Caleb Blake, lead singer and primary songwriter of opening act Emerson’s Lights, moving into her house for the better part of a month.

She always knew there would be complications being the best friend of a rock star, but this? This was one that she didn’t bet on.

(Aka, girl meets boy in a band trope. Yay.)

(NaNoWriMo 2020 project)

The famous musician story (this thing doesn’t have a title right now and I’m not even going to try)

Stupid, trope-y nonsense idea that I came up with for my own personal amusement and nothing else. I’ve written a few chapters of it but genuinely have no idea where this falls in the hierarchy of things that I want to get done. Long story short, she’s in grad school for history, he’s a famous musician in town recording for a new album, they meet in the library, she pretends she has no idea who he is, and shenanigans ensue.

And that is where I think I’m going to leave it. There’s four other stories that I can think of off the top of my head that I could theoretically add to this list, but they are legitimately just ideas right now so they can be added at a later date when they’ve manifested themselves a little more strongly. There’s also another quartet in the Willow Hill universe that I came up with in high school that could theoretically be added but I think I might just steal those character names and give them their own little world instead. We’ll see.

Basically, if you didn’t get the point from this list: I am working on a lot of things, and when I say I’m writing, it could mean literally anything on this list (or any of the other ideas that I have floating around). The stories/universe here are the most likely candidates for my time, depending on whether I’m doing a deep dive into my writing or just playing around with something fun, and hopefully (god, hopefully) I’ll be able to move one or two of these to a “completed works” list in the next year(ish). 

(Or at least, as complete as a draft ever gets before you start going in on it again.)

[elizas-writing]

Of the latest “controversial” opinions to rock social media, renowned director Martin Scorsese voiced his dislike of the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU). To Scorsese, MCU films are more like an amusement park than cinema which is meant to “convey emotional, psychological experiences.” As you do, this sparked some outrage among fans and even a few filmmakers from MCU. Scorsese himself even wrote an op-ed for The New York Times to further explain himself when the backlash got out of control and specified he meant the whole comic book film genre.

On one hand, I understand not wanting to give in to an elitist ideal of what “cinema” is, and comic book films deserve to be on equal footing as any other genre. Not every film needs to be a grand masterpiece, and art is subjective and can come from anywhere, even in the MCU. Black Panther is an expertly crafted film of Afrofuturism and deserved all its awards nominations. Guardians of the Galaxy, despite being an inherently goofy franchise, delivers a strong, emotional, complex narrative of found family and overcoming trauma from a lifetime of abuse. MCU also gave a ton of publicity for more unknown actors and directors. And audiences steadily flocked to the rest of their work, and they look forward to what else they have to give besides superhero films; it’s one of the reasons why Taika Waititi is now a favorite director in my book. And give credit where it’s due, Marvel is the only successful cinematic universe so far to stay in the long run where others spectacularly failed. It’s not perfect, but all things considered on what could’ve gone wrong, it’s surprising to see the hard work pay off.

At the same time, despite being a longtime fan of MCU, I’m starting to feel fatigued with the superhero genre. And this began way before Scorsese said anything. With the release of Disney+, fans are expected to subscribe and watch these new shows which apparently will tie into future movies scheduled out until 2022. It’s also not much of a secret that Disney is morphing into a corporate monster and consuming all media it can grabs its hands on. And with more time to further reflect on some of these movies without the excess hype, I admit I was probably far too kind on my initial reviews. There are a lot of MCU films I can discuss in these regards, but as I drafted this up, I had far more to say on Spider-Man. So that will be my primary focus for this piece.

At the end of the day, Scorsese’s opinions are mainly on his personal film tastes— also, c’mon, the guy agreed to voice act in fucking Shark Tale of all things; no one’s twisting your arm to take his word as gospel—, and not everyone is gonna automatically like the superhero genre. I respect that it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, and I agree it feels like the film market is oversaturated with them. And there is still a lot to be said on recent filmmaking trends and if MCU can keep a steady momentum in the long run. It is possible to have too much of a good thing. After a while, you’ll want to leave the amusement park, but when will that point be? Well, I’m here to break down my biggest frustrations with MCU through Scorsese’s lens and a reevaluation of Spider-Man, both the character and the movie franchise.

