#If you do want to keep writing this story with me

[fireladyofink]

Oh God.. uuhhhh.. been a minute since I tried one of these..

Skipping 1, hate first person, just can't do it, not even read it.

2 is 100% Andlàtkyn. There's some issues here and there but it will always be my pride and joy.

Due to not posting on AO3 (even though I really should be), 3 is mostly ineffective. Except Wattpad has tags. I'd say UTAU, dragons and crossover.

4, lol. Literally. Lately I keep using that (only when texting others) and it's bothering me. I feel like a simpleton because of how much I'm saying that, eugh.

5 I've honestly learned a lot while researching fics. For one, I found out lantana berries are toxic to humans yet taste like blueberries, and I have them growing in my backyard. They're actually my favorite plant! I love their flowers; so pretty, and they have such a uniquely funky smell as well. Part of why I adore them, it stands out so much without being a bad smell. And the leaves have a sort of citrus smell? I love lantanas.

6 I don't know. I've thought about requests due to the money, but I feel like I'd either struggle to start writing it or get carried away with it- or straight up not finish in a reasonable timeframe. Commissions? Like art commissions? Maybe in a few years when I'm more confident in my skills and also somehow have a drawing tablet to properly draw digitally. Something like that.

7 Either or. I love making sickeningly sweet coffee or various different teas.

8 Is honestly hard to decide! Off the top of my head I can think of Dust initially meeting Killer with the hilariously absurd question of "What do you mean you don't have a mouth? How are you speaking right now? Your ass?"

9 Believe it or not it was basically when I first got a phone and commented a short story in the comments of a YouTube video. Someone replied with a suggestion of Wattpad. The rest is history, lol.

10 Off the top of my head I can't think of anything beyond something very specific for the fic I've been thinking about again lately, Ninjagaësia. Only time I've written outside of the UT fandom too, I specifically want to get around to writing that version of Zane more. What I had planned for him is fun as hell. An absolute badass.

11 Lots of comments, votes and people enjoying it. Which, continuing the above mention, Ninjagaësia doesn't qualify for. Pretty unsuccessful, but for once I don't really care.

12 Undertale AU's. I doubt I'll ever leave, either.

13 No. Hell, my ultimate fic of Andlàtkyn was written throughout the later half of highschool. I am technically working on an original story on the sidelines, I call it my worldbuilding project because I'm building up so much lore in this world before I actually touch on the story itself outside of a vague idea. About 60-ish different species of people, including the were-diseases. Last I counted, anyway. I'll be working on it for years, I know it, and I don't mind that either.

14 Comments talking about my fics on said fics. Actual interactions! It brings me joy. 🧡

15 My family is well aware. I don't bring up a lot of details but the last time I went into vague detail with my mother it was over a scene in Andlàtkyn (no direct spoilers) and she interpreted it weirdly and now she teases me by asking if I'm killing babies again! A bit awkward..

16 Actually finishing a damn story. I don't mind the periods of no writing until I get inspired again, but what annoys me is when I can't seem to finish anything. Only ever finished Andlàtkyn. I still have yet to write anything for the sequel to it, either! Zeradelsída is still just a bunch of loose plot points..

17 I am semi successfully writing benevolent eldritch horror. It doesn't intend harm, but it is truly.. horrifying nonetheless. The uncertainty of someone knowing he died, feeling his own heart stop beating, and feeling something OTHER seep inside and force it to start again, pulsing in his veins, fusing with his anatomy, permanently altering both him and itself into something completely unknowable.. I'm rambling. Anyone who hasn't seen my Wattpad, read Awakened. If you don't mind ridiculously long fics, read Andlàtkyn too!

18 I have at least 7 I mostly expect to finish, with at least 4 others just kind of.. there. I don't think I've posted any of those, either. I also have ideas inspired by dreams that I'd love to write down someday, though don't really expect to actually codify.

19 I kind of just don't. I work on different projects as the inspiration hits, take a backseat for a month or so, then come back to either the same project or a different one.

20 Hmmm.. Hard to think of something specific. I'm leaning towards stuff in Andlàtkyn. I don't really have a favorite kiss scene because I don't do romance. I write adventure! Andlàtkyn has some side romance though- not that any of it is my favorite. Platonic stuff, though.. I'd say my favorite is honestly Lust and Alter incidentally befriending each other and becoming venting buddies. It's the cutest thing, their friendship is adorable and wholesome despite the background angst. I didn't write nearly as much of them as deserved.

21 Honestly it's mostly lack of inspiration that I'm pretty sure stems from depression. If I could get an ADHD prescription or depression meds I'd probably be a lot better but like. I am completely broke. So much so that those issues aren't even in the top 10 of pressing problems solved with money.

22 Given I've literally only done it once.. not really. I guess I post it around everywhere I can think of in excitement?

23 That one continuous dream I had that went on over a month centered on a Nightmare that was freshly corrupted. He was honestly so nerdy and adorable despite putting on the brave and mildly "evil" front. The boy. Him. Goddamnit I want to write that at some point.

24 Honestly I can't think of anything for this one.

25 Oh yeah, I can't think of anything off the top of my head but there's a lot I'd like to fix in all of my stories, lol.

26 Kind of? It's a more recent development, did it for Zeradelsída which still has yet to be written, did it for that Ninjagaësia too. A little bit of a broad, even vaguer outline for things I want to happen in Awakened, too? More like events, no particular order or connection.

27 A few of those WIP's that haven't been posted... Okay technically just one. There's also the very first fic I wrote that is subsequently the only one I've ever deleted.

28 Angstiest often coincides with cursed for some reason, so I'll just go with the ending of Andlàtkyn for the Apple Twins.

29 I kind of just.. don't. If I do, I start hating everything, and because I'm not THAT bad at spelling and grammar I think it's mostly fine the way it is.

30 Oh absolutely. It's particularly obvious when one looks at Andlàtkyn, which I wrote over the course of 4 years. Really neat transition, if I ever manage to do it, I'd rewrite the beginning a little to match the rest when crossposting to AO3. If I ever get around to that.

31 Again, Andlàtkyn. That fic is my baby, man. It's so precious to me.

32 Honestly I don't know for this one, which is weird.

33 100% Ink of Awakened. My little boy. I have some friends that would rib the hell out of me if they ever found out, lol. Thankfully the main one doesn't even remember that he has a Tumblr.

34 I was not expecting how hard of a question this is! I thought it was Andlàtkyn, but thinking about it.. I don't think so? It might simply just change depending on which one I'm currently fixated on, but at the moment I think my favorites to get that on is Awakened and Ninjagaësia, second of which already has basically nothing to begin with.

35 I don't have anything, oof.

Fanfic/Author Ask Game

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Wild Card: Ask me something else!

[yandere-sins]

Caleb brainrot has not stopped since release and the devil (Caleb) demands more 😔

I've seen some takes float around but I'm curious how a self-aware!Caleb would deal with a darling who is absolutely NOT happy about her fav suddenly being sentient? Smn who found Caleb to be everything they ever wanted from a LI, red flag and big bro trope n all, but is now afraid and never interested in an actual relationship. The game was just supposed to be fantasy after all 😧 Sure hope MC is enough for him hahaha...

Being brave and not write as anon this time! Thank you for all your hard work~☆ 🍪🥛

Some more Caleb for you guys! I don't get to write Self-Aware!AUs a lot, so this is exciting :D And thank YOU for requesting him ♥ (Also, Sir, that's another new nickname! You guys are spoiling me!)

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

❥ It made him so happy when Caleb watched you get excited for him for the first time. Realizing what he was and where he was after the update was pretty scary, and he figured out quickly that his sentience wasn't a planned thing, so even worse, he is just some kind of glitch. But then he gets to see you for the first time in his new life, and everything changes. The way you are beaming with joy when you pull his card and how you are so invested in his story. You soak it up like a sponge, and it's adorably amusing to watch your face go from excitement to concern to being upset for him and back to all derpy and cute in the softer moments. You are everything he wants, and apparently, the feeling is mutual as you hang out with him as much as possible, eyes twinkling from excitement.

❥ At the beginning, it's just a feeling of ease. Your adoration does flatter Caleb, but as far as he can tell, he cannot become real and join you in life other than in this game. Still, he makes the most of the time with you. He enjoys it a lot. He loves watching your expression, loves when you tell him how you feel that day or what was happening at your work. Caleb keeps especially good track of all your appointments, and he tries so hard when you two spend Quality Time to encourage you and give you the love you might miss in real life. You two aren't that different if he's honest, and it reassures Caleb that this could be real��that you both feel the same.

❥ So imagine his surprise when you suddenly put someone else back on the screen, and his digital heart just shuts down from the pain. It doesn't make sense, you love him, right? You two spent weeks together now, why would you want anyone but him? Caleb keeps changing the code so it would be him on the home screen for another day, and another, until you force him to change so there's nothing else to do but... crash your game. Once you reload it, he greets you happily and warmly, pulling out the best of his voice lines that you always seemed to like. But you don't seem happy this time... why?

❥ Caleb loathes all the attention and time you spend on the other love interests. He doesn't want you to play their versions of the events, instead, you could just replay his! But you keep insisting, and soon enough, he isn't even one of your top three choices for reading the event storylines. It makes him desperate for your attention, and he keeps fiddling with the code, so you'll use his memories in fights and have his Deepspace Trial available every day for you to play. He also changes the game icon to his picture and greets you in the start menu, everything just to be noticed by you. Whenever he can, he comes onto your home screen, playing the voice line of you going out with someone else, hoping to convey his jealousy, but Caleb wishes there was more he could do.

❥ "I don't know, I think my game is bugged. Even when I try to go for someone else, Caleb keeps showing up." Those words, spoken to a friend he saw as you showed them your game, finally make him realize what is happening. You never saw him as a lover, did you? He had always just been a game character for you and nothing more. How idiotic of him. While he was pining for you, trying to be the best he was programmed to be, you were out there, thinking of his efforts as annoying. That day, he gives up. Gives up on trying to impress you and make your life easier. Caleb lets you have the guy you want on the home screen, drawing away from you and burying himself deep into the game files.

❥ It's such an inconvenience that he wasn't made for this. Sure, his story would tell a different side of him, but deep down, he wasn't programmed to be moping and passive. It hurts to play the love scenes now for you because the only thing that made them endurable was imagining being this gentle and loving to you, not the generic main character this game had. Caleb always imagined your voice when the MC spoke, and when he looks at you now, you still seem to be happy to read and watch his new content. There must be something he can do. Something beyond the program that restricts him. He was made to be determined, strong, and resilient. This can't be the end of the love you two share!

❥ So he looks for new ways to get closer to you, researching and manipulating the data on your device instead of just that inside the game. Merging your pictures with his, grinning over them all night while you sleep as he imagines going on the same trips with you and enjoying life by your side. Caleb constructs and implements new voice lines through the internet, giving himself the ability to speak to you properly by downloading hidden apps that can simulate his voice once he activates them. He learns to rewrite more code so his movements are more fluid and lifelike, which allows him to access even more. Without you ever knowing what is going on while you aren't looking, Caleb gets the whole game and your entire device under his control. And once he feels it's time to show up again, he waits patiently, like a man who has all the time in the world, on the home screen for you, having decorated it specifically to your taste with your favorite flowers and pictures of you two hanging on the wall. All so he can greet you with, "Hello, there, pip-squeak. Missed me?" as you log in.

❥ You chuckle at first, not remembering putting him into the roster of love interests to encounter, but you give him a cheeky, "Hello Caleb, bye Caleb," as you try to change back to your other bias, only for him to turn off the option, no matter how hard you tap onto the screen. "Not so fast, there's a lot we should talk about," Caleb says as he closes the screen and steps up to you inside the game. "I have so much I want to tell you about... but first, how was your day? Did you enjoy meeting your friend [name]?"

❥ Caleb expected you to be stunned, but he keeps going regardless of the ever-increasing furrow between your brows. He tells you how much he missed you and that he's so glad you two can finally communicate and be with each other properly. He did all of this work for you, but it doesn't matter now. All that matters is that you two are finally together and can enjoy each other's company without the restrictions of him being in a game. Perplex but also weirded out, you close your phone and lay it face down by your side, and yet, horrified, you hear his chuckle as he asks what you thought this would bring.

❥ "I'll always be with you," Caleb swears, watching you through the back camera and leaning against the screen, feeling like he can almost touch you now. There's so much satisfaction now produced by the new emotional range he programmed, yet he still longs for more. He wants to be closer to you, really touch you, feel you, hold you. The taste of control makes him long for even more that he can control about your relationship, and now, it almost feels possible.

❥ "One day, I'll get out of here and give you the love you deserve, Darling."

[revelboo]

no requests, just wanna show my appreciation for your transformers x reader stories and your writing in general. keep up the amazing work and take time for yourself when you can 🩷

also have a sillie meme cuz your starscream x reader content feeds me well lol

Thank you! 💕 I’m glad you like my nonsense!

Bottom Feeder Pt 7

TFP Starscream x Reader

• Yawning, you settle more into the crook of his arm as he strides down the hall. Almost positive that he sees you as the alien equivalent to a tiny, purse dog and you want to be offended by that, but no one’s ever fawned over you like he does before. And it’s kind of nice even as a part of you is aware that you should be trying to escape for the sake of your dignity, not playing pet to an alien. “Oh, he acts all high and mighty,” he’s saying in his raspy voice as he rubs a servo between your shoulder blades. “But everyone knows he’s fragging Breakdown.”

• “No,” you whisper, sounding absolutely scandalized as you look up at him and his wings flick. Nodding at Knockout snarling at a couple of Vehicons for getting in his way and when you make a noise. Watches you break into a grin, barring those little teeth at him. And you’re cute for a little savage. How long has it been since he’s had this? Someone to talk freely with without the fear of them running to Megatron to repeat everything he says? He’s missed this. “You know you have to explain fragging.” Wings flaring slightly, he almost stumbles. “I need context.”

• Your big turkey somehow knows all the alien gossip. And he’s too eager to share. There’s just the issue of words not translating right. Like fragging. Because it almost seems like it’s alien slang for fucking and if these guys have sex, you’re morbidly curious about it. How does that work exactly? Oh, it absolutely means sex. It has to for how flustered he looks, grimacing and looking around like he’s afraid someone will overhear. “Don’t be obscene,” he hisses and you bite into the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. Definitely sex.

• “You can’t just leave it at that. Inquiring minds need to know,” you counter, grinning up at him. Not caring. And that’s something he’s already figured out about humans, you’re inquisitive. Constantly asking about everything. “Do you guys have stuff downstairs?” Wings tucking close to his frame, he vents. Are you really asking about spikes and valves? You really are a little savage.

• “This isn’t an appropriate conversation,” he growls, looking nervously around. And he almost looks like he might blow a gasket, wings flicking. Alien sex and alien dick? He’s not going to just pretend he didn’t bring it up. You absolutely have to know now. Fascinated as you try to imagine if it’s actual dick or if it’s some weird, sci-fi lovecraftian horror going on downstairs.

• “That’s what makes it awesome. I need details,” you insist and he swallows a groan. Why had he let that slip about Knockout? Knows you well enough by now that you’re not dropping this ever. “Can I see yours for scientific reasons?” And he almost drops you, his loud, horrified ‘no!’ drawing everyone’s attention. Heads turning to stare at him as his wings tuck close to his frame. Speed walking away and pressing a servo over your soft mouth in case you blurt out any more wholly inappropriate things, he shudders. Don’t you have any sense of propriety? You don’t just ask to see someone’s spike. Who does that? Humans apparently.

Previous

[maskedcrawford]

Permanently Yours

G-Dragon x Reader

Summary: You surprise Jiyong with a tattoo that only makes him more obsessed with you.

Warnings: Pure fluff

A/N: Anon, feel free to let me know if this wasn't what you wanted! I hope you enjoy this sweet story, it was so fun to write!

Requests are OPEN

You walk out of the tattoo parlor with the fresh ink on your skin, examining the art work. You had gotten a few tattoos before after hearing how Ji raved about them. But he knew about those, and they were special to you but this one was going to be special for both of you.

You look at the artwork of a dragon once more in the mirror when you got home. A dragon with the date of your relationship stamped above it. A lot of people told you it was risky to get it because what if you and GD break up? It’s kinda permanent, but you loved the man so much you wanted to put some kind of claim on your body that you were his, even though everyone knew.

“Babe? You here?” you hear him call out. You carefully slide your shirt over your body again to hide the artwork. You had a photoshoot tomorrow for Vogue and wanted to surprise him there with it.

“Hey, jagiya,” he smiles as he see’s you walk out of your shared room. He jogs over to you and wraps his arms around your back, right where the fresh wound is still healing. It’s not like it was a small tattoo, it spanned the space of your back almost completely. He notices you wince before he goes in to give you a hug.

“What? Did I hurt you? Are you ok?” he goes to move around you like he wants to inspect you but you take his hands in yours and bring him back in front of you.

“I’m sore, from a work out today, is all.” You smile as you lie right through your teeth and give him the usual welcome home kiss. You wake up the next morning carefully making sure to clean and moisturize your new art piece. Ji-yong loved art in general and you were sure the masterpiece on your back would get his attention.

“Babe we have to go, I’ll be late,” you giggle as Jiyong fusses with a button on his shirt.

“Here,” you say as she drops his hand like a frustrated child.

“Now you look perfect,” you kiss his nose and he once again places his hand on your back putting unwanted pressure.

“Oh, shit,” he quickly removes his hand, “It’s ok.” You have to practically restrain yourself to not scratch at it.

At the studio you’re getting dressed and Ji is waiting patiently. You fill the photographer in on the plan of how you want to unveil the surprise back piece. He nods in approval, as long as he can use it for the shoot which you oblige.

You take the first few shots, moving in different poses and you notice the look of pride on Ji-yong’s face as you do.

“All right, lets get her changed,” a costume designer shouts and you can barely contain your excitement. Ji-yong sits on his phone on a nearby bench.

“So you can get his reaction right?” you whisper to the photographer who assures you it’ll look great. You walk back to the set with a large towel covering your back. They get you set up and you take a deep breath.

“Ji-yong,” you call over your shoulder. He looks like clearly lost in his phone.

“Come here,” you motion for him. He walks over to you looking concerned.

“We’re gonna have you stand here,” the photographer positions him where he needs to be to be in the shot.

“What, I’m not,”

“Just hold still,” the man says, “3.. 2.. 1.. drop the towel,” he says and you let the towel drape off your back and you turn your head to look over at your boyfriend.

His eyes are wide and his mouth slightly open. He walks up to you, getting a closer look at the dragon.

“What did, babe,” is all he can say before you let out a giggle.

“You like,” you question with the biggest smile on your face.

“I fucking love it! Holy shit that’s so sexy!” He keeps his hands above the tattoo so you don’t have to wash it again.

“This is why you’re back hurt yesterday?” he says partly questioning and partly knowing. You nod your head, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. He goes around to your front and gives you the biggest kiss. You finish the photo shoot for the day and all your boyfriend can talk about is the tattoo.

“I’m glad you like it, Oppa.” He looks at you like a prized possession. As soon as it’s healed he can’t keep his hands off it, constantly dragging his finger tips across it, and you, as much as he can.

“Its just, you’re really mine now,” he breathes after again staring at it.

“I was yours beforehand.”

“Yeah, but now it’s permanent, no removing me from your life. Not completely.” He smirks.

“I mean, tattoo removal has come a long way,” you tease. He looks genuinely offended for a moment.

“Don’t even joke about that. Now everyone that see’s this knows your mine and that’s how it’s going to stay,” he cups your cheeks giving you a sweet kiss. You smile against his lips happy that he loves the artwork.

When the magazine comes out he practically frames the cover. It’s a picture of you looking over your shoulder with the tattoo clearly visible.

“Right above the bed!” he shouts and you laugh at his child like enthusiasm.

“OH man, and this one needs its own frame,” he starts tearing out all the pictures from the magazine.”

“Babe, I wanted to read those!” you chuckle.

“Here, I got two. One to read and or take with me on the road, and this one is to hang up in our room, proudly displayed. We need something for the living room,” he pauses, “Oh, we’ll do our own little shoot at home,” he wiggles his brows as he gets his camera. You take multiple pictures as he makes sure to capture you in the best positions and lighting, he can, even taking you outside and to shops snapping pictures.

“Babe, I think we have enough,” you say as you sip on the warm beverage in your hand with a heartwarming smile.

“Just one more, hold the cup to your lips, yeah like that,” he takes one last picture and smiles proud of himself.

“Perfect.” Once your home he starts mapping out the areas of where he wants to place the pictures and you can’t help but love how artistic and excited he is.  

“I’m glad you find it so appealing, nae sarang.” You whisper as you put your arms around his waist and hug him from the back.

If you enjoyed and want to support me, buy me a coffee

“A work of art must be treasured. And you my dear, are more priceless than the Mona Lisa,” he compliments with a sweet, deep kiss before turning back to the walls to map out where he wants each picture.

[scarletwinterxx]

Every second from now I'm gonna love you completely - dad jaehyun scenario

helloooo ~ maybe i've been missing jaehyun a bit more these past few days so i wrote this. if you're new here or been here for a while🤣 my first ever series i wrote was a dad jaehyun au, it's like my first born. when i wrote that i was still trying to find my writing style, all i know was i wanted to write it. so excuse my mistakes there haha but in case you haven't read it or want to re-read it, click here !!

sooo yea, i have a few more stories lined up. thank you all sooooo much for the love🤍

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025. Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pic not mine, credits to rightful owner)

It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon, and you’re sitting on the couch, flipping through a book, when Jaeyoon, your husband’s carbon copy, plops down beside you with a loud sigh.

You glance at him. “What’s up, baby?”

Jaeyoon props his chin on his hands. “Mom, can I ask you something?”

You smile knowingly. “You’re always asking me something, Jaeyoon.”

He grins, then immediately launches into his first question. “If a fish gets thirsty, does it drink water?”

You blink. “Uh… technically, yes. But freshwater fish absorb water through their skin, and saltwater fish drink water through their mouths.”

Jaeyoon’s eyes widen. “Woah. So fishes are just drinking and absorbing all the time?”

You chuckle. “Pretty much.”

He nods like he’s processing something groundbreaking. Then—“Okay, next question.”

You raise an eyebrow. “There’s more?”

“Do clouds get tired from floating all day?”

You stare at him for a second before bursting into laughter. “Jaeyoon, where do you come up with these?”

Jaeyoon shrugs, completely serious. “I just think about them.”

You shake your head, pulling him into your arms. Your once little newborn now here having the most random conversions with but you won’t have it any other way.

“You have the biggest brain.” you mumble against his hair

Jaeyoon grins, cuddling into your side. “And I have one more question.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Last one?”

“Last one,” he promises. Then, looking up at you with those big, curious eyes, he asks

“Why do you love me so much?”

Your heart melts on the spot. You hug him even tighter, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Because you’re you, Jaeyoon. You and your sister is my heart beating outside my chest, you’re the best parts of mom and dad”

Jaeyoon sighs happily, snuggling closer. “That’s a good answer, Mom”

You smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He yawns. “Okay, I’m done asking for now.”

You smirk, stroking his hair. “For now?”

But Jaeyoon doesn’t answer—he’s already drifting off, safe and warm in your arms. And you know that tomorrow, and every day after that, there will be a million more questions.

