#Still can't believe you made me choose /joking | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bonny-kookoo · 1 year ago

Text

Jungkook

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐎𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 | Mistakes

Jungkook knew from the first look at your eyes, that you'd be the biggest mistake he'll ever make.

Tags/Warnings: Aged up!Jungkook, Younger!Reader, Age Gap (9 years, JK is mentioned to be 34/35), Angst, Mature romance, Smut, car sex, protected sex, no strings attached, big dick!Jungkook, implied size kink, very mild Dom!Kook undertones, oral (m. receiving), sugar daddy!Jungkook vibes but only in a joking manner

Length: 7k words (oops)

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Jeon Jungkook doesn't really attend parties- typically.

But this time, for this occasion, he can't really pull himself out- he's got to at least show up for a moment, be there and present, before he can call it a night and go home. It's not like he hates his coworkers or employees most of all- he's just not that good at socializing, and never really was.

He's learned to be alone, and now he's too good at it.

A lot of the people in the hall, he doesn't know. That's probably because he's allowed people to bring a plus-one, so most of the people here are couples, which makes the whole situation just so much worse. "You could at least try and appear like you're having fun, you know?" Taehyung laughs, standing closer to his coworker now, a drink in hand. "It's not that bad." He tries to lighten the mood, but Jungkook just rolls his eyes.

"It's not even been an hour and I already want to go." He sighs.

"Why not leave then?" Tae wonders, sipping his non-alcoholic drink, since he's gonna have to drive home later, his wife currently conversing with other coworkers. "Oh, right, because Namjoon-"

"God don't remind me." Jungkook mumbles, shaking his head as he sips his whiskey. "I can't believe I lost that bet." He growls to himself, watching how someone seems to struggle with choosing the right food at the buffet, plate still empty even after several minutes. You look young, or maybe you're just short- he's not sure, but what he is sure about is that you do not work for him or his company- at least not in the same building. He would've noticed you, just like he does right now.

"I think she's Yoongi's plus-one? Or at least he drove here with her together.." Taehyung mumbles, having spotted his friend watching you.

"She looks young." Jungkook mumbles. "And I thought Yoongi was seeing the secretary we hired a few months ago?" He wonders, finally letting his eyes leave you alone, form-fitting dress very complimenting to your body, not too revealing, but still somewhat teasing.

Taunting him, almost.

"Oh, he does! Namjoon caught them making out in Yoongi's office last week." Taehyung laughs. "She's probably just a friend." He shrugs.

A friend, huh?

"Maybe something for you though?" Taehyung jokes. "I mean, I think I saw her drinking earlier, so she's at least of legal age." He laughs, making Jungkook cringe at him. He doesn't really find this whole joke funny- not at all, but Taehyung is right when it comes to Jungkook having a.. severe lack of company these past few years. Only occasionally does he have some sex without any strings attached- never brings anybody home however, refuses to cling to someone.

He's divorced anyways. Most women don't really find that very appealing.

Maybe he can have some simple company this time as well, nothing serious at all- it's been a while, after all, and everyone's an adult here, no matter the age difference. As long as he communicates it properly, there's no reason not to at least converse with you.

So he does indeed approach you, finding you still at the buffet, barely anything on your plate at all.

"Too much to choose from?" He wonders next to you, and he realizes the huge mistake he's made when approaching you the second you lift your head to look at him.

The lights reflect in your eyes like mirrors, minimal makeup perfectly enhancing your features, lips shiny with the most sinful shade of lipgloss this world probably has to offer. He's a goner, right away, lost in the sight of you, as if he's been thrown into the deep end of a pool so cold that it freezes his muscles, making him sink down to the bottom like a stone.

"Oh, no.." You answer, looking back at all the foods. "I have a shellfish allergy, so I'm not sure what I can eat.." You mumble, one hand having reached up to play with the sparkling pink gemstone hanging around your neck.

His mouth feels dry for a second, before he catches himself.

"Here." He mentions, pointing at some small numbers near the names of the foods on the small cards. "Those small numbers, the three right there is for shellfish." He offers, pointing towards a different card close by where the numbers are explained.

"Oh! Thank you so much, I hate contact lenses!" You laugh to yourself. "I usually wear glasses, but I wanted to look pretty.." You giggle, putting some food onto your plate now.

"I'm sure nothing can ruin a face like that." He flirts without truly thinking about it- making you visibly blush, trying to contain a smile.

"I appreciate the compliment…?" You wonder, and Jungkook knows, he's probably about to make another, grave mistake.

"Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook." He introduces himself, and you tell him your name in return, smiling oh-so devastatingly beautiful.

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His plan was absolutely not to explore what might be beneath that pretty dress of yours- and it seems like that might stay that way despite his length inside you.

You're moving your hips in ways that makes him dizzy, mind clouded with lust as you bounce up and down, hands on your back the only thing helping you avoid accidentally hitting the steering wheel. He's pushed the seat back as far as it goes, but you can never be too sure- he wouldn't want you to honk and draw attention to the surely shaking vehicle in the darkened parking lot.

The condom had been pure luck- he's not a fan of pulling out, so if it hadn't been there in the glove box of his car, he probably would've had to awkwardly call it quits before anything really happened at all. It's not like you both instantly were at each other's throats the moment you left the gathering- he simply offered to drive you home instead of Yoongi, who'd wanted to stay a little longer, while you complained about feeling tired. And in his car, you'd talked- casually so, something clicking, as he's now got you on his lap, bouncing on his dick like he's not experienced in quite some time now.

He feels a bit bad. Despite making sure that you know this is nothing but a casual fuck, it still feels a little odd to him. He doesn't like things like these- it feels like he's using you, and he's not a fan of such situations.

Though he can't deny that you feel absolutely divine.

The rain is heavy outside, pushing against the car's windows from all sides, drowning out the otherwise rather obscene sounds coming from between your bodies. Your hands are on his shoulders, fingers gripping his muscles beneath the fabric of his formal button-up. He refuses to kiss you, can't find it in him to do it, and you accept it, instead treating it as detached as you can, simply chasing your high as you fuck yourself on his twitching length.

He feels good. Thick, able to reach far inside you, but not enough to hurt.

The way he holds you is nice too- not too strong of a grip, only enough to guide you, keep you moving, keep you going. He's not big on dirty talk, isn't over the top with anything, and it almost feels like he's treating you like a woman, and not some chick he's met at a party. There's a certain sense of respect he's offering you that gives you confidence, makes you feel powerful for once even though he's clearly setting the pace.

This is something you don't usually get to have. Someone taking you seriously.

"You close?" He asks out of breath, avoiding your eyes, rather looking at your lips, though never moving into action. A limit he's set, and a limit he follows, he's clearly a man that doesn't wildly change his mind on the fly. Though, considering who he is, and where he is in life, he probably has had enough time to be untamed and wild already. You faintly wonder if he's ever been in a long-term relationship. Yoongi hasn't really talked about him much.

Neither have you asked. You've seen him, once or twice- but a man like that is out of range for you.

You nod when he grips your behind, reminding you quietly of his question, hips stuttering as he takes over, helping you move to chase his own orgasm right after yours. You're a bit overly sensitive, but you push through it just to see him clench his jaw, eyes closing as he groans out in relief, cum spurting into the condom inside you.

It's suddenly over, and not even your evening breaths can mask the slight awkwardness that's filling the car.

One of his hands keeps you close, though you have to lean against him a bit as to not move your hips too much as he reaches for something from the glovebox, plastic wrap of the small pack of tissues making a distinctive sound. "You okay?" He asks you, and you nod, now having switched places apparently as you avoid his face entirely.

You rather move a bit weirdly to accept the tissue offered, lifting your hips to awkwardly wipe yourself down, before pulling up your underwear and climbing back into the passenger seat, where you clean the inside of your thighs while he discards the condom from his length with a slight hiss of sensitivity.

You never really know what to say. You don't actually do this often- this is only the second time you've ever hooked up with anyone like this, and it's just as weird as the first time.

"Thank you, by the way." He offers, taking the challenge away from you as he puts the tied up condom in the tissue to discard it at home later. "Let me drive a bit closer to the building, just so you don't get too wet." He says, pulling his seat back into proper position before he starts the car.

Such a gentleman- You're a little disappointed. But only mildly so. Will you even stay in his mind?

Probably not.

You're way too young for a man like him, who most likely wants a proper woman in his life instead of a.. instead of you. You're not even sure where you are at in life- neither a woman nor a girl, somewhere in between, floating, unsure, neither and both. You know however for a fact that you'll remember him- probably for quite a while, before the memory will fade into nothing but a glimpse.

"There we go." Jungkook says, stopping the car very much in front of your apartment building, sideways so that you can run right into the main hall. "Please remember to text Yoongi, okay?" He reminds you. "He might be worried otherwise." He smiles kindly, and you nod, a bit forced, grabbing your light coat and your handbag. "And.. I enjoyed it. Very much so." He makes sure to tell you, making you nod a bit shy.

"I.. uhm, I'm glad." You nod, awkwardly, causing him to chuckle.

"Now go hurry inside before the rain starts again." He urges, making you nod dumbly once more before you open the car door, running inside the apartment building after closing the door.

And he drives off, back home, where nothing waits for him but the humming fridge and a cold, empty bed.

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Daehyun can be a little spoiled, but other than that, he's a well behaved kid for his age.

He loves staying at your place, though his questions on when you'll be getting another dog after your first passed away a year ago are sometimes a bit stinging to your heart. He's a child, obviously- he doesn't understand the hurt that can settle in your soul after losing such an important piece of your life, so you can't blame him for moving on a lot quicker than you.

He's too young to understand that yet.

"Uncle Yoongi has a cat now!" Daehyun tells you as he builds the lego set with you, his small hands having some difficulty here and there, but he's a quick learner, and a good improviser. "But he said I can't play with her, because she's a girl-cat, and girl-cats don't like playing." He explains, pouting a bit as he uses all his strength to pull two pieces apart again.

"Well, I think she's just be a little nervous still." You reassure the boy. "You know, she just moved into a new home. Things might be a little scary to her." You explain, and Daehyun nods.

"I only pet her a bit." Daehyun tells you. "Appa said we're gonna get a dog soon though!" He says with excitement, making you smile.

"That's nice." You agree, helping him pull some bricks apart. You like having the little boy over at your place- it makes you feel both like a grown person, and also like a child at the same time. Daehyun doesn't judge your vast collections of stuffed animals and lego sets- he only sees you as the nice aunt, a big sister, a friend of his dad where he stays over at often whenever work gets in the way and takes away most of Taehyung's attention. Just like this weekend- Taehyung having needed someone to look after the boy, Dae's mother constantly equally without any time. You're not sure how long that marriage is gonna last with her refusing to step back at least a little to properly take care of her own child, and with Taehyung's growing frustration over the situation.

You hope the poor boy won't get caught up in the crossfire. That would just be awful.

Hours later, all the toys put away, your doorbell rings, giving you the clue that someone must be now here to pick the young boy up. Probably either Jimin or Yoongi- but when you open the door, it's neither of them, but a casually dressed Jungkook, hands in his slacks as your gaze gets caught on the slightly unbuttered shirt that's tucked into the pants, LY-labeled belt buckle accentuating his rather slim waist.

What the fuck.

"Oh- uh, come inside." You offer, stepping aside to let him in, Daehyun quickly running up to Jungkook, who mirrors the excitement of the young boy as he squats down to hug him. You let them both have their moment, instead walking around to collect all of Dae's things, checking twice to make sure he didn't forget anything, as you text Taehyung to make sure the man is really supposed to take the boy with him.

He is, which makes you a bit upset. Taehyung could've told you before.

When you walk back inside the living room area, Dae is currently busy showing Jungkook a stuffed animal- a gift from Jimin a year ago, modeled after your dog as a keepsake. "He was suuuper big, and really nice!" Dae beams up at the man. "He always ate ice cubes, but-" the small boy inspects the stuffed animal a little, lips pouting. "-Noona said he was really old, so he went to sleep." He offers, and Jungkook seems to realize what the stuffed toy might actually be.

"Let's put him back on the table then, yeah?" He offers, a hand with faint ink taking the toy from the smaller hands of the boy to place it back next to the picture frame of your dog and the collar on the tiny table near the door where he used to sleep. "So he can sleep well." He explains, making Dae nod. When you make your presence finally known, Jungkook removes the hand, heavy watch on his wrist faintly hitting the edge of the table for a second, as he watches how you help the small boy into his jacket.

You're a little confusing.

"Alright." You say after successfully getting Daehyun to put on his shoes. "Theres- uhm, there's a, wait, I'll show you.." You say, moving to pull a little folder out of one of the bags packed. "This one, please make sure Taehyung sees this. It's Daehyun's homework, and he really needs to do them this time." You emphasize. "Just make sure he actually looks inside at least once.." You sigh, putting the bright red folder back into the bag.

"I'll make sure." Jungkook accepts, taking the bag from you. "Anything else?" he wonders, and you refuse any eye contact, instead shaking your head to hug Daehyun goodbye as you bring him and Jungkook to your front door.

"Noona, you gotta hug Jungkookie too!" Dae says, surprising you with his lack of formality when addressing his father's friend- but you don't question it.

And admittedly, Jungkook is fairly surprised when you do in fact reach out to hug him goodbye, though very formal. It's still.. oddly nice, you don't seem to wear perfume but rather rely on your scented bodywash, which smells very good to him. This is weird. Why is he getting such feelings of comfort for a simple hug with nothing attached to it?

And why is he kind of disappointed when it ends far too quickly?

But it gets worse in the car, because Daehyun has clearly gotten the wrong message entirely. "Noona doesn't have a boyfriend." He says from the backseat where Jungkook has placed the booster seat he's gotten from Taehyung in cases like these where he has to pick up the young boy. "And appa said you don't have a girlfriend." He says, making Jungkook nod and hum a reply. "Noona is really pretty." He giggles. Jungkook cant help but chuckle along.