I. Too Many Damn Franchises

In his op-ed, Scorsese worried about “franchise films [which] are now your primary choice” in major theaters, leaving little room for everyone else.  It isn’t much of a stretch that we don’t see a lot of original content which stands on its own between all the sequels and reboots which expect prior knowledge of its predecessors to understand what is going on. And of course, Disney is the largest perpetrator of this with all the properties they own and all the live action remakes/reimaginings of their original content which no one asked for (no, trust me, you didn’t ask for an origin story of Cruella de Vil; turn off the nostalgia goggles).

Yeah, there’s only like, one of these I want to see

Some of MCU’s individual franchises, particularly the earlier films, work well on their own without necessarily needing to watch every other film in the universe. Some are only connected with super minor details which can be picked up from context clues or dialogue referencing events of the previous films. Guardians of the Galaxy is the best example of this as their adventures are self-contained up until Avengers: Infinity War. But then you have Tom Holland’s Spider-Man which completely relies on fully understanding what’s happening in the universe as whole; what happens to him in Captain America: Civil War and the last two Avengers movies influences the plots of Spider-Man: Homecoming and Far from Home. It’s impossible for this iteration of Spider-Man to stand on its own without MCU context. And they can only spend so much time to recap the previous movies because they assume you already watched them; the recaps are just bare bones refreshers. Each new MCU film is further tied into the entire franchise, so now you have to watch a decade’s worth of movies to understand the individual franchises.

MCU is also one of many franchises dominating movie theaters, averaging at about 2-3 releases per year. It may not sound like a lot, but it’s overwhelming when they’re sandwiched between other franchises from D.C. Comics to Harry Potter to Star Wars and whatever 80s or 90s properties Hollywood finds worthy of a reboot/sequel. Movies are still pretty expensive, and we can’t be expected to see every movie as they release. So we end up having to pick and choose what to immediately see in theaters. And if you’re seeing a franchise film, chances are you’ll also have to backtrack on whatever predecessors are available to get the context of a new movie. When other movies, especially non-franchise films, don’t perform as well upon opening weekend, their showings are reduced, and you’ll be lucky if they’re still there a month later. And this is part of why directors like Scorsese turn to streaming services like Netflix, Hulu, or Amazon Prime to release their movies to not panic on box office numbers, “the primary delivery system” as he calls it.

While streaming services are convenient and far less expensive than movie tickets, viewers are still subject to content overload. With fluctuating availability of certain titles, you still have to pick and choose what you want to see first before it disappears for months or years. Do you want to watch this new Netflix original film that’s gonna be there forever, or do you want to watch re-runs of The Office before its contract expires? Sometimes if a service doesn’t see an immediate high viewership of certain original shows, they get cancelled and fade into obscurity. Now everyone and their mother wants to hop on the streaming bandwagon, and spread out their exclusive shows as thinly as possible, including Disney. The overall costs come close to cable or satellite television which goes against the whole point of streaming services.

Expanding the MCU to television isn’t a new concept. We still have Daredevil and Jessica Jones on Netflix, just to name a couple shows. Although they referenced the MCU films, their worlds were separated far enough that you could watch the shows without needing to see any movies. But then you also have something like Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D which is more dependent on seeing the movies to understand the show’s plot. If you didn’t see the latest MCU movie that weekend before the next episode, you’ll probably miss out on the context and be barraged with spoilers. Although the events of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D weren’t referenced in the MCU films, the fans still have a lot of work to keep up with the show’s story.

Also, I know y’all are worried about brand integrity, but you already own Hulu…??

Not only were all the Netflix shows cancelled in favor of Disney+, but the shows on the new platform are said to affect future films, including all the new characters to be introduced. We still don’t know to what extent the shows and films will tie in together, but it already sounds demanding to keep up with. And let’s be real, who asked for WandaVision, a show with two of the most boring MCU characters? Or Hawkeye after Jeremy Renner decided to make a raging asshole of himself? Do I really need to watch these shows to understand the movies going forward?