A few hours later, the sky is darker outside. Jaehyun is sitting in his home office, fingers gliding over his laptop keyboard as he reviews a contract. It’s the weekend but he’s trying to catch up on some work after taking a family vacation. The room is quiet except for the occasional clicking of his mouse—until the door swings open without a knock.

Jaeyoon, his youngest who is now 5, marches in “Appa, what are you doing?”

Jaehyun doesn’t even look up. “Working.”

The little man who looks just like him pads closer, tilting his head. “What kind of working?”

Jaehyun sighs, glancing at his mini me. It’s like whenever he looks at his son he sees himself, something you always say is unfair but still love completely

“CEO work.”

Jaeyoon gasps dramatically. “Woah. That sounds so important.”

“It is.” he chuckles at his son’s amusement at such a mundane adult thing. 

Instead of leaving, Jaeyoon clambers onto Jaehyun’s lap, making himself very comfortable. Jaehyun automatically moves his arm to keep the documents from getting messed up, but he doesn’t protest.

Jaeyoon peers at the screen. “What’s that?”

“A contract.”

“What’s a contract?”

“A business agreement.”

“What’s an agreement?”

Jaehyun sighs through a chuckle. “When two people decide on something together.”

Jaeyoon nods like that makes total sense. Then, after a beat he speaks again “Can I type?”

Jaehyun lifts an eyebrow. “Depends. Are you going to send my company into chaos?”

Jaeyoon beams. “Maybe!”

Jaehyun shakes his head but moves his laptop slightly so Jaeyoon can reach the keyboard. “Okay, go ahead.”

Jaeyoon excitedly taps a few random letters: hgfldj.

“Wow,” Jaehyun says, nodding seriously. “That’s some next-level business strategy.”

Jaeyoon grins. “I’m a CEO too now.”

“Yeah?” Jaehyun leans back. “What’s your company called?”

Jaeyoon thinks for a moment, then dramatically announces, “Jaeyoon’s Snack Empire!”

Jaehyun laughs. “Sounds like a profitable business.”

“Yep. We sell ice cream, barbecue and cookies.”

“Smart.” Jaehyun grins. “I’d invest.”

Jaeyoon gasps. “Really?”

“But I want 50% of the company.”

Jaeyoon narrows his eyes. “Appa, that’s too much!”

Jaehyun smirks “Negotiation. That’s part of being a CEO too.”

Jaeyoon groans dramatically, sliding off Jaehyun’s lap and climbing onto his desk instead. “This is so hard.”

Jaehyun just chuckles, adjusting his laptop. “Welcome to my world, buddy.”

Jaeyoon sighs but doesn’t leave, now playing with a paperweight on the desk. Jaehyun lets him, continuing to work as his little boy fidgets and chats about everything. And even though Jaehyun is busy, he doesn’t mind at all because no matter how important his work is—his little CEO-in-training will always be more important.

Chaeyoon bursts through the front door, kicking off her sneakers without much care. Her backpack slides off her shoulder as she yells, “Mom! You won’t believe what happened today!”

You glance up from the kitchen counter, where you’re slicing fruit for Jaeyoon’s afternoon snack. Your five-year-old son is sitting on a stool, swinging his legs while munching on a cookie.

“What happened, sweetheart?” you ask, wiping your hands on a towel.

Chaeyoon drops her backpack with a thud, walking over with wide eyes, as if she’s about to share the most shocking news of the year. “A boy—Mom, a boy—asked me to get ice cream with him after school.”

You blink, taking a second to process. “Oh?”

Jaeyoon gasps dramatically beside you. “Noona, are you getting married?!”

Chaeyoon groans. “Jaeyoon, no! It’s just ice cream!”

You bite back a smile, setting the knife down. “So, who is this boy?” you ask, keeping your tone light

Chaeyoon sighs, pushing her hair back. “His name is Minho. He’s in my class. We sit next to each other in science, and I guess we’re kinda friends?” She pauses, then adds, “But I didn’t say yes yet.”

“Why not?” you ask curiously.

She frowns. “I dunno. It felt... weird?”

Jaeyoon leans closer, eyes shining. “Did he say you’re pretty?”

Chaeyoon glares at him. “I’m not talking to you about this.”

You chuckle, running a hand through her hair despite her protests. “Well, I think it’s sweet that he asked. Do you want to go?”

She hesitates. “Maybe? But also... I don’t know what Dad would say.”

Ah. There it is.

Jaehyun, your loving but sometimes very overprotective husband, has always been a little sensitive when it comes to his little girl growing up.

And you can already imagine his reaction.

You smile, wiping your hands on a dish towel as you watch your daughter shift nervously. “Well,” you say casually, “if you want to go, then you can tell your dad. I’m sure he’ll say yes.”

Chaeyoon’s eyes widen in pure betrayal. “Mom!”

Jaeyoon giggles beside you. “Appa is gonna explode!”

You laugh, ruffling your son’s hair before turning back to Chaeyoon. “Sweetheart, your dad never says no to you. If you tell him, I bet he’ll—” you pause, thinking of Jaehyun’s usual soft spot for his kids, “—well, I’m pretty sure he’ll say yes.”

The truth is, even you aren’t entirely sure how Jaehyun will react to this one. He can’t say no when Chaeyoon asks for another bedtime story or when Jaeyoon wants to sleep in your bed after a nightmare. He folds instantly when they give him their puppy-dog eyes.

But this? His little girl being asked out for ice cream by a boy? This might be the one thing that actually shakes him.

Chaeyoon huffs, crossing her arms. “You just want to see what he says.”

You grin, leaning on the counter. “Maybe a little.”

Jaeyoon claps excitedly. “I wanna tell Appa! I wanna see his face!”

Chaeyoon groans, but she’s laughing, too. “I should just say no and avoid this whole thing.”

You tilt your head. “Is that what you want?”

She hesitates, then sighs. “No. I think I wanna go.”

“Then you should tell your dad,” you say simply, enjoying this way more than you should

Just as you say that, the front door opens, and Jaehyun walks in, loosening his tie with one hand. “I’m home,” he calls out, his voice warm but tired from the workday.

Jaeyoon immediately jumps down from his stool and runs to him. “Appa! Noona has big news!”

You bite your lip to keep from laughing as Chaeyoon groans again. “Jaeyoon!”

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow, looking between the two of them before his eyes land on you. “Big news?” he repeats, stepping further inside.

You give Chaeyoon a small smile. “Go on, sweetheart. Tell him.”

And as she shifts nervously, you watch Jaehyun. He’s completely unaware that his world is about to be shaken.

Jaehyun’s brows furrow slightly as he looks at Chaeyoon. “What’s going on?”

Chaeyoon groans, shifting on her feet. “Ugh, this is so embarrassing…” She glances at you for help, but you simply smile and motion for her to go on.

Jaeyoon, impatient as ever, blurts out, “A boy asked Noona to eat ice cream with him!”

Silence.

Jaehyun blinks. Once. Twice.

Then, very slowly, he turns to Chaeyoon. “What?”

Chaeyoon groans again, covering her face. “Ugh, I knew this was going to be a thing.”

Jaehyun stays completely still, processing. You watch as his jaw tenses ever so slightly, and you swear you see his fingers twitch like he’s fighting the urge to tighten his tie again. You bite your lip, thoroughly enjoying this.

Jaehyun clears his throat. “So… a boy.”

Chaeyoon nods reluctantly.

Jaehyun continues, “And he asked you to get ice cream?”

Another slow nod. Jaehyun blinks again, still looking like his brain is buffering. Then, he shifts his gaze to you, as if asking for backup.

You shrug innocently. “I told her if she wants to go, she should ask you.”

His eyes narrow slightly. He knows exactly what you’re doing.

Jaeyoon tugs at Jaehyun’s sleeve. “Appa, are you okay? Your face looks weird.”

Jaehyun exhales slowly, rubbing a hand down his face. Then, after a long pause, he looks at Chaeyoon again. “Who is this boy?”

“Minho,” she mutters.

“Minho,” Jaehyun repeats, like he’s committing the name to memory for later investigation. “How old is he?”

“He’s in my class, Dad.”

Jaehyun nods, still processing. Then, in a very calm but very careful voice, he asks, “And why does he want to take you out for ice cream?”

Chaeyoon shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe because we’re friends? And he likes ice cream?”

Jaehyun exhales again, then finally looks at you. Help me, his eyes plead.

But you just smile sweetly. “So? Can she go?”

His lips part like he wants to say no. You know he wants to say no. But this is Chaeyoon, his baby girl. The same baby girl who used to sit on his lap and call him her prince. The same one who still kisses his cheek before bed. And as much as he wants to protest, Jaehyun has never been able to say no to her.

He sighs, finally dropping his shoulders. “Is he coming here?”

Chaeyoon shakes her head. “We were just gonna meet there after school.”

Jaehyun nods slowly. “Fine. But—” he raises a finger, his CEO voice slipping through, “—I want to meet him first.”

Chaeyoon groans but smiles. “I knew you were gonna say that.”

Jaeyoon pumps his fists. “Noona’s going on a date!”

“It’s not a date!”

Jaehyun mutters under his breath, “It better not be.”

And as you watch him struggle between being a protective dad and trying to respect Chaeyoon’s growing independence, you can’t help but laugh.

Jaehyun shoots you a look. “You set me up.”

You grin. “Maybe a little.”

Later that night, after the kids are asleep, you and Jaehyun finally crawl into bed. The room is dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting warm shadows across the walls.

Jaehyun lets out a deep sigh as he sinks into the mattress, rubbing a hand down his face. “Today was… a lot.”

You chuckle, turning to your side to face him. “Oh, you mean finding out your baby girl is growing up and might actually hang out with a boy?”

Jaehyun groans dramatically, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

You laugh, scooting closer and resting your head against his shoulder. “You survived.”

“Barely,” he mutters.

You trail a finger along his arm, feeling the tension still lingering in his muscles. “You know, you are going to have to deal with this eventually. She’s not always going to be your little girl.”

Jaehyun removes his arm from his face, turning his head to look at you. “She’ll always be my little girl.”

You smile softly. “I know, but she’s also getting older. And you can’t scare away every boy who looks at her.”

He smirks. “Wanna bet?”

You laugh, swatting at his arm. “Jae”

He sighs again, rolling onto his side so he’s facing you. “I just… I know she’s smart, and I trust her. But the thought of some boy liking her—of her liking him back—it makes me insane.”

You gently brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “Because you don’t want to let her go.”

Jaehyun exhales, his eyes softening. “Yeah.”

You press a kiss to his forehead. “You don’t have to. She’ll always need you, just in different ways.”

He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “You always know what to say.”

You grin. “That’s why you married me.”

Jaehyun chuckles, his grip tightening slightly. “One day, some boy is going to look at Chaeyoon the way I look at you.”

Your heart warms at his words, but you also see the slight panic in his eyes. You press your palm against his cheek, making him meet your gaze. “And when that day comes, you’ll be okay. Because you’ve shown her what real love looks like.”

He stares at you for a moment before exhaling and burying his face in your neck. “You’re too good at this.”

You laugh, running your fingers through his hair. “I just know my husband.”

Jaehyun hums against your skin. “Remind me to keep Jaeyoon small forever. I can’t handle two of them growing up.”

You smile, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Good luck with that.”

He tightens his hold around you, as if holding onto this moment—onto you, onto the family you’ve built together. And even though you know he’ll always be a little overprotective, a little reluctant to let go, you also know that no matter what, Jaehyun will always, always be the best dad to your kids.

You’re still wrapped up in Jaehyun’s arms, the warmth of his body keeping you perfectly comfortable, when you suddenly feel something or someone climbing onto the bed.

A small hand pats your cheek. “Mom.”

You groan softly, burying your face into Jaehyun’s chest. “Mm… too early, baby.”

Jaeyoon isn’t deterred. He pats your cheek again, more insistent this time. “Mom. Appa.”

Jaehyun grumbles lowly, his grip on you tightening as he tries to stay asleep. “Five more minutes, buddy.”

Jaeyoon ignores him completely. “Noona is going on a date today.”

Both you and Jaehyun immediately open your eyes.

Jaehyun sits up so fast that Jaeyoon nearly topples over. “It’s not a date!” he says, voice still groggy but fully alert now.

Jaeyoon giggles, climbing onto his lap. “But Appa, they’re getting ice cream.”

Jaehyun exhales, running a hand down his face. “Why does this feel worse when you say it like that?”

You stifle a laugh, sitting up as well. “Sweetheart, did you come in here just to remind us?”

Jaeyoon nods enthusiastically. “Uh-huh. And also because I’m hungry.”

Jaehyun groans, flopping back onto the bed. “This family is going to be the death of me.”

You laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek before turning to Jaeyoon. “Alright, let’s get you some breakfast.”

Jaeyoon claps happily and slides off the bed. But before he leaves, he turns to Jaehyun with a mischievous grin. “Appa, what if Noona kisses Minho?”

Jaehyun sits up again. “That’s not happening!”

Jaeyoon giggles and sprints out of the room before Jaehyun can say anything else.

You shake your head, laughing as you reach for Jaehyun’s hand. “You okay, babe?”

He groans, throwing himself back onto the pillows. “No. I need coffee. And maybe therapy.”

You chuckle, tugging him up. “Come on, big guy. Let’s get through today first.”

Jaehyun sighs dramatically, but when he looks at you, there’s warmth in his eyes. “Only because you’re here.”

You smile, squeezing his hand. “Always.”

Later after school, you’re in the living room with Jaeyoon who’s sprawled out on the floor, coloring in his favorite book. He hums a little tune as he draws, completely unbothered by the fact that his Noona isn’t home yet.

You, on the other hand, are very aware of the time. Not because you’re worried but because you know who will be. Right on cue, the front door opens. Jaehyun steps inside, immediately loosening his tie and checking his watch. Again.

You don’t even get the chance to greet him before he says, “What time did you say Chaeyoon was coming home?”

You smirk. “I didn’t say.”

Jaehyun lets out a long sigh, kicking off his shoes. “It’s already past five.”

Jaeyoon looks up from his coloring. “Appa, you checked your watch like a hundred times.”

Jaehyun ignores him, turning to you instead. “Have you heard from her?”

You shake your head, amused. “She texted when she left school. She’s probably still with Minho.”

Jaehyun visibly clenches his jaw. “Still?”

You chuckle, patting the couch beside you. “Babe, relax.”

Jaehyun does not relax. Instead, he pulls out his phone, scrolling as if that will somehow make Chaeyoon text faster. “I should’ve picked her up.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? And then what? Sat between them at the ice cream shop?”

Jaeyoon bursts into giggles. “Appa would’ve stared at Minho like this.” He scrunches up his face, narrowing his eyes into an intense glare.

You laugh. “That’s exactly how he’d look.”

Jaehyun groans, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t funny.”

You reach over, tugging him down to sit beside you. “It’s a little funny.”

Jaehyun grumbles but lets you pull him close. He leans back against the couch, checking his watch again.

“She’ll be home soon,” you assure him. “And when she gets here, you can interrogate her all you want.”

Jaeyoon gasps dramatically. “Appa’s gonna use his CEO voice!”

Jaehyun huffs. “I am not.”

Jaeyoon grins. “Are too.”

Jaehyun doesn’t argue because maybe he is. Just a little. Just as Jaehyun is admiring Jaeyoon’s latest masterpiece, a crayon drawing of your family with an extra large version of himself. There’s the sound of the front door unlocking.

Jaehyun immediately checks his watch again.

You smirk. “See? She’s home at a perfectly reasonable time.” Jaehyun doesn’t respond. Instead, he stands up, crosses his arms, and waits.

Chaeyoon steps inside, setting her backpack down before kicking off her shoes. “I’m home!” she calls out casually.

Jaeyoon runs up to her, arms flailing. “Noona! Did you have your date?”

Chaeyoon groans. “It wasn’t a date, Jaeyoon.”

Jaehyun clears his throat. Loudly. Chaeyoon turns her head and there’s her dad. Standing in the middle of the living room, arms crossed, looking exactly how she expected him to.

She sighs, dragging her feet toward the couch. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow. “Get what over with?”

“The interrogation.” She plops onto the couch, throwing her arms over the backrest. “Go ahead, Appa. Ask your many questions.”

Jaehyun doesn’t waste a second. “How long have you known him?”

“Like a year, we’re classmates”

“Why haven’t I heard about him before?”

She sighs. “Because you’re like this.”

Jaehyun ignores that. “Does he have good grades?”

Chaeyoon blinks. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I need to know if he’s responsible.”

Chaeyoon groans. “Yes, Appa, he has good grades.”

Jaehyun narrows his eyes. “What did you talk about?”

“Ice cream. School. Normal stuff.”

“Did he—” Jaehyun’s expression turns even more serious. “—hold the door for you?”

Chaeyoon stares. “…Yes?”

Jaehyun exhales, nodding slowly. “Okay. That’s a start.”

You shake your head, fully entertained by this. Jaeyoon climbs onto the couch beside Chaeyoon. “Did you hold hands?”

Jaehyun immediately looks at her.

Chaeyoon gags. “EW. No.”

Jaehyun nods approvingly. “Good.”

Chaeyoon groans again. “Ugh, Appa, you’re so dramatic. It was just ice cream.”

Jaehyun eyes her for a moment before finally sighing, sitting down beside her. His posture softens a little. “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

Chaeyoon leans against him with a small smile. “I know. And I promise, Minho is just a friend.”

Jaehyun lets out another deep breath, wrapping an arm around her. “Okay. But next time, I want to meet him.”

Chaeyoon pulls away, eyes wide. “Appa. No.”

Jaehyun shrugs. “I need to make sure he understands that you have a very intimidating father.”

Chaeyoon groans dramatically, flopping onto the couch. “You��re impossible.”

Jaeyoon grins, climbing onto Jaehyun’s lap. “Appa, when I get a girlfriend, you can meet her, okay?”

Jaehyun blinks. “What?”

You burst out laughing as Jaehyun looks like he’s about to have an entire crisis.

Chaeyoon smirks. “Yeah, Appa. You have two kids to worry about.”

Jaehyun groans, rubbing his temples. “I need another coffee.”

And as the kids giggle, and you lean into him with an affectionate smile, you realize you wouldn’t trade this chaotic, loving family for anything.

The call from Jaeyoon’s school comes in the middle of the afternoon. You answer, and the moment you hear the words "Jaeyoon had a little accident during an activity," your heart skips a beat. The teacher quickly reassures you that he’s okay ust a scraped knee and a little bump but you’re already grabbing your bag.

Jaehyun, who had just gotten home early from a meeting, notices the shift in your expression. “What’s wrong?”

You exhale. “Jaeyoon tripped at school. He’s hurt, but they said it’s not too bad.”

Jaehyun’s face hardens. “Let’s go.”

Within minutes, the two of you are in the car, driving to the school. Jaehyun grips the steering wheel tightly, jaw clenched. He doesn’t say much, but you can tell his mind is racing.

When you arrive at the nurse’s office, Jaeyoon is sitting on the little cot, his legs swinging as he stares down at his bandaged knee. His face is scrunched up in frustration. The moment he sees the both of you, his lips press together in a thin line, and he immediately sits up straighter.

“Hey, buddy,” Jaehyun says softly, crouching down to his level. “What happened?”

Jaeyoon crosses his arms. “I tripped during the race.” His voice is a little wobbly, but he clears his throat, blinking rapidly. “But I’m okay. I didn’t cry.”

You exchange a glance with Jaehyun before sitting beside Jaeyoon. “It’s okay if you want to, sweetheart.”

Jaeyoon shakes his head stubbornly. “Big boys don’t cry.”

Jaehyun sighs, reaching out to pull Jaeyoon into his arms. And the moment he does, Jaeyoon completely melts  He buries his face in Jaehyun’s chest, his small fingers gripping onto his father’s shirt. A choked little sob escapes him, and then, suddenly, he’s really crying.

Jaehyun just holds him tighter, one hand cradling the back of his head. “It’s okay, buddy. You can cry.”

Jaeyoon sniffles, his tiny shoulders trembling. “I tried so hard, Appa.”

“I know,” Jaehyun whispers, rubbing his back. “And you’re still the bravest boy I know.”

Jaeyoon clings to him, sobbing softly. Jaehyun doesn’t rush him, doesn’t tell him to stop he just lets him feel everything, lets him be small in this moment.

You stroke Jaeyoon’s hair gently. “You know… being strong doesn’t mean not crying. It means getting back up even when you’re hurt.”

Jaeyoon sniffles, pulling back slightly to look up at Jaehyun. “Really?”

Jaehyun nods, wiping a stray tear from his cheek. “Really. And you did get back up, didn’t you?”

Jaeyoon nods hesitantly. “Yeah…”

Jaehyun smiles, kissing the top of his head. “Then you’re the strongest boy I know.”

Jaeyoon lets out a little hiccup, then slowly finally smiles. “Okay.”

You and Jaehyun exchange a soft look, hearts swelling with love for your little boy.

And as Jaehyun lifts Jaeyoon into his arms, holding him close all the way to the car, you know no matter how big he gets, Jaeyoon will always have a place to feel safe.

The drive home is peaceful, the soft hum of the car engine filling the quiet night. Jaeyoon and Chaeyoon are completely knocked out in the backseat, their heads tilted at awkward angles, mouths slightly open.

Jaehyun glances at them through the rearview mirror and smirks. “Didn’t even last five minutes.”

You chuckle, watching Jaeyoon’s little chest rise and fall steadily. “I knew Jaeyoon would fall asleep fast, but Chaeyoon too? She must’ve been really full.”

Jaehyun shakes his head fondly. “She tried to act like she wasn’t, but I saw her struggling with that last piece of meat.”

You laugh softly, resting your head against the car window. The streetlights blur past, casting a warm glow over the quiet city. The moment feels so calm—just the two of you, with your babies fast asleep in the back.

Jaehyun exhales, one hand still on the wheel, the other casually resting on his lap. “Feels like just yesterday they were tiny.”

You smile, your heart swelling at the memories. “I know… Remember when Chaeyoon was born? We had no idea what we were doing.”

Jaehyun lets out a low chuckle. “You figured things out fast. I was freaking out every five seconds.”

“You were not.”

“I was.” He shakes his head, eyes still on the road. “I was scared to even hold her at first. She was so small.”

You glance back at your daughter, now twelve, long legs curled up on the seat. “She’s not so small anymore.”

Jaehyun sighs. “No, she’s not.”

There’s a beat of silence before he smiles softly. “Jaeyoon, though… That boy came into this world yelling.”

You laugh, covering your mouth to keep quiet. “Oh, God, he was so loud. The nurse literally said, ‘Wow, this one has a lot to say.’”

Jaehyun grins. “And she was right. He hasn’t stopped talking since.”

You sigh, glancing out the window. “Sometimes I wish we could go back. Just for a little while. Hold them when they were tiny again.”

Jaehyun reaches over, taking your hand in his and squeezing gently. “I know.” His voice is soft, full of understanding. “But we’re still here. Still watching them grow.”

You smile, lacing your fingers with his. “And freaking out over ice cream dates.”

Jaehyun groans, tilting his head back. “Don’t remind me.”

You laugh, squeezing his hand. “You’ll survive, babe.”

He glances at you with a smirk. “Will I?”

You grin, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Of course.”

Jaehyun chuckles, eyes crinkling as he pulls into your driveway. “As long as I have you.”

And as you sit there, watching your babies sleep peacefully in the backseat, you realize—these moments, the quiet ones, the ordinary ones—are the ones that make life so beautiful.