"She is." He agrees, because he won't lie about that. You are very pretty in his opinion, though he can only really judge you mostly by looks alone. "Did you have fun? I heard you were there the whole weekend." He tries to steer the conversation away, but the young boy clearly doesn't get the message.

"Noona can cook really well!" He praises. "She always makes me my favorite, and then we watch tv in our 'jamas." He says, and Jungkook has to imagine you both probably bundled up in blankets on the small couch you have, watching kid's shows until the poor boy falls asleep.

Domestic. Do you like children? Want your own in the future, maybe?

"Jungkookie?" Dae asks, and Jungkook hums a reply, telling the kid he's listening. "Do you like Noona?" He wonders.

"I don't know her that much, dae. But she seems nice." He offers instead, trying to evade the interrogation of the small boy.

"Do you like drinking?" Dae wonders. "Like, the stuff appa says I can't have?" He asks, and Jungkook grows a bit weary. Why exactly would the young boy ask something like that?

"Sometimes. Why do you ask?" He asks the boy, who seems to deflate now.

"Then you can't be friends with Noona." He complains.

"Why not?" Jungkook wonders.

"Because, the guy noona liked for a while always got mean when he was drinking that stuff." Dae complains, looking out the window. "I was never allowed to play at noona's house when he was there. He really liked that stuff that smells bad, but it made noona upset." He says.

Jungkook tenses up a bit. "Was he ever-, how was he mean to you?" Jungkook wonders.

"He always told noona to do things for him, and never let her play with me." He huffs. "And Yogi didn't like him too, because he always had to stay in his bed." He complains. Jungkook assumes the boy is probably talking about the dog.

Jungkook doesn't know how to ask what he wants to ask. It doesn't concern him at all- after all, it seems like you're no longer together with that guy, so he shouldn't pry. But something makes him worry- deep down, he's awfully wary, since he now realizes you did indeed not even touch any alcohol at the party at all- the drink Taehyung had seen you hold non-alcoholic. How bad must the relationship have been? You might not have a fear of men, but you're clearly affected by the past, it seems like.

"Did.." no. He shouldn't be asking that. It's none of his business.

"Do you get mean too when you drink?" Dae wants to know. "Appa only gets really sleepy." He giggles. Jungkook laughs along. Taehyung truly does only get horribly tired whenever he drinks- and he knows for a fact that he never gets drunk when he has to take care of the boy alone, so he's not at all alarmed by those words.

"No, I don't get mean." Jungkook answers. "I don't really drink a lot of it, so it only makes me feel a bit silly." He offers as an explanation, and Dae nods.

"Then, maybe Noona won't mind." He says, causing Jungkook to chuckle, shaking his head.

"Why do you want Noona to like me so much?" He wonders, and at that, Taehyung's son becomes excited.

"Because, then my favorite people like each other!" He exclaims. "And that's really cool. Then we can have sleepovers together, and you can help me get a new dog for noona!" He says. "She's really sad that Yogi sleeps now. I think she's lonely." He whines.

"We can have sleepovers anyways, dae." He laughs.

"But, appa told eomma, that you need someone you like." He huffs. Jungkook reminds himself to scold his friend at a later date. "Because you're not happy now, and you're lonely. And noona's lonely too." He offers.

Luckily, Jungkook escapes any further questioning as he finally reaches Taehyung's apartment, ready to drop the young boy off.

The whole conversation not leaving him at all the entire rest of the day, as he realizes he forgot to show Taehyung the folder.

Crap. This is your fault.

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It's been weeks- and apart from rubbing one out to the remaining memories of you in his car, he's not really thought much about you at all.

He's seen you on occasion here and there at the grocery store or a coffee shop, which made him realize that you've always been right under his nose but he just never knew who you were, but you two don't really have had any actual conversations anymore.

There's no reason for it.

He now knows that you're actually the part-time nanny Taehyung used to have a few years back, when you apparently had just been fighting to find a new job to keep your apartment and not get kicked out for not being able to pay rent. Back then, Taehyung and his wife had been living separated for a bit after a pretty bad fight- so the father had needed someone to take some weight off his shoulders, and help with the small child who couldn't even talk yet. You helped raise Daehyun basically, more or less- and, according to Taehyung, it shows.

The young boy has a strong sense of justice, and shares everything he has happily- something that he's learned from you. It makes some odd things make sense now to Jungkook as well- how Dae has some habits that seem very unique, but also too specific to have been developing all on their own. The child holds the front of his shirt a lot- something Jungkook noticed you do in a similar way as well, whenever you think of something.

Today, it's Daehyun's birthday. And Jungkook is sure, that the young boy probably demanded that both jungkook and you had to be there.

And he's right.

The minute he enters Taehyung's penthouse, he spots you sitting on the floor with the child, who's currently trying to read his own birthday card to you, before he spots him in the doorway. You look pretty, yet again. No makeup it seems like, and he can't say that you need it. You obviously don't, eyes still sparkling dangerously, smile still as lethal as ever as you wave a little bit before getting up.

You're dressed comfortably. He likes the sight of it- the casual dress you wear not too short to be scandalous, but short enough to tease him with the skin of your legs, hidden beneath a sheer pantyhose. Or?

No. There's an upper hem of lace- those are just stockings.

"Jungkookie, appa said you'll drive noona home today?" Dae says, now held up on Jungkook's hip, as he looks at Taehyung who laughs.

"Dae, I said I'm gonna ask him if he can drive her home!" He scolds gently. "Hey- sorry, he just runs with whatever he hears." The father tells him, and Jungkook just smiles, shaking his head.

"I can drive her home, no worries." He simply affirms. "It's no problem."

"Taehyung I told you I can go home by myself!" You whine, and Jungkook is intrigued by this seemingly new side of you. He knows you as a little shy, soft spoken, polite. You always greet him when you see him, and you've talked a little bit in his car weeks back- but then again, you only know each other on a very surface level.

He wonders what you're really like.

"And I said you're not driving alone when you're sick." Taehyung threatens, dad-voice coming through as he attempts to push through your clearly stubborn behavior, and Jungkook can't help but watch intently as your eyes roll around, attitude clear as you don't take your friend seriously at all.

"Noona is gonna be a mommy!" Daehyun blurts out to Jungkook, and for a split second, his entire body freezes, blood cooling down to the negatives, bones filling with fear.

He wore a condom- but what if something happened? What if it leaked? Was that even possible? He's not against becoming a father, absolutely not- but he'd like to have a proper relationship for that, a stable one, not something like this.

"Daehyun!" You scold with red cheeks, and Taehyung runs a hand over his face. "Appa just asked me if I was, I'm not!" You whine embarrassed, sighing. "Oh god, guys, please! I'm an adult woman, I'm not sick, I can go home by myself." You complain, walking into the kitchen, presumably to escape the pressuring situation.

"She threw up earlier, that's why I asked her. Dae must've heard me." Taehyung says, after averting his son's attention back to the TV in the living room, where his favorite show plays. "She refuses to see a doctor for it. But you look like you've seen a ghost-" Taehyung teases, before his eyes sharpen. "…could it be that the mention of her becoming a mommy made you worry?" He pokes, and Jungkook furrows his brows, averts eye contact. "Holy shit, you two!?" He hisses, and Jungkook groans.

"Shut up, it was nothing." He simply says, while Taehyung's eyes widen in a scandalized manner.

"Nothing?! Jungkook, where is that nothing?" He argues, surprisingly sternly. "I'll drive her home."

"You're acting like I forced myself onto her-" Jungkook sighs, but Taehyung shakes his head. "Taehyung, you heard her. She's an adult woman, she can decide things herself." Jungkook defends you. "I'll drive her home, and I'll text you once she's dropped off." He says, before he walks into the kitchen where you're filling up a glass with water.

"Oh god that was embarrassing." You whine into your hands, before you shake your head. "He acts as if I'm dying any second whenever something's up." You mumble, drinking from your glass. He can see you're a bit less energetic- hand a bit shaky as you drink.

"He worries." Jungkook offers, leaning against the counter next to the fridge, across from you. "And you should go see a doctor if you don't feel well." He scolds, and yet again, you roll your eyes.

"And you should try and work on your facial expressions, mister." You huff. "I could see the panic a mile away when Dae said I'm pregnant." You bite, making him tilt his head a little "Either way, I'm fine. I can't afford to call in sick right now or my landlord will kick me out the minute my rent is late again." You laugh a little bitterly, finishing your water before you rinse the glass in the sink.

"Do you not get paid a regular salary each month?" He wonders. You shake your head.

"I do, but it's the monthly bonus that keeps me afloat." You explain. "And I only get that one if I'm not sick and bring appropriate numbers to the table." You sigh. "My landlord just searches for a reason to kick me out, I'm sure." You mumble as you dry your hands.

"How come?" Jungkook asks.

"I didn't want to go out with the guy." You shrug, not looking at him. "I like older men, but sixty? No thanks.." You huff, turning around to look at a smug looking Jungkook, his arms crossed.

"Would've never guessed." He tells you in a cocky manner, and you cross your arms to mirror his position in an exagerated manner.

"I would've probably let you screw me if you were younger too." You respond.

"Oh?" He raises his brows. This is oddly fun. "Were you that needy?" He teases, and suddenly, your eyes soften quite a bit, scaring him.

"No." You shake your head. "Guess you were just that charming." You shrug.

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"If your job pays that awful, why not change it?" Jungkook wonders as he maneuvers out the parking lot, leaving Taehyung's home behind after Daehyun had gone to bed.

You shrug.

"I'm lucky I got accepted in this one." You say. You're tired- it's obvious to him. "I dropped out of school too early. Now I'm facing the consequences- and honestly, it's not that bad either. I get by, and it's a quiet life I'm living, which is nice." You offer.

"Do you not have any ambitions?" He asks, relaxed now that he knows you're not one to be overly sensitive when it comes to more personal topics like that. You don't try to read between the lines where there's most of the time nothing at all to find.

"Its not like I don't have any ambitions." You respond, neither denying nor confirming. "It's more that I realized some of those ambitions were.. unrealistic. So I instead pursued what was." You shrug. "Nothing too deep. It's.. part of growing up, I guess." You explain.

Growing up. Talking to you, right now, truly does remind him of that. Almost two hands between you both in years, but you're awfully matured in the way you think at its core. You just have a softer shell around it, your opinions can still move, your mind still has some sort of wiggle room.

His doesn't. He makes decisions and sticks by them, most of the time. He doesn't like change, he enjoys his routine, keeps everything in order most of the time- until now.

Because you're definitely a decision he keeps bending around.

"How much is your rent?" Jungkook asks, and you look at him from where you're leaning against the car's window, an amused expression on your face.

"Why? You wanna be my sugar-daddy?" You joke, and he shrugs, much to your surprise.

"I don't care what you call it." He simply says. "But if it get's you to take some time and take care of your health, I can take care of a month's rent." He offers.

"I don't like that." You respond.

"I know." He laughs. "I've come to learn that you don't like accepting help. But it's something you can't avoid at times." He explains to you. "I'm just offering help. Whether or not you take it, is up to you." He shrugs.

"Why would you do that?" You wonder, suspicious.

"Because Taehyung worries about you. And Daehyun would be terribly upset if something was to happen to you." He admits. "I don't know you well enough to say that I'm doing this for you- so I'll be honest. I do this mostly for them." He says.

You nod. You like this- that he's actually telling the truth, instead of trying to woo you into something.

"Alright." You sigh, tired. "I'll.. text you?" You wonder, and he nods.

"I have your number from Taehyung already." He chuckles. "I just didn't have a reason to reach out yet." He admits.

You just nod, eyes falling shut for longer he notices.

You must be working hard if you're this exhausted. He really hopes you'll take care of yourself after he helps you sort everything out.

Hopefully his help is enough.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

He's lost control over the situation. How can this happen a second time?

He's been texting you these past few days, especially after you've finally took some time off of work to sort out your doctor's visits, having received some medication to finally help you resolve your issues.

He's not sure why he keeps coming back to you. And he's especially not sure how the hell he managed to get himself caught up in a situation like this twice, especially after Taehyung had been clearly upset about the first time.

There's something about you he can't really pin-point. It's both scary, and exciting.

You're kneeling on a small heart-shaped pillow from your small couch, hands occupied and slicked up with your own spit as you caress his length, head of it warm inside your mouth as you lick and suck. You've offered, and he assumed it to be a joke- but the moment you got down between his legs, all of his usual control over things went out the window. He might appear to be the one in charge, right in this moment, but he's truly at your mercy.

It makes him anxious. This shouldn't be happening.

But he can't deny the appeal of you taking care of him so well- it feels scarily intimate to have you between his legs like this, eyes closed as you seem to enjoy yourself, mostly due to his own hand reaching out to run his fingers through your hair, brushing it out of your face and taking the chance to offer some form of affection before he collects your hair in his fist for a second, long sigh escaping him as he feels the tip of your tongue push against the head of his cock, dipping into the small point, before you adjust your legs, letting go of him for just a second to lick from the base to the very tip once more.

You're a succubus, hidden behind a pretty face and sinful body.

He's not sure what your motivation is, hasn't really figured it out for the first time either. There's this little devil on his shoulder constantly urging him to accept your advances and let himself go, but the angel is louder, and keeps on feeding him doubts about the whole thing. He's consumed by his work, he doesn't have time for you, he can't offer you what you might want from a relationship. He doesn't even know if he himself is ready for something like that- he knows he should be, considering how long ago his divorce had been finished, but it's still odd to think about it. He's scarred by what went down, and doesn't want to go through this again.

He can handle being hated by one person he used to love. He wouldn't be able to have two doing the same.