Again, it’s still too early to determine how much the shows will coincide with the movies. And given the success of a show like The Mandalorian, I hope I’m wrong on the quality of future Disney+ projects. But I can’t help notice that MCU started favoring quantity over quality since they know they can make bank regardless of the project. It aaaaalllllll comes back to money which brings me to the next big issue of MCU.

II. Business Over Art

Business and art is always at odds with each other in filmmaking, especially if you’re going into Hollywood, and it’s never easy to compromise on the two. You need to find a balance between getting a finished movie out to theaters and not wasting the production’s time and money. According to Scorsese, this used to be “a productive tension that gave us some of the greatest films ever made.” However, in recent years, this balance tipped in business’s favor “with absolute indifference to the very question of art.” As a result, we don’t get the full “unifying vision of an individual artist.” We just have “worldwide audiovisual entertainment” and cinema. “They still overlap from time to time, but that’s becoming increasingly rare. And [he] fear[s] that the financial dominance of one is being used to marginalize and even belittle the existence of the other.”

Okay, this is still fun no matter how many times I see it

Sadly, we see this financial dominance with Disney grabbing on as many properties as possible and launching their own streaming service with exclusive shows and films. This became most heated with the Spider-Man character rights debacle with Sony. Back in August 2019, Sony disagreed on Disney’s proposed 50-50 split of MCU Spider-Man movie profits. If a deal wasn’t made, Disney would lose the rights to Spider-Man, and the MCU wouldn’t get a third film for the character. And it took a month for the companies to reach a deal to keep Spider-Man in the MCU with the third film scheduled for July 2021, but the details of the new deal weren’t publicly disclosed. Fans were divided as to which company was in the right, and it’s a little bit of Column A and B.

On one hand, it’s annoying when studio executives get in the way of the art and think they know what will guarantee box office and critical success. And it’s especially irritating in this case when character rights bounce around and determine who will make the next movies and what stories to tell. Spider-Man already has not one, but two previous franchises cancelled before their full potentials were realized. Yeah, Sony kinda shot themselves in the foot with the crap quality of Spider–Man 3 and The Amazing Spider–Man 2, but I can’t help wonder how these stories could’ve gone if they were allowed to continue.

Still the superior Spider-Man movie, by the by

On the other hand, Sony was right to refuse Disney’s initial offer. You think after the tremendous success they had with Into the Spiderverse that they would settle on only half of the profits? Disney has more than enough monopoly on Hollywood that they’re nowhere near in danger of bankruptcy like they used to be. We still need studios which will put their foot down to greedy demands and will better unleash creativity in ways which even Disney is still too chicken to pursue. I’m still so glad we waited on Sony to make Miles Morales the star of his own movie, because MCU has a bad track record of keeping up with diverse representation that only within the past 2 years of a 12-year-old franchise did we finally get movies not led by cisgender white men. And there was a lot more genuine love to do this story and these characters right to show anyone can be a hero.

Between the tug-of-war on character rights and franchise overload, these business decisions greatly affect the movies, and some of these stories may not live up to their full potential (not to mention the actors’ contracts which dictate how much screentime their characters get). As this is Disney we’re talking about, we also run into my final major issue with their control on MCU.

III. Cultural Authority on Stories

I knew saving my books from the UC: Santa Cruz Walt Disney class would come in handy some day!

In her essay “Fantasia: Cultural Constructions of Disney’s ‘Masterpiece'”, media historian Moya Luckett discusses the concerns of Disney holding “cultural authority” on the images of famous stories. As Disney is a formidable part of most everyone’s childhood, they are usually the go-to images when we think of Cinderella, Pinocchio, Peter Pan, and dozens more. Disney is clearly doing something right if these films are enjoyed decades later. I still go to Disney when I first think of Robin Hood, and it’s just as great as when I watched it as a kid. Unfortunately, with Disney dominating family and children’s media, they don’t allow much room for other interpretations to shine.