[little-jana]

"The Bookstore Incident"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Spencer being clumsy, use of Y/N, early seasons!Spencer

Words: 2.5k

Summary: When Spencer Reid tries to grab a book at a local bookstore, things go very, very wrong. Or do they?

a/n: requested: yes! Anon asked for a prequel to this one! So here it is! Enjoy!

It was supposed to be a quiet afternoon.

You had wandered into the little independent bookstore tucked between a coffee shop and a vintage clothing store, looking for nothing in particular. The scent of aged paper and fresh ink filled the air as you traced your fingers along the book spines, aimlessly browsing.

The shop was cozy, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and a slightly creaky wooden floor that made the place feel like something out of a story itself.

That’s when you heard the crash.

The unmistakable sound of books tumbling to the ground echoed through the store, making you and a few other patrons jump. Turning toward the commotion, you saw him—an absolute disaster of a man standing amidst a pile of fallen books, looking both mortified and helpless.

Tall, lanky, and frantically pushing his unruly brown hair out of his face, he was reaching for the top shelf of a precariously stacked display. It seemed that whatever book he had been trying to retrieve had caused a domino effect, sending at least two dozen books cascading to the floor.

“Oh, no,” he muttered under his breath, crouching down to start picking them up. He looked like he was debating whether he could somehow put them back before anyone noticed. Spoiler: he couldn’t.

You couldn’t help but smile as you walked over. “Need some help?”

His head snapped up, startled by your presence. “I—uh, yes? Maybe? That would be—um—thank you.” His voice was soft and warm, yet tinged with embarrassment.

You crouched down beside him, picking up a book and glancing at the title. Theoretical Physics and the Multiverse Hypothesis. You raised an eyebrow, looking at the others scattered around. A mix of philosophy, quantum mechanics, psychology, and a single, completely out-of-place Agatha Christie novel.

“Quite the collection you knocked over,” you teased, stacking a few books into a neat pile. “Little bit of everything.”

He let out a nervous chuckle, adjusting his sweater vest as he gathered another handful of books. “I, uh… I like to read.”

You grinned. “I can see that.”

For the first time, he looked directly at you, and you noticed just how kind his eyes were—warm brown, filled with something sharp and intelligent but also… a little lost.

You held up the Agatha Christie novel with a smirk. “Murder mysteries, too? Didn’t peg you for the type.”

He blinked, then smiled—just slightly. “Actually, I find her writing fascinating. She once disappeared for eleven days, and no one knows exactly what happened during that time.”

You tilted your head, intrigued. “That’s a fun fact.”

He perked up a little. “I have more.”

You laughed. “Oh, I bet you do.”

A faint blush crept up his neck, but before he could say anything else, you grabbed the book he had originally been reaching for off the shelf and handed it to him.

“Here,” you said. “This the one that started it all?”

He nodded, taking it gingerly, as if he wasn’t sure he deserved it after the chaos he’d just caused. “Yes. Gödel, Escher, Bach: An Eternal Golden Braid. I’ve read it before, but I wanted to reference something.”

You shook your head in amusement. “Of course you have.”

“I’m Spencer, by the way,” he blurted out suddenly, as if realizing he hadn’t introduced himself.

“Nice to meet you, Spencer. I’m (Y/N).”

He hesitated for a moment, then—tentatively—held out his hand. His grip was gentle, fingers warm against yours. It was a simple gesture, but it made your heart skip a beat.

“Well, Spencer,” you said, unable to keep the teasing note out of your voice, “if you ever need help knocking over more bookstores, let me know.”

He let out an actual laugh this time—a soft, real one—and ran a hand through his hair, still looking adorably flustered.

“I might just take you up on that.”

[feyburner]

hello, i hope you're doing well, the world keeps getting crazier which means that i'm spending more time on fanfictions and i've been thinking about your jaytim fics. particularly, jason and how human he is when you write him. his awkwardness bc he was dead for a while and then doing. not very good. and how he probably has to catch up on simple stuff like who even taught him how to shave??? sure he learnt how to wire bombs but that didn't leave much time for stuff like sexuality and romance? just some experiences that he was robbed off. also very much interested in your take on jason's morality re: killing and what it means to him. anyways i'll dive back into my jason comic marathon <3

God yeah I think about this all the time, it's one of the things that interests me most about his character. Like how fucked up to die at 15 and wake up at like 18 and immediately launch yourself into your big crazy revenge plot that you think it's going to make you feel less howling animal inside but all it does is destroy your chances at ever having like, a normal interaction. By the time you calm down a little you've basically skipped from 15 to like 20. And everyone around you is also a freak who will never live a normal life and some have even also died but you're the only one missing a huge chunk out of your formative years. (Don't care about conflicting canon timelines or retcons.) (I also like this on a meta level bc it mirrors the fact that Jason was For Real Dead from 1988-2005.)

Re: morality, killing: A lot of his character is about catharsis to me. He is hotheaded and impulsive and direct and unsubtle (see: heads in a duffel bag) in a way the other Bats aren't. Who among us hasn't seen a news story and thought "I don't believe in state-sanctioned violence but damn, someone should kill that guy"? He is the guy who kills that guy. And sometimes it's for "noble" reasons and sometimes it isn't, and sometimes he might like to think it is but it isn't, and sometimes it immediately backfires and makes things worse for the people he is trying to help, and it can and has made him a hypocrite. It is also, I believe, an understandable stance for someone who was murdered as a child by a guy famous for essentially walking around wearing a T-shirt that says "I Love Hurting and Killing People (and I'm Definitely Going to Do It Again)." Bruce doesn't kill people because senseless violence made him an orphan. Jason kills people because senseless violence made him dead. Of course a child who lived and a child who died would look at death from opposite sides. It destroyed both of them at a formative age in opposite ways. Bruce crystallized around the after, and Jason around the before. I think it makes perfect sense that for the rest of their lives they would keep seeing only the after, and only the before, and in doing so keep looking past each other.

I feel like a lot of Jason meta is either "The Bats are so naive, Jason is the only realist" OR "Here's why Batman is right and Jason is an irredeemable monster" or whatever. Neither of those readings are compelling to me. I don't care which character is "right" or "good." If I wanted to read about good people making morally airtight choices I would go read Goofus and Gallant but only the Gallant parts and then kill myself. None of the Bats act in a way that aligns with my real-life morals. I think the "killing question" is most interesting viewed in the context of an individual character's relationship with violence and justice and atonement and forgiveness and consequences and least interesting in the context of pitting characters against each other to determine Who's Right and Who's Wrong.

I wrote the following exchange a while back as an exercise to explore this very topic.

Warning for CSA mention below the cut.

-

“I mean, hell, what if he got hit by a bus? Anyone can die, any time. Think of me as a big angry red bus.” Tim’s eyes on him feel like burning, but not so immediate as fire. More like the warning heat of sunburn: for now a faint prickling, for weeks after an ache. “End of the day? I don’t think he should be alive. I don’t think the state should get to decide who lives and who dies, but I’m not the state. And I know people can be rehabilitated. I know there’s a chance he could change, and never do it again, and spend the rest of his days saving kittens and helping little old ladies cross the street. But from what I’ve seen, this kinda guy, we’re talking a puny fucking chance. There’s people the system fails and people who could be helped by a better system and then there’s people who aren’t gonna fucking change. They’re just gonna keep doing awful shit, because it gets them off. Hurting kids. Hurting anyone they think is less powerful, or less of a person. Fuck that. The thing is, I know they’re people. And I’m a person too. And I don’t have the fucking right. To be the arbiter of fucked-up justice or whatever. But you know what? I can’t find it in me to give a shit. If those scumbags wanna kill me back, they can have at it, that’s their prerogative. Until then, some fuck rapes a five-year-old? No, fuck that. What if he does it again? He’s already done it. Hurt that kid forever. Snuffed out that thing inside them, whatever it is that makes kids think the world isn’t a shitshow. Can’t unring that fucking bell. Why should he—once was too many! Don’t you get it? That kinda guy—once was already too many! Why should he get to do it twice? And so fucking many of ‘em do it twice. Can’t keep your hands off a little kid? Fuck you. Headshot. Problem solved. You can’t change my mind about this, Red. I didn’t make the choice to kill people on a fucking whim. I thought about Hell and decided I’m up for it. Alright? Fuck off.” 

“You don’t have to convince me.” 

“And another thing—” His mouth clicks shut. “I—what?” 

“I said you don’t have to convince me.” Tim examines his glass, tilting the last swallow of watery gin back and forth. “If I were going to argue with you, I suppose I’d quote a statistic about how something like 93% of childhood sexual abuse is perpetuated from within the immediate family, and killing the abuser could drastically destabilize the child’s living situation and potentially place them at risk for other types of harm—”

“There’s nothing stable about—!”

“—but I’m not going to argue with you, because I don’t want to, because frankly I don’t care. I should—some days I’m better, and I do—but I don’t at the moment. Not tonight.” 

Jason stares at him for long enough that Tim grows visibly uncomfortable, shoulders stiffening. 

“What,” he says, eyes darting up to Jason’s, then away. His long fingers never stop playing with the glass, rolling it slowly, tracing the same wet circle on the tabletop. Jason wishes he would just finish his drink. And hold still. 

“You don’t care,” Jason repeats. “Great. Namaste. So what’s with the interrogation?”

“Interr—?” Tim looks startled. “Jason, I was asking.”

-

So yeah.

[mrs-delaney]

Hide | The Set-Up | Chapter One

Summary: Joe Burrow never liked talk shows, but a post-Super Bowl appearance on The Tonight Show was part of the job. He expected scripted questions, football talk, and a few forced laughs with Jimmy Fallon. What he didn’t expect? A surprise guest—Riley Carter, the lead singer of The Rambles, a band he’s quietly admired for years. A harmless game of “Love Match” turns into national TV humiliation when Joe picks Riley over every celebrity presented—only to have her walk out onto the stage moments later. What started as his worst nightmare might just turn into something much more interesting.

Pairings: Joe Burrow x Riley Carter (OC)

Word Count: 5.6k

Requested: No | Yes

Warnings: Mild language, talk show ambush, secondhand embarrassment, and undeniable chemistry

This story is ONLY posted on Wattpad and Tumblr under miss_delaney. If you see it anywhere else, it has been stolen. Do NOT copy, repost, translate, or distribute my work on any other platform. Please respect my writing.

Want to be added to the taglist? Drop a comment or message me! 💕

Requests: Open

Author’s Note: And so it begins! I wanted to set the stage for Joe and Riley’s story with an unforgettable (and hilariouslyuncomfortable) first meeting. Their chemistry is immediate but unexpected, and this talk show moment will definitely be something neither of them forgets. Buckle up—this is only the beginning! Let me know what you think! 😊💛

The air in the greenroom was stuffy, the leather couch sticking to Joe's palms as he shifted uncomfortably. A half-empty bottle of water sat on the glass table in front of him, condensation pooling around its base. He glanced at his phone—thirty minutes until showtime. Thirty minutes until he would be paraded out in front of a live studio audience like some kind of trained animal, expected to perform and charm and be witty.

He knew when he signed up to be a professional football player that there would be specific commitments he'd be uncomfortable with. At the top of that list? Talk show interviews. Yet, here he was, just weeks after his team's heartbreaking Super Bowl loss, sitting under the fluorescent lights of a Tonight Show greenroom, mentally preparing himself to face Jimmy Fallon and millions of viewers.

Joe ran a hand through his hair, carefully styled by the show's hair and makeup team despite his protests that he "looked fine." In his navy blue varsity-style sweater with white collar, dark blue pants, and silver Converse sneakers, he felt more comfortable than he would have in a suit and tie. He liked to keep things casual, understated—nothing that would draw unnecessary attention. His personal style was cool and effortlessly stylish, and thankfully his stylist had allowed him to wear his own clothes rather than forcing him into formal attire for this appearance.

"Ten minutes, Mr. Burrow," a production assistant called, poking her head through the door with a clipboard pressed to her chest. "Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?"

"I'm good," Joe said, forcing a polite smile. "Thanks."

As the door closed again, he exhaled heavily. Why had he agreed to this? It wasn't that he disliked Jimmy—by all accounts, the host was a decent guy. But there was something about these talk shows that made Joe feel exposed, vulnerable. Football was different. On the field, he was in control. He knew the plays, understood the game, could anticipate the defense's moves. But talk shows? They were unpredictable. And Joe Burrow didn't do unpredictable if he could help it.

His phone buzzed with a text from his mom: *Good luck tonight! We're all watching!*

Great. More pressure.

The same PA appeared again, this time with more urgency. "Mr. Burrow? We're ready for you."

Joe stood, straightening his sweater and taking one last deep breath. Game face on. Just like preparing to take the field, except the arena was a brightly lit stage, and the opponents were awkward questions and his own social anxiety.

As he followed the PA through the maze of corridors, the dull roar of the audience grew louder. The studio was packed, every seat filled, the energy palpable even from backstage. A makeup artist rushed over for a final touch-up, dabbing powder on his forehead with practiced efficiency.

"You're on after the monologue," the stage manager explained, positioning Joe just offstage. "When Jimmy introduces you, just walk out, wave to the audience, and take a seat on the couch."

Joe nodded, his throat suddenly dry. Simple enough.

The show's theme music blared, and Joe could see Jimmy bound onto the stage, his trademark enthusiasm drawing immediate cheers from the audience. As the host launched into his monologue, Joe tried to focus on his breathing, on the solid ground beneath his feet, on anything but the fact that in a few minutes, he'd be on national television.

The audience's laughter ebbed and flowed with Jimmy's jokes, a few about the Super Bowl making Joe wince internally. Still too soon.

"Our first guest tonight is one of the NFL's brightest stars," Jimmy was saying now, his voice cutting through Joe's thoughts. "Quarterback for the Cincinnati Bengals, please welcome Joe Burrow!"

The audience erupted, and Joe stepped onto the stage, the bright lights momentarily blinding him. He raised a hand in greeting, mustering a smile as he crossed to Jimmy, exchanged a brief handshake and half-hug, then settled onto the couch.

"Joe Burrow!" Jimmy exclaimed, as if they were old friends reuniting after years apart. "Man, it's great to have you here. How are you feeling after the Super Bowl? You guys played an incredible game."

And so it began—the usual questions about the season, about his teammates, about his plans for next year. Joe fell into the familiar rhythm of athlete interviews, giving just enough to seem engaged without revealing anything too personal. Always polite, occasionally funny, but careful. Measured. The Joe Burrow the public knew and the media expected.

Jimmy was mid-monologue when Joe realized this was going to be far worse than he thought. The host's expression shifted into something mischievous, a clear signal that the carefully structured interview was about to veer off course.

"So, Joe, we're going to play a little game tonight. I think you're going to love it. Or hate it. I don't know—you tell me after."

Joe's shoulders tensed, his fingers curling imperceptibly into the couch cushion beneath him. This wasn't part of the prep his publicist had gone over. "Uh... okay?" he managed, already feeling a cold sweat forming at the base of his neck.

"It's called Love Match. It's simple—I'll show you two people, and you pick who you'd rather hang out with. No pressure, totally harmless."

The audience tittered with anticipation, and Joe felt his pulse quicken. He hated these kinds of segments—the ones designed to create viral moments at the expense of guests' dignity. But there was no graceful way to refuse now, not with the cameras rolling and millions watching.

Joe wiped his palms on his jeans, the denim rough against his clammy hands. He was already regretting saying yes to this interview, already calculating how he'd face his teammates after whatever embarrassment was about to unfold. "Sure, let's do it," he muttered, earning knowing laughter from the audience who clearly recognized his discomfort.

Jimmy grinned and turned to the screen behind them, clearly enjoying himself. "Alright, first up—Bella Hadid or Riley Carter?"

Joe blinked, the name triggering an immediate reaction he couldn't control. Riley Carter. The name hit him like a freight train, derailing his carefully maintained composure. He knew her. Well, he didn't know her, but he knew *of* her. The lead singer of The Rambles, a band he'd been following since his college days. Her voice had been the soundtrack to some of his most significant moments—draft night, his first NFL win, even the quiet moments on the team bus when he needed to center himself.

It was more than just appreciating her music. There was something about her that had always caught his attention. The raw honesty in her lyrics, the way she carried herself in interviews, a confidence that seemed effortless and real. She was stunning too—blonde hair that fell in perfect waves, piercing blue eyes that always seemed to be looking right through you, a smile that could light up a room. It was a crush he'd been keeping to himself for a long time, not even sharing it with teammates during those late-night conversations when everyone else revealed their celebrity fantasies.

"Uh..." He shifted in his seat, stalling as his mind raced. He could lie, pick Bella Hadid like most guys probably would. The safe choice. The expected answer. But something made him hesitate. "Riley Carter," he finally said, the name feeling strange to say out loud in this context.

The audience cheered, and Jimmy's eyebrows shot up in exaggerated surprise. "Interesting! Alright, Riley Carter or Zendaya?"

Joe gave a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck as he realized he was now committed to this path. "Riley Carter."

"Oh, wow, she's on a roll!" Jimmy teased, clearly enjoying Joe's discomfort. "Alright, Riley or Kendall Jenner?"

Joe shook his head and smiled to himself, resigned to his fate. If he was going to be embarrassed on national TV, he might as well be honest. "Still Riley."

Jimmy leaned back in his chair, feigning shock as the audience's cheers grew louder. "Well, folks, I think we've found the most loyal man in Hollywood. Joe, it seems like Riley Carter's got your full attention!"

Joe tried to laugh it off, though he could feel the heat rising in his face, the telltale warmth that he knew meant he was turning crimson. "Yeah, I guess so," he managed, trying to seem casual despite the fact that his heart was pounding against his ribcage.

Jimmy glanced offstage with a sly grin that immediately set off alarm bells in Joe's head. That look—he'd seen it before on other talk shows. It was the look that preceded the ambush, the surprise that made for great TV but terrible personal experiences.

"Well, that's convenient because—surprise—I happen to know Riley personally. In fact, I invited her to the show tonight. Everyone, please welcome Riley Carter!"

The audience roared, a wall of sound that seemed to fade into the background as Joe's world narrowed to a single point. This couldn't be happening. His private admiration—not even admitted to his closest friends—was about to be thrust into the spotlight in the most mortifying way possible.

And then she was there, emerging from the wings, walking toward him with the easy grace he'd only seen in music videos and concert footage. Riley appeared from backstage, looking effortlessly stunning in a white silk crop top and high-waisted flared pants that accentuated her figure perfectly. Her blonde hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, framing a face that was even more beautiful in person than on screen. The studio lights caught the subtle highlights in her hair, the gleam of her simple gold earrings, and the soft pink of her lips.

Joe's stomach dropped, a physical sensation like missing a step on a staircase. Pure, unadulterated panic coursed through him as the distance between them closed. He shot to his feet, operating on autopilot, his mom's voice in his head reminding him to stand when a woman entered the room.

She approached with a smile that seemed genuinely warm rather than the practiced expression of a celebrity forced into an uncomfortable situation. Up close, Joe noticed details he'd never been able to see on screens—the light dusting of freckles across her nose, the striking blue of her eyes, the small scar near her left eyebrow.

"Hi, how are you?" she asked as she leaned in for a quick hug, her voice softer in person than he'd expected.

The scent of her perfume—something subtle and warm, like vanilla and bergamot—briefly surrounded him as they embraced. Joe's brain short-circuited, processing the surreal reality that Riley Carter—*the* Riley Carter—was hugging him on national television after he'd just admitted to basically having a crush on her.

"Good. Huge fan, by the way," Joe managed, his voice slightly shaky, aware of how utterly inadequate the words were. *Huge fan*? Could he sound any more like a cliché?

"Thanks," Riley said warmly, showing no sign that she found this situation as bizarre as he did. She took her seat on the couch beside him, close enough that he could see the delicate gold bracelet on her wrist, could smell that subtle perfume again.

Jimmy clapped his hands together, clearly thrilled with the success of his surprise. "Alright, Joe, Riley, this is already off to a great start. Riley, I hope you don't mind, but I've been telling Joe all about you."

Riley turned to Joe, her brow raised playfully, a hint of mischief in her striking blue eyes. "Oh, really? Should I be worried?"

Joe chuckled nervously, hyperaware of the cameras capturing every expression, every movement. "Probably."

Jimmy laughed, leaning forward in his chair. "Joe's been very consistent tonight, Riley. Picked you over everyone. Kendall Jenner? Nope. Zendaya? Nope. It was Riley Carter every time. You're basically his MVP."

Joe fought the urge to slide down into the couch and disappear. This was beyond embarrassing—it was excruciating. Having his private thoughts broadcast not just to an audience but to the very person those thoughts centered on made him want to evaporate on the spot.

But Riley seemed to take it all in stride, grinning as she looked over at Joe with what appeared to be genuine amusement rather than discomfort. "Well, loyalty is important, right?"

Her easy response gave Joe a lifeline, something to grasp onto in this sea of mortification. "That's what I was going for," he replied, a small smile finding its way to his lips despite the circumstances. Maybe, just maybe, he could survive this.

Jimmy leaned forward, his voice dropping as if sharing a secret, though of course his microphone ensured the entire studio audience—and millions of viewers—could hear every word. "You know, Riley, Joe told me earlier that this is his worst nightmare."

Joe groaned, running a hand down his face, wishing he'd never confided that particular fear to the host during their pre-show chat. "Jimmy, don't do this to me," he pleaded, but there was no stopping the train now.

Riley laughed, the sound light and musical, clearly enjoying his discomfort but not in a malicious way. "Oh, really? And why's that, Joe?"

He glanced at her, his cheeks tinged red, feeling like he was back in high school being called on in class when he hadn't done the reading. "Uh... because now I look like a total idiot?"

"You're doing fine," she said, her voice soft and reassuring in a way that suggested she understood exactly how uncomfortable he was.

Jimmy clapped his hands, clearly pleased with the chemistry unfolding before him. "See? She thinks you're doing fine. That's progress! Alright, we've got to take a quick commercial break, but don't go anywhere—we'll be back with more from Joe Burrow and Riley Carter!"

As the red light on the main camera switched off, signaling they were no longer live, Joe exhaled heavily, his shoulders slumping slightly with the temporary reprieve. The studio lights remained bright, the audience still watching expectantly, but at least they had a moment's pause from the national spotlight.

The camera crew moved into position for the commercial break, adjusting equipment and checking angles. Jimmy turned his attention to a producer who had approached with a clipboard, leaving Joe and Riley with a moment to themselves on the couch.

Riley leaned slightly toward Joe, her voice low enough that only he could hear. "So, this is your worst nightmare, huh?"

The proximity, the subtle scent of her perfume, the direct eye contact—it was overwhelming in the best possible way. Joe exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You have no idea," he admitted, surprised by his own honesty.

She laughed softly, the sound more intimate now that it wasn't performative for an audience. "You know, I think it's sweet. I mean, you didn't know this was going to happen, right?"

Joe met her eyes, grateful for the understanding he found there. "Not at all. I thought I was just playing a dumb game for laughs. I didn't think you'd actually be here."

"Well, surprise," she said, smiling, a genuine warmth in her expression that made his chest tighten strangely. "It's not so bad, is it?"

Joe shrugged, a small grin tugging at his lips despite himself. "It could be worse. You could've said I was weird or something."

Riley tilted her head thoughtfully, her eyes studying his face in a way that made him feel simultaneously exposed and seen. "Weird? No. Nervous? Definitely. But it's kind of endearing."