It made him wonder if he's even someone worthy of having a relationship. Does he have enough to offer you that's not physical or monetary? No. He doesn't have time, he's awkward as hell, he doesn't like parties and rather enjoys laid back vacations somewhere no one knows him- if he even takes one at all. He wants a quiet life-

A quiet life?

'it's a quiet life I'm living, which is nice.'

Maybe it's your hands on his cock, the back of your tongue over his tip, or the way your fingers suddenly move to massage his balls just right- but he's facing this horribly ironic moment of both pleasure and realization at the same time as his cum shoots into your mouth, lips sealed over the head to suck him for all he's got. His hand keeps pushing your head, fingers digging into your hair, and you moan quietly at the faint sting of it.

His head rests back on your couch. His hand loosens, letting you go, while his eyes stay closed, breath deep and uneven as he tries to calm himself. He doesn't even realize how you tuck him back into his underwear as he softens, though you leave the fly and belt untouched, instead moving to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

You wait. For what? You're not sure.

"I.." He starts, taking in a deep breath, a hand through his hair trying to sort him out again. "..you.."

"Was it good?" You wonder almost innocently, watching him amused.

He nods. "Very." He simply answers, brain dumb. He hates this.

"Nice." You smile, before you move to put the little pillow back on the couch. "Do you wanna.. leave right now? Or stay for coffee?" You wonder, treating this all way more casual than he is. He's not sure what to do. But he knows you need to talk about this.

"Can you come here for a second?" He asks, and you nod, putting down the mug you got out of the pantry, making your way over to him to sit on the couch next to him. "I hope you know this isn't.. needed. I honestly just wanted to help you out with rent." He urges, and you nod.

"I know." You say, making him feel a bit lighter. "Was that.. not something you wanted?" You worry, but he shakes his head.

"I'm.. I'll have to be honest here." He sighs, having closed his pants and adjusted himself prior already, not leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees. He can't look at you- not if he wants to be honest and straight forward. "I'm not sure." He offers. "I think it's clear that there's an attraction going on- but I don't know how far this can go."

"I'm not in love with you or anything." You defend yourself. "Neither do I have a crush. I just like you." You shrug.

"That's good." He nods to himself. "It's good that you know that. That you... can distinguish it."

"I think your problem might have something to do with.. my age?" You wonder, and Jungkook turns his head towards you, eyes staying on your knees however. "Yoongi mentioned something once. That he has a friend who has some sort of mid-life crisis right now and thinks he's too old for everything." You giggle.

"And how do you know that would be me?" He calls you out a little offended.

"Because it just fits." You laugh. "You play around with Dae all the time, but the second someone watches you, you become all awkward. It's kinda sad." You admit.

"How so?" He wants to know.

"Because it's dumb." You say, leaning back against your couch.

"Maybe for you. But when you're my age-" He starts, and you suddenly start to laugh, cutting him off.

"See! That's how I know you're the one with the crisis!" You joke, hand hitting his shoulder playfully, and without any intention to hurt. "I'm not a kid. I can make my decisions just fine." You say.

"And your decision is?" He wonders, now looking at you.

"That I want to get to know you." You tell him. "I want to.. see where it goes." You offer.

"What if it goes nowhere?" He argues. "I can't promise you some fairytale love-story." He denies. "I'm divorced, I want children at some point, I don't like parties, I work long hours-"

"But that's stuff that we can work out, no?" You wonder. "Time is what you're scared of, right? Then how about this-" You say, suddenly sitting on your knees, body facing his. "Every day you're not trying is a day you could be spending in a more productive way. For example, by getting to know me. Trying out if your idea of a relationship aligns with mine, if your work schedule is too packed, all of that." You offer. "Right now, we could already be talking about more interesting things than the 'what-if'. Or, in your big-man-terms:" You joke, leaning closer to him. "You're wasting time."

"Have you ever considered a career in communication-training?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "You're awfully great at this." He praises, making you giggle.

"Nah, I like my normal nine-to-five." You say. "Even if it barely pays enough."

"Well I heard someone's taking care of rent at the moment." he offers, reaching out to tuck some hair behind your ear.

"Well, only for a month, so that's a bummer." You shrug, leaning into his hand now holding your cheek.

"..I'm not used to being in a relationship." He sighs.

"We can start just being friends." You respond.

"I think we're a little past the general boundaries of friendship." He chuckles.

"Then friends who occasionally have sex." You roll your eyes.

"That's not very romantic." He argues.

"You can fuck me with music in the background?" You joke, and he shakes his head, laughing.

You're truly far more than he thought you are, and he's not sure if he's worth your time. But he wants to be. Looking at you, right now, he wants to be worth it. He wants to put the effort into it, even if it doesn't work out in the end. He wants to try- so that even if you don't fit, you at least had some good memories together that were worth the time spent.

He wants to try.

Even if it's a mistake.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts smut #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic

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sl33paholics · 11 months ago

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Baki's Reaction To Your Ex Trying To Get You Back Headcanons! (and a mini story ig)

Uhm.....it's 6am as I write this and I'm giggling my ass off

To say that Baki would come up and beat the shit out of your ex on the spot right in front of you and others is an understatement.

Baki is more of a quiet observator. Rather than confrontational, Baki might choose to observe your ex from a distance, assessing the encounter with a calm demeanor, possibly seeing it as an opportunity to reaffirm your commitment.

Baki's not an idiot. He can choose to downplay the situation, opting not to give your ex's attempt much attention, focusing instead on maintaining the positive dynamics of your relationship.

Known for his actions more than words, Baki might subtly intensify his efforts to show affection and support, reinforcing Baki's commitment through deeds rather than direct confrontation.

Baki knows how much you love to post yourself on social media. The latest fits, shoes, or with your friends. He's aware that your ex still follows you, even though you unfollowed him many, many months ago. Expect Baki to always hype you up in the comments under your posts on Instagram by spamming hearts and down-bad shit as well, he's most likely getting pinned every time.

Hell, if you're not posting yourself, you're sharing photos of the two of you on dates and random shit. Such as the you two at the gym. Baki's arms always wrapped around your shoulders or his hands gripping your hips. Baki can tell your ex is salty, he stalks his story on an alt account, LOL!

Sometimes, Baki could sense how annoyed and bothered you are whenever you'd see accounts named "shien_giveaway_6997" viewing your story. It's so obvious! Baki values honesty, and he'd engage in an open conversation with you about the situation, discussing any concerns or insecurities. Baki doesn't want a pretty woman like you stressing out over a man who couldn't keep his dick in his pants.

If you don't want to speak to him about the whole situation, Baki could respond with affectionate gesture, like a surprise date or a thoughtful gift, to reaffirm his commitment and show that he values and appreciates you. He could even use humor and make jokes about your ex's attempts to diffuse the tension.

However, it could only be so long until the man could entertain your ex before he was going to be pushed off the edge.

Baki could opt for a straightforward conversation, expressing his feelings and concerns calmly while speaking to the man via text message or phone. While not confrontational, Baki gives off a subtle warning vibe, a non-verbal cue that communicates the depth of his commitment and suggests that attempting to disrupt the relationship won't be taken lightly.

This could go two ways. 1) Your ex could simply back off and respect your wishes that your current relationship holds. Or 2) your ex could simply be cocky, shouting at him over the phone, insulting him to insert dominance, and other things to Baki as he's just there sitting silently listening to him yap yap yap yap yap yap yap -

It just so happens that Baki and your ex stumbled across each other while in the city.

Guess you can see where this is going.

Seeing Baki's size, your ex laughed and berated him. How can a man his height cuff YOU up? He couldn't believe it. How low were your expectations? He was tall and built. Baki? Sure. He was ripped but SHORT.

"I don't have time for this," Baki simply said, making your ex raise a brow in confusion. "(Y/N) is waiting for me, I can't have my love waiting." Baki walked past the taller figure, his hands in his pockets. He stopped once your ex pulled on his shirt, tugging and pulling Baki back.

"A short boy like you can't do shit!" Your ex would spat. The smell of cigarettes reeked and made Baki want to cough in his face. "Suddenly coming 'round and stealin' MY girl away from me?! I should punch you in your shit-"

It's safe to say that Baki hit this man with a two-piece combo. A slap and a roundhouse kick sent that man straight to sleep on the sidewalk. Baki stared at the unconscious man before sighing. Continuing his journey towards your place.

Hours later, your phone begins to blow up from your friends of the picture of your ex on the sidewalk earlier that day. You confronted Baki only for him to pout and say, "He ruined my shirt :("

You couldn't be mad at him. At least your ex knew not to fuck with you and your boyfriend anymore.

#anime #black writers #female writers #poc writer #black reader #x black reader #fluff #baki #baki smut #baki son of ogre #baki hanma #baki the grappler #headcanon prompts #headcanon #jack hanma #yujiro hanma #kaoru hanayama #crack fic #baki headcanons

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arjudy224 · 1 month ago

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The Billionaire Boys Club

Batfamily x PhD student reader

(This takes place around 6 years after the Intern. )

The Intern Collection

Prequel: Death of a Family

The Intern: Day one

The Intern: The Laughing Fish

The Intern: Busy Work

The Intern: Outreach Gala

The Intern: Visiting an old friend

The Intern: Chemical Valley

The Intern: Billionaire Boys Club

After interning in her hometown, Y/N was recruited to do her master's degree fully funded by Lexcorp. She had developed an attraction over the 3 years working with Lex Luthor, yet his controlling behavior led to Superman warning Y/N about the CEO's affections. Her master's thesis was on the environmental impacts of Kryptonite use and storage.

Gotham City's explosive tonight. The annual environmental gala has somehow brought fresh life into the sallow streets.

The gala's decorator deserves a raise. Lush vines descend from the high ceiling wrapping around the pillars. I narrow my eyes. Are those real carrier pigeons? Every flower from any climate you could possibly imagine flood the walls in a sweet cascade of fragrance. The sweet aroma tethers me to the present. Dick and Tim give me sly smiles from across the ballroom. Stumbling past the walls of plants, Bruce gives me a thumbs up.

"You clean up nice."

I give him a small smile before glancing down at my Wayne sponsored garb. The long satin dress hugs my hips in an almost risque manner. A respectable slit begins at my mid thigh showing off my red and black pumps. I grimace at the unknown cost.

"You know you didn't have to go all Pretty Woman on me Mr. Wayne." I joke smoothing out my silk gloves, "I do have a paycheck."

Bruce smiles. It takes me off guard. A real smile with squinted eyes and smile lines. As goofy as the most attractive man in the room can be. Compared to his work persona, it's nice to see.

"Ms. L/N, I would never ask you to spend your money to play dress up for a gala I invited you to."

I nod not knowing what else to say. An entire styling team showed up at my door this morning with rack of dresses to choose from... and the shoes... well let's just say it would have made Cinderella run back home and demand to know why she couldn't have gotten Bruce Wayne as her Godmother.

His eyes gravitate to the pendant draped across my neck. A sting of pain registers on his face. I shift uncomfortably once he starts to stare. At my discomfort, Mr. Wayne apologizes.

"I'm sorry Ms. L/N. I haven't seen that necklace in a very long time."

I raise an eyebrow. Mr. Wayne never divulges this much personal information.

"Old flame?" I joke wiggling my eyebrows.

He shakes his head with a pained smile.

"That was my Mother's necklace."

My eyes widen. Martha Wayne's necklace. Instinctively, I reach to take it off. I already couldn't afford a ruby necklace, but a Wayne family heirloom? Hell no.

"I can take it off if you-" I start reaching for the clasp.

Mr. Wayne stops me in my tracks.

"Don't worry about it. That was a long time ago. "

I still hesitate. I glance awkwardly around the ballroom.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Mr. Wayne weighs carefully, "Besides, it might make for an interesting headline."

I scowl.

"I'm not going to like this am I?"

A devilish grin appears in response to my dismay.

"Welcome back to Gotham Ms. L/N."

Bruce's sons materialize a few seconds later. If I wasn't used to them suddenly appearing in my office, I would have shrieked.

"Tim. Dick." I greet with a nod, "Always a pleasure."

The younger boy looks at me like I am a puzzle piece he can't quite figure out where to put yet. Dick is as charming as ever.

"Y/N, I can't believe Bruce roped you into being his date. Have you ever considered unionizing?" He teases with a grin.

"At least, I'm getting paid to be here. What's your excuse?" I tease lightly hitting his shoulder. "Don't you have a hot date tonight Bludhaven?"

A painfully familiar shadow interrupts the conversation.

"Mr. Luthor."

Turning around, my legs begin to shake. What a wonderful... surprise. Lex nods to the three men before setting his sights on me.

"Mr. Luthor,"

Saying his formal title feels wrong, yet calling him Lex wouldn't be right either. Not after everything that has happened. Timothy's analytical gaze burns my peripheral.

"Ms. L/N, would you join me for a dance?"

I hesitate eyeing the audience that is forming. Extending his hand, Lex continues, "For old times sake?"

Three people stopped talking to gawk. I don't have much of a choice. With the amount of gossip mongrels here tonight, if I say no my face will be plastered on every gossip column in Gotham... If I say yes, well at least it will only be in Metropolis Gossip columns. I don't have much of a choice.

"Of course... Mr. Luthor." I agree through gritted teeth letting him drag me onto the dance floor.

If I thought agreeing to a waltz would quell speculation, I was poorly mistaken. Dozens of eyes follow our every movement including my boss's.

"You are only feeding into their curiosity." Lex whispers in my ear, "Those vultures know when you are weak."

"Is that what I am?" I question finally looking into his green eyes, "No need for flattery Alexander."

"There isn't any other way to explain your disappearance."

"-That's not fair."

The fire in his eyes leaves me speechless. This was not how I planned to spend my Saturday evening. For a moment, I fantasize on how this night could have gone. I could have had an early night enjoying take out... exchanged my favorite book with the cute guy next door. Slept in. Instead, I am bickering with a man who could be my Uncle over the fact I didn't take a job offer...and potentially start a relationship with him.