For example, with Luckett’s focus on the 1940 film, Fantasia, music critics worried “that the power of Disney’s images would anchor the music,” so some audiences may immediately associate “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” with Mickey Mouse or “Pastoral Symphony” with centaurettes instead making their own interpretations¹. And those critics were definitely right to worry, and the concerns expanded beyond classical music. To this day, folks still react with shock when they read the original books or darker iterations of fairytales which these movies are based on. In some extreme cases, Disney’s images contribute to racial stereotypes and distorted perceptions of histories and cultures, and the company still hasn’t figured out how to properly express that while they were products of their time, they weren’t okay then and they’re certainly not okay now.

But anyway, what the fuck does this all have to do with MCU? Sadly, Disney’s cultural authority leaked into MCU too.

With an indefinite future and the inevitable MCU reboots of characters and groups like the Fantastic Four and the X-Men, it is probably going to be literal years before we see new versions of characters like Tony Stark or Steve Rogers, at least as far as live-action movies are concerned. We’ll always have the numerous cartoons and, of course, the original comics, but the live-action films are stuck until Disney reboots these franchises themselves, or they pass the rights along to another studio to do so. For some viewers, MCU may be the first go-to images of these heroes, and not every fan will be dedicated enough to seek out other adaptations on their own. And that’s not a good thing if a comic arc or character gets a shitty adaptation. One such example, which also ties into Spider-Man, is the Civil War storyline which was adapted to film with Captain America: Civil War in 2016.

The original comic, published from July 2006 to January 2007, was a mega Marvel crossover event in which after a superheroes and villains battle ended in over 600 civilian deaths, the U.S government quickly passed the Superhuman Registration Act. Any superpowered person— regardless how they obtained their abilities— was required to register with the government, publicly reveal their identities, and enlist with S.H.I.E.L.D. for training to serve as a hero. Many heroes split up into two factions: one led by Tony Stark, who helped pass the law, and Steve Rogers, who went rogue to create the Secret Avengers because he found the law violated civil liberties of freedom and privacy. Families and friendships were torn apart, and the fighting escalated so badly that it was no longer even about the law but about Tony and Steve’s massive egos on who was right, resulting in more damage than any villain could’ve done (I recommend watching Comicstorian’s overview of the story for more details since it there’s so much going on, and his video is nice and succinct).

MCU already put themselves in pickle trying to adapt one of the biggest comic stories ever as they couldn’t portray the same scale of conflict, emotional zeitgeist, or the multiple sideplots weaved in. Film is already an inherently limited medium of entertainment for time, so cuts are inevitable. And what do you do when you can’t bring in major players like the Fantastic Four or the X-men? Well, for Captain America: Civil War, the conflict was scaled down to the Sokovia Accords which gave control of Avengers activity to the United Nations since their more recent missions often did more damage than good. In theory, this isn’t necessarily a bad idea since it still ties into the themes of government control versus civil liberties and when heroes need to be accountable. And the two sides still align similarly to the original comic with Tony Stark in favor of the law after his screw-up with Ultron and Steve Rogers against it after S.H.E.I.L.D. turned out to be front for HYDRA just a couple years before.

Unfortunately, the conflict over the Sokovia Accords is too quickly sidelined over Bucky Barnes being framed for a terrorist attack and a severe misunderstanding of his brainwashing when he was the Winter Soldier. The characters’ motivations— most of which have nothing to do with the Accords at all— jump all over the place on why they side with Tony or Steve. The ultimate battle boils down to a bromance love triangle, and I don’t feel like the MCU Avengers are a cohesive enough unit to feel any emotional drama when they split apart. In the long run, the worst consequences that anyone faces for violating the Sokovia Accords are either going into hiding or being placed under house arrest. And the law really stops mattering to anyone once Thanos snaps half of the universe’s population out of existence, making most of the film inconsequential. And for all of MCU’s best efforts to cut and edit the story to fit to film language, it’s still underwhelming to not have the massive scale the comic had. I don’t know if Civil War could ever have a proper live-action film adaptation without splitting it into multiple parts, and let’s be honest, audiences only have so much attention spans before they want something new.