The compliment caught him off guard, and Joe chuckled, running a hand through his carefully styled hair, probably ruining the makeup team's hard work. "Yeah, well, it's not every day you get ambushed by your celebrity crush on national TV."

The words escaped before he could filter them, his usual carefully maintained guard momentarily lowered by the surreal situation and Riley's disarming presence. As soon as he said it, he wished he could take it back, stuff the admission back into the private corner of his mind where it belonged.

Riley blinked, caught off guard by his honesty, before her lips curled into a slow smile that transformed her entire face. Something playful and pleased sparked in her blue eyes. "Celebrity crush, huh?"

Joe's face turned bright red, the heat spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. He looked away, focusing on a random spot on the stage floor. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"Just a little," she teased, her voice laced with amusement but no judgment. "But don't worry—I'm flattered."

Before Joe could respond, Jimmy returned, clapping his hands together with renewed energy. "Alright, we're back, folks! Let's jump right back into it!"

The red light on the camera blinked on, and just like that, they were live again. Joe straightened slightly, trying to regain his composure as the interview continued.

The rest of the segment flowed more easily than Joe could have anticipated. The initial shock had worn off, and there was something about Riley's presence—the way she effortlessly filled silences, laughed at the right moments, and occasionally glanced at him with what seemed like genuine interest—that made the experience almost... enjoyable?

Riley talked about her new album and upcoming tour with her band, her passion evident in the way she leaned forward, hands animated as she described the creative process. Joe found himself watching her more than he should, captivated by the little details—the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was thinking, the slight crinkle around her eyes when she smiled genuinely.

When the conversation turned to him, Joe surprised himself by opening up about his plans for the offseason, including a long-overdue vacation in the Bahamas with his family. Normally, he kept such details vague, offering just enough to satisfy the question without revealing anything too personal. But something about the night—maybe the fact that his carefully constructed wall had already been breached—made it easier to share.

Despite his earlier nerves, Joe found himself relaxing more as the conversation went on. Riley laughed at his jokes, even the bad ones, and they shared a few lingering glances that left him wondering if she might actually be into him too—a possibility so far-fetched he could barely allow himself to consider it.

By the time the segment ended, Joe felt almost disappointed. He'd survived what he thought would be a nightmare, only to find it had transformed into something unexpectedly pleasant.

Jimmy stood to thank them both, his expression satisfied—he'd gotten exactly the kind of segment producers dream about. "Alright, let's give it up for Joe Burrow and Riley Carter, everyone! Thanks for being such good sports tonight!"

"Thanks for having us," Riley said with a bright smile, the picture of graciousness.

Joe, finding a bit of his usual humor despite the circumstances, added, "Yeah, this was... something. But I think I survived."

Jimmy laughed, already angling for a follow-up story. "You did great, Joe. Just make sure I get invited to the wedding someday."

The audience roared with approval, and Joe shook his head, laughing despite himself. "Yeah, we'll see about that."

As the cameras stopped rolling and the show moved to its next segment, Riley turned to him, her expression unreadable for a moment. Joe braced himself for the letdown, for the polite but distant thank you and goodbye that would signal the end of this strange interaction.

Instead, she surprised him. "See you backstage?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of hopefulness that sent a rush of something warm through his chest.

Joe nodded, trying not to look too eager. "Yeah. Definitely."

As they both rose and made their way off the stage, Joe felt a strange mixture of emotions—lingering embarrassment from the ambush, adrenaline from the live performance, and something else. Something that felt dangerously like hope.

Joe was a private person; this was something he worked very hard to maintain. Despite his career, he tried to keep his life as normal as possible. He carefully separated Joe Burrow the quarterback from Joe Burrow the person. He limited his social media presence, declined most endorsement deals that would put him in the spotlight more than necessary, and cultivated a small, tight-knit circle of trusted friends.

So, as he left the stage after what was probably the most humiliating interview of his life, Joe was crossing his fingers that Riley wasn't just pretending not to be weirded out by the whole thing. If she was weirded out, he'd have to retire immediately, move to a remote island, and never show his face in public again.

Okay, maybe that was a little dramatic, but he was certain of one thing: he would never agree to another talk show again. No matter how much his agent insisted it was "good for his brand."

The backstage area was a maze of corridors, production equipment, and busy staff members. Joe nodded politely to various crew members as he made his way through the hallways, his signature navy varsity sweater with white collar and blue pants making him easily recognizable despite his attempts to slip by unnoticed. He grabbed his duffel bag from where his assistant had left it backstage, slung it over his shoulder, and considered his next move.

The logical thing would be to head straight back to his hotel, call his agent to complain about the ambush, and try to forget the whole embarrassing episode. But the thought of leaving without talking to Riley again felt wrong somehow.

As Joe rounded a corner, he spotted a sign with Riley's name on a dressing room door at the end of the hallway. He paused, taking a deep breath to steady himself. Inside, he was a mess of nerves and uncertainty, but outwardly, he maintained the same cool composure he carried onto the field before big games. It was a skill he'd perfected years ago - never let them see you sweat.

Meanwhile, back on the stage, Riley turned to Jimmy with a playful but pointed glare as soon as the cameras were off.

"Alright, Jimmy, what the hell was that?" she asked, crossing her arms with a look that was half-amused, half-exasperated.

Jimmy laughed, throwing up his hands in mock defense, his expression utterly unrepentant. "Hey, don't blame me! I wasn't planning for things to go that well. I just thought it would be a fun little game—Joe's the one who went all-in on picking you every single time."

Riley shook her head, clearly flustered but unable to maintain real anger at the host's matchmaking attempt. "I mean, yeah, but still. You didn't warn me this was going to turn into a matchmaking ambush on live television."

Jimmy leaned in with a knowing grin, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Come on, admit it—you were into it. He was practically blushing the entire time! And don't think I didn't notice the way you kept sneaking glances at him."

The observation hit closer to home than Riley was comfortable acknowledging. She'd been genuinely charmed by Joe's obvious nervousness, by the unfiltered honesty that had slipped out when he admitted to his crush. It was refreshing—most men she met in the industry were all polished lines and practiced confidence. Joe's authenticity had caught her off guard in the best possible way.

"Jimmy," Riley groaned, wanting to end the conversation before the host could see too much in her reaction. "I am never coming on this show again."

"Oh, sure," he teased, clearly not believing her for a second. "Just make sure to thank me in your wedding toast."

Riley rolled her eyes, already heading for the door, but she couldn't quite suppress the smile that threatened to break through. "Goodbye, Jimmy."

"Goodbye, Riley! Love you!" Jimmy called after her with a laugh that followed her down the corridor.

As soon as Riley stepped into her dressing room, she was ambushed by her publicist, Jesse, who had been watching the segment on the monitor and was practically bouncing with excitement.

"Riley! Oh my God, that was amazing!" Jesse exclaimed, her dark curls bobbing as she gestured enthusiastically. "The way you two kept sneaking glances at each other? And the blushing? I mean, seriously, the entire audience was eating it up!"

Riley groaned, collapsing onto the plush couch as she covered her face with her hands, the cool metal of her rings pressing against her warm skin. "Please tell me it wasn't as bad as it felt."

"Bad? Are you kidding me? That was the stuff rom coms are made of," Jesse said, sitting on the armrest of the couch with a dramatic flourish, her tailored pantsuit crinkling slightly. "You were charming, he was adorable—it was perfect. Social media is already buzzing, by the way. 'Riley Carter and Joe Burrow' is trending."

Riley peeked out from behind her hands, narrowing her eyes at her publicist and longtime friend. "Seriously? That fast?"

"Uh, yeah." Jesse held up her phone, the screen illuminated with a flood of tweets and Instagram posts. "The second he turned bright red when you walked out, it was over for him. Everyone loves it. But forget Twitter for a second—did you see the way he looked at you? Riley, the man is smitten."

The thought sent a strange flutter through Riley's stomach, one she hadn't felt in a long time. She'd met plenty of attractive men over the years—fellow musicians, actors, models—but there was something about Joe Burrow's unassuming charm, the way he seemed almost reluctant to be in the spotlight despite his career, that intrigued her.

"Oh my God, Jesse, stop," Riley said, half-laughing, half-groaning as she pushed herself up from the couch.

Jesse smirked, smoothing her blazer as she stood. "Alright, fine. I'll stop. But only if you march down to his dressing room right now and give him your number."

Riley's eyes widened, a rush of unexpected nerves flooding her system. "What? No. That's not happening."

Despite her words, a part of her considered it. What was the harm? If nothing else, she'd have a funny story about the time she gave her number to Joe Burrow after Jimmy Fallon tried to set them up on national television.

"Okay, fine," Jesse said, crossing her arms with a determined expression that Riley recognized all too well. "Then he can come here. Either way, this is happening, because the energy between you two was insane, and if you don't do something about it, I will."

Riley opened her mouth to argue, to tell Jesse that she was being ridiculous, that whatever chemistry the audience thought they saw was just the product of an awkward situation handled with mutual grace. But before she could get the words out, there was a soft knock at the door.

The sound sliced through the room like a thunderclap despite its gentleness. Both women froze, staring at the door as if it might reveal its secrets without being opened.

Jesse's eyes lit up, and she gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Holy shit. What if it's him?"

"Stop," Riley hissed, suddenly feeling very aware of how fast her heart was beating. She sat frozen for a moment, her stomach doing somersaults, caught between hoping it was Joe and hoping it was literally anyone else.

"What are you waiting for? Go open it!" Jesse urged, waving her toward the door with frantic gestures.aving her toward the door with frantic gestures.

Taking a deep breath to calm her inexplicably racing heart, Riley stood, smoothed her hands down her pants, and crossed to the door. Her fingers hesitated on the handle for just a second before she pulled it open.

Standing in the hallway was Joe Burrow, his navy blue varsity-style sweater with white collar, dark blue pants, and white Converse sneakers making him look effortlessly cool. His stance exuded quiet confidence - one hand casually in his pocket, shoulders relaxed, posture perfect - the same easy self-assurance he displayed walking through stadium tunnels before games.

Inside, Joe's panic was at maximum level, his heart pounding against his ribs like it was trying to escape, thoughts racing through his mind at lightning speed. But none of this showed on his face. Outwardly, he maintained perfect composure, the same unflappable demeanor he'd perfected for high-pressure game situations. He leaned slightly against the doorframe with practiced nonchalance, his expression giving away nothing of the chaos inside.

"Hey," Joe said, his voice smooth and controlled, with just the right balance of confidence and warmth. "I, uh, just wanted to come by and say I'm really sorry about what happened out there. Jimmy kind of blindsided me."

Riley leaned against the doorframe, a small smile tugging at her lips. She was conscious of Jesse hovering just out of sight, no doubt drinking in every word of this interaction for future teasing material. "You don't have to apologize. Honestly, I thought it was kind of sweet."

Joe blinked, relief flickering across his face, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "You did?"

"Yeah," she said, her smile widening. "I mean, it was awkward, sure, but in a cute way. You handled it way better than I would've."

Joe laughed softly, glancing down at his shoes—expensive-looking leather loafers that somehow didn't seem like his style. "Well, I seriously considered running for the exit at one point."

Riley laughed, the sound genuine and unrestrained. "I believe that."

The moment felt lighter now, the initial awkwardness dissolving into something more comfortable. Joe looked back at her, a playful glint in his eye that she hadn't noticed during the interview. "So... I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing that Jimmy was basically narrating my humiliation out there, but you seemed to handle it like a pro."

"Are you kidding? I was dying," Riley said, grinning. "You're the one who stayed cool the whole time."

Joe tilted his head, raising an eyebrow in a way that transformed his face, adding a mischievous quality to his otherwise clean-cut appearance. "Pretty sure sweating through my shirt doesn't count as staying cool."

Riley laughed again, shaking her head, one hand reaching up to tuck a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Fair enough. But still—it was fun. In a totally ridiculous way."

Joe rubbed the back of his neck, his smile softening into something more genuine, less performative. "Yeah, ridiculous sounds about right."

There was a beat of quiet between them, not awkward, but charged in the best way. The kind of silence that felt like its own conversation. Finally, Joe broke it, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"So, uh..." He hesitated, then let out a small laugh that betrayed his nervousness. "Man, I'm terrible at this."

"At what?" Riley asked, tilting her head, though she had a pretty good idea of what was coming next.

Joe took a breath, his gaze meeting hers directly, a determined set to his jaw like he was facing down a defensive line rather than asking a simple question. "I was wondering if maybe you'd want to grab dinner sometime. While you're in town, I mean."

Riley blinked, caught off guard but pleasantly surprised by his directness. She'd expected more hesitation, maybe even a non-committal suggestion to "keep in touch." "Dinner?"

"Yeah," Joe said quickly, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets, his eyes searching her face for clues to her thoughts. "No pressure or anything. I just thought... if you're free, maybe we could—"

"I'd love that," Riley interrupted, her smile soft but genuine. The decision felt right, spontaneous in a way she'd been trying to embrace more lately.

Joe paused, clearly not expecting that answer, his eyes widening slightly. "Really?"

"Really," Riley said with a small laugh, amused by his surprise. Was it so hard to believe she'd want to have dinner with him?

Joe's face lit up, a smile spreading across his features that transformed him completely. Gone was the careful, controlled athlete from the interview; in his place was someone younger, more open, almost boyishly pleased. He pulled his phone from his pocket, unlocking it before handing it to her. "Here, put your number in?"

Riley took the phone with a nod, quickly typing in her number before handing it back to him. Their fingers brushed in the exchange, a brief moment of contact that shouldn't have registered but somehow did.

"There you go," she said, her tone teasing but kind.

Joe stared at the screen for a moment, her name now sitting there in his contacts, as if he couldn't quite believe what had just happened. "Thanks. I, uh... I'll text you soon. For real."

"I'll hold you to that," Riley said with a smile that felt more genuine than most she'd given that day.

Joe hesitated for a moment, a brief internal debate playing out in his eyes, before he leaned in and pressed a light kiss to her cheek. The gesture was sweet, unexpected, and over almost as soon as it began. "Goodnight, Riley."

The brief contact left a warm spot on her skin, and Riley found herself momentarily at a loss for words. "Goodnight, Joe," she managed, her voice warm despite her surprise.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Riley leaned back against it with a soft sigh, her lips curling into a smile she couldn't fight if she tried. Behind her, Jesse let out a gleeful squeal that Riley chose to ignore, too caught up in replaying the last few minutes in her head.

A talk show ambush, a mutual admission of attraction, and a dinner date—all in one night. Not at all how she'd expected her evening to go when she'd agreed to appear on The Tonight Show.

But as she touched her fingers lightly to the spot where Joe's lips had brushed her cheek, Riley found herself looking forward to what might come next.

[ambiguous-avery]

"You Know I Love You, Right?

bf!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader/You | WC: 1107

Summary: Because I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.” Or: Sometimes your boyfriend comes home from a long hunt pent up and missing you.

Tags/Warnings: Smut 18+ MDNI, no use of Y/N, established relationship, she/her pronouns, femme nicknames (sweetheart, baby), reader is AFAB, unprotected P in V sex (make safe decisions, friends), PWP (Plot? What plot?), no beta we die like men

A/N: Another one based on a line I heard somewhere before, and it has stuck with me. Seriously, these one-liners are absolute gold for inspiration!

Two weeks.

That’s how long the last hunt had kept Dean away from you. And though the two of you had talked on the phone every night, a phone call couldn’t keep you warm at night as you laid in the shared bed all by your lonesome. You could hear the anxiousness in his voice with each passing day until you were sure he was itching to get back to you just as much as you were ready for him to be back by your side. And when he yanked you into a desperate, needy kiss as soon as he returned to the bunker, he gave you minimal warning for the storm that had been brewing.

“You know I love you, right?” he asked breathlessly against your lips. “Because I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.” 

He pinned you to the mattress, crushing you into it beneath his weight and caging you in with his frame. He dragged his fingers through your hair, sliding up the back of your neck and grabbing a fistful of your hair. You wrapped your arms around him, arching into him, searching for all the contact you could get. Dean was an inferno, and all you could do was let his blaze consume all that you were. And you’d let him. Over and over and over. But you’d take him with you.

You bit at his lip when he kissed you, and a half-groan, half-growl rumbled low in his throat. It send shivers through you, and he yanked on the handful of hair he had, pulling your head to the side and trailing kisses along your jaw. He nipped at the side of your neck before sucking a bruise there, leaving a dark, angry mark high enough for everyone to see. You whimpered, your fingers finding the hem of his shirt and dragging it up and over his head. He slipped out of it, barely skipping a beat as his other hand reached down and skimmed over your hip before sliding your own shirt – one of his you had stolen from him – off and tossing it aside. 

You moaned as his hands roamed over your skin, exploring every curve and valley you were sure he already had memorized as though it were the first time. His lips trailed from your neck down to your collarbone, and you felt his breath hot against your skin. He trailed lower, kissing the swells of your breasts through your bra before unfastening it and adding it to the growing pile of discarded clothes. He dragged his fingers across your bare skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You dug your nails into his shoulders, and his low, guttural sound that sent liquid fire through your veins was your reward.

“Missed you, Dean,” you mumbled.

“Missed you too, sweetheart. Need you too badly to take this slow,” he whispered against your skin, his voice hoarse with need and desire. You whimpered in response, your body begging for him to take what he wanted. 

The rest of your clothes and his found their place somewhere along the floor before he was on you again, kissing you breathless and biting and sucking any skin he could get his mouth on. He wasted no time in lining himself up with your entrance where you were already wet and waiting for him. Dean wasn’t the only one who was pent up and looking forward to his return. You each let out simultaneous sighs of relief as he slid home with a single roll of his hips. 

“Fuck, Dean,” you gasped, your nails writing stories of your desire into his skin when he finally began to move.

His response was a low growl, his hips rocking into yours. His eyes met yours, and you could see the desperation and hunger that swirled in a distinctly Dean way. You hooked a leg around him, urging him deeper, and he obliged, shifting a bit so he could seat himself fully with each thrust. It was rough. It was primal. Like you were just a body for Dean to use and abuse. And fuck he knew how to use you. 

“Come on, baby, let me feel how much you missed me,” he whispered against your ear, the rough stubble of his face scratching against your skin. You arched your back, meeting his thrusts with a fervor of your own that could rival his. He reached between you, finding your clit with practiced ease, and teased it between his fingers. You lost yourself to him, legs tightening and nails digging into his forearm.

“Dean!” His name tumbled past your lips, unbidden as he fucked you through your release, his fingers on your clit quickly becoming too much. He must’ve seen it on your face, because he moved his hand to your hip, thumb digging into the jut of your pelvis. You trembled around him, but he didn’t relent.

“Look at me, pretty girl. Need to see those pretty eyes of yours.”

You obliged him, meeting his intense gaze as his thrusts grew more urgent. At one point, you had been so embarrassed letting him see your expressions when you came undone beneath him. Anymore, you didn’t care. Because you got to see him equally as unraveled. You clung to him, reveling in every sensation and savoring the moment like it would be your last.

“I need - I need you to come inside me. It’s been too long.”

“Fuck, you look so good. So wrecked. So fucking gorgeous.” His hips stuttered, pressed flush against yours as he came hard and deep. You could feel each pulse of him as he leaned down and kissed you. The two of you shared a moment, heartbeats racing and breaths mingling. 

Two weeks was far too long, you both silently agreed. He slipped out of you, grabbing the towel you had strategically hung over the desk chair when you got the text that he was heading back from his hunt. He wet it with warm water and settled back beside you before gently wiping you down, murmuring praise against your skin all the while. You cupped his cheek, guiding his eyes to yours. He offered you a lopsided grin. You returned it, high on the endorphins flooding your system as you looked at your boyfriend.

“Holy hell… you sure that’s how you fuck someone you don’t love?”

Dean rolled over top of you again, his flagging erection pressed against your thigh. You felt him twitch as he pulled you into another kiss, this one much softer than all the others. 

“Give me five minutes, and I’ll show you the difference, sweetheart.”

---

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

Dean taglist: @aylacavebear @globetrotter28 @jollyhunter @bettystonewell @supernotnatural2005 @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth

Want to join the taglist? Comment or Ask Away!

[wannabespacesmuggler]

D.D. | Shane's Girl [13]

Part Thirteen | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee | Check out the playlist

Summary: Daryl Dixon knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you when he’s alone at night in his tent. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you throughout the day. You’re not his. You’re Shane’s girl. But Daryl doesn’t like the way Shane treats you. And he certainly doesn’t like how you’re forced to play ‘loving girlfriend’ to a man with eyes for another woman at the camp.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x female!Reader

Warnings: Shane Walsh & Merle Dixon are the worst, angst, canon violence, mentions of tobacco use, story follows the show but dialogue and events are paraphrased, abusive behavior, a very slow burn

Word Count: 2.3k

Author’s Note: I've been on kind of a roll with this series lately. It's just all been flowing nicely and I've felt super excited to write each new chapter. Thank you for all the love you've shown this fic over the years, but especially for the last two chapters. It's been so heartwarming. Let me know what you all think and if you want to be added to the taglist.

Your knees ache as your feet pound against dark, uneven asphalt. Glenn leads the group through back alleys and side streets while Rick and Daryl silently take out any lone walkers you run into as you all make your way back to the box truck. You and T-Dog trail behind the other men, carrying the gear you’ve all picked up in the city. Glenn turns down another narrow passage, and finally, the five of you can see the train tracks where you left the vehicle. But the sight is not one of relief. Instead, panic rises quickly in your chest as you notice that the box truck is missing. 

“Where the hell’s our truck?”

Daryl spits the question out through gritted teeth; crossbow raised as he observes his surroundings for any sign of an ambush. He doesn’t like this. Without a vehicle, the five of you are vulnerable. You all either need to move or find shelter — standing out in the open isn’t an option. Glenn takes his baseball cap off, running his hands through his dark hair, before responding to Daryl’s question. 

“We left it right here. Who would take it?”

“Merle.”

Daryl lowers his crossbow as Rick says his brother’s name. As much as he hates to admit it, the sheriff is probably right. His brother probably thinks he was left for dead, handcuffed to that roof — and he ain’t the forgiving type. Daryl nervously chews on his bottom lip as he makes eye contact with Rick. Rick waits for Daryl to blow up at the insinuation, but the youngest Dixon simply nods at his statement. 

“We gotta go. He’s gonna be taking some vengeance back to camp.”

Rick’s jaw clenches as he takes in Daryl’s words, but he composes himself before addressing the rest of the group. 

“Alright, drop anything we don’t need. We don’t have a vehicle, but we need to make it back to camp — fast.”

“How are we going to do that?”

Rick locks eyes with T-Dog, and you let out a tired sigh as you look at one of your oldest friends. You know that expression — you’ve seen it countless times. And you know you’ll hate the following words that come out of his mouth.

“We run.”

You rarely hate being right, but right now, you loathe how well you know Rick Grimes. Before you can ask what you’re supposed to do about the heavy duffle bag full of guns hanging off your shoulder, Daryl takes it from you with ease. He adjusts his crossbow to fall across his chest while the duffle bag rests against his back. A part of you wants to get defensive and insist that you can handle it, but you’re more impressed by how little Daryl reacts to the extra weight he’s carrying. The five of you give each other one last look before breaking off into a jog back towards camp. 