"Okay, so I cut you off." I start, "I'm sorry I hurt you, but things couldn't keep progressing like that. My project ended. It was time for me to go."

...and Superman told me that you started tracking my whereabouts... along with bugging my apartment... Go to therapy.

Lex shakes his head.

1, 2, 3

"You were offered a complete stipend. A guaranteed job offer. Why would you turn that down?"

My lips press together into a fine line.

1, 2, 3

The orchestra roars into a crescendo. The dance speeds up.

"You know why...." I hiss trying to keep up with his increasing tempo.

I've never been good at multitasking.

1, 2, 3.

1, 2, 3-

"-Say it," Lex demands gripping my fingers tighter, "Tell me."

The ring on his left hand gets caught on my gloves tearing the beautiful silk right down the center. The radiant green draws my attention. Kryptonite. After all this time, he still wears it. Rage causes my face to go hot. I stop dancing to grab his ring.

"This is why Lex," I snarl, "Because I am sick of watching you destroy yourself. You've read my research."

A smart ass grin stretches across his face. The onlookers exchange curious glances at our lack of dancing.

"I paid for it." He replies smugly.

"Then you should know how ludicrous this behavior is. You are going to die before you win."

His eyes get sharp. I must have hit a nerve. A vein in his forehead grows prominent. Another couple dances past us. Lex tears me out of the way before I get bulldozed. A few beats later, we are back in the dance. His hands grow tight around mine like he's afraid I might disappear again. My knuckles turn white from the pressure, but I won't give him what he wants. Pain laces up my palms.

"So, you would rather waste your career working for a halfwit like Bruce Wayne?"

I freeze for a second. This is what this is really about. Lex is jealous that I chose to work for Bruce. If it was anybody else, he could convince himself that I was downgrading, but I went to his direct competition. Thinking of the conversation I had with Bruce earlier, when nobody else is around Bruce has a strange intelligence in his mannerisms. In public, he had initially joked about not reading my research, yet once we were alone the intensity of his questions made me nervous. Considering his extracurricular activities, it's unsurprising that he would want to keep his persona lowkey. How did my job search end with watching the boys club battle it out?

"I will only say this once: My life is mine. What I choose to do is my decision. Say what you want about Mr. Wayne, but at least he respects my privacy." I growl ripping my hands out of his grasp. "Have a nice day Mr. Luthor."

Storming past the "Garden of Eden" display, I slam open the double doors. God.... Everyone there probably thinks I slept with him.

Tag List: @jjsmeowthie

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marvelfilth · 1 year ago

Text

Just to be clear

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x f!reader

Warnings: oblivious™ reader

Summary: you get the girl... eventually

Masterlist

You've never felt like you belonged in this industry. The people you've worked with were kind, compassionate and totally devoted to their craft, so creatively gifted it almost made you feel bleak in comparison, so you never felt like you could share your ideas with your fellow actors, you didn't feel brave enough to come up to a director and offer him your thoughts on the scene you were about to play out. You never thought you'd fit in enough to feel comfortable in the studio, cornered between blue screens and people dressed in superhero costumes, not when you got your first Golden Globe and not even when you got your first Oscar.

You still couldn't wrap your mind around the fact that you were nominated in the first place, let alone won, but the awards under your belt gave you enough credibility to pick and choose between roles offered to you, and you used it to your advantage, disregarding scripts sent to you to check the cast instead, only picking films with people you actually wanted to meet.

Your manager always tried his best to keep his hands to himself when you did that, barely holding back from slapping the back of your head every time you threw away an Oscar worthy script, huffing and rolling his eyes as he typed away on his phone.

That's why, when a script to Scream 7 landed in your mail, you snagged it away before he could burn it. After all, you've been a fan of the franchise for a long time now, you couldn't let an opportunity like that pass.

He groaned and banged the back of his head against the wall repeatedly when he saw the script in your hands, muttering something under his breath. You just smiled and made him schedule a meeting with the director.

You didn't regret your decision.

The first time you met the cast you felt a bit timid, seeing how familiar they were with each other, laughing and exchanging jabs around the table, before falling silent when they finally noticed you lingering at the door.

"Oh my god it's true!" Jasmine screeched, jumping up from her seat. Her eyes shone so brightly, you couldn't help but smile. "When Jenna told me you were casted I laughed in her face. I can't believe it!" She came to a stop in front of you, holding you by the elbow as she led you to the table. "What are you doing here with us peasants?"

You chuckled, feeling at ease and she blabbered on, gesturing wildly as she introduced you to the people in the room. Relief flooded through you with each smile sent your way, and soon enough you were seated at the round table, actively engaging in banter and laughter, your eyes crinkling in the corners and your grin so wide it made your cheeks hurt.

Working with them was as easy as breathing.

While Jasmine and Mason never failed to make you feel welcomed with their harmless jokes and good-natured teasing, Melissa took the role of an older sister, always making sure you felt comfortable around other actors and filming crew, showing you around the set and taking you to her favorite cafés. It made you feel warm all over and each night you returned to your rented apartment with a content smile.

Jenna, on the other hand, was an enigma. While everyone else took a direct approach from the first day, not shying away from questions about your previous projects, gossiping about people you've worked with and dragging you around the city whenever you had free time, she seemed to almost tiptoe around you, greeting you with a simple smile and tilt of her head and never uttering more than five words in your presence.

At first, you thought you did something wrong, your eyebrows furrowing each time she brushed past you, headphones around her neck and a small smile in place as she greeted you with a simple wave of her fingers. You always made sure to send her a small wave in return, your expression growing even more confused every time she ducked her head, her falling hair hiding a flustered expression she tried so hard to keep from showing on her face.

When you asked Melissa about it almost a month into filming she just laughed and shook her head, muttering something about clueless teenagers. It left you even more confused.

The next day after that conversation Jenna approached you during lunch, sitting beside you on a bench and offering a single earbud with that small smile in place. You beamed and took the offered item, spending the next forty minutes happily munching on your fries and listening to her playlist, occasionally stealing looks at the beautiful girl beside you.

A fry fell from your grasp each time your eyes met.

If you thought you spent a lot of time with Melissa and Jasmine, you were wrong, because now, three months into filming, you felt like you and Jenna were joined at the hip.

She grew bolder after your every interaction, monopolizing your lunch time at first, then moving on to picking you up in the morning and driving you back after a long day on set, and recently she chose to drive you both to her place instead, claiming she needed someone to watch the newest movie with, which usually ended up in you staying in her guest room after hours of heated discussions.

The mornings after those nights were your absolute favorite.

You'd wake up from your alarm to find her humming in the kitchen, cooking the two of you breakfast. She never made anything requiring much effort, sticking to scrambled eggs and toast, but sometimes you'd wake up a little earlier to surprise her with a new recipe, setting the table for two and waiting for the grumpy brunette. The smile she sent you at the sight never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

It was perfect, really, save for one thing.

Somewhere along the lines you started to fall in love.

You didn't know how it happened, you didn't expect it and you certainly didn't plan on it, but at the same time you weren't surprised.

Jenna could charm the pants off anyone without even trying, and the way almost every conversation you had with her almost always turned flirtatious made your heart swell in your chest.

"I love this shirt on you," she said one night after the movie ended, reaching forward to straighten the collar of your shirt, "you should wear it more often."

Somehow the shirt ended up in her closet, and when one day she wore it on set you almost face planted right on the ground, catching yourself at the last moment.

"I thought you wanted me to wear it more often?" You asked her at the end of the day, your cheeks reddening slightly at the way she smiled and hugged the fabric closer to her body.

"I think it looks even better on me."

You laughed it off and let her roam your closet that same night when she dropped you off, feeling warm all over at the sight of her being so comfortable in your space.

Melissa was the first one to notice the change in Jenna's wardrobe, but she didn't say anything, instead simply sending you a knowing smile and a thumbs up.

Jasmine, however, didn't notice until a few weeks later when the five of you were having a movie night at Mason's place, all tucked in the spacious couch spreading along the length of the room.

Jenna just came back from the kitchen with freshly made popcorn for the two of you when the movie was suddenly paused, making everyone in the room groan.

"Come on!" Mason threw his hands in the air, falling back against the cushions.

"What the hell is that?" She pointed a finger at the hoodie Jenna wore that night, your hoodie. Her eyes narrowed to slits, darting between the two of you and you could almost see the gears turn in her head. "Are you two fu-"

"Jasmine!" Melissa cut her off, taking the remote form the taller girl and unpausing the movie, shushing any attempts at asking questions.

You chose to ignore what was almost said, turning to focus on the movies when you felt your neck prickle. Knowing what it meant you kept your gaze pinned to the TV, ignoring a certain pair of brown eyes boring at the side of your head.

A hand sneaked up your thighs to rest at the edge of your shorts. "Are you okay?" She whispered, her voice quiet enough so only you could hear.

You nodded, not daring to look back at her, and placed your palm on top of her hand, lacing your fingers. She exhaled and slumped against your side, nestling her head on your shoulder.

Neither of you moved until the movie ended.

×××

All of it would've been perfect if you were the only one on the receiving end of her undivided attention.

Mason, who broke up with his girlfriend before filming started, seemed to always keep an eye on her, sending her secret smiles and whispering with her in corners of the set. She gladly followed him whenever he called her over, sharing quiet laughs and short hugs. You always looked away whenever you caught them, your knuckles turning white from the grip you had on your chair.

You kept telling yourself you didn't have a right to feel jealous, but deep down you knew it was a losing battle.

Maybe when she offered you an earbud she took your heart in exchange, gently cradling it in her soft palms only to squeeze it hard each time she walked away with Mason's arm slung around her shoulders.

You certainly felt like it when you noticed her drunkenly dancing with him after a game night you had at Melissa's place, all giggly smiles and sloppy steps.

You barely managed to take your eyes off the scene, focusing back on the cards you had, but no matter how hard you tried you couldn't concentrate, your mind still keen on what you knew was happening mere feet away.

Sighing, you sent an apologetic smile to the other two women and stood up to fix yourself another non-alcoholic drink in the kitchen, walking past the dancing pair and failing to notice the way Jenna reached out to grab you, almost falling at your feet before Mason managed to keep her upright.

You leaned against the counter, no longer interested in the drink and this night in general. Maybe it was time to go home.

A second later a pair of slender arms slid around your waist from behind. "Take me home?" Jenna asked, her words slurred against your back as she struggled to keep her balance. You turned around out to wrap an arm around her waist, keeping her pressed firmly against you.

You think you felt her hum against your neck before she pried away to look up at you, keeping hold of your shoulders.

You looked up from her glossy eyes to look back at Mason who was now throwing himself at the poor Melissa, almost crushing her in a hug.

Fingers wrapped around the back of your neck before your face was tugged back down, your breath hitching in your throat when your nose gently bumped into hers. "Why are you looking at him?" She pouted, her other hand coming up to cup your jaw, keeping your face firmly against her own. "Want you to look at me," she mumbled, failing to stay upright as she fell against your chest. It didn't stop her from muttering something you couldn't figure out as her hands circled your waist once again.

You closed your eyes, your grip on her waist hardening as you fought the urge to scoop her in your arms and kiss the pout away. You almost gave in to the urge when you felt her hands sneaking past the hem of your shirt to rest on the bare skin of your back, taking a deep breath you pulled her along to tell everyone you were leaving.

She fell asleep in the passenger seat of your car, your right hand tightly clasped between hers as she dozed off, quiet snores reaching your ears. You couldn't bring yourself to wake her up, instead carrying her to her apartment, barely managing to keep both of you upright as you unlocked the door with your key.

When you finally reached her bedroom she started to stir, turning her head from the spot on your shoulder to take in her surroundings. She let out a content breath at the sight of her bed, falling back against your shoulder, the grip she had on your neck was almost iron clad and you couldn't pry away no matter how hard you tried.

"Jenna," you stirred her gently, "Jen, let me go."

She hummed and pulled you against her, the two of you falling against the soft cushions.

It was the first time you slept in the same bed.

×××

"Wanna tell me about it?" Jasmine called the next morning, surprisingly chipper considering the amount of drinks she had yesterday.

"There's nothing to tell." You bit the inside of your cheek, sending a look to the girl slumped behind the counter.

She woke up with a nasty headache, groaning as she tried to shield her eyes from the sun with the back of her hand. You made fun of her only once, when you handed her water and Advil and immediately scurried away to make coffee when she threw a pillow in your face.

"Sure seemed like something," her tone was smug and you could already hear the start of her interrogation, but a groan from Jenna made her stumble over her words. It was way too quiet for a moment, before she finally screeched, "I knew it!"

Enduring her teasing turned out to be much easier than you thought, especially with Melissa's constant warning looks and Jenna's death glares sent her way whenever she as much as smirked at you. Eventually she relented, stomping her feet and grumbling about how unfun you were.

That left only Mason to torment your thoughts. He didn't do anything wrong. Hell, if anything, you were the one in the wrong with your unwarranted jealousy. But every time he stole Jenna from you during lunch, every time he jokingly jumped on her back between takes, both of them tumbling to the floor in heaps of laughter, made your chest constrict with that ugly feeling, leaving you to wallow in your misery as you tried your best to not pay attention to the pair.

You felt like shit every time he happily brought you sweets from the local bakery, pulling you tightly against his chest and ruffling your hair. He started doing that a long time ago, claiming it was his way to make you feel at home. It worked before, when you were blissfully unaware of your feelings towards a certain brunette, but now it left you feeling empty.

He was a great guy, anyone would be lucky to date him and the fact only spurred your jealousy even more.

You blinked when he waved at you, a confused expression on his face and you realized you were staring at him all this time.