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One of the major sideplots of Civil War was, of course, Spider-Man’s involvement, which became a huge selling point in the film’s trailers. In the comic, Peter Parker was ambivalent towards the Superhuman Registration Act, because villains could use the heroes’ public identities to attack their friends and family. But he still had faith that Tony Stark had everything under control, and revealed his identity in a press event to publicly voice his support for the Act. However, after a fight against the Secret Avengers resulted in the gruesome death of Goliath, Peter questioned Tony’s motivations and switched over to Steve Rogers’s side in hopes to de-escalate the fighting so no more heroes would die. At this point, Tony and Peter were well-acquainted that the former supplied him with his own tech, particularly the Iron Spider suit, so the side-switching (including a one-on-one fight between the two) was a hell of a surprise for readers. And I was really looking forward to that dynamic to play out in MCU, especially with a younger version of Peter Parker.

“So, cool if I just dip out for like 3 months without explanation?”

But MCU decided to throw out that conflict in favor of Peter Parker giving unquestioning veneration to Tony Stark as his mentor when he honestly doesn’t deserve it– I covered some of this briefly in a previous post on Tony Stark’s character stagnation, so there is some repeat but also some update with Avengers: Endgame and Spider-Man: Far From Home in mind. Anyway, let’s break down Tony’s wonderful career as a mentor: manipulating Peter to join a fight against Captain America without the full details when it was already a huge misunderstanding; putting him on radio silence when black market weapons dealers were ready to steal his tech and just said he had it under control (spoiler: he didn’t, and Peter had to save the day himself and was nearly crushed by a whole building in the process); and trusting him with a pair of hi-tech glasses without instructions on how to not accidentally set off drones against his classmates.

This scene from Homecoming will always annoy the piss out of me. You can’t change my mind.

There’s a lot of confused framing and intentions to unpack here. Tony clearly doesn’t have certain situations under control, constantly struggles to come to terms with the fact he can’t save everyone, and lets anxiety overwhelm his better judgement in his deluded ideas to protect people. Despite his paranoia of saving everyone, Tony somehow doesn’t seem the least bit concerned with all the dangerous situations Peter, a 16-year-old, throws himself into while he’s on vacation. And Tony is still framed in the right on how he handles his problems, including punishing Peter for questioning his poor communication skills. Yeah, bold flex from a guy who waited until the last second to help save a boat full of civilians. Yes, we have to go through “with great power comes great responsibility” in a Spider-Man story, but Tony was well-aware how eager Peter was to prove himself, especially when he’s much more inexperienced and at a much younger age where he seeks validation from adult role models. Aside from giving Peter some nice tech, Tony didn’t actually teach him anything about heroism, and he certainly didn’t care to get to know him personally when he’s out of the suit which severely undermines the mentor-student route they attempted with these two characters. Tony gave Peter a lot of power, but didn’t guide him how to responsibly use it. 

Sweet moment; you gonna apologize for the part where you sat off to the side while he was almost crushed by a building?

I wanted to see that conflict between Peter and Tony like in the comics. It would’ve been fascinating to see the perspective of a teenager roped into the adult world of heroes. Perhaps he’d look back on his involvement in Civil War and wonder why the hell he was a part of that and what being a hero means to him. I didn’t want Peter to be punished for rightfully questioning Tony’s methods, and maybe, just once, Tony would get a come-to-Jesus moment and stop being a perpetual douchebag. The closest we get to those moments of actual love and mutual respect are the last two Avengers movies when Peter is snapped out of existence and Tony sacrifices himself to stop Thanos. The payoff is in the right mind, but MCU forgot the proper build-up to establish any genuine connection between Peter and Tony, let alone hold the latter accountable for his constant fuck-ups and neglectful mentoring. The lost potential in that bond and the Civil War arc only scratches at the surface in regards to why this adaptation of Spider-Man falls short.