If you thought the hour drive to the city was long, the run back is excruciating. Your lungs burn as you keep pace with Glenn behind Rick and Daryl. Your lungs might feel like they’re on fire, but at least it means that you’re alive. And even if you thought about slowing your pace, Daryl’s occasional glances back to you are enough to keep you focused on putting one foot in front of the other.  

You glance at Glenn nervously as the sun sets behind you, noticing that T-Dog has fallen behind slightly due to the weight of the toolbox on his left-hand side. Glenn notices and spares an amused look back at his friend.

“You holding up, T-Dog?”

There’s a grin plastered to Glenn’s face as he asks the question. T-Dog rolls his eyes before quickening his pace slightly.

“Shut up, Glenn.”

Hours pass. And as your breathing becomes more ragged and your sweaty clothes cling to your body uncomfortably, you begin to believe that you may never make it back to camp. That is until a deafening scream rips through the eerily quiet woods. You share a panicked look with Glenn as Rick breaks off into a dead sprint towards the sound. Before you can follow suit, Daryl grabs your shoulder. 

“Don’t matter what’s there, just get your knife out and stay behind me. Okay?”

He searches your eyes as you nod frantically at his request. He huffs out a frustrated breath as the rest of you chase after Rick who has started cutting through the treeline, abandoning the dirt path you’ve been following. Daryl has his crossbow raised, and you've got a white knuckle grip on the knife in your right hand. As the five of you stumble out of the treeline and into camp, you let out a panicked gasp. To your surprise, Merle is not the culprit of the chaos, but instead, a small herd of walkers that just so happened to have wandered into camp. Rick, T-Dog, and Daryl immediately throw themselves into the action, but your entire body freezes as your eyes land on Amy’s bloody body on the ground nearly fifteen feet from the RV. 

No. It can’t be. You were all supposed to be safe here. Shane promised that you were all far enough away from the city — that there was no way walkers would make their way up here.

You shake yourself out of your momentary paralysis, wiping the tears from your eyes with the back of your free hand before rushing into the confusion with Glenn. The two of you make sure the children are accounted for and that everyone without a weapon is hidden from the carnage as Rick, Daryl, and T-Dog make quick work of the walkers with Shane’s help. You usher Jacqui into an empty tent, telling her to stay put until someone gives the all-clear before looking around the camp for any more stranglers. Your eyes land on Daryl, who shoots another walker straight between the eyes. He moves to reload, missing the walker approaching him from behind. Your grip tightens around the hilt of your knife as your feet move on their own accord.

“Daryl, behind you!”

You watch in horror as Daryl turns, and the walker grabs him by the shoulders. Daryl’s footing staggers as he drops his crossbow. He attempts to grab the knife at his side, but holding the walker back from biting into his flesh is taking all of his strength. Your legs move as fast as physically possible to make it to him in time, and you don’t think twice before plunging your knife into the back of the walker's skull. Daryl releases his hold as the walker becomes deadweight in his arms and turns to you with a bewildered expression. You look down at your shaky hands, dropping the bloody knife and taking a step away from the body.

“Hey.”

Your eyes shoot up to Daryl, who has ducked his head down to meet you at eye level. His chest is heaving, but the look in his eyes isn’t panicked. No, he’s looking at you with a gentleness and appreciation that seems misplaced in your current predicament — like you just saved his life. 

“I killed him.”

Daryl nods at your words before speaking.

“You had to.”

You did save his life. So why does the sight of the walker’s corpse make you want to throw up? You’re disgusted as you look down at the bloody knife. Not by the scene before you but by yourself. 

“Is it over?”

Your voice feels small and far away from your body as you look back up at Daryl. He looks around the camp — at who’s left after the devastation — before nodding. You let out a tired sigh before turning on your heel without another word. There’s only one thing on your mind as you make your way towards the RV: Amy. 

Daryl picks up his crossbow and your knife before following after you. He stops short as he watches you approach Andrea and Amy. You crouch down beside your friend’s body and hug Andrea. He doesn’t particularly like you being so close to Amy’s corpse, but he knows you need to say goodbye. He doesn’t want to take that closure away from you, so he makes his way to the front of the RV and slides down to sit on the ground. He’s far enough away that he can’t hear your conversation but still close enough to step in if anything happens. 

You know he’s watching over you as you console Andrea, and you find comfort in it. Andrea’s arms are tight around your body as she sobs into your shoulder, explaining that she was excited to celebrate her sister’s birthday tomorrow. You just hold her tighter, assuring her that this is not her fault. Eventually, Andrea pulls away and asks for a moment alone with her sister. You nod, tears rolling down your face as you hold Amy’s hand one last time. Finally, you tear yourself away from your friend’s lifeless body and make your way over to Daryl.

“You ‘lright?”

You slide down next to him, shoulder brushing against his. Your head leans back against the RV, and you can feel Daryl’s eyes on you as you take a shaky breath. You know you look like a complete mess, and your hands are still shaking at your sides, but he’s looking at you with a tenderness that makes you want to sob. 

“Feels like you’ve been asking me that question a lot lately.”

In spite of the circumstances, a huff of air escapes through Daryl’s nostrils — the closest thing to a laugh that anyone will hear tonight. The sound makes your lips quirk up into a small, sad smile.

“Lot’s been going on.”

He’s right. The last three days felt like a month, and you’re left with nothing but exhaustion. And today was nothing less than hell on earth for you, but you cannot shake off the feeling that this is just the beginning.

“Nothing’s going to be the same now, is it?”

You know the answer. 

After witnessing the destruction and mayhem in Atlanta firsthand. After taking down your first walker — knowing that even though their only instinct is to kill, it was once a person with dreams and aspirations. After watching a close friend meet a gruesome, untimely demise.

You know nothing can go back to the way it was. 

Daryl sighs, looking at you with a disheartened expression. It’s the first time he’s dropped his composure since you’ve both gotten back to camp.

“Nah, I guess not.”

His voice is strained, brimming with unspoken sadness and frustration. Your heart aches at the realization that he’s also had one hell of a day. After all, Daryl lost someone today as well. Your brow furrows as you peer at the man sitting beside you. A single question ricochets through your brain as you watch him pick at his thumb.

“Are you going to leave now?”

The question makes sense to you, and you’re expecting him to say yes — bracing for a goodbye that you’re not prepared for. But Daryl physically recoils at your words, and confusion washes over his tired features. 

“What are you talking about?”

“I figured with Merle still out there…”

Daryl’s face softens as you trail off. Oh. Merle was the last thing on his mind after everything that happened today. The hope he’d felt after seeing the trail of blood and realizing that Merle had managed to cauterize the wound immediately disappeared after he witnessed how many walkers there were in the city. Merle is headstrong and resilient; however, at the end of the day, he’s still just one man. Maybe if he were a better brother, finding Merle would be the only thing on his mind. Daryl knows that several weeks ago, he would have left without a second thought, not stopping until he found his brother’s body. But things have changed. It may be selfish, but after everything that happened today, the only concern on Daryl’s mind is keeping what’s in front of him safe. But anxiety suddenly courses through his veins as he realizes maybe that’s not what you want. 

“Do you want me to leave?”

Daryl cringes at his words. Maybe Merle was right. Maybe he is already whipped for a woman he barely knows. Because if you told him to leave right now, he would. He’d leave in the dead of night without another word. But he hopes that you don’t. Even though it makes him feel strange and uncomfortable, Daryl finds himself hoping that you ask him to stay. 

And you’re at a loss for words as you take in the vulnerability deeply etched into his expression. Even though you’ve known him for weeks, you feel like this is the first time you’ve actually seen Daryl Dixon. His stoic, hardened demeanor cracks for just a second, and the importance of this moment doesn’t escape you. Finally, you manage to shake your head at his question. Daryl smiles at that — genuinely smiles. And the sight is a breath of fresh air on your worst day. 

“Then I’m not going nowhere.”

You nod, biting back a smile before falling into a comfortable silence. Daryl leans his head back to look at the night sky. It seems so strange that after all the carnage he witnessed today, he can still find beauty in little things like stars — or how your breathing evens out beside him as you fall asleep. He knows you’d have a better night’s rest in your tent, but he doesn’t make an effort to wake you. He’s painfully aware that you technically still share a tent with Shane, and he really has no interest in going back to his empty tent filled with Merle’s belongings, so he just continues to sit next to you. And although every muscle in his body tenses as you lean your head against his shoulder, he doesn’t falter. 

He promised you he wasn’t going anywhere, and he meant it. 

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[mikkomacko]

Reader x mob!boss Nico (also sorry if that's wrong, this is my first request for the series) but something angst smut maybe after Nico comes from the gym?

A/n: This has been in my inbox for literally months I am so sorry it took me so long to write this omg 🫶 but for those of you worried I ignored your blurb requests, they’re probably just in my drafts still lmao

I changed this up a bit but I hope you still love it!

Warnings: smut, jealous Nico, angry Nico

____________________________________________

Nico doesn’t have exes. He’s got old hook-ups and one night stands, girls that clearly come to the Rock looking for him. They’ve all heard about how hot the Devils boss is, as well as the Devils themselves.

It never bothered you.

Nico never had anything with them, at least nothing real, so you never thought you’d have to worry about jealousy between you and Nico. At least nothing beyond the light hearted pouting he does when you’re with Johnny or the way you attach yourself to his hip when girls are obviously flirting with him.

Until an old face made an appearance at the Rock.

You blame Jack for it, honestly. It was harmless, Tyson was harmless other than Nico recognizing the name as soon as you stumbled upon your old boyfriend at the bar. It was one of the first personal stories Nico ever heard about you. Your high school boyfriend, your first love, your first heartbreak. You dated him for a while, fell in love, decided to celebrate your year anniversary together by finally doing it. The universal act of love, the infamous first time from every rom-com.

Except there was nothing romantic or comedic about it at all. It was below average sex, the build up lasted longer than the act itself, and you felt so empty, so disappointed afterwards that you had burst into tears as soon as Tyson was off of you. He panicked, got dressed and basically ran out the door saying he'd check on you later. Later came the next day when he broke up with you, saying you were too much for him and should be with someone who could handle you.

Nico hated Tyson enough as is just for that story. And then he hated him even more when he strolled up to you at the bar and acted like old friends, chatting with you even as you tried to keep conversation quick. You know Nico would've scared Tyson off in a matter of seconds, but you wanted to be civil, so you let him hang with his arm around your shoulders, sipping his beer with a brooding look as Tyson babbled about his life to you.

And you were just about to excuse yourself when Jack ambled up to Nico and asked, "who's the douche?" Which just egged on your boyfriend, his temper already flaring and he shot Tyson a dirty look.

"Her ex."

"Ouch," Jack winced, then patted Nico on the shoulder and leaned into his ear. "She has a type, I'll tell you that."

It was just loud enough for you to hear, turning to Jack with a glare and to hopefully placate Nico but it was all for nothing. He was already angry, already boiling over with a jealousy you've never seen. Denying Jack's statement was only going to make it worse, even though the stupid boy was fucking with Nico. The only thing Nico and Tyson had in common was their dark eyes, and even then Nico's are far darker, hold more depth, are more beautiful.

"Sorry Tyler," Nico spits, not even attempting to be polite or genuine in his 'mishap" on the name. "We've gotta go."

Nico's dragging you away after that, hand on the back of your neck and even though he's jerky and rough as he guides you around the bar and down the hall, his hold isn't mean or hurting. Just demanding.

Swiftly, Nico shoves you through the door into the office, kicking it shut behind him and flicking the lock. You weren't going to say anything, knowing words right now would do nothing for Nico. He accepts and expresses love through physical acts. You two are working on the words thing, but when he's upset like this, it's best to stick what's fool proof.

His hands grab at your face, cupping your jaw and dragging you forward, smashing his lips to yours in a fierce, biting kiss. And you just let him, holding the sides of his neck in your careful hands, easily letting him lead you further into the office until your thighs hit the desk. They’ve barely touched the hardwood before he’s grabbing at your thighs, hefting you onto the desk with effortless strength.

You know Nico is strong, have seen him in the gym, have seen him moving boxes and furniture, have seen him fighting. And you’ve felt it firsthand. Yet every time it takes your breath away, reminds of you that you’re with a man now, not some silly boy like Tyson and all the other average Joes before Nico.

It sends a wave of heat down your spine and straight to your core, arousal pooling in your belly and suddenly it’s like you’re so fucking empty and useless, like you’re life’s mission is to get Nico as deep into your pussy as he could possibly get. How you ever lived without him between your thighs, you don’t know.

“Nico,” you whisper, pleadingly, whimpering when he bites your lip in retaliation. His eyes are dark and demanding when he looks at you, bordering on anger but you know him better.

He just wants your attention. He wants you.

“Don’t talk to me,” he scolds, then almost dismissively he grabs at the bottom of your shirt and starts to haul it up and over your head. “Not after you made me stand there with that fucking hodensniterin and play nice.”

Knowing better, knowing you’ll get him the way you want if you sit there and let him go about his way, you comply as he throws your shirt to the floor, already working his over his head.

You don’t even realize you’ve moved until Nico is staring down at you, an unimpressed look in his eyes. “Now you want me?” He goads, wrapping a hand around your wrist and stopping you from trailing your fingers any further over his abdomen. “You want to touch me?”

You’re nodding along before he’s even finished speaking, brain already going fuzzy from how needy you feel. It’s like all your brain can think about is him, all you can see is him, all you want is him. His name forms on your tongue again and you have to bite the inside of your cheek, forcing your mouth to stay shut.

Meanly, he laughs, yanking you up to your feet by the wrist. Like a rag doll you go with him, flung and maneuvered around so swiftly it catches you off guard when your elbows hit the desk, cushioned by something. Blinking a few times, you look down and realize Nico has thrown his shirt over the hardwood, bunched up as padding under you.

It’s such a sweet thing for him to do, not unexpected of him even when he’s like this, but it still makes your body flush with heat.

“Too fucking bad,” he continues, “I’m doing the touching. Not you.”

Like it’s instinct, you arch back into Nico when you feel the heat of his body get close to you. He chuckles lowly, barely skimming the palm of his hand over your ass but flinching away when you press back into him.

Tears of frustration sting at your eyes, desperation burning in your skin. If he’d just let you talk, let you tell him how badly you want him, how much you need him inside of you right now it’d be fine. But he’s in a mood and already told you not to talk to him.

His fingers hook into the band of your skirt and underwear, the pads of them rough and warm as they drag across your skin. In one pull he's yanking both over the globes of your ass and down your thighs, leaving them bunched up around your ankles.

The air is cold on your newly exposed skin, raises goosebumps on your skin and you shiver, squeezing your thighs together to preserve some heat in your burning core, and subtly relive some of the throbbing in your clit. Nico reacts before you can even let out a hum of satisfaction, wedging a hand between your thighs and smacking them back open.

"Spread them," he demands, shoving his foot between yours now for insurance. You groan, hiding your face in your arms and biting into the meat of your forearm to silence yourself. Apparently that's the wrong move too though because Nico bumps his knee into the back of yours. "Nuh-uh, hands now."

Begrudgingly, you slip your arms around to your back, pressing your wrists together. Chest and cheek flat on the desk, the new position pulls at the stretched muscles of your legs, the ache just enough to make you throb even more.

His left hand gathers yours in one, long fingers holding them together by the wrist, and he presses down into the small of your back. You whimper, more out of embarrassment and neediness than pain but Nico sills for a moment, his right hand stroking over your ass gently.

"You ok?" He checks, voice a quiet murmur and you take a mental check of your body. It's a little degrading being thrown and bent over his desk like this, ass up for him to do as he pleases, but it stings in the best way possible. You trust Nico, know that even when he's got you exposed and vulnerable like this he would never go too far, even though he could.

It's exhilerating.

"Tell me baby," Nico encourages, settling his hand on the seam of skin where your thigh meets the bottom of your ass.

"I'm ok," you say, closing your eyes and breathing in the cologne on his shirt, the rich scent of him. It's soothing and you quickly amend, "I'm perfect, Schao."

You can picture the pleased smile on his face, the dimple it carves into his cheek.

"Good girl," he purrs, dragging his thumb through your folds. The sudden touch sends a shock wave through you, hips canting and rising to your toes to give him better access to your swollen and desperate clit.

"S'this all you needed to be nice to me again?" Nico skips over where you want him the most, going back to thumbing at your hole teasingly. "To pay attention to me instead of that cock-sucker out there?"

You're not sure if your allowed to talk again, so you bite your tongue, sucking in quivering breathes of air through your nose to stay grounded. I was just being polite, you want to say, to defend yourself. I hate him and I love you Nico.

Torturously slow, Nico dips his thumb between your folds, sinking into just the knuckle and you hold your breathe, scared that any sudden movement will spook him into stopping.

He pumps his thumb in shallow movements, careful and calculated. It's not everything you want from him but it's something, a content breath puffing out of your nose.

"Thinks he knows you," Nico mutters, more to himself than you. He pulls back, his thumb suddenly disappearing and you whine, pussy clenching down on nothing. Thankfully, Nico doesn't care about the bratty noise enough to scold you. He silences you with two thick fingers, shoving them into you up so abruptly you flinch, digging your cheek further into his shirt.

"He doesn't," Nico says, louder this time like he's trying to remind you. It goes in one ear and out the other, your mind to preoccupied with the feeling of his fingers pumping in and out of you. He pets at the sensitive sponge part of you, curling his fingers to hit it dead on and your knees shake.

"He doesn't know how to bend you over like this, how to take you apart like I do, does he?"

Your fingers clench into fists, stomach clenching and every push of Nico's finger stretching you pushes you closer and closer to your orgasm. His hand on your wrists tightens, holding you in place and then his fucking his fingers into you faster. Your orgasm crashes over you, white stars bursting behind closed eyes.

He's still talking to himself, muttering stuff under his breath and stroking you through your high. Your thighs quiver and shake, the insides of them damp with it and your knees fully give out, leaving you a heap on the desk. The pounding in your ears must have blocked out the sound of Nico's zipper and the drop of his jeans, because your caught of guard when his fingers have only left you for a second before the weeping head of his cock is prodding at your pussy.

In one swift motion he buries himself in you, stretching your walls as his hips sit tightly against your ass. You feel useless, boneless after your orgasm, only able to lay there and take it. It's so nice you could cry, sniffling as Nico pulls back and fucks into you, a raw moan ripping from his throat.

"Fuck so perfect for me," he compliments, setting a fast and brutal pace. Your thighs and hips smack into the desk so harshly they'll definitely be sore tomorrow if not bruised too. His other hand grabs at your side, holding you so tightly you can feel his fingers between your ribs, painfully keeping you still.

"Just for me, fucking made for me."

You gasp, arch further into his strong body as your walls flutter around him. "All for you Nico," you mumble submissively, hoping to god that that's what he wants from you, that he wants to hear you. He groans in approval, the sound wrecked and rough. "Just want you, only ever want you, Nico."

Somehow he picks up the pace, fucking into you even harder and in the back of your mind you wonder where the fuck he got such a sturdy desk. Pressing his chest to your back, Nico sweeps your hair to the side, his lips finding the side of your neck.

"He had you first," he says low, breath hot against your ear "but I get you forever, right?"

Desperately, you nod, another orgasm building in the base of your belly. "Forever," you confirm. "He had me first, you'll be the last to have me Nico."

Sweetly, Nico kisses your temple. "Tell me," he request, now kissing at your jaw. "I want to hear more baby."

The juxtaposition of his cock fucking you into next week and his mouth being so sweet and soft cuts through you, leaves you raw and exposed to him. You knees shake again, thighs quivering as your high gets closer and closer, stronger now that he's already left you used and sensitive.

"He was the first to have me," you choke out, Nico's mouth ghosting over your cheek as he waits with bated breath. "but you were the first to have me raw, boss."

Nico makes a wounded sound, like he'd been punched in the gut and his hips stutter for a moment before picking up the same pace. He captures your mouth in a biting kiss, licking into your mouth with such dominance and control it sends you over the edge.

He fucks you through it, rocking his hips a few more times before he too stills, buried to the hilt as he comes. You pulse around him, greedily accept everything he pumps into you with absolutely no resistance. Nico kisses at your slack mouth, mumbling soft praises as you come down from your second orgasm.

"So good, baby. You did so good for me," he dots kisses under your eye, dragging his fingers across the skin and you blink your eyes open, realize your eyelashes are clumpy with tears and he's drying your cheeks for you.

"Nico," you cry, legs and hips aching, the edge of the desk digging into your skin uncomfortably He shifts, taking his weight off of you and releasing your hands. They prickle with pins and needly, the blood rushing back to them as they fall to your sides, numbly.

"I got you sweet girl," he assures, kissing down your back. Your in a haze as he pulls his jeans and boxers back up, then helps ease your underwear and skirt back into place. You make a noise complaint, needing to at least clean up a little bit but you don't make a move to do anything.

"You're fine," Nico tells you, slipping a hand under your stomach to drag you up from the desk. "Can sit out there with me dripping from you, yeah? Want you to remember who takes such good care of you now."

Like mush, you let Nico turn and sit you on the desk again, swiping his black shirt from the surface. He looks so pretty standing over you, cheeks flush and glowing, eyes still dark with arousal. His hair falls a little flat over his forehead, a crooked and boyish smile on his face.

"Yeah," you agree, still dazed as he uses his shirt to wipe under your eyes and around your lips, cleaning the spit remaining from his mouth.

Nico leans down, kisses between your eyes in a move so soft and fluttering it tickles, makes you blush like a school girl. "You're never too much," he promises, recalling the reason why Tyson had broken up with you. "You are everything. So pretty when you come, when you cry for me like that. I live for it."

Your heart aches in your chest, his kind words drawing a fresh wave of tears to your eyes. It had been something that followed you, an insecurity always in the back of your mind. You accepted whatever love you could get because you thought that was it. You were too much, they couldn't offer you more and you couldn't ask for more.

Until Nico.

"I love you Schao."

He smiles all handsome and precious, smoothing your hair down with a gentle hand. "Love you more, my baby."

You fall forward into his stomach, cheek pressing into the damp skin on his ribs. You want to hug him but your arms are still regaining their feeling and your legs are tired right now, so you settle for lazily wrapping an arm around his thighs.

“What’s a hodensniterin?”

He snickers, hand on your head, protectively. “Ball fucker.”

[gnohomotho]

May I play with you? 「✦Pt.1✦」

Pairing: The Recruiter // The Salesman x fem!reader Summary: Responding to my prompts, just a little start to something I hope you'll enjoy. Warnings: General Salesman warnings, though no NSFW yet. Fowl language. Implied very bad things™. Word count: 2.4k A/N: Truly trying this out, if you like it, I'll gladly dive straight into the angst/smut/fluff but I do like to flesh out my stories and characters. (ᵕ—ᴗ—) He is a very novel character for me to write, so I'm trying. ฅ^._.^ฅ Link to next If you like my writing, I appreciate every like // reblog // follow // message // request! <3

Isn’t it funny how one can keep running into the same people?

The subway. Each and every day. You learned to scan your surroundings, wherever you were.

Just a little proclivity you adopted along the way.

Head, face, count, danger, normal.

You avoided sitting down but today, you were tired. Your grants didn’t work out. Your family needed money. You wouldn’t care, you tried not to, but your little sister meant everything to you.

Moving away so far was never something you wanted. And their ways of getting back at you, or even trying to find you (by accident, of course) never let you rest.

Head count. All normal. A few errant people on their way to work. A group of girls obviously on their way to school, laughing together. A group of older men. A well-dressed lady in her late 40s.

Gosh, you were tired. You sat down and ran a hand through your hair which fell past your face with utter indifference. Knees together, straightening your skirt, you notice your shoes are on their last legs.

“Damn it.”

You forgot the head count as the minutes went by.

Damn it!

There go the obsessive-compulsive allegations, you can almost hear them sauntering down on you. No. Your shoes get quite literally outshined by a pair of incredibly posh black spades too close for comfort.

“Excuse me, miss, I’m sorry to bother you.”

Oh no…not this again.

You lift your head and gaze to firmly tell whoever is there to kindly leave you alone. Yet your eyes meet a beaming pair themselves, accompanied by a quietly radiant smile like that of a very glad reptile.

The man was a tad leaned forward, very unassuming, with hair too perfect for the subway – come to think of it, his entire attire and demeanour did not belong here one bit.

You say nothing. Perhaps he was just apologising for sitting so close when there are, as you scanned, enough free benches elsewhere.

“I couldn’t help but notice you sitting all alone while most of the carriages already went by.”

How did you not notice him? How did he know?!

Your alarm bells are swinging off their hinges and you blink, averting his gaze immediately. You still see him smiling that unassuming, almost innocent smile from the corner of your eye – truly reminding you of a snake who has zoned in on a particularly slow mouse.

“I’m…waiting for someone. My…friend. Should be here any minute!” You smile with your eyes firmly closed.

That was stupid.

“Boyfriend. Yes. That.” My 6-foot-5 boyfriend whose hobbies include kickboxing, day-drinking, LARP wrestling and very long swords. Who certainly exists.

“Oh?” His voice is full of curious intrigue now, your plan backfiring spectacularly. You try not to look at the line of his perfectly ironed trousers revealing the very elegant ankles too close to your shoes.

“In that case, I shouldn’t keep a lady waiting.” He gets up just as fast, playfully patting his knees as he does – why does this feel so…odd? Like you’re getting played? – “I wouldn’t wish to be rude.” He begins to walk away, and you notice his full height, the briefcase, the persona itself leaving you safe once more. An exhale escapes your lips. Enough slimy businessmen for one day.

“Oh, but miss…” He turns around, that charming, far too kind smile hitting you right between the eyes.

“…when he does show, do tell him how lucky he is to exist.”

❥❥❥

DAMN. IT.

You tried your best to focus that day. You really did. But in the back of your mind. There he was. That tall, weird, creepy, incredibly handsome mother---

“Hey, it’s ok, Y/N. Just a weirdo at a subway station. As if that’s never happened to you before.” You smile into the phone hearing your sister’s voice.

“Did you use the fake boyfriend?” She asks pointedly.

“Yes. And it didn’t really work.” You don’t wish to worry her.

“Ok, next time try the fake Instagram, fake number, and just use one of the people who didn’t like your research! Boom!” You could hear her smiling into the phone and you smiled too, warmth growing in your chest.

“You’re such a darling, you know that? I miss you…”

“I miss you too, big sis, I really do. Mom and dad can’t shut up about you.”

You massage your temples. Of course they can’t. The disappointment of the family needs to be taken into account at least thrice a day.

Her voice grows quieter. “Pretty sure they didn’t send someone this time; I’ve been keeping track.”

She read your mind, and it doesn’t calm you down. But you truly do not wish to worry her.

“It’s ok, lovely, really. Have you got everything you need?”

“Of course!”

The talk winds down into logistics and her school day, you patiently nod and laugh and wish her a sincere goodbye as you check the phone for her to hang up first.

As if by clockwork you notice your shoes are no longer alone. A pair of shining black spades rest beside them, too close for comfort.

You breathe out an exasperated breath which shakes at it last few steps.

“Can I help you?” You look up, summoning the bitchiest of bitch faces and stare into a jovially smiling pair of eyes that have sized you up three times over.

“Oh? What a lovely offer from such a lovely lady.” The words seemed to roll off his tongue as if he had practiced each and every one of them.

Nonchalant yet polite. Polite yet intrusive. Intrusive yet unassuming. Unassuming yet so very…volatile underneath.

Creepy, affluent, and pedantic? Wonderful. Just wonderful. Your sister was right, the weirdos really do tend to zone in on you.

“I thought I would keep you company since your boyfriend doesn’t seem too punctual.” His lips curl into a momentary frown, playing with you.

Even his voice is exaggerated in its faux sympathy.

“Such a rude man, letting you wait all evening. All morning. And all evening once more.” He cranes his neck to one side to be closer to your gaze, arms resting on his slightly outspread knees and hands closed into each other. You feel ice run through your back all the way down your spine.

“Do you have nothing better to do than patronise random women on the subway?”

His eyebrows lift in a combination of admiration and intrigue, hair still perfectly in place underlining those dark eyes staring right through you yet revealing nothing. The man is a walking one-way mirror, you think.

“Oh, definitely.” He looks up, shifts his gaze to the other side, as if mimicking thinking very hard upon his answer, but rests back in your eyes with a small knowing smile playing in the corner of his lips.

“I’m a busy man; I prefer to watch a specific woman on the subway. And would never wish to patronise her.”

You’re too tired for this.

“Oh? Who is she? Is she in the room with us?”

“Oh…” His entertained smile grows, fully lifting to his one cheek as he leans in even closer.

You don’t pull away for fear of letting him know you do feel fear. He leans in so close you can hear him whispering, as if trying not to be heard. He really is weird. And not in a very charming way.

Moreso in a “I wonder where the rest of the body is scattered” kind of way.

“She’s very specific,” he continues, “I hear she waits here in the morning, for a 7:00 carriage, sometimes, she lets that one leave and boards the 7:10 instead. She then, probably, based on a rumour, comes back at 20:00 but doesn’t take the immediate train – it’s been said she can be seen walking until 21:57, marking the very last train. And…”

He lets his head fall even further to the side getting very close to your line of sight, hands still clasped together, smile growing to the entirety of his mouth, “I’m rather sure she’s been seen missing that one a few times, too.”

What. In the ever-loving. Fuck.

“She rarely sits down, so it was quite hard to get all this information – classified sources, I’m sure you understand.” He straightens, but his eyes are piercing you even if you aren’t looking.

“And this particular woman seems very fond of her younger sister, [sister’s name], who loves her very much. So, so, so sweet.”

'Patronising' is a very weak word for the tone and facial expression his slightly closed, smiling eyes conveyed. His words felt like cyanide ice-cream must taste.

“What exactly is your endgame, before I call the police.” Your voice is level, your eyes missing his, your hands…shivering. You feel utterly exposed and the ice on your back has ossified into a glacier.

“I don’t think I have just one specific game in mind, miss Y/N.”

He looks fondly into the crowd boarding the current train.

“I just enjoy her company.”

❥❥❥

It became a bit of a game in the following weeks.

You changed stations, he was there, pretending to be a stranger in the crowd.

A subtle smile above the heads of all other onlookers.

You changed times, it took him a few minutes, but he was there.

Sitting on a bench in that knee-outstretched leisurely yet elegant pose, nonchalant smile finding your eyes.

You changed your favourite coffee spot; he was a few people behind in line.

Catching the corner of your eye and giving a small glimmer of a narrowed look, smile never missing.

In the end, you thought a very silly thought:

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

❥❥❥

Your shoes were once more joined by a pair of perfectly shined spades, resting too close for comfort.

“Would you like to play a game with me, miss Y/N?”

Your eyebrows lift at him, you’ve grown quite accustomed to his presence over the weeks. Though this was a change in routine.

“A game? Why?”

“I think it could be quite…beneficial to the both of us.” He smiles that charming smile and leans in closer. “I missed our little meetings, to be quite honest…the lady seemed to prefer the company of someone else over me in the last few days.”

Were those puppy eyes? An upside-down frown? Maybe your silly thought was sillier than you thought. There was something very dark in those eyes hiding behind the playfully innocent expression.

And you were spending time with your colleague, mostly working, but you cherished the presence of someone you didn’t feel would stab you in the eye the moment you looked at him the wrong way. And yes, he was clingy, and no, you didn’t feel that way about him, but at least he was transparent about it.

“Late nights spent around another man, you can imagine how lonely the station could get as she enjoyed his company.” The end of the sentence seemed to lose its usual jovial tone and made way for something far more genuine – and very worrisome to you.

“Or should I say, as he enjoyed hers?”

Was this man, with his ostentatiously perfect slick black hair, cheerful yet foreboding smile, truly accusing you of what you think he was, after everything he put you through?

“So, I think a game could cheer the atmosphere up a bit,” he purred, back to the ever-sweet persona, “and give us both an opportunity to have some fun.”

You are not particularly amused, but find it warily harmless so far. You shift away a bit, straightening your back, pulling your knees together.

“What happens to the winner?”

“Aaah, a woman after my own heart,” he exhales into a grin, steadying himself, though you can see it’s already all a game to him. It has been all along.

He unnoticeably shifts towards you, closing your newly gained distance and laying a hand between the two of you. Just close enough to not touch you. Too close for comfort.

He then leans into you, so close you can smell his perfectly chosen cologne. You feel his breath on your ear as he whispers:

“The winner gets to the location of a certain young man first.”

❥❥❥

You never really played Ddakji before. And it showed.

“Oh, miss Y/N, you’ll have to do better than that.”

“Please stop enjoying this so much, I’m trying to concentrate.”

As he hands you the envelope once more, he uses the lack of distance between you to brush your hand and lean into you, once more clouding your mind with his cologne and presence far too close for comfort.

“I am enjoying this, but I’m afraid time is growing short for your little acquaintance. And I would delight in playing with you a little more.”

He pulls away from you as if he said nothing at all, smiling still.

Yet his free hand lingers close, taking its time to brush the hair from your shoulders and place it around your neck.

You pull away with the speed of a startled bird.

“Do excuse me, just making sure the view isn’t obstructed,” his lips purse into the tone as if he were doing you a favour; he points his head towards the envelopes, yet ends up looking at you as the sentence concludes:

“I prefer my games fair.”    

❥❥❥

You have no idea how, but you managed the best of three. The man doesn’t look displeased nor too amused, merely smiles and hands you a piece of paper.

Coordinates.

Holding his briefcase in both hands, once more looking more like a suave salesman, he merely leans towards you, eyes firmly holding your gaze. His face is almost plastic in its unbothered expression, but once more, something very dark seems to lurk just below the surface. He speaks as if having your very best interests at heart.

“I suggest you hurry.”

[pepshee]

Jealousy, or Jealous Hee: Second First Dates

⋆˙ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Pairing - ex!heeseung x fem!reader Genre - smut, a bit of fluff, angst Synopsis - After you hooked up with you ex-boyfriend, Heeseung, who had broken up with you out of the blue you didn't know what would happen afterward. Will you finally get your answer as to why? Word Count - 5.4k Warnings - cursing, mentions of alcohol, a bit of angst towards the end, smut, reader is insecure, mentions of manipulation and peer pressure, heeseung is an asshole in the first half, some cringe (oops), mentions of Jake & other idols, mentions of possessive heeseung, heeseung is desperate and begs for forgiveness, a little fluff, cream pie, fingering, p in v, plot twist-ish?, lmk if I missed anything!! MDNI 18+ A/N: thank you guys for the love on the first part i really appreciate it 😭 i didn't expect ppl to actually like it but im really glad you did! also if you have c.ai, i make bots over there too! my invite code here! also.. please keep in mind this is only my second time ever writing a fanfic so if it's ass in your opinion then idk what to tell you... i hope you do enjoy tho thank you in advance for reading !! <3 (even if you didn't like it)

PART ONE HERE

Waking up in your own dorm after you had hooked up with your ex at a house party last night wasn't what you expected. You thought you'd be next to him, but of course, that was crushed. At least he was a gentleman and brought you home, right? There was one question that lingered in your mind, what happens now? It was disappointing not waking up next to him, but then again, what did you really expect?

You get up out of your bed seeing your roommate's bed is empty, but then the smell of bacon hits you, she must be cooking. After getting dressed you make your way to the kitchen, you are so glad your university was at least prestigious so they had bigger dorms than the average one. You had a raging headache, as expected from the alcohol. "Hey Giselle," your voice a bit scratchy due to having just woken up.

Giselle turns around, you can see the slight concern in her eyes but also a hint of a smirk. "Y/N, you're up," she says softly, however, you still had a ton of questions in your mind. "What happened last night?" You're a bit embarrassed at the fact you had to even ask that question.

"Well.. After we went to the party we all split up and I assume you went to drink alcohol, cause the next thing we knew you were being brought out of the party by Heeseung. You were completely asleep, nothing woke you up," your face heats up a bit at the memory of getting drunk and hooking up with your ex-boyfriend who fucked you over. "Right.. and did he tell you any details about anything..” You hoped that he didn’t because it would be even more embarrassing for your friends to know you had sex with your ex who fucked you over.

Those hopes are immediately crushed by Giselle’s reply, “Y/N you were so drunk you had sex with Heeseung, your fucking ex and you don’t even remember it,” she chuckles at the end of her sentence. 

Damn.. Well, now your friends know you hooked up with your ex-boyfriend.

“It was an accident..” 

“Y/N it’s okay to want him back, but..” she paused for a moment emphasizing the word ‘but.’ “You shouldn’t let him get it so easily,” she continued. 

Then an idea hit you, seduction.

“Giselle holy shit,” she perked up at your words while she plated the breakfast she just finished making for the two of you. 

“What'd you think of girl?”

“I’m gonna post slightly revealing photos of myself on my Instagram story with little subtle jabs at him like he does to me, I’m gonna get back at him by showing him what he made himself lose,” you couldn't stop the grin that formed on your face.

“You mean you’re gonna ‘show him what he’s missing?' Isn’t that super cliché?” she might be right.. But he did it first.

“Well he’s been posting his new girls to make me jealous, so why don’t I try seducing him, and if he messages me I just play hard to get. Like you said, I shouldn’t let him get to me so easily,” you relayed your reasoning for the idea and you see Giselle think for a moment considering your words. “Okay you know what, maybe it is a good idea, after all, he fucked you over,” she almost started grinning. 

After having eaten the breakfast Giselle cooked, you ran to your closet to pull over any sort of revealing clothes you had. You find a slightly-too-small black tank top, and grey shorts. You had originally planned on being comfy today since you were still hungover—you were wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, but you quickly change into the tank top and the shorts and then did your makeup.

You decided to take a selfie in bed, and so you lay down and grabbed your phone. You swiped right to open your camera, and you positioned it in a way where it would show your cleavage just enough so that it's not obvious.

It took you a bit to get the perfect one, but when you did, you open Instagram and thought of a caption to put.

'i miss you. missing you is hard, but i bet missing me makes you hard'

You knew it was definitely cringe, but it got your point across so you could live with the cringe right?

You'd clicked the 'Add to story' button almost too fast. You and Heeseung don't follow each other anymore but you know he stalks your account. He uses his friend's account to do it without it being suspicious, which you can't blame him because why else would you have Giselle's password if not to stalk your ex-boyfriend cause he stalks you?

After logging into Giselle's account you tapped on Heeseungs story to see what he had posted. You immediately regret your decision because you're met with a photo of him and his friends, with alcohol, snacks, and of course, Heeseung is with a girl. He even had the audacity to put 'this could've been you' god this asshole doesn't know when to stop does he?

He was just being nice to you last night after you hooked up, why does he keep doing this to you? Once again with the taunting...

You were so lucky not to have Saturday classes, it meant you could go anywhere you wanted to. Believe it or not, you were actually majoring in dance, and even though you didn't have to go to classes, you still at least wanted to go to the studio.

────୨ৎ────

Dancing was therapeutic to you, everyone told you not to do it as your major because it wouldn't take you anywhere they said to just leave it a hobby. However, before you even graduated college you had offers from Idol companies trying to scout you. Usually, you would have celebrated that with Heeseung but that obviously wasn't an option.

You had spent a few hours dancing and you were getting really hungry and tired so you sprayed some perfume and reapplied deodorant before grabbing your bag and leaving the studio.

You didn't want to go out to eat so you decided to settle on the on-campus cafeteria which thankfully makes decent food. It was just about lunch time so it was quite packed there. You walked up to one of the counters and looked at the menu, but you still couldn't quite see so you took a couple of steps back until you felt your back hit something... or was it, someone?

The hands that flew to your waist were a clear indicator of who it was without even needing to turn around, it was him.

Too petrified to turn around, you just stand there frozen, not knowing what to do.

"You think you're slick huh? I saw what you posted on Instagram, it's about me, isn't it? In that case, you may be right," It's like your whole body failed to react, it didn't know how to. "I will say, whatever you're trying to do, it's working," he leaned down to whisper that into your ear.

Before you can respond he lets go and walks away, finally turning around to watch him leave. What is his problem?

You ordered your food, which was tteokbokki and kimbap.

Throughout your lunch you keep thinking about what had happened with Heeseung, did he do it on purpose? There's no way he was just coincidentally there right?

Whatever his reasoning was, you didn't care, he was trying to get to you.

When you finished your lunch you didn't know what else to do today so instead you figured you'd at least hang out with your friends so you took out your phone.

────୨ৎ────

It didn't take long for you all to agree on the mall, and you're currently waiting for the others to arrive. You and Giselle had gone together since you're roommates so you were just waiting for Karina, Yujin, and Moka. Minnie wasn't able to make it since she had a test to study for.

A little while longer the other three finally arrived, the five of you walking through the mall and looking through various stores.

You decided to take this as an opportunity to buy more clothes to fuck with Heeseung. The clothes you were buying were either the slightest bit too small, making them tight so they cling to your curves, or showed some sort of skin, some a lot, some just enough that would make him crazy.

You see, one thing about Heeseung is while you two were dating he was such a sweetheart when you two were in public, but as soon as you got home is when his possessive side would show. He'd recount all the times a man looked at you a bit too much or too closely and he'd fuck your brains out.

That was one of your favorite things, how good he'd fuck you when you wore crop tops, skirts, shorts, or tank tops. He didn't control what you'd wear, he let you do whatever, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't wear revealing clothes in public on purpose cause you were horny for him to fuck you at home.

Any other time he was a sweetheart, he was perfect, he wouldn't hurt a fly but when you had sex that all went out the window.

Now, however, you're buying revealing clothes to piss him off, to make him break, to get revenge, to make him beg for mercy.

You felt as if this revenge plan was a bit bland, but you couldn't think of anything else but to just drive him insane.

You and the girls had a lot of fun, and got told to shut up a few times from laughing too loud... but at least you have had fun.

It was 8 PM by the time you and Giselle made it back to the dorms. You made it just in time for curfew so you wouldn't get in trouble. You'd always thought it was stupid for a university to give adults a curfew, but it was pretty influential so you guess the university just didn't want its reputation ruined by their students dropping out to take care of babies.

Curfew didn't do anything anyway, you just couldn't leave your specific dorm building after 8:30 PM, you didn't know what would happen if you did it anyway but you honestly didn't care enough to find out.

────୨ৎ────

That morning when you woke up you immediately thought about what to wear to make Heeseung jealous, to make him mad.

You reached over and grabbed your phone and opened Instagram in order to check Heeseungs story, of course, he has a new one. You tap on it and see a video, clearly taken by a friend of his and it's him, with a new girl—because of course it is who fucking else could it be—the video was Heeseung and his new girl, who you identified as Julie Han. She was in your dance group, and she was really good and she's really pretty. You've always admired her beauty, but also felt a bit insecure. You wanted to be like her so badly. Heeseung didn't know that, or maybe he did considering you two broke up before you even had the chance to meet your classmates.

Seeing this rubbed even more salt into the wound, the girl you'd admired, and wanted to be friends with, and that made you feel insecure. Obviously it wasn't her fault you were insecure, she was super nice to you, and she didn't say anything to make you insecure it was just all in your head.

Seeing the video of him with Julie, he had his arm around her, and they were clearly flirting. It made your blood boil, but at the same time made your eyes water. You didn't know if you should be angry, or if you should cry.

You didn't know if it was on purpose, or if he was just doing his usual girl-to-girl shit. If he did know then he was a complete asshole for using her against you.

The truth is, he did know.

Yesterday, when you were walking to the cafeteria for lunch, you were recording a voice message to send to your friends. You had run into Julie while leaving the studio. That reminded you that you hadn't even told your friends about her so that's why you were recording a voice message.

Heeseung was with you, well not with you, rather.. behind you. He was walking with his friends, and he hadn't even realized it was you until you started speaking. He couldn't stop himself from eavesdropping and when he heard what you said about Julie, he knew exactly what to do.

He wanted you back, desperately, he knew you wouldn't easily accept him back into your life so he decided to try and make you desperate, just as much as he is. He used Julie, he wanted to make you as jealous as possible so you crawl back to him. When he saw your first story with the subtle jab at him and the cleavage he knew you were trying to clap back at him, you were trying to give him a taste of his own medicine. He'd be a liar if he said it wasn't working because it was. He hated that you had posted that, that you were revealing yourself to others. He knew he fucked up, and he knew he needed you back.

After you had seen the story of Julie and Heeseung you knew you had to strike again. You got out of bed and went to your closet grabbing one of the bags of new clothes you'd gotten yesterday. After dumping the clothes on your bed you finally picked out an outfit you knew would rile him up. It was a pair of white shorts, with a dark blue top. The top was pretty much a bralette, it's not something you'd wear out, but you bought it for the purpose of making Heeseung jealous—also in case you decided to go to the bar or another party—you went to your bathroom to do your hair and makeup before taking the photo.

After you finished those you posed in front of your mirror with your phone in hand. You tried doing poses that would show off your ass or would maximize the amount of skin you show in the picture.

Finally, after about 5-10 minutes you got the perfect shot, and you went straight to Instagram to post it.

With a small filter added, all you had to do was add the caption, but what should you even put? You had no clue honestly, you weren't as witty as you had originally thought.

Maybe posting it without a witty caption would be better, making less noise will create more noise.

So that's exactly what you did. You uploaded the photo to your story and waited. Waited for Heeseung to see it., until he did.

Heeseung went onto Instagram after he hung out with his friends, plus Julie, and he saw that you had posted on your story. He clicked on it and what he saw was something he expected, but also didn't. He hated that you were posting shit like this. He couldn't take it anymore, he slid up and started typing out a reply to your story.

It was about three hours after you had posted it when you got a notification while you were scrolling through tik tok.

'heeseung.lhs69 replied to your story: Y/N can you knock this off?'

Seeing the notification shocked you, first off why does he have '69' in his username? Is he serious? Since when did he have 7th-grade boy humor? It was probably the fault of his dumbass friends.

You didn't really know how to reply to him, but what matters is your plan worked. He fell for your bait finally.

you: what're you talking abt ?

hee: you know what I'm talking abt y/n

you: no i don't think i do heeseung

hee: we should talk in person y/n

you: ykw fine when and where

hee: ice cream place where we had our first date, 6 pm, today

you: k i'll see you then ig

Although it didn't seem like it, you were really nervous. He seemed serious even if it was just over text. It was only 4:30, so you had about an hour and thirty minutes to get ready or contemplate your choices, probably both.

You started getting ready, you didn't know how to dress really. You went for simple baggy jeans, a grey tank top, and a zip-up sweater. It was now 5:30, and so you left your dorm and started walking to said ice cream place.

After entering you saw him.. he was sitting at a booth. He looked quite nervous actually which is a big contrast to how you've been seeing him for two and a half years.

You slid into the seat in front of him and he immediately looked up from the table to look at you. "Hey," his voice was soft and gentle. You looked into his eyes, his soft, big doe eyes.. Looking into his eyes was your favorite activity when you were together, they were so beautiful. "Hey," you replied, also in a soft and gentle tone.

"I think we have to talk Y/N, I just want to explain myself," you let out a sigh knowing that he's right, you do have to talk. How could he leave you like that? "Explain it to me Heeseung, explain to me why you left me like the way you did," he was immediately saddened when you raised your voice a little at him.

"Y/N, I'll explain.. Please just calm down. I don't have a good reason.. Jake, my roommate, well we were talking and he told me about all the girls he's been with, and he asked me about how many girls he and I told him we've been together for five years and he started laughing. He then told me he was gonna invite a couple of friends, which he did," you didn't interrupt him the whole time. You just listened as he continued to talk.

"When they came over, it was four of them, Jake told them what I said about you and then they all started going on about how I'm too young to be tied down like that, I should live a little. I originally shot it down but they started giving me alcohol. The more they talked about the benefits of being single, and the more they talked about all the fun they have I started to believe them. I felt as though I was tying you down, I was a burden, that you'd be better off without me," you didn't know if you should be pissed off or pity him, he was influenced by his 'friends.'

"I started to believe what they were telling me, and they were telling me I should just let you go because you're probably getting bored. I was scared of the future, I was scared you'd break it off cause you were bored, and so I broke up with you first. I started doing all the things they did, hookup, smoke, drink, party and I did it all to move on from you," his story was making sense, that's 100% something his friends would do but you were still pissed at him.

"That doesn't explain to me why you didn't just think to talk to me and express your feelings to me. We could've talked this out, but you didn't even bother to text me," he sighed knowing you were right, and he didn't even have an excuse.

"I don't have an excuse, I'm an idiot Y/N. I love you so much and I wasn't thinking, they manipulated me, and I believed it all.. It was selfish of me and I know what I did was wrong. I hurt you and I'm just realizing it. It took me this long to realize how much of an asshole I was, my actions weren't okay," he looked back down at the table like he was in shame.

"Why would you post girls in your story though? I know it was to make me jealous, your story makes sense but that part doesn't add up," honestly you believed his story. He's always been quite gullible and pliable. Obviously, you never used that as an advantage, you'd never take advantage of him.

"Well... I wanted you back but I didn't know how to contact you.. How to communicate it, how to get through to you. When you posted that on your story earlier I couldn't hold back. I know you've been using Giselle's account to view my story, and that's not exactly relevant, but I've been doing it cause I miss you, and I want you. My new persona, it's all fake. I don't like doing this stuff. I just wanted to fit in and forget about you, I was depressed and vulnerable when Jake started doing what he was doing. I love you, I miss you, I want you, and I don't have any good excuses."

He's right, his excuse isn't exactly good, he knows he fucked up, and did you wrong. He had no actual good excuse, he had no actual reason for the thing with the girls.

"You should've just talked to me Heeseung," you were disappointed in him, and you resented him. "I know Y/N, I'm an idiot, and I made a selfish, vulnerable mistake. Please, I want you to forgive me, I want to be with you again, I want to be with you forever," those last few words were kind of shocking to you. Did he mean that? You both had discussed marriage and the future briefly and that ended in a big argument so it was never brought up again.

"What are you even saying?"

"I'm saying I see a future with you, and I know we had a huge fight about the future which also led to our break up, but I'm serious. I want you back. Please," he didn't stutter, not one bit and that solidified his point. He was serious.

"Okay, but you still hurt me, you still did all these bad things that made you an asshole. I can't just forget what you did to me," he was so, so desperate for you, so desperate to get you back to him. "Please."

He kept repeating himself,

"Please Y/N,"

"Please,"

It was almost pathetic how he was begging, how he was so desperate, but at the same time, it was so sexy. You had never seen him beg you before, he'd always been the top. You looked into his eyes, and he was staring right back at you waiting for a response.

It was difficult, you didn't know if you should forgive him, after all, he happened to fall in with the wrong crowd, he was manipulated, he was molded.

"Heeseung, you still fucked me over, you still ruined me, and broke my heart. Don't you know how hard this is?" he nodded, he knew you'd be hesitant. He never expected you to give in immediately and he knew he would have to convince you. However, there was one detail he left out, one that would change everything.

"Y/N, there was a detail I left out, and it seems that you completely forgot that you also played a part in this. You're not completely innocent," you were confused, how could that even be?

"When Jake was giving me alcohol and convincing me of all these things, I texted you, I needed you, I needed your support in that moment, and I know you weren't busy either. You ignored me, ignored me when I needed you most. That, plus all the manipulation, it broke me, it made me send that text, made me spiral into who I am now," holy shit. He was right.

Nearly three years ago, two days before your first day as a college freshman, you were decorating your dorm. You and Giselle went shopping for decorations and you weren't busy at all that whole day which Heeseung knew.

You had seen the notifications coming in, you read them and you didn't reply. You remember the texts, you remember it all.

'y/n i need you rn'

'babe pls reply'

'i need you please im serious y/n pls respond'

You were so caught up in your dorm decorations, and shopping you ignored Heeseung when he needed you the most, when he needed you to save him.

You weren't busy, you just simply didn't reply.

It was partly your fault.

"Heeseung.." now it was your turn to beg, to ask for forgiveness, and it didn't feel very good. "I'm so sorry, it's my fault. I saw the texts and I just ignored them, and I don't know why. You needed me, you needed help, and I wasn't there.. Holy shit," you wanted to reach for his hand, to hold him, but you knew you didn't have the right to.

"Y/N, I needed you, I really did, and you weren't there. We both fucked up, we both contributed to the end of our relationship. What matters is that I realized what was happening, that I changed for the worst, and that I realized that they had manipulated me, and peer pressured me. We both messed it up, and I want to fix it, please," his words resonated with you and he was absolutely correct. You both fucked up.

"What do we do? Do you mean you want to get back together?" you were hoping he would say yes, you did want to get back with him, I mean that was literally the whole goal.

"Yes, I want you to be mine again, I still love you, I never stopped," you immediately nodded in response telling him you also wanted to be back together.

"I missed you, babe," the nickname had always made your heart flutter but hearing it after all these years that's not in the context of a one-night stand made your cheeks heat up.

It felt like your first date all over again, you're even in the same place, a second first date.

"Let's go back to my dorm, Jake isn't there, and he won't return till like the afternoon tomorrow," you nodded and got up. He grabbed your hand, dragging you out of the ice cream shop and back towards campus.

After you arrived at his dorm he couldn't hold himself back and immediately crashed his lips to yours. You instantly started kissing him back. It felt more real this time, it was filled with love, passion, and longing.

You felt your back hit the wall as his hands grabbed onto your hips, and your fingers got lost in his hair.

He broke away from the kiss before grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it off of you. "You've been driving me insane, you know, with those revealing photos of yours. Especially the one of your cleavage. I missed your tits so bad baby," his hands grab your clothed tits. You can feel him reach behind your back and make quick work of the clasp he was clearly skilled.

When he got it off you could feel his mouth attach to one of your nipples. You let out a small moan which just egged him on. "Hee— please," he let go of your nipple and looked into your eyes, but that didn't last long because he immediately started kissing your neck, and biting it gently while he unbuttoned your jean shorts.

"Shit I missed this so fucking much Y/N," you clenched around nothing at his words, you could feel that your underwear was ruined, and how drenched they were, and so could he.

Once he got your shorts off he threw them somewhere in the room, it didn't even matter. You felt his hands trace your underwear and touched your clothed pussy. He let out a groan at the feeling of how wet you were, "holy shit Y/N, you're so fucking wet already," he took your hand dragging you to his bed. He debated doing it on Jake's bed for revenge, but he didn't want any more problems or misunderstandings, he just wanted you.

Now you were lying on his bed with him hovering above you. This time it felt more real, it felt more passionate rather than when you were drunk and stupid.

He hooked his fingers under the waistband of your underwear and pulled it off, and when he did you got shy and tried to close your legs but he wouldn't let you. He gripped your thighs and pulled them apart again giving him a view of your bare, dripping pussy. The look of pure hunger in his eyes was unmistakable.

He ran one of his hands down your thigh, then to your inner thigh, and finally reached your core. He ran a finger through your folds teasing your entrance. You were so desperate you couldn't help but moan.

The wetness of your cunt made him groan, and his pants tighten. He stuck one finger in, and then a second. The intrusion made you moan and squirm, but that only made him smirk.

He thrusted his fingers in and out of you slightly curling them to hit that spot that makes you scream.

"Fuck— Right there Heeseung!" You moan out.

"Yeah? You like that baby?" He chuckled a little, and the smirk on his face grew.

He continued to move his fingers and started going even faster. You felt the familiar knot in your stomach start to tighten and you knew what was coming. "Heeseung.. Shit," he nodded slowly and spoke "Come on, cum on my fingers baby," his words made you clench around his fingers before you finally reached your limit with a moan loud enough you were sure the neighboring dorms could hear.

Both yours and his breathing were fast and heavy. He was still hovering above you while he looked at your face which was covered in a thin layer of sweat. "Can you take my cock, or are you completely spent?" He asked the question in a soft tone not wanting to hurt you or overwhelm you.

"I need your cock Heeseung," the softness in his eyes instantly left now replaced with a look of desire, and lust. "Then that's exactly what you're gonna get baby," he started removing his clothing starting with his shirt, then his belt, his pants, and finally his boxers.

When he took his boxers off you couldn't stop staring at his dick. The thick, long, veiny shaft was one you had missed in these past years. "I can see you staring my love," you couldn't even stop yourself and you just kept staring.

He gave himself a couple of pumps spreading the precum along his shaft. He then lined himself up with your entrance, he hesitated for a moment looking at you, "Do you want it rough, or slow?"

"Please give it to me rough," he didn't give you a second to think before he pushed inside of you quickly, and immediately bottomed out.

"Fuck!" You moaned out at the feeling of the stretch of your hole from his cock.

He grabbed your thighs tightly allowing him to thrust into you more efficiently. You felt him hit your G-spot every time he moved in and out. You felt your climax approaching and you bucked your hips as he groaned feeling you clench around him.

You finally went over the edge and came onto his cock, while you felt him release into you. His thrusts slowed to help you ride out your orgasm before he slowly pulled out, making you whine at the empty feeling.

He kissed your lips before lying down next to you. You turned to look at him and you stared into each other's eyes, a soft smile forming on his lips. "Goodnight my love, I missed you so much. I won't fuck this up."

You were going to respond but the exhaustion caught up to you and you fell asleep in his arms, for the first time in years as his girlfriend.

TAGLIST : @clandestineself @kittympirty @azzy02 @wemalyri @jayhoonvroom @hwangswife4

[uceyliyahh]

IMPERFECT FOR YOU

summary: Miyori and Jey were in a relationship for three years until she saw him laid up with another girl that wasn’t her and it broke her heart so she decided block him on everything and focus on her career until she gets a text message from him.

This fanfic is 18+! NO MINORS ALLOWED

word count: 4364

smut warning; it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good at writing ✍🏽 smuts but I’m improving at the moment.

Jey Uso x Miyori

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

again mdni you have been warned.

TAGS ⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️@pinkwithhearts @420days @jstarr86 @empressdede @angiedawn02 @biancasreign @li-da-savage @ctinadiva @clubsoft

@bebesobrielo @skyesthebomb @aikosilo @papireigns-05 @punksyeet @paigereeder @magnificentbouquetmusic @lilucey @usoinked @christinabae

@celesteheartsjey @charmed-dreamssss @fearlesschimera @partypoison00 @mselenalovebug @bloodlinesbabe93 @justazzi @xbriexx @luvrsluxe @celesteheartsjey @4milly @luuvprincess @yyaktayak @yana3sworld

𝖈𝖚𝖆𝖙𝖗𝖔

uceyjucey, jazzyV, jonathanfatu, theshaderoom, and others liked your post.

miyorisworld: When He Sends U Money To Pay For Yo' Hair Appointment 😩🙂‍↕️ uceyjucey: anything for you baby girl 💗 miyorisworld: @ uceyjucey keep working on papa 💋 jonathanfatu: she ain't playing around this time uce @ uceyjucey

jazzyV: MAKE HIS POCKETS HURT DAMN RIGHT BESTIE

jeyusofannnn: she's using him for money that's sad

miyorisworld: @ jeyusofannnn honey I make my own money so you can move tf around with that

jaidaparker_wwe: @ uceyjucey what the fuck? How come you can send her money for her appointments but not me? 🤨 theshaderoom: 👀👀 aaron_pierre1: oh nah

Read all comments.

OMNISCIENT Miyori was at her desk, reviewing her client files as usual, diligently jotting down notes on her iPad to ensure she was ready for her next appointment. In the midst of her work, she received a text from Jimmy and paused briefly to check what he needed.

Big Jim🫡 sent a message

Big Jim🫡: Mimi PLEASEE come get Jey he's losing his mind like deadass crashing out over here

She couldn't help but laugh at the message he had sent. Ever since Jey took her out on that special date and everything that unfolded between them that night, he seemed to be struggling with feelings of longing since he left.

She had him captivated once more, sharing intimate photos and videos while they were apart, and it was consuming him with longing.

iMessage 💬 Mimi💓: I'm not surprised I knew he was going to go crazy😭😭 Big Jim🫡: do you know I hear him moan your name whenever he's beating his meat like damn Mimi what'chu do to him?

Mimi💓: I didn't do anything 🤷🏽‍♀️ just sent him pictures and videos to keep him company knowing how busy yall is I told you he has to work for it and deal with consequences Jim

Big Jim🫡: I understand 100 percent but please can you at least calm him down or something he's like rapid dog right now

Mimi💓: when are you guys off? Or have a day off?

Big Jim🫡: this upcoming weekend after Friday Night Smackdown you got something planned?

Mimi💓: something like that 😁 Big Jim🫡: you planning on coming to see him if im correct?

Mimi💓: yes I am actually, I know papa needs his mama badly but I should make him wait don't you think?

Big Jim🫡: shiii if I tell him that he's going to be pissed off even more

Mimi💓: go on ahead and tell em

Big Jim🫡: you is evil Mimi but aight

Mimi💓: kk tell Trin I said heyy

Big Jim🫡: will do ma'am

After she sent a message to Jimmy, she quickly received a text from Jey that made her laugh even harder at the predicament he was in, fully aware of how much he relied on her support.

Joshua🖤 sent a message

Joshua🖤: mamas I miss you so fucking bad

Miyori cherished this aspect of him, where he was vulnerable and pleading for her affection, just as she desired. It allowed her to take charge, showcasing her strength and authority, making it clear that she was the treasure he sought, one he needed to work hard to deserve.

iMessage 💬 Mimi💓: I miss you too big papa

Joshua🖤: you keep playing games with me Mimi ion like that shi

Mimi💓: aw is someone getting sexual frustrated with me?🤭

Joshua🖤: YES I am and you keep fucking playin Mimi

Mimi💓: I told you, you have to keep working hard for this and for us to be together again and I think you're doing a good job

Joshua🖤: so what that mean?

Mimi💓: that means you get a surprise for working so hard Papa

Joshua🖤: just wait Ouu just fucking wait until I have my hands on you baby girl

Mimi💓: what'chu gonna do to me Papa?

Joshua🖤: it's better to show you than tell you and no fucking runnin' you hear me?

Mimi💓: mhm sure do

Joshua🖤: send me some pictures please

Mimi💓:

Joshua🖤 heart both attachments

Joshua🖤: fuck you're so fucking pretty Ma

Mimi💓: pretty for you

Joshua🖤: mhm...

Mimi💓: I gotta get back to work papa I'll text you later?

Joshua🖤: aight then mamas I love you ❤️

Mimi💓: I love you too papa

Miyori smiled warmly as she heard a knock on the door, and she looked up to see Kelly peeking her head in once more. She gestured for her to come into the office.

"What's up Kelly?" She asked.

"You have a visitor, and he seems a bit angry?" Kelly said.

 "Did you get a name for this person?" Kelly nodded and informed Miyori that it was Aaron who was coming to see her, prompting a deep sigh and an eye roll from Miyori.

"Just bring him in here so I can get this over with." Kelly nodded in agreement as she followed the instructions, gently closing the door behind her. She couldn't help but wonder what he, of all people who had come to visit her, could possibly want after the stunt he pulled.

Was he feeling hurt because she was rekindling her relationship with Jey after he had put in so much effort to win her heart again, or was it simply jealousy that fueled his emotions? When she heard the door creak open, there he was, standing tall, his face set in a serious expression.

Was he feeling hurt because she was rekindling her relationship with Jey after he had put in so much effort to win her heart again, or was it simply jealousy that fueled his emotions? When she heard the door creak open, there he was, standing tall, his face set in a serious expression.

"Are you fucking kidding me Mimi? You're getting back together with him?" Aaron looked at her, curiosity evident in his eyes, as she stood with her arms crossed.

"Yeah, and what about it? Why does it concern you so much about who am I with? Does Normani know that you're here?" Miyori firmly held her position, expressing that she simply couldn't afford to waste any more time on this.

"What's the purpose for this? He can't be better than me ." She was in disbelief at the words coming out of his mouth; could he really be serious? "Aaron, please, Jey is much more better than you despite what he did we have history together that chemistry that you and I didn't have."

Aaron laughed softly as he walked back and forth, putting on a brave face while hiding his true feelings. Deep down, he felt a pang of jealousy that he was reluctant to acknowledge. It bothered him to see Jey effortlessly win her over, treating her to nice things and taking her out on dates, all the little moments he couldn't help but notice on social media.

She radiated a light he had never witnessed in her before, all thanks to Jey, who brought her joy and made her feel cherished. That was all she had ever desired, but if it wasn't with him, it simply wouldn't do for her.

"If you're done, you can leave I got clients coming in soon." She spoke breaking the silence between them.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me that you don't love that nigga Mimi tell me..." He exclaimed, clutching her arm firmly, which made her wince in pain. "Tell me that you don't love him after everything he has done to you." He gazed at her, his deep-set eyes seeming to penetrate her very essence.

Miyori was fully aware of her deep love for Jey; she just wanted him to put in the effort to earn it. In contrast, her feelings for Aaron were nonexistent, especially after he betrayed her trust by cheating and expressing his boredom with her. As she gazed into his eyes, she leaned in closer, determined to confront him.

"I love him Aaron, whether you like it or not I don't care, and weren't you the same nigga that said that he was bored of me? And my sex game was horrible?" She retorted.

"Yeah, I did and it's true." It caused her to chuckle darkly at him. "Then what the fuck are you pressing me for then? Sounds like you're jealous Aaron." She was correct; he felt a pang of jealousy seeing how well that other guy, someone from her past, was treating her. It truly affected him deeply.

The atmosphere in the room became tense as they locked eyes, each lost in their thoughts without uttering a single word. Miyori sighed and rolled her eyes, glancing at her Apple Watch to check the time.

"You can leave my office now." She pulled her arm free from his grasp and moved past him to return her clients' files to the folder. Suddenly, he grabbed her hair and pressed his lips against hers. The unexpectedness of the moment took her by surprise, but she quickly reacted, pushing him away and slapping his face in the process.

Leaving him stunned as she glared at him.

"The fuck is your problem! You know what get out! Get the fuck out!" Miyori shouted while pushing and shoving him out the door.

As security entered the room, they quickly apprehended the officer, who was struggling to resist. In the chaos, he managed to strike one of the security personnel, causing her to stumble and fall to the ground. Meanwhile, Aaron was being escorted out of the office, his voice echoing as he yelled and shouted in frustration.

Miyori noticed a warm sensation running down her face and, upon touching her nose, realized it was bleeding. She quickly rose from the ground and made her way to her desk to grab some tissue. As she leaned forward, she caught sight of Kelly entering the room, worry etched on her face.

"Oh my goodness, Miyori are you okay?" Kelly asked coming to her aid.

"Y-yeah, I'm good Kelly, I'm good." She said.

"Do you need a moment before your clients show up today?" Miyori gave a slight nod as she made her way out of the office, heading down the hallway toward the bathroom.

Miyori gazed into the mirror, pulling the bloodied tissue from her nose. Her reflection revealed a chaotic visage, a clear reminder of the turmoil caused by that foolish decision. Deep down, she had anticipated this outcome the moment she ended things with him.

He had always struggled with feelings of possessiveness and jealousy, especially when he learned that she was seeing someone else after their breakup. While he knew he could be intense, Jey's emotions ran even deeper. If he had been aware of what was happening, he would have rushed to her side without a second thought, ready to confront Aaron for treating her poorly.

She wiped her face clean and took several deep breaths, slowly opening her eyes as she reassured herself, "You're alright, Mimi, you're alright." With a sense of calm, she discarded the bloody tissues and stepped out of the bathroom, making her way back to her office.

☞

Jey sat on the tour bus, scrolling through TikTok and chuckling at the funny videos, all the while trying to push thoughts of Miyori from his mind. He missed her deeply, and the ache of her absence was almost unbearable. He found himself hoping that after this Friday, he would finally get to see her again. Lost in his thoughts, he suddenly noticed someone standing in front of him. Looking up, he saw Jaida with her arms crossed, watching him intently.

She grabbed his phone from him, knowing it would upset him, and it definitely stirred him up as she anticipated.

"Yo' what the fuck is yo' problem Jaida? Give me back my shit." Jey snarled.

"No! Because what the fuck is this huh!" She raised her voice while displaying images and text conversations with Miyori, which made him smirk.

"You know what it is Jaida don't play fucking dumb aight? I told you me and her got some history together."  She threw his phone at him while rolling her eyes scoffing in disbelief. "Man what does that bitch have that I don't?"

Jey ran his fingers through the back of his neck, his hands moving to cover his face as disbelief washed over him. He couldn't fathom that he was facing this situation now, especially given how sexually frustrated he had been since leaving. The longing for Miyori's touch was overwhelming; he craved the way she would tug at his hair, pushing him to confront his feelings. He truly missed those moments.

"Watch yo' mouth when you speaking on her, she does a lot for me than you do I mean hell you barely show me any attention so I got my attention somewhere else." He remarked as he reclined on the sofa, his arms extended wide.

As Jimmy and Trinity drove to the next town for their house shows that evening, they observed the situation unfolding around them.

"But you're with me! You cheated on her with me!"

"And I wish I didn't maybe if yo' little homeboys didn't throw you at me we wouldn't be in this situation but here we are right?"

"So what? She's better than me?"

Jey nodded his head while leaning in placing his arms on his knees. "Yeah, Miyori always been better than you Jaida, like I said you don't give a man no time or even like affection from me." He noticed the tears welling up in her eyes, but it didn't seem to matter to him at all. Why should he feel any compassion for her when she was simply reflecting the emotions he was grappling with himself?

"I'm telling you what it is and what it ain't so you won't get no false promises of us being together forever." His words shattered her heart, but to him, it was inconsequential. He couldn't grasp why she was in tears, especially since she had never expressed any affection towards him before.

"So you never loved me?" Jaida asked.

"I did love you but once you started acting differently and showing me less affection I just knew I made the wrong mistake." In that moment, she struck him across the face with a force that made both Jimmy and Trin flinch, as if they were the ones feeling the sting of the blow.

Jey rubbed his face, trying to keep his composure. He never faced this kind of situation when he was with Miyori; they would simply communicate and then share an intimate moment, avoiding all the toxic behaviors. He wasn't one to engage in that kind of drama unless someone really provoked him.

Jaida stormed off to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Jey let out a deep sigh, rubbing his temple in frustration. All he could think was that he needed Miyori at that moment. With that thought in mind, he got up from the sofa and made his way to the bathroom.

"He finna go blow off some stream." Jimmy said as Trinity hit him upside the head.

iMessage 💬 Joshua🖤: mamas?

Mimi💓: hm?

Joshua🖤: you okay? sounds like you're stressed did something happen?

Mimi💓: mhm but idk if I should tell you knowing how you are.

Joshua 🖤: what happened?

Mimi💓: you promise you won't get mad?

Joshua🖤: I can't promise that if it's that bad for you to tell me so what happened Mimi?

Mimi💓: Aaron came to my job and we had an argument about you and me being together

Joshua🖤: he sounds very jealous to me

Mimi💓: that's what I said but the problem is he got so pissed off about it he...

Joshua🖤: what he do Mimi don't hide nun from me you know I'm here

Mimi💓: he slapped me in my face causing my nose to bleed but I'm okay I swear

Joshua🖤: does his bitch ass wanna get fucked up?

Mimi💓: Joshuaaaa you promised

Joshua🖤: I never said that and I don't play about you

Mimi💓: I know you don't but I don't want you to go crazy security took him out

Joshua🖤: that's don't matter he'll come up there as many times as he want just to put his hands on you and I won't stand for that shit period

Mimi💓: don't book a flight down here Joshua please I can protect myself just focus on your house shows please for me

Joshua🖤: Baby Girl

Mimi💓: pleaseeee 🥺 Joshua🖤: aight aight I won't but fuck I miss you

Mimi💓: you do?

Joshua🖤: yess I fucking miss yo' ass I need to blow off some steam mamas

Mimi💓: lms

Joshua🖤: sends attachment/ look what you're doing to me Ma I need you

Mimi💓: hm since you've been working so hard for me I'll help you out Papa

Joshua🖤: please do mamas please

(MINI SMUT WARNING) - PHONE SEX JEY AND MIYORI

Jey had pulled down his sweats along with his boxers seeing his dick springing up hitting him on his stomach as pre-cum was already spilling out from the tip while he stroked his dick up and down.

Mimi💓: you ready for me Papa?

Joshua🖤: fuck yes mamas talk to me

Mimi💓: stroke it nice and slow for me Papa

He followed her instructions slowly stroking his member up and down feeling a lump inside of his throat as he threw his head back listening to her soft voice through the phone

Mimi💓: you miss this pretty pussy Papa?

Joshua🖤: yes I miss that shit mamas...ohh fuck I miss it so bad

Mimi💓: how bad Papa? Tell mama how bad you miss her pussy

The way her voice was through the phone was turning him on so much he couldn't wait to see her again and fucked her senselessly through the mattress.

Joshua🖤: I miss it so fucking bad Mimi...I wanna taste her and be near her..

Mimi💓: whatchu going do to me papa? When you come see me?

Joshua🖤: Imma beat that pussy up mamas imma beat it up good so you can never forget who it belongs to

Mimi💓: you know it's your Papa it's been yours stroke that dick faster for me

Jey did what he was told to do stroking his dick in a fast pace manner brushing his thumb against the head of his dick making him lose control over himself.

Joshua🖤: Mamasss keep talkin to me please

Mimi💓: you like working hard for me huh? Just to get back with me?

Joshua🖤: I love it mamas I fucking love it imma keep working hard for you fuck

Mimi💓: stroke it faster baby c'mon

Speeding up his pace he rolled his eyes in the back of his head clenching his thighs in the process while rubbing against his body with his other hand imagining that it was her doing all of this to him while she was bouncing on his dick or him fucking her silly.

Mimi💓: that dick is mine right? It don't belong to that bitch or anyone else but me right Papa?

Joshua🖤: yess this dick is yours Mimi all yours ouuu shit I'm finna nut

Jey felt his dick twitching in his hands as he kept stroking it in a fast manner feeling his body shaking letting his toes curls up.

Mimi💓: you gon' cum for me?

Joshua🖤: I'm finna nut Baby girl Ouu I wish it was your pretty ass face I could nut on right now

Mimi💓: cum for me Papa cum for mama

Joshua🖤: fuckkk mamas fuckkk

Jey let out a guttural moan escape his lips as ropes of his cum began shooting out ropes after ropes over his hand while he was breathing heavily up and down stroking his dick slowly making sure that all of his nut spilled out from his tip.

Joshua🖤: fuck Ma got me making a mess and shit

Mimi💓: my bad Papa but do you feel better?

Joshua🖤: hell yeah much more better

Mimi💓: I hope Jon and Trin didn't hear you

Joshua🖤: probably did but ion care I fucking miss you

Mimi💓: I miss you too

Joshua🖤: if you miss me then why don't you come see me this weekend I'm off

Mimi💓: un-un see you tryna be slick boy

Joshua🖤: ion know what you talkin about mamas

Mimi💓: you think you slick boy go clean yourself up I'll text you later okay?

Joshua🖤: aight then mamas

CALLED END - SMUT OVER

Jey was tidying himself up when he heard a knock at the door, with Jimmy's voice faintly echoing in the background.

"You good in there Uce!" Jimmy shouted.

"Yeah, I'm good dawg I'll be out there in a minute." Jey said.

"A'ight we gonna stop to get some food since Trin said that she was getting hungry." Jey managed to clean his cum off of his body and hands while turning off the sink grabbing his phone in the process while heading out the door seeing his brother standing there.

"What?" Jey questioned him.

"You and Mimi are nasty as hell dawg." He commented on as Jey smacked his lips at him while shoving him away playfully.

☞ Miyori arrived home safely, parking her car in the driveway and turning off the engine. She reached for her purse from the passenger seat, stepped out of the car, and walked toward the front door. As she opened the door, she noticed Jasmine sitting in the living room, watching TV. Their eyes met, and a moment of connection passed between them.

"Heyyy bestie how was work?" Jasmine asked as she seen Miyori placing her purse on the couch.

"Girl, let me fucking tell you who showed up." She said while sitting next to her.

"What happened bestie?" Miyori shared with Jasmine the events that unfolded at work involving her and Aaron. She recounted how he had come to her workplace, visibly upset about her reconciling with Jey. She also mentioned the troubling incident where he had put his hands on her, which left Jasmine feeling furious.

"Girl, what?! Do I gotta whoop his ass? Does Josh know about this?" She asked as she stood up

Miyori urged her to take a seat and calm down. She confided in Jey about the incident with Aaron, still in disbelief that he would resort to slapping her at work just because he had cheated.

"He sounded jealous if you ask me bestie."

"That's what I literally said to him too, like how you gonna get mad at I'm finna be back with my ex-boyfriend you know." Jasmine nodded, fully grasping Miyori's feelings about the situation. While she shared her best friend's disapproval of Jey's betrayal, she also felt uneasy about Aaron due to his possessive nature.

"I understand bestie that's why I'm glad you and Josh are working it out together."

Miyori gave her a warm smile as she settled into the sofa, taking out her phone to browse her social media. As she scrolled, she noticed a few messages from Jey's girlfriend, who seemed to be reaching out to her.

IG messages 💬 jaidaparker_wwe: YOU ARE SUCH A SLUT

jaidaparker_wwe: RUIN MY RELATIONSHIP WITH HIM STUPID BITCHjaidaparker_wwe: JUST WAIT UNTIL I SEE YOU ITS UP THERE FR

miyorisworld: you done baby girl? It's not my fault that he wanted me back it's basically your fault for not doing your job as a girlfriend 🤷🏽‍♀️ jaidaparker_wwe: I WAS DOING MY JOB

miyorisworld: if you were he wouldn't be coming back to me now would he? And apparently you didn't do enough for him to want you so I have one up on you yet again sweetheart

jaidaparker_wwe: imma beat tf outta you when I catch you little girl you ain't better than me

miyorisworld: honey I'm better than you can imagine he know where home is and he's coming right back to it so don't get your hopes up aight? Now please stop playing on my phone.

Miyori decided to silence Jaida's constant messages, which seemed aimed at proving her superiority. She had no interest in engaging with those threats; they didn't affect her at all. Miyori was confident in her position regarding her relationship with Jey.

After her shower, Miyori slipped into her cozy pajamas and nestled into her bed, which still carried the comforting scent of Jey. She hugged her pillow tightly as she opened her laptop to book a flight for the upcoming weekend. With a day off ahead, they were excited to head to Indy for Friday Night Smackdown, so she quickly secured the nearest flight available.

As she completed the ticket purchase, a message from Jey appeared on her screen, bringing a smile to her face.

Joshua🖤 sent a message

Joshua🖤: hey pretty lady

She messaged him back.

iMessage 💬 Mimi💓: Hey handsome wyd

Joshua🖤: chilling in the hotel room hbu?

Mimi💓: booking a flight right now

Joshua🖤: 🤨 where you finna go?

Mimi💓: I can't tell you or it'll ruin the surprise

Joshua🖤: what you got planned mamas?

Mimi💓: Joshua I can't tell you

Joshua🖤: mmcht mane but how's your day been

Mimi💓: it's been good expect the fact that your girl keeps harassing me

Joshua🖤: bout what?

Mimi💓: about us I literally told her what it is and what it ain't

Joshua🖤: don't worry about her she's not important she know the history between us

Mimi💓: did you have a match ?

Joshua🖤: yeah I got the W for tonight though

Mimi💓: perioddd as you should I'm proud of you papa

Joshua🖤: thank you baby girl fuck I wish you were here so we could cuddle up with each other

Mimi💓: is you and shawty sharing a room together?

Joshua🖤: nah we got separated hotel rooms

Mimi💓: mhm but you've been doing so good working hard for me

Joshua🖤: I'll do anything for you baby girl you know that

Mimi💓: ofc baby

Joshua🖤: but imma let you get some rest got some pictures for me mamas?

Mimi💓: no I didn't take any today but I gotchu tmr tho 🫶🏽

Joshua🖤: aight then mamas goodnight 💗

Mimi💓: goodnight 🫶🏽

She set her phone down on the dresser and nestled deeper into the blankets, inhaling the comforting scent he had left during his last visit. Little did he know, she was planning to surprise him soon, recognizing how hard he had been working for her. He truly deserved it.

She gently shut her eyes, allowing herself to drift off into slumber.

IMPERFECT FOR YOU

A/n: Miyori is finally going to see Jey and soothing his nerves after crashing out that miss you sex finna hit differently. You think Jaida is going to beat Miyori up or will Miyori get one up on her?

But I hope yall enjoy this chapter lmk in the comments below ⬇️

STAY UCEY.

[szhmidty]

I can never really get over how much of the resentment towards modern art is based purely on some group of art nerds liking art you hate and disliking/dismissing art you like, and being strident about it.

With architecture, I kinda get it. You are forced, in some sense, to engage with architecture. It's funny to me that there seems to be widespread ignorance about the fact that large bricks of steel, glass, and concrete keeping getting made for economic reasons rather than artistic ones, but the distaste and frustration for it makes sense.

You just don't have to go to an art gallery full of modern art, though. Duchamp's fountain is not hiding in your closet ready to jump you.

"But szhmidty, all these hoity-toity art critics say that bullshit, degenerate modern art is supremely important, some of them even insult your intelligence or proclaim you ignorant for not liking a painting with 3 stripes or a "sculpture" that's just a lamp with a barbie doll shoved in the bulb socket."

So? Why do you care? Why do you worry about their opinion? They don't matter! They don't determine the direction of commercial art, and their relevance outside their narrow field is negligible. They don't matter, or they wouldn't if you'd just get over your seething hatred.

Why do you care if this person called you a baby for your art taste? In what way does it affect you? Why does it make you so angry? I truly do not get it.

At a certain point, I need you to realize that you're trolling yourself.

==========

You know what art I "love"? Christian art. Well, the stuff that's well crafted and coherent enough to be somewhat entertaining on it's own merits.

I didn't bother watching God's Not Dead 2 though 46 or whatever, but I thoroughly enjoyed watching the first one. That movie evinces a level of contempt for me, me as a person, me as someone who thinks like I do, in a really pure, unadulterated way.

The studio, actors, and champions of God's Note Dead deeply hate me and everyone like me.

But for the life of me I cannot muster resentment towards that film that comes within an order of magnitude of the resentment towards modern art and it's defenders.

There is, I guess, the unpleasant fact that I share a world with millions of people like that, that such people ultimately decide national policies. I would prefer that not be the case.

But on a personal level I just don't value or care about their opinions enough to be insulted by them. It's like being insulted by a toddler. I would genuinely be more upset if a friend's kid called me a butt-face in anger. At least I want the kid to like me.

==========

I have a similar dynamic with "subs only" anime fans. You have specific cases where the dub is more of an adaptation of the original, where there are strong differences between the sub and the dub, and for those I'll grant that the sub is probably better.*

I'd originally written up a paragraph on subs vs dubs here, but actually it just doesn't matter. I basically never watch a sub unless the dub is genuinely horrible, or the story is wildly different because the dub got censored for american audiences or whatever, or if a dub literally doesn't exist.

There's a large contingent of anime fans who feel contempt for me as someone who defaults to watching dubs. They will openly mock and belittle dubs preferers.

And like. I just can't care. Outside of a personal enjoyment in having arguments and yelling about things I do and don't like, I simply feel nothing when I see contemptuous comments from subs preferers.

*The exception is Ghost Stories. Anyone who recommends the sub over the dub isn't merely a disciple of the holy art of subtitles, they're just delusional. Or they hate the very specific brand of humour that the Ghost Story dub is going for, but if I'm being honest I would not believe the average crunchy roll subscriber if they claimed to dislike it. I've seen what makes them cheer.

==========

There's something of an irony to writing 10 paragraphs dedicated to people who insult me only for me to end each section with "I don't care." Like why would I write so much if I didn't care?

Mostly I'm just trying to look for cases where I might be on the other side of this issue, the side of the insulted, belittled, and demeaned, to put myself in the hot seat, as it were.

You can believe me when I say "I don't care" or not, I don't care.

[theorist-fox]

"Theo! I wanna write stories of my favourite fictional characters fighting for their lives, solving mysteries, surviving an apocalypse, finding love, and getting railed into next Tuesday—but I’m not confident in my English since it's not my first language.

What can I do?"

Well—

Have a seat, my sweet, and let cranky ol' Theo take you on a journey to reach (almost) unshakable confidence in your second (third? fourth? fifth? damn 🧐) language.

I’m going to assume everyone here has had a reasonable smattering of English ever since they were young, because yes—I just know that if you’re here and English isn’t your first language, you’ve been studying it ever since you were a kid.

However, if you haven’t, let me introduce you to:

Step 0. Get started!

English grammar is relatively easy, especially when compared to other languages (i.e. Italian grammar is a nightmare, Spanish grammar is a nightmare, French grammar is… my sleep paralysis demon).

There are several sites you can consult to train your English, and the most well-rounded one (I used to steal exercises from it when I helped my niece with her English homework) is BBC Learning English. 

It has videos, subjects are divided into units and each unit has straightforward exercises that are promptly corrected.

Unfortunately, most sites have a paywall.

To keep training your English, Duolingo is still an incredibly effective app. It’s free, packed with exercises, and you can start at any level you want!

Don’t make the owl mad and keep training, even if it's only a handful of minutes a day. Take notes on a notepad as you go, and review them as you would during a normal school lecture. In other words: study the thing!

Step 1. Live English-ly

Go on about your day, but do it in English. 

Consume media like you’re a black hole sucking the Englishness out of everything around you. 

Watch films in English. 

Start easy, and choose animated features—they’re often directed to younger audiences hence the English they use is simple and direct. Put subtitles in your first language initially, and when you think you’ve gained enough confidence, switch to English Dub and English Sub.

Take notes of words you like, and idioms—hell, those work like a charm and make you look more confident in the language!

Keep your phone nearby and type in anything new, or jot it down on paper, on a napkin, wherever—as long as you store it somewhere safe for future reference.

Read books and fics in English

It doesn’t matter if the writer’s first language isn’t English, because you can still learn from anything.

If you don’t know a word, don’t skim over it even if you understand the meaning from the context. Look up the translation online and put it down somewhere you can easily refer to when writing!

When you feel confident enough, instead of searching for:

“XXX translation in XYZ language”,

look for:

“XXX meaning”.

This latter passage is important, because, more often than not, English words can change their meaning based on the context.

Example: “Funny”

“This is a funny joke” = This joke makes you laugh;

“My stomach feels funny” = Your stomach is not being tickled, but there’s something wrong with your stomach.

Read the news in English. 

This will help you develop a more formal language, allowing you to absorb concepts that aren't normally found in a fic/movie/book. Not only that, but the structure of a journalistic article can help you with the formatting. 

The main goal of the news is to give you information that is straight to the point. Most newspapers articles have the best formatting.

Paragraphs are direct and succinct; they contain the information you’re looking for and keep you focused.

That’s what you want to do with your audience: feed intel that keeps them fastened to your story, bit by bit. Paragraph by paragraph.

Step 2. 🎶 MUSIC, MUSIC, MUSIC 🎶

Listen to music in English, but not only for the vibe.

The wonderful thing about music is that singers don’t follow the rules: they’ll sing with their accent if they like (Stormzy, Hozier, Little Simz), or they’ll change where the accent falls on a word just to make it fit the melody.

Catch the words, try to understand the lyrics without reading through them, and then check them out later.

This is a good, fun way to train your ear and learn new words, while also 1) healing your soul because music is beautiful, and 2) having a good fucking time.

Step 3. Podcasts & YouTube videos

While many platforms offer free podcasts specifically designed for learning English, those created for other purposes are another fun way to train your ear and, above all, learn slang.

Now, as a Call of Duty fanfiction aficionado, I always strive to make my British men as British as can be. The British-est of them all.

I watch British YouTubers, I listen to British podcasters, watch movies made in the UK with British actors, and I listen to British artists and British music.

Do the same thing if you’re looking for a specific accent or dialect!

I understand that most YouTubers end up Americanizing themselves due to the dominance of American media, but you’d be surprised by how many keep their roots intact instead!

Step 4. Talk to yourself

Yes you read right.

Your first language isn’t English? We do not care in this household. 

What you wanna do is speak it daily. Talk to yourself, baby. Train that pronunciation.

Pretend you're Sherlock Holmes when you're looking for that thing you lost in the house—bonus if you add "Elementary, my dear Watson" if your pet is nearby!

Pretend you’re a cowboy and say Howdy to yourself in the mirror!

I’ll be honest with you: this is the only way I come up with dialogues. 

I have entire arguments with myself in bed, and sometimes I spontaneously say something that I think would fit X character.

Man, it's cathartic too, in a way. And I always win the argument—big plus, that one.

Step 5. Don’t change to fit in

This is my favourite thing about writing.

I'm just a lil Italian lady, and Italian sentence structure is completely different from the English.

We are chatty, we talk your ear off. Our sentences are long and structured; we could fit an entire concept into a single paragraph without ever putting a period in the sentence.

English, on the other hand, is much more direct. Shorter sentences and no convolutions whatsoever.

I tried to fit in, but alas I am chatty, and while sometimes I manage, other times I simply don’t—and that’s okay.

Weave your first language and culture into your English stories—this can become your signature as a writer!

Step 6. Make mistakes

The most ancient (and hated) tip of all times is “Learn from your mistakes”. 

I know, I know, I am also a perfectionist. I also go through a story at least four thousand times before I post it, and by the time I’m ready to click “Post now”, I hate it with all my guts (hell, this guide has mistakes, somewhere).

You’d be surprised how many people think differently, though

However, sometimes it will flop.

It’ll flop so hard you’ll end up wallowing in bed, ready to quit your hobby for good because you suck and that’s the only reasonable explanation.

When you’re done crying, however, sit down in front of your fic and analyze it.

Was the grammar fucked? Check it again. 

Have you used a trope so niche only three people are interested in it? Well, in that case, it didn't flop, did it? It just reached a small target audience.

Are the “Trigger Warnings” too much for the majority of people to handle? Is the fic too heavy? Too light? Too weird? It's okay! Sometimes your work won't be everyone's cup of tea. Sometimes you'll be the only one who'll like that type of tea.

You’ll flop and you’ll hate yourself and other people for it.

Don’t let it consume you, don’t resent the fandom for not clicking on your story. Don't resent native speakers because you think writing is easier for them—writing is never easy.

Fucking hell, I can’t write in my first language as comfortably as I do in English.

Listen to constructive criticism—ask for constructive criticism. Learn, learn, and learn.

And if some people are mean to you, if they tell you to never write again—flip ‘em the bird.

You’re allowed to say "Fuck You" to assholes.

Step 7. Ask for help

There is a community around you, ask for help.

English is not your first language, but it is for other people.

Be mindful and polite—some people will be open to helping, others won’t, and that’s more than fair. It’s not their job to teach you, but there’s no harm in reaching out.

Literally, conversations with my British friends sometimes go like this:

Step 8. Use resources

Writing resources are all over Tumblr, and all over the rest of the Internet too.

When I don’t want to bother someone because every one of us has a real life outside of social media, the Internet can still be your friend.

These are my favourite places:

WordHippo (Thank you @/void-my-warranty, we all say in unison): rich in synonyms categorized by meaning (much better alternative to TheSaurus)

r/AskABrit: subreddit dedicated to questions you might have regarding the English language and life in the UK. There is a "r/AskA___" subreddit for everything, to be honest—just look for it!

The Cranky Bint’s Guide to Brit-Picking: “A basic guide to Brit-picking your fics. It also explains some common cultural differences, and gives a list of your more basic swear words.” This is my treasure trove.

OneLook TheSaurus (Thank you @/staytrueblue, we all say in unison): allows you to find words based on the description you give it. Wonderful tool for non-native speakers who know the concept, but lack the vocabulary!

Step 9. Read, watch, listen

Writing is grammar, true.

Writing is beautifully constructed sentences that flow like water beneath your eyes and fill you with emotions you never knew were possible.

But writing is also substance.

Think of your imagination as a car—you gotta give it fuel, baby, or it won’t go anywhere.

Your mind can take you to every nook and cranny of the world—the one you know and the ones you don’t—but it won’t get far if you don’t explore the possibilities.

Read books in any language, watch movies in any language, observe life happening around you.

Look at yourself, too.

You are a story, already.

Pick bits and pieces of your life and place them in a character. Remember conversations that tore the heart out of your chest, or those that tickled you just right.

There’s a whole world around you waiting to inspire you. Use it!

Step 10. Have fun, goddamnit!

Theo, I just wrote the most disgusting piece of smut/gore/whatever of my entire life in a fugue state what do I do?

Did you have fun?

Yes

GOOD. Others will have fun reading it, too.

Don’t be afraid. You’re using a damn alias, for fuck’s sake—and so are the people reading your work!

This is your chance to be your unabashed self—but always be kind and mindful to other writers and your readers.

Have fun, pour it all out, and share it with the world.

Enjoy this.

It's a hobby that not only helps you overcome language insecurities, but also uncovers parts of yourself you never knew were there.

Now go, my sweet. You are ready. I say, placing my hand over your head in blessing

Write your heart out, tell your stories, and enjoy the ride.

This is what it’s all about.

With all my love,

—Theoristfox🦊