"You spend a lot of time looking at him." A quiet voice came behind your shoulder.

You turned around to face Jenna, her stare so intense it almost made you look away. Almost.

"You spend a lot of time with him." You countered, crossing your arms.

Her brows knitted, frustration crinkling in her eyes. "That's what friends do."

You huffed, and finally looked away, the weight of her stare becoming too much for you to handle. "Right."

There was a blissful moment of silence before a chair scraped loudly against the floor.

"I'm going to kill you both," Melissa hissed, rising from her seat and throwing her script on the chair she occupied a second ago. "I'm this close," she pinched her thumb and forefinger until they were almost pressed, "to locking you two in some supply closet so you could finally figure this out. So please, please go away and talk like adults."

"We are talking…" you hesitantly spoke up, taking a step closer to Jenna.

The seething look the older woman sent your way almost made you stumble.

"We'll talk," Jenna cut in, taking you by the elbow and leading down the hall to a supply closet. The situation seemed so absurd you couldn't help but chuckle, Jenna's glare shutting you up not even a second later.

"Do you have feelings for him?" The words left her lips as soon as the door closed behind you.

You stopped dead in your tracks, staring at her, your mouth hanging open. The idea seemed so ridiculous you couldn't even form a sentence to deny it. She closed her eyes, crossing her arms against her chest. "So you do," she whispered, defeated.

And then it hit you.

She was jealous.

You thought back on the night she was drunk, the way she held you, not allowing you to look at him, demanding you to look at her instead, and today, when she caught you staring at him, she confronted you about it. You almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

The girl you fell in love with thought you were trying to steal her potential boyfriend.

You took a deep breath, blinking away the tears, your voice wavered, "I don't care about him like that." Her head shot up, her eyes focusing on your face swirled with emotion you couldn't decipher. You continued, holding her gaze, "You should go for it, though. He'd be lucky to have you."

No matter how much it hurt you to say this, you had to. He made her happy and she deserved to know she had nothing to worry about.

But as soon as the words left your lips you immediately knew it was the wrong thing to say.

"What? You think I have feelings for him?" She gaped, staring at you incredulously.

You didn't know why, but you felt really stupid at that moment. "...yes?"

She breathed in, and took measured steps towards you, leaving a few inches between you before reaching up to pull your face down, pinning you with her eyes. "And what? You want me to chase after him? Want to give me advice on how to get the man?" Her words were laced with something dangerous, and you felt like this moment was about to change your whole life.

You swallowed. "I- if that's what you want," you whispered.

She stared at you in silence for what felt like ages, before scoffing and turning around on her heel, stomping away and leaving you to your thoughts in the dimly lit space.

That was definitely the wrong thing to say.

"What the fuck did you do?" Melissa cornered you right after the filming wrapped for the day, tugging you by the elbow to her trailer, and pushing you on the uncomfortable couch.

"I think I screwed up."

"Yeah, no shit. Tell me everything."

And you did. You told her about the first time you caught yourself staring at Jenna, about the first night you spent at her apartment and the morning after that, full of soft smiles and gentle touches. You told her about the way you felt whenever you saw her wearing your clothes, how it made you giddy and full of hope. You told her about the first time you felt jealousy coursing through your veins, all those weeks ago when Mason snatched Jenna away for the first time. You told her how elated you felt when she fell asleep snuggled against you, snoring away in the crook of your neck. You wiped a stray tear and told her about what you said just hours ago.

"You're both idiots," she groaned, but pulled you into her arms, holding you tight while you tried to blink away the tears.

×××

It didn't get easier after that, if anything it all became even worse. Jenna avoided you like a plague, disappearing from sight when your eyes met, and hiding behind Mason whenever you tried to approach. You tried your best to not let the hurt show on your face, after all, you were the one to push them together, but judging by the worried look on his face, you did a very poor job.

Jasmine took it upon herself to lift your spirits, taking the empty spot by your side during lunch and carpooling with you after long days of shooting. You could see questions swimming in her eyes, could see the way her eyes darted to you whenever Jenna entered the room.

You couldn't answer her questions when you yourself didn't know the answer.

Jenna was supposed to be happy by now, but the dark circles under her eyes and slight tremble of her hands told you a different story.

You tried asking Melissa, but she just shook her head and rolled her eyes whenever you bugged her about it.

"Figure it out yourself," she said after two weeks of you begging her for answers.

You tried hard, you really did. Doesn't mean you were successful.

When the director mentioned a wrap party taking place next month, dread filled your stomach. With your mind constantly preoccupied with Jenna you didn't even notice how much time has passed.

It was time to do something.

"Are you stalking her now?" Mason asked you as he rounded his car after a long day of filming.

You blinked from your spot on the hood of Jenna's car. "Maybe."

He snorted, opening the door. "Just tell her already."

You tensed, knitting your brows. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh my god," he grumbled, throwing his head back to look at the night sky. He straightened then, and briskly walked up to you, taking hold of your shoulders. "She's in love with you." He punctuated each word with a shake to your shoulders.

He waited for you to process his words before he took a step back, watching the gears turn in your head.

You gulped, hopping off the hood, shaking your head in denial before thinking back on the conversation you had with Jenna a few weeks ago in that small supply room. The way she looked so small and defeated when she thought you had feelings for Mason, the way she stared at you when you told her she was wrong, waiting for you to say something before you screwed it all up.

Want you to look at me, she said all that time ago.

Oh God.

"She's in love with me," you whispered.

Mason almost jumped in relief, closing the distance between you in two short strides, and pulled you in his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead, before he suddenly tensed, pushing you away. "I'll leave you to deal with that." He muttered before scurrying to his car and driving off in record time.

You looked behind your shoulder just in time to see Jenna approach you with pursed lips.

"What was that?" She asked, avoiding your eyes.

You turned around to face her, your lips stretching in a grin so wide it made you look like an idiot, or a love struck fool. You bounced on your heels, barely managing to stop yourself from lunging at the smaller woman, your eyes roaming around her form, drinking her in after so many days spent staring at her from across the room.

She finally looked up when silence stretched for a long awkward moment, her brows disappearing behind her bangs at your excited smile. A corner of her mouth went up almost unconsciously, your happiness so contagious she found herself relaxing.

And then she frowned. "What are you doing here?"

Under her scrutinizing gaze you felt like the air was sucked from your chest, but you braved on, taking the chance to make things right.

"Well, my original plan was to jump in the car with you, hoping you wouldn't throw me out." You began your rant, training your eyes on the small logo of her t-shirt. Your t-shirt, you realised after a second, the sight giving you enough confidence to look her in the eye. "I prepared this really long speech about my stupidity and jealousy clouding my thoughts and influencing my actions, and it ended in professing my feelings for you. My romantic feelings, just to be clear. Also there was a bit about fighting Mason for your affections, but it was recently pointed out to me that it's probably no longer necessary..." you trailed off, suddenly hesitant.

What if the weeks you spent gaining courage made her feelings change?

You took a deep breath and looked up just in time to see her throw herself at you, pulling you in a bruising kiss. You squeaked in surprise, eyes growing comically wide as she settled in your arms, her hands circling your neck to pull you impossibly closer.

Her lips felt like heaven, so soft and responsive and gentle, gliding against your own, her tongue swiping against your bottom lip, and then you were pushed against the hood of her car, her hands trailing down your body to hide beneath the fabric of your shirt, gripping at the burning skin of your waist hard enough to leave marks.

You pulled away for a breath, her body tensing before she saw the adoring look in your eyes and your blinding smile. "Do you want to hear the speech? I have it memorized." You asked, nuzzling your nose against her cheek.

"I want you to be quiet," she muttered, her fingers threading through your hair to pull you closer. "And you're on probation, by the way," she said, before pulling you in for another passionate kiss, pulling little whines and moans out of you as she dipped her other hand in the back pocket of your jeans, squeezing you possessively.

"Just to be clear," you mumbled between kisses, "I'm in love with you."

Her breath caught in her throat as she pulled away, looking up at you, her eyes wide and vulnerable. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." You pulled her against your chest, burrowing your face in her soft hair.

Later that night, when the two of you lay in her bed, trying to catch your breath, she burrowed into your side, mumbling something against you, her soft breath sending shivers down your spine.

"What was that?" You tugged her chin up.

Her eyes opened, alight with mischief. "I said I was the one to mail you the script."

"What? Why?"

She groaned, ducking her head. "They thought you'd never agree to a movie like that, completely disregarded my suggestion to ask you, but I had to try, so I stole the script and mailed it to you."

You bit your lip to keep yourself from grinning at her confession. "And why was it so important for me to be in this movie?"

"I wanted to meet you," she murmured, placing kisses over your collarbone, "because I've been enamored with you ever since Jasmine made me watch that stupid Marvel movie all those years ago."

You let out a surprised oh, your heart hammering against the ribcage and your mouth hanging open as you tried to process the information.

"Just to be clear..." Her hands came up to cradle your head, her thumbs trailing circles on the sensitive skin behind your ears, her eyes shining so brightly it felt like they lit the whole room. "... I'm in love with you, too."

×××

When you walked on set the next morning, your arm slung around her shoulders and her hand around your waist, almost everyone in the room let out a collective ear piercing squeal.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #scream #wednesday #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #just to be clear

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hardlyinteresting · 1 month ago

Text

Any Other Way

Tyler Owens x Reader

As voted on by you the people. Relationships aren’t too unlike Tornadoes when you really think about it.

Warnings: The reader is referred to as she/her, passing mentions of childhood injuries and bull riding accidents (nothing detailed or graphic), depictions of storms and tornadoes. (please let me know if you want me to tag anything else).

Word count: 1.3K

Masterlist | Talk to me about Tyler and Jake

The first time he ever saw a tornado touch down it was only a couple miles outside his home town. it's the same town he met her in. A force of nature; upending his life in ways neither of the two of them would have been able to anticipate in that bar all those months ago.

He thinks now that nature and fate must be much the same, dictated by some higher power he's always believed in but never truly understood. As terrifying as it is mesmerizing, he finds him head over heels for her and it scares the shit out of him.

Life moves faster when he's just falling into it. He's fallen out of trees as a kid, and been thrown from horses; an adrenaline rush halted only by a sudden and painful meeting with the ground. Love feels somewhat the same. He'd heard the phrase whirlwind romance, but he never expected it to be so life-altering.

She rides shotgun in his truck and wears his favourite flannels, she changes the radio station while they are driving and he doesn't even flinch. As terrifying as it all is he chooses to look for the beauty in all of it. Tucked safely in his truck harnesses as the world spins around them he's certain he's finally found a safe place to land.

The sound of the tornado passing right over the top of them echoes in his ears, and his eyes after all these years of chasing are still never quite sure where to focus. At a distance he's practiced at identifying precipitation patterns, analyzing the structures and collapses of storms; he's made a living doing it. But, in the centre of the storm, it's the pounding of his own heart rate that grabs his attention. Riding out a fear isn't the same as ignoring it, so he chooses to let it ground him. He focuses his mind on the science and the still unfathomable pulchritude of the natural world.

Unrestrained and blithesome, laughter escapes him as the dust settles and they climb out of the truck. Her smile is as big as he's ever seen, it as she jokes along with Boone who clambers out of the backseat camera in hand. With an excited prompt from his friend, and the camera pointed in his direction, Tyler is quick to explain some of the science to their viewers breaking down their tornado experience into layman's terms. It's one of his favourite parts of the job; spreading joy and wonder.

A few feet away he watches her grinning as she observes first-hand the soft purpling of the sky above in the wake of the storm. These are the good days.

On the bad days; hours in the truck, and nights spent on bad mattresses havoc on everyone's bodies. A lack of promising storms on the radars leaves them pacing gas station parking lots, and sitting around the motel rooms they swore they didn't want to spend time in except to sleep.

The air conditioner buzzes, humming an air of uneasiness into the already tense room. The room is silent otherwise and Tyler wishes one of the two of them would say something, but after 12 hours of nothing but waiting there doesn't seem to be much conversation left to have. She sprawls out on the bed, her arm draped over her eyes blocking out the yellow incandescent lamp light. He scrolls on his laptop, wading through radars and projections, searching for a new destination and a new objective, his fingers tapping an untimed beat against the bedside table. It's the calm before the storm.

He can't pinpoint when the tension began to grow though in hindsight he's sure he should've seen it coming. But next thing he's in a shouting match, his own behaviour thrown at him as a heavy insult, he knows he's saying things he doesn't mean. In the middle of it all his heart races, waiting for the calm once more so he might be able to understand what happened. The door slams behind her when she leaves, and the brown shag carpet is scratchy against the palms of his hands as he lowers himself to sit next to the bed. Defeated he tries to analyze her actions and his own, accessing the potential damage as he goes.

Who's to blame? who's at fault? He doesn't care as he replays the events of the day in his head. The bigger questions rattle around his skull begging for his attention, where did she go? Should he go after her? The aftermath is always the hardest part of a storm.

A sudden flash of red illuminating his laptop screen has him on his feet and across the room again in a heartbeat. An unexpected, oncoming storm. His stomach feels lead-lined as he taps her contact on his phone; gutted when he hears the rhythmic vibration on the nightstand. Her phone lit up with his contact photo.

There's a hopeless in it, the wind howling through the small town, whipping around the tiny motel. He hopes they're not in the direct path of the storm, but he doesn't take the time to check. Texts from Boone and Dani confirm they're sheltering with Lily and Dexter. Tyler texts back: looking for her.

His breath rattles in his chest, and he ignores the way his hands shake as he calls out her name, hoping beyond hope that she's near by. Surely she noticed the shift in the weather and found somewhere safe. Surely this isn't how he loses her, on the back of a stupid fight.

He thinks his knees might buckle if he lets himself stand still for too long, a foolish brand of restlessness stirs him into moving. The thought of what he stands to lose pounding in the back of his mind. The air is thick, and the rain that's now falling makes it hard for him to see the ground in front of him. He fights his way forward without a thought of himself, it's not the storm that scares him, but rather what it might take that strikes the chord of fear he's wrestled his whole life.

He manages to make his way across the parking lot of the eerie quiet town, the echo of a storm siren blaring in the near distance. The window of the motel office has been shattered by some kind of debris and he has to shield himself from the wind even indoors, crouching low as he moves. He calls her name again, he voice cracking in a desperate plea.

“Tyler?” A tear filled voice calls from behind the counter.

He finds her curled on the floor under the large front desk, the sweet motel owner Doris holding tightly to her. He slips himself beneath the desk taking note of where it's bolted into the ground, a good distance from the windows; she's a clever girl. “I'm sorry,” she gasps out quickly, her eyes locking onto his own, “me too, darlin’,” he swears, “but we'll have time to talk about it later”.

The world grows quiet again, pounding rain, and vicious winds slowing before stopping, air pressure releasing its heavy hold. He helps Doris out from under their hiding place, the gray haired older woman patting his hand in thanks as she catches her breath. He helps his girl up next not at all shocked when she throws herself against his chest. The familiar smell of her shampoo, and the feeling of his own flannel shirt on her frame ground him.

“We're okay, baby,” he promises.

“I got you these,” she says holding out a now crushed packet of milk duds. “I just wanted to clear my mind and I saw them in the vending machine. I was on my way back to the room--but the storm. I didn't mean to scare you”.

His smile is wide despite the weight of tears behind his eyes, “honey, you scare the hell out of me and I wouldn't want it any other way”.

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens #twisters 2024 #twisters fic #tyler owens fic #tyler owens x you

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masivechaos · 2 months ago

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there's nothing cats can't fix!

── ☆ patrick verona x gn! reader

── ☆ Request: yes / no

── ☆ Synopsis: Patrick finds you upset after a bad grade in math and he knows exactly how to make you feel better

── ☆ Warning/content: my English

── ☆ a.n.: 0.9k words-

masterlist/ ttihay masterlist / navigation / taglist

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.──

“Hey there,” Patrick grinned as he approached you. “How you doin’?”

You glanced up, eyes tired “I’m… fine, I guess,” you said as you got into your car “What do you what?”

“Can’t I just check up on you?” he dared with a smile playing on his lips, he rested his arm on the top of your car, he kept talking to you, bent over so he could speak through your open window.

You sighed, not answering to your usual banter. Patrick frowned “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you answered a second too fast.

Patrick shook his head “You can’t make me believe that lie. What’s happening in this head of yours?” he asked, a little softer. He didn’t want to press you but he also wanted to know.

With your eyes closed and the back of your head against your seat, you spoke, “Just a bad grade in maths, nothing important”

Patrick’s face softened “Ah, maths,” he whispered “It’s just one grade. It’s fine”

You opened your eyes “No it’s not, it’s not my first C- and I feel like I can’t get better at maths. I try, I really do. But maybe I’m just not made for this.”

“Don’t say that,” Patrick immediately said “C’mon now, stop being so upset, it won’t help you get better.”

“I know,” you answered a little more harshly than intended.

Patrick rolled his eyes, “Get out of the car,” he commanded.

You glanced up, eyebrows frowned in confusion “What?”

“Get out of the car,” he said again, softer. Still not understanding, you opened your door. “Now, get into the passenger seat.”

Once settled, you sighed “I can drive myself just fine.”

“Choose another moment to act tough,” he said as he put his seatbelt on.

“And where are we going?” you asked, too tired to handle if it ever was a sort of joke.

He stared at the road as he drove “Don’t you trust me?”

You sighed “I do, I do”

Of course you trusted him. He was your best friend at the moment, he always knew what to say, how to cheer you up. When you first met him, you couldn’t have imagined how important he would become to you. He didn’t have the best reputation, hell, he even had lots of scary rumours about him (which you had found out were false).

And maybe, just maybe, you had a tiny bit of a crush on him.

It wasn’t your fault though. Who could resist the Patrick Verona grin?

You and Patrick drove to the sound of the radio blasting the Cardigans. He knew that during these moments, you didn’t like to speak. So despite his urge to make sure you felt a little better and the hint of worry in his chest, he kept his mouth shut, fingers drumming on the steering wheel.

After twenty minutes, he pulled over. You looked out the window “Where are we?””

“It’s a surprise,” Patrick smiled as he got out of the car and hastily moved to the passenger side and opened the door. “Come here”

You walked for a minute before Patrick stopped “Here we are,” he said.

Your gaze explored the frontage, eyebrows knitted together “Marceline’s cat café?” you whispered and then your eyes widened “wait-”

You turned around and beamed at Patrick, “You took me to a cat café? Why? How?”

As Patrick saw your smile, he knew exactly why he had done this. To make you happy “Well… you had been talking about wanting to go to one and you seemed pretty upset today so I thought… why not.”

You kept beaming at him “No way,” you whispered under your breath.

Patrick led you inside, the café was cosy and sunny, cats displayed everywhere, on the floor, on a chair, on shelves, on their cat tree “Oh my…” you mumbled in awe

You both took a seat “This is so cute,” you said when you saw a cat on the chair next to yours.

Patrick chuckled. Once you both had your drinks, you started to talk about mindless things, school, parents, homework, things like that…

“I swear it’s so-”

Patrick glanced up from his limonade when he heard you stop talking. And then he saw the cat crawling in your lap. He chuckled as he saw you froze with a huge grin on your face, not wanting the cat to leave.

The cat, with its long black hairs, turned around on your thighs before finally deciding to lay there, curled up.

“Patrick Patrick Patrick!!” you whispered, excited “Are you seeing this?

“I am,” he said with an amused grin, “He likes you.” Who wouldn’t? He thought.

You kept staring down at the little fur ball in your lap with a grin. Patrick’s heart felt warm in his chest, this was definitely a better sight than seeing you all upset because of maths earlier. You looked so adorable like this, a cat was enough to make you happy and he loved this idea. You carefully leaned forward a bit and wrapped your lips around the straw of your drink, the cold strawberry lemonade felt good for this hot weather.

“You’re feeling better?” he asked softly.

You glanced up from your lap, still in awe of the small cat “Yeah definitely, thank you” you said with a genuine smile that changed something in Patrick. He just loved you so much.

“Next time, don’t worry so much for a simple maths grade,” he smiled

“Yeah I know…” You were definitely someone who constantly worried too much for nothing and Patrick knew that. But now that he was here, he was going to help you as much as he could.

“And remember,” he grinned, “There’s nothing cats can’t fix.”

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.──

#patrick verona x reader #patrick verona imagine #patrick verona #10 things i hate about you imagine #10 things i hate about you x reader #10 things i hate about you #reader insert

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asliceofzosan · 1 year ago

Text

in which Zoro takes the blame for not paying for the food at the Baratie (sequel to Sanji witnessing the riceball incident in Shells Town)

Ribeye steaks piled one on top of the other, a massive helping of mashed potatoes with boatloads of gravy, salads, soups, and fancy dishes with names Zoro can't pronounce — all made up the massively long order list that he knows Luffy has not a single Berry to his name to pay with.

Zoro looks around the place, tuning out the story of the giant goldfish that Usopp has told them before, his eyes resting on the blonde waiter flitting about and flirting with every woman at every table.

Sanji was his name. Zoro didn't recognize it. But when he arrived to their table and saw Zoro, it looked like their resident waiter recognized him. Zoro's reputation in the East Blue is not a laughing matter, so it didn't bother him at first. But the way Sanji stared at him, wide blue eyes and with a touch of a smile on his lips, told Zoro that there's something a lot more than recognition swimming in that man's head.

He can't put a finger on what it is exactly though. It's driving him crazy.

"Waiter, can I get a beer and something for my friends?"

Sanji turns to him and nearly steps back in shock. Zoro quirks an eyebrow, confused and a little annoyed. He wore his best clothes today (Captain's orders). And he's pretty sure he even took his mandatory once-a-week bath before they went inside (Nami's orders). Still the waiter looked at him like Zoro had grown a second head. Like he couldn't quite believe his eyes.

"Maybe there really is something wrong with your eye," Zoro muses, crossing his arms as Sanji quickly straightens his posture and shoves his hands into his pockets. "Got a problem with me, waiter?"

Sanji coughs out a laugh. Zoro notes with narrowed eyes that there is the slightest tint of pink coloring his cheeks. Is he blushing? The fuck?

"None at all, sir. I think I was just seeing things." The look in the waiter's eyes betrays his statement but Zoro chooses to say nothing. With a practiced smile, he turns back to Nami and asks her how she'd like her water that makes Zoro stare at him this time like he's grown a second head.

"And um..." Zoro is surprised Sanji hasn't left yet and is once again directly addressing him. "We have a few specialty riceballs not on the menu today. I'll bring them out... on the house."

Without even explaining what the fuck that meant, Sanji turns on his heels and beelines straight for the kitchen.

"I think Nami's boyfriend might be yours too, Zoro." Usopp teases him with a snicker and the glare he gives him is sharper than the blades of his swords.

Now, here Zoro is, letting Ussop's words affect him more than they have any right to as he downs his third bottle of beer.

The specialty rice balls haven't come out yet. Zoro's starting to think it's just a sick joke. But he doesn't let it get to him. Or tries to. Why offer free food when you can't deliver on it? Fucking ridiculous. And no, it's not like he suddenly craved rice balls when the blasted waiter mentioned them. That's not it at all. Bullshit.

"Didn't the waiter said he's coming by with rice balls?" Zoro finally snaps and the conversation his crew was having died down immediately at his statement. Ah fuck. He probably should have just kept his mouth shut because Nami was now looking at him with a shit-eating grin not entirely unlike the one he gave her when he teased her before the meal.

"How would you like them, oh great swordsman?" She teases with a glint in her eye. She cups her cheeks with her hands in delight at the irritated snarl Zoro gives her.

"With or without seaweed?" Ussop chimes in.

"Cubed or crushed?"

"Fuck off," Zoro hisses between his teeth. Nami and Ussop share a look before bursting into laughter. Zoro looks over at Luffy who was swinging his feet and obliviously sipping his milk. When Luffy makes eye contact with him, he just tilts his head with wide blank eyes and it makes Zoro question all his life choices.

"You wanna ask him?" Luffy says, already clamoring over the booth and waving at the object of Zoro's unexplained irritation. Zoro sinks into the seat as Sanji approaches with the bill for their meal.

"Your bill, sir."

"Zoro's asking if you're gonna bring the rice balls you promised." Zoro just stared up at the ceiling and thought of a million different ways to cut a hole into the floor so that the ocean could take him.

There is a headache inducing silence that follows Luffy's question. Zoro can't help but finally look at the waiter and he doesn't know how to explain the feeling that bubbles up when they make direct eye contact. Maybe it's indigestion. It's probably indigestion.

Instead of bringing up the damn rice balls, Zoro just grabs the tray with the bill from Luffy's hand. Just as expected, his annoyingly endearing captain put down an I.O.U for the ridiculously long list of food they ordered. Several possible scenarios could happen from this. And Zoro doesn't want to think about Luffy wreaking havoc in someone else's kitchen.

With a deep sigh through his nose and a knowing look at Nami, Zoro wrote down his own name in place of Luffy's.

"Zoro, what—" Luffy almost took the bill back when Zoro stood up and handed it directly to the waiter, who looked just as dumbfounded as the rest of them.

"If your head chef's got a problem with that, he can talk to me directly. Tell him that for me, won't you?" Sanji takes the bill, reads what's written, and there's a phantom lurch in his chest that happens when Sanji looks up at him and smiles. Zoro doesn't want to describe it. He'll allow himself to firmly believe that it's a side effect of eating too much food. It's indigestion. You're just constipated. Never mind that the feeling is most prominent in his chest and not his stomach.

"Of course, sir." Sanji purrs and the sound runs like a cold river down Zoro's spine. There's a hint of mischief in the gleam of his visible eye. Every instinct in Zoro tells him it's dangerous. He should take his crew out of here, onto the Merry, and run.

But he stays rooted to the spot, wrist limp on the hilt of his sword, as he watches that damn waiter walk away from him.

"WHO THE HELL IS RORONOA ZORO?!"

The steady routine of washing the dishes helps quiet Zoro's racing mind.

It's a very welcome distraction. The clinking of the ceramic against metal utensils provides a cacophonous symphony that helps drown out all of Zoro's waking thoughts. The sooner he starts to think, the sooner he starts to notice how that stupid fucking waiter has just been sitting at the table behind him, cursing Zoro with his mere presence.

Scrub scrub scrub...

"You sure you don't want any help?"

Scrub scrub rinse...

"No."

Scrub rinse dry...

"I really have nothing better to do."

Zoro's eye twitches.

"Good for you."

A long silence follows this and Zoro thinks the waiter finally gave up. That was until...

"Are you still mad about the rice balls?"

"Oh my god!" Zoro nearly slams a pile of dishes onto the floor. He turns to Sanji, who is just casually smoking at the table, and stomps over to him. Once he was right in front of him, Zoro snarls at him, one hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Talk about those damn rice balls one more time, I'm gonna chop your head clean off for them to use in tomorrow's ramen stock."

Sanji blinks, then turns his head to the side to blow smoke away from Zoro. Zoro tries to convince himself that he isn't staring at the way Sanji's lips purse around the cigarette in the process.

"I can still make you the rice balls," Sanji says without a single ounce of fear in his body. "I just couldn't do it while the old man was around." He then stands up and steps around Zoro with a practiced grace. "Are you willing to wait ten minutes?"

"I'm not hungry," Zoro hisses but his stomach betrays him with a loud grumble. He's been washing dishes for so many hours. He probably missed dinner.

Then, as Zoro straightens his posture, Sanji does it again — he smiles and Zoro doesn't know what to do.

"Sit." Sanji gently nudges a chair out with his foot. It lands perfectly in front of Zoro at a perpendicular angle. "I'll have them out in five."

"You said ten minutes." Zoro found himself saying, only to be contradictory. Sanji laughs this time and the resulting smile pierces Zoro's heart with a million cursed swords.

"When someone's hungry, I feed them." Sanji says simply and that's the statement that ends their conversation. Zoro still refuses to sit on the chair, instead finding himself gravitating towards the counter that Sanji was preparing his ingredients at and leaning against the marble.

Before Sanji found them at their table, he brought down a marine and a fearsome pirate with just his feet. Zoro was fascinated by his fighting style even if he didn't want to admit it out loud. But he's always been curious. Especially now, with Sanji whipping out the sharpest knives and using them effortlessly as Zoro would wield the Wado Ichimonji.

"You're good with knives," Zoro says before he could stop himself. Sanji chuckles.

"Of course, I am. I'm a chef. Best one in the East Blue."

"What's a chef doing waiting tables, then?"

"Cause I was kicked off the line this morning. It's a weekly occurrence, nothing special." The way Sanji scrapes his ingredients into a bowl betrayed how he felt about it despite his nonchalance. "I can cook better dishes than everyone in this damn kitchen but Zeff refuses to acknowledge that. It's always 'your food is crap', 'slice those carrots thinner', or 'needs more fucking oregano—"

Sanji throws the knife onto the cutting board, its tip now embedded neatly straight down the middle. It stood perfectly still, like it was afraid of what Sanji could do if he added more pressure. Zoro raised an eyebrow, looking up at the now irritated cook with a smirk.

"Sorry," Sanji mumbles, taking the knife and cleaning it carefully with a cloth. Zoro says nothing. He just props his elbow on the counter and places his chin into his hand as he watches Sanji in his element. Eventually, it's down to just shaping the rice balls with his hands and Zoro asks the question that poked at his mind during Sanji's mini outburst.

"If you're so dissatisfied cooking here why don't you just leave?"

Sanji pauses. His head is down, his blonde fringe obscuring one eye as his fingers twitch against the rice ball.

"It's not about that."

"Yeah?" Zoro leans as close as he could get with the counter between them. Sanji still refuses to look up. "A hot-headed cook who claims to be the best in the East Blue settling down here — where he is not head chef — is as contradictory as it gets."

"You don't know–" Sanji snaps but stops himself immediately. He looks up to glare at Zoro through narrowed eyes. "You don't know why I still stay."

"Enlighten me then, cook." Zoro leans his hip against the counter. "Because really, someone as good as you claim to be has got to have some ambitions. Dreams." Zoro holds the man's gaze. "Do you hate the old man?"

"No!" Sanji counters immediately. "The man fucking raised me. I owe him my goddamn life!"

"Owing him your life isn't the same as giving up your life to work at a restaurant that barely lets you cook."

"You don't know shit!" Sanji nearly slams his fist down on the counter, pointing a finger at Zoro with his face beet red. "This restaurant was his dream—"

"But is it your dream?"

Silence. Total utter silence.

Where color is nothing but a dark void of black and grey, a sea of blue greets him from the pages. Vivid pink skies and tangerine mangroves burst to life. All types of fish swim in his mind's eye but if he reaches out to touch them, it certainly should be real. A phantom breeze kisses his cheeks and water laps at his feet. He's drowning but he swims in delight. He's falling but he feels the clouds cushion him with warmth.

There is a vast ocean out there, one that contains delicacies and species from all four seas. Creatures of every kind, spices that have never been tasted.

The All Blue.

In Sanji's world of black and white — he strives to find the one place that's in screaming color.

There are tears in Sanji's eyes before Zoro could comprehend what was going on. But he wipes them away before he can get a good look at him. The kitchen was quiet around them. The only sound peeking through was the faint music from the bar outside. Though Zoro's heartbeat was louder in his ears than his own breathing.

But he could hear each footstep Sanji takes, the scrape of the plate as it's pushed in Zoro's direction, and the click click of Sanji's lighter as he helps himself to another cigarette. Zoro looks down and sees the rice balls presented in front of him — three heaping helpings, all coated in a different topping, all different flavors.

Zoro takes one.

And it's the best rice ball he's ever had in his life.

"I have a dream," Sanji murmurs, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. One glance and Zoro could see that whatever his dream is... it still burns like molten lava in the heart of this chef. "I'd just rather give up on it than die searching for mine."

Zoro swallows, turns around, and takes the cigarette from Sanji. The ashes fall into his palm, its embers dimming as he squishes it between his fingers.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Zoro says, looking up to make eye contact with Sanji. He can see it almost immediately — the longing for something that seems near impossible to achieve, the acceptance that it's hopeless — but Zoro sees it, clear as day, that the flickering flame of hope still shines in Sanji's eyes. That he's just waiting for his sign to let it once again consume his soul in a roaring fire, brighter than even the sun could be.

Zoro wants to see him shine.

"Come meet my captain," Zoro instinctively wraps his hand around Sanji's wrist. Surprisingly, Sanji doesn't pull back. "I think he'd really like to get to know you."

Sanji doesn't protest.

Zoro takes the rice balls to go.

Never waste food.

#niki's fics: debt and doing dishes #one piece #sanji #roronoa zoro #opla #zosan #one piece live action #nami #ussop #monkey d luffy #MY GUYS IT GOT SO LONG I THINK THERE NEEDS TO BE A PART THREE #roronoa zoro x vinsmoke sanji #zoro x sanji #fic series: it all started with a dirty rice ball

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tinydefector · 7 months ago

Note

Other characters' reactions to Megatron in a romantic relationship with human liaison reader.

Question's and Quiries

Megatron x human reader

Warnings: non

Word count: 1.6K

Request and ask open read pinned post.

Megatron masterlist

__________________

Many aboard the Lost Light would be shocked and concerned to discover Megatron in a secret relationship with the human ambassador for the ship. As Ex leader of the Decepticons, whose sole purpose has been conquest and destruction, becoming emotionally attached to an organic seemed unfathomable to many of the bots.

Word of the unlikely pairing would spread quickly through the vessel's corridors and hab suites. Many Autobots who suffered under Megatron's tyranny for vorns would recoil in disbelief and distrust, and even other bots more worried about the human, were they in a decent state of mind, were they being threatened?. Even neutral crew members found it difficult to accept. Had their captain truly changed after all this time? Or had he simply developed a new, disturbing method of manipulation? Either way, keeping the ambassador closely aligned posed serious risks.

Rodimus was the first to hear rumours among the crew of the Lost Light that Megatron had taken a human ambassador aboard as something more than a diplomatic liaison. He had heard it from Swerve who had apparently heard Megatron drunkenly confess he adored them, loved them even.

"Megatron? In a relationship with an organic?" Rodimus laughed incredulously. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. Maybe if it was Optimus, but Megatron? He hates all other lifeforms." Rodimus had stated which made Swerve hit him with a cloth.

"I'm telling you he was mopping around the bar drinking Energex like it was nothing, trying to work on poetry, he's fraggin smitten with the Ambassador!" Swerve states while cleaning more glasses.

"The mech may scare the shit out of me but he becomes a sobbing mess when drunk, I can see why he never drunk during the war, could have ended it so much earlier with a drunken poetry night" Swerve jokes, trying to calm his own racing spark after the earlier interaction with the ex warlord.

Swerve, ever the gossip made news spread like wildfire.

Rodimus, Tailgate, Cyclonus and Skids and heard it from him. Rodimus told it to Drift who told it to Ratchet, tailgate told it to Whirl who shouted about it publicly. Skids had told it to Rung, who in turn relayed it to Ultra Magnus.

"Can you believe it?" Swerve asked other members at his bar, optics wide. "The big, bad tyrant of the Decepticons has gone soft! I never thought I'd see the orn." Though said lightly, there may be an undercurrent of hope in his voice.

Tailgate, on the other hand, would be fearful yet curious. A secret admirer of the human ambassador, they were friends in his eyes, he nonetheless knows of Megatron's violent past. The idea of a human so close to the warlord would fill him with terror...yet also he himself was with a Decepticon, ex decepticon.

As for Cyclonus, his reaction is the hardest to read. Stoic and stalwart, the former Decepticon says little. But observation of his microexpressions hints at deep surprise.

When Rodimus approaches Drift with a similar story, having heard it from several sources, Drift doubts begin to fade, he had watched them for a while but now it seemed as if he theory had been confirmed. "This can't be true... Can it? Why would Megatron bother with a human?, he isn't very... open to contact”

From there Drift finds himself in the medibay, Ratchet let out an exasperated sigh when Drift told him about the rumours. "Megatron, caring for an organic? I'll believe it when I see it with my own optics. That mech is still as twisted and dangerous as ever, no matter who he chooses to consort with.”

When news finally reached Magnus, an emergency session was called. Shouting matches erupted as Rodimus and Ultra Magnus demanded explanations, one in shock and excitement the other wanting to make sure This wasn't a ploy. How did this happen under their watch, and what were Megatron's real intentions? The safety of the crew and their mission was of utmost priority, something the ambassador's unusual relationship with the former warlord could jeopardise.

As chaos reigned aboard the ship, few knew what to make of Megatron and his human companion. But most agreed their unforeseen bond, if genuine, heralded great uncertainty for the future...Cybertronians had never tried courting outside of their own species, and so many questions came from it.

Rodimus couldn't believe it when the rumours started spreading. Megatron, in a relationship with an organic? It seemed too bizarre to be true. Rodimus decided to confront Megatron directly to find out if it really was true. He had found Megatron deep in discussion with the human, hands gesturing animatedly as they spoke. The familiarity between them was unmistakable.

"So the rumours are true," Rodimus said abruptly. "You and the... ambassador?"

Megatron turned, his optics glowing dangerously. "What I do is no concern of yours, Rodimus." He tries to defend before eventually sighing and confirming. Megatron said impassively. "They enjoy listening to my writings, and I enjoy watching them when they work on their projects. Now leave us in peace." But when he confronted Megatron about it directly, the warlord didn't deny it. A smile crosses his face as he talks about them.

Rodimus shook his head in disbelief as he hassled Megatron for more information, how did a relationship like that even work, the size difference itself, one being Cybernetic and the other Organic.

Ultra Magnus was deeply uneasy about the whole affair. An organic aboard one of their ships was risky enough, but for them to be fraternising with Megatron of all bots it worries him. He had fought against Megatron countless times and seen the depths of his cruelty.

"Are you certain of this?" Ultra Magnus asked gravely.�� "Megatron and a human?" Ratchet could only nod grimly in response, he continues working as Drift sits off to the side. “Shocked me when the Ambassador came in for a health check, learned too much on megatron's interface life, for a lifetime” Ratchet confirms.

"What does this mean for our relations with humans?" Rung wondered aloud. "Will they still see us as allies?” he asked, slightly worried.

It seemed impossible that the Decepticon could truly care for another. He feared this relationship was merely a ploy by Megatron to manipulate the ambassador and advance his own goals.

But watching them had changed his feelings on the matter. Watching Megatron lift them up to watch the stars throughout the observation deck. Listened to Megatron laugh, a true laugh when in their presence. How Megatron went out of his way to make sure they were content.

"I do not understand," Rodimus said slowly, turning to his companions. "Has Megatron gone soft? Or is this some new trickery, like dont get me wrong I'm glad that they are happy but does it feel unreal to anyone else?"

Brainstorm, ever the scientist, was endlessly fascinated. "Just think of the advances we could make by studying their physiology up close!" he said excitedly. "Too bad Megsy's being so selfish, keeping them all to himself." Nautica smiled and reminded him that they was a person, not a lab experiment. But privately, even she wished to learn more about these "humans.”

Drift frowned thoughtfully. "The ways of the spark are mysterious. Perhaps even one as Megatron is capable of love." His optics linger on the Larger mech who was discussing paperwork with the human sitting on the table in front of him. Red optics look down at the human softly as they chat softly amongst themselves.

Ratchet scoffed. "Love is it? I'd believe Unicron had a change of sparks before Megatron. Mark my words, this will end in nothing but trouble and spilled energon. That human has no idea what kind of Mech they're dealing with."

Tailgate let out a squeak of surprise. "Aww, they look so cute! He looks like a love sick sparkling!" tailgate was wrapped in Cyclonus' arms as they watched the two.

Drift shoots Ratchet a look, in turn the medic sighs at his harsh words, he knew all too well what it was like falling in love with a Decepticon, he was being. A hypocrite and he knew it.

And yet, as they watched, Megatron's actions remained gentle, protective even, as he spoke softly with the ambassador. Rodimus found himself hoping against logic that Drift was right - that even the coldest spark held the potential for warmth.

Rodimus ran a hand over his faceplate. "Primus help us, the Senate is NOT going to like this." He states while downing his drink. "We'll need to address them, try to do some damage control before this blows up in our faces. Once we get back to Cybertron”

As for the senate, they were outraged that Megatron would fraternise with an organic, Megatron has a long and deadly history of oppression, war crimes, and casual disregard for other species.

Many councillors would express grave concern over any influence or leverage Megatron might gain through the relationship.

Some would even demand the ambassador be removed from the ship for their own protection. Cooler heads would argue for letting the relationship play out, while closely monitoring for signs of abuse or manipulation.

Ultimately, the senate would likely ban Megatron from direct contact with the ambassador until a full psychological evaluation could be conducted.

But after Optimus steps in stating it was inhumane and cruel they allow the two back together.

That night, Megatron spends it under the stars with his lover, both of them trading stories of poetry, philosophy, and astrology. In his spark, this was where he wanted to be, with them, and he would fight to keep that spot by their side.

#transformers #transformers idw #transformers x human #transformers x reader #transformers lost light #megatron #transformers: more than meets the eye #transformers megatron #megatron transformers #mtmte megatron #megatron mtmte #Megatron idw #idw transformers #tf idw #mtmte transformers #mtmte #tf mtmte

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sflow-er · 6 months ago

Text

It's Eurovision week, and for the first time in over twenty years, I won't be watching or engaging.

As you probably know, the global BDS (Boycott, Divest, Sanction) movement has called for a total Eurovision boycott due to the EBU's refusal to ban Israel.

The ESC has been a beloved part of my spring since I was little, and it's really fucking upsetting not getting to enjoy it this year - but that's just it. I know it won't make any difference whether one person chooses to watch or boycott, and that my watching it wouldn't even be registered as a view if I just watched the TV broadcast instead of the stream, but I can't imagine any set of circumstances in which I would enjoy it.

Back when the contest was held in Tel Aviv, I "bought myself a license to enjoy it" by donating to the UNRWA multiple times what I would've normally spent on voting, but no amount of donations would be enough to do that now. Not when every artist will be styled using the products of an Israeli beauty brand (Moroccanoil, a major ESC sponsor and likely a major player in why the EBU wouldn't even consider a ban), and when Israel itself has made its participation a political statement. The only reason their public broadcaster KAN agreed to change the lyrics of their entry, which originally referenced the Hamas attack and is still was called "October Rain" but has now been renamed "Hurricane", was this:

The president [of Israel] emphasised that at this time in particular, when those who hate us seek to push aside and boycott the state of Israel from every stage, Israel must sound its voice with pride and its head high and raise its flag in every world forum, especially this year. (The Guardian, 07 March)

Singer Eden Golan has also said that she believes her "participation is part of a very important mission for the country" and that she expects to begin her compulsory military service soon after the contest:

I still haven't enlisted in the army, and when I return from Eurovision, I'll report for my first call-up. In the first year as a returning resident, they don't call you, but that year passed and I was summoned – and my draft was postponed because of Eurovision. Doing army service is a mission, and I want to take the auditions to the military bands. (Israel Hayom, 22 April)

Yes, really. It's more likely she'll be some kind of PR ambassador for the Israeli army than be sent to Gaza with a gun, but still.

Many people are also upset about Palestinian flags being banned from the arena, and I'm not happy about it either, but I do think it's more or less understandable. The arena is a closed space, and any kind of altercation that might be sparked by those flags would be a big security risk. And at least if we are to believe executive supervisor Martin Österdahl, they haven't actually changed the rules; signs and flags with political messaging were always banned, and in this time, the Palestinian flag does send a powerful political message.

Then there's also the security risk associated with the event itself. Malmö is one of Sweden's most diverse cities, which also has both Jewish and Palestinian communities. According to a survey published on 4 May, 47% of city residents intend to avoid crowds during Eurovision. Mass protests and counter protests are expected. Events such as Quran-burnings by right-wing extremists are still allowed in the name of freedom of expression, even though the terror threat level in Sweden had to be raised to 4 out of the maximum 5 last year/this past winter due to precisely these kinds of provocations, and tensions will be running high. So even if the event itself manages to look as glitzy as always on TV, it will still be shadowed by what might be happening outside. Will there be unrest? Violence? How will the police respond?

There's no enjoyment to be found in any of that, no being "united by music" (the ESC slogan, which is a joke at this point). At least for me.

That being said, I do not judge you if you plan on watching. I understand that it's a huge annual tradition for many of us, and in these times, we need all the joy we can get. I also understand that it can feel like empty virtue signalling to boycott something when millions of others will tune in regardless - although it is good to keep in mind that this isn't some silly boycott started by social media activists on Xitter. It's a serious effort by the BDS movement.

I would challenge you to think about how you engage, though. If possible, watch it on TV instead of on stream, so your view won't be logged. (You could even consider waiting until the show gets posted on Youtube instead of giving views to the official stream, but I get that you probably want to see it live.) Try to abstain from hyping the contest or your fave entries on social media, and also from voting. Consider donating what you can afford to a charity that provides aid to Gaza instead (here's one list I found with a quick search).

And finally, spread awareness of the flip side. Don't be lulled into complacency by the claims of "Eurovision isn't political" when Israel itself has made it very clear it is - and do not make fun of people who want to sit the contest out this year or belittle their efforts.

#as a finn i am now incredibly glad we didn't win last year #my condolences to sweden for having to be at the centre of it all #eurovision #esc #eurovision song contest #esc 2024 #boycott divest sanction #boycott eurovision #euroviisut #not yr

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ebodebo · 6 months ago

Text

Crossing Lines

NSFW CONTENT

—you're in a secret relationship with your brother's bestfriend.

—i was tagged to do #cali’snamelesschallenge! if you want to participate…check out cali's blog for rules!

wanna be on my taglist ? fill out this form !

Heavy gray clouds obscured the sky, the trees and bushes were bending and whipping in the wind, rain was pouring down, splashing off the pavement. You peered out of the car window, you were resting your head on, observing rain droplets that slid down the window, listening to weather forecasters talking about the massive storm to come. You carefully observed the droplets, delicately choosing the one you thought would win. Silently, you cheered your drop on, but, alas, it was too slow.

You heard your parents talking in the front seat about the graduation you were attending. A military graduation to celebrate the recruits, your brother included, hard work and dedication through basic training. An outstanding achievement indeed. But something you had been dreading.

It wasn't because you weren't proud of your brother—no, no. It was because his best friend would be in attendance to watch him graduate. It might not seem so bad, but you had been secretly with him for four months and counting without anyone knowing. Though you hadn't really talked to him in a little over a month since he'd been doing some "top secret work," he would say, and service was terrible where he was.

"We're here!" Your mom chimed from the front seat, absolving you from your thoughts. You open the car door to immediately be met with raindrops falling onto your skin, offering you some sort of comfort.

You follow your parents closely as you all walk into the venue. Large tables covered in red satin tablecloths and large flower decorations were among the first things you saw. It was honestly quite beautiful. Flags hung slightly over the large arched windows, still giving you a view of the pouring rain outside.

You followed your parents to a table with a white nameplate in the middle with your last name on it. Taking your seat, you noticed a group of people hovering over the door you came in through, each greeting whoever came in. You tried to move your head to look at the person who walked in, but all the people obscured your view.

You sat with your hands in your lap, playing with the ring on your middle finger. "He's here, honey!" Your dad announced to your mom. You turned your head to see him waving to your parents, walking towards them. You hadn't seen him for a while, but, God, could he get your pulse to quicken just as fast as the first time you'd met.

He reached them, and your mom gave him a hug. "Were all those people greeting you?" she laughed out, playfully hitting his arm. "What can I say? I'm kind of a big deal around here," he joked as your dad brought him in for a hug, too.

You slowly stood up. "Hi," you quietly said, suddenly feeling shy. He looked down at you, a smile tugging at his lips. "My, my, what do we have here? I can't believe you came." He chuckled, bringing his arms out to hug you. "It's my brother's graduation. Of course, I came." You laughed, wrapping your arms around him.

"Fuck. I missed your laugh." He quietly grunted near your ear before he let go. You felt hot goosebumps travel down your arm at the roughness of his voice. You heard a female voice call your boyfriend’s name behind you; you turned to see a pretty brunette waving her hand in the air. The sight made your stomach drop. He nodded to her. "Scuse' me." He politely said, gently touching your mom's arm.

He noticed your soured expression, which you didn't realize you were making. He let out a soft laugh before pulling out his phone, pointing to it to signal you to take your phone out. You quickly pulled out your phone as he walked away, typing on his.

Peabrain: She's the captain's daughter. You're the only woman for me. Got that?

Me: good because i thought i was going to have to kick someone's ass. mostly yours though.

Peabrain: Ouch, baby.

Peabrain: I would never do that to you. Your brother would fucking kill me if I did.

Me: i would fucking kill you if you did.

Peabrain: I know. My tough girl.

You felt yourself heat up at the sentiment. "Is everything okay, honey?" your dad questioned. You quickly looked up to meet his worried expression. "Huh? Oh, ya, just a little hot." You picked up one of the graduate pamphlets lying on the table and fanned your face with it, silently cursing your boyfriend for getting you all hot and bothered.

❀・。.。* ❀ *。.。·* ❀ *·。.。* ❀ *·。.。* ❀ *。.

The ceremony had been going on for about an hour, and there was definitely at least one more hour left. Though your brother had already crossed the stage, you had to stay and wait for the other graduates to walk.

You noticed your boyfriend sitting beside some other military personnel in the front. God, he was so hot. His hair was slightly messy from running his hand through it too many times. He was in a tuxedo with a red tie, and his legs were spread pretty wide, giving you a nice view between his legs. You looked up at his face to see his eyes were focused on you, a cocky smirk on his lips. Your eyes widened as you shifted your attention to the graduates walking across the stage.

You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket, so you discretely reached for it and looked at it under the table.

Peabrain: Meet me in the bathroom.

Me: ya right.

Peabrain: Bathroom. You, Me. Now.

Me: i'm not listening. blah blah blah.

Peabrain: I will drag you in there.

Me: you wouldn't.

Peabrain: Oh, trust me, I would.

Me: fine. you're so needy.

Peabrain: You have no fucking idea.

So, that's how you ended up sitting on the sink of a cramped bathroom. "This fucking dress." Your boyfriend purred, gently pooling the fabric up around your waist. He connected his mouth to your neck. "What do you have against my dress?" You questioned, bringing your hand up to thread through his hair.

He brought his lips to kiss along your jaw until he reached your lips. "It's short. I could see your thighs when you sat down." He groaned into your lips. "Why were you looking that low?" You whispered, tone dripping with seducation. He didn't answer; he just grabbed the back of your head and pushed your lips onto his.

As you were kissing, his hand dropped to graze your lower thigh, slowly going higher and higher until he was grazing your cunt over your underwear. You let out a soft moan before pulling away slightly.

"We shouldn't be doing this here." You breathe out, lightly massaging the back of his head with your fingers.

"No, I agree. This is just despicable behavior." He stated as he slipped his hand under your underwear to draw soft circles over your dripping cunt. "Just despicable," he breathed into your ear. You let out a moan as you pull your hands out of his hair to grip his shoulders. "I mean, anyone could walk in." He said as he leaned closer, his lips hovering over your ear. "They could see my fingers in you." He whispered as his finger slipped inside you. "Fuck." You choked out, gripping him tighter.

"See you begging me for more." He lightly nipped your ear, carefully pumping his fingers in and out of you, grazing your sweet spot. You quickly connected your lips again, his tongue battling yours. You jump a little at the sound of a ding from your phone.

"Leave it." He said, gripping your jaw to bring your lips back to his. You nodded and continued kissing him. His fingers are now pumping a little quicker in you—another ding. You groan. "Let me just check real quick." He groaned and begrudgingly pulled his fingers out of you.

Stinky: Hey, sis! Where’d you go?

Stinky: The ceremony ended early. Mom and Dad want to grab some dinner. Food sucks here.

Me: hey! went to the bathroom rq. be right there!

He peered into the mirror to see who was taking your gaze.

"Mmh. Should we tell em' ?" He sarcastically said as he threaded his fingers through your hair. "You're an asshole." You roll your eyes as you carefully jump off the sink. You look up at him. "He could kick your ass, you know?" You matter-of-factly say. "Something tells me I could take 'em,' " He plainly states, wrapping his hands around your waist.

"You wanna come eat with us?" You question, raising your hands to gesture for him to bend down. He obliges as you bring your hand up to fix his hair. "Mhm. Are we gonna sneak away to the bathroom during dinner?" He questions, with a smirk.

You pull your hands down and rub them over his chest. "Ya.. and I'll even let you finger me under the table." You seductively say.

"Really?" His eyes brighten.

"No. Not really." You drop your hands as you let out a laugh.

"You're a cruel woman." He pouts.

"Fine. Maybe I'll let you play footsies with me under the table." You say as you turn to fix your lipstick in the mirror.

"Deal." He instantly says, bringing a smile to your lips.

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

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leclercloml · 10 months ago

Text

Bunny? It's MIFFY | FT7

Pairing: Ferran Torres x french!reader

Summary: in which ferran's girlfriend is obsessed with the miffy plushie.

Genre: SMAU

Warninga: grammar mistakes probably, google translated spanish & french

Author's note: this one is made specially for @zowanew the og miffy girl, ilysm and i hope you like it 🤍 (most of the pics contains Sira Martinez and I know she's not french but for the fic let's pretend she is)

yourinstagram

liked by ferrantorres, pablogavi, mikkykiemeny and 234,638 others

yourinstagram the love of my life and Ferran 🐰🤍

view comments

ferrantorres WOW, thank you??

⤷yourinstagram you're welcome.

⤷username lmfao 😭

ferrantorres did I just got replaced my a literal stuff toy?

⤷yourinstagram stuff toy? STUFF TOY??! her name's MIFFY.

⤷ferrantorres stuff toy.

⤷yourinstagram blocked.

⤷username Ferran ilysm but don't you dare call miffy a stuff toy ever again.

liked by yourinstagram

⤷username she liked 😭😭

mikkykiemeny my girl 🤍

⤷yourinstagram ILY !!!

⤷username the IT wags.

username they're so cute tho 😭🩷

ferrantorres I love you ❤️

⤷yourinstagram I love you too I guess.

⤷ferrantorres you guess?!!

⤷pedri 😂🫵🏻

⤷username LMAO 😭😭

pablogavi i could use that as a punching bag.

⤷ferrantorres please do, you're doing everyone a favour

⤷yourinstagram DON'T YOU DARE GAVIRA.

⤷username that's something gavi would definitely do.

username okay but can we talk about how cute these two are?? No?? Anyone??

ferrantorres

liked by yourinstagram, pedri