Another gripe diehard MCU fans had on the character rights debacle was if Sony got back Spider-Man, how would they do the next movie without referencing Tony Stark? And this ties back again to the fact MCU Spider-Man cannot work as a standalone franchise. Peter Parker’s growth revolves too much on other MCU events and characters, especially Tony, and you don’t know who he is without those outside influences. Even the villains’ motivations are framed around Tony doing them wrong in some way. Yes, most viewers are familiar enough with Spider-Man that it’s redundant to show the origin story again; we know Uncle Ben is gonna die no matter what. But personal tragedy and family love were always Peter’s primary motivations to becoming a hero, and MCU barely references them. They can’t even get the dynamic between Peter and Aunt May right; their love is so lifeless and dull.

Iron Man Jr? Spider-Man? I don’t know anymore…

What makes Peter’s arc fascinating to watch isn’t him proving himself to Tony or some other surrogate father figure. It’s his relationship with what little family he has left, sacrificing his emotional needs to protect them, using his resourcefulness to build himself up as a hero, looking out for the underrepresented of New York City so they don’t have to go through what he did, and accepting that he can’t save everyone, even with all his best efforts. MCU shows snippets of that arc, but the development is still too focused on Tony to the point where Spider-Man feels more like an Iron Man Jr. It works well enough for the overall MCU, but not so much as an individual franchise when you compare the story and character relationships to the films made by Sam Raimi, Marc Webb or even Phil Lord and Rodney Rothman. Thank God that Spider-Man has so many adaptations for people to flock to, because if this was someone’s first and only introduction of the character in live-action film, they’d be hopelessly confused.

Sadly, that ends up being the case for so many MCU characters whose stories are also stuck with too much outside influences instead of being allowed to develop on their own. If I tried to cover every character potential wasted in MCU so far, we’d be here forever. As of late, MCU focuses on tying every event and character arc together and overloading on Easter eggs to build up to the next major plot conversion instead of creating stories with organic world-building which can stand on their own. This isn’t the case for every MCU movie, but it is the most common trend in their latest projects which will most likely continue to that next crossover event, whenever and whatever it is. The allusions to other films in the universe should be embellishments, not the entire story’s foundation.

Although I’m curious where they’ll take Peter Parker given the midcredits scene of Far From Home, I also wonder if they’ll tell his story with him front-and-center and without referencing Tony Stark every five minutes. But what’s done is done, and MCU’s Spider-Man relied too much on those allusions to the point where some fans forgot what made him a great hero to begin with. When you strip away his involvement with the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D., his arc is feeble compared to other adaptations. Sure, Tobey Maguire got goofy at times, and Andrew Garfiled’s drama was maybe too heavy-handed, but their Peter Parkers are at least well-rounded characters who figure out what being a hero means to their personal growth. Tom Holland does well with what he’s given, and I love seeing his emotional vulnerability, but I don’t know who his Peter Parker is without Avengers shenanigans.

I want to continue enjoying MCU as much as anyone else, but it’s hard to not see Scorsese’s point that most of these movies are mindless like amusement parks. At some point, we gotta turn off the hype goggles and see what else these stories have to offer besides how they relate to larger events in the cinematic universe. It’s not bad to indulge in mindless fun every now and then, and we still get fantastic movies out of MCU, but audiences will get tired of the obligation to watch dozens of shows and movies to keep up with the story. And with Disney controlling almost all of entertainment, we need to re-evaluate if they’re interested in telling engaging stories or in shooting out franchise after franchise to maintain steady profits and if these are even good-enough adaptations of such beloved comic characters we want to automatically go to when we think of them. As I said before, it is possible to have too much of a good thing, and you need to leave the amusement park eventually. Since we know so little of their next crossover events, I hope MCU finds the point where they can satisfyingly wrap up the story of this universe before we get exhausted by it all.

Luckett, M. “Fantasia: Cultural Constructions of Disney’s ‘Masterpiece.'” Disney Discourse, ed. E. Smoodin (New York City, NY: Routledge, 1994), 227.

Shout out to my darling friend, Kayla, who helped me through one of my rough drafts to help focus this piece!

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Martin Scorsese Isn't Totally Wrong: The Marvel Cinematic Universe, Overindulgence, and Re-evaluating Spider-Man's Arc #martinscorsese #mcu #marvel #spiderman Of the latest "controversial" opinions to rock social media, renowned director Martin Scorsese voiced his dislike of the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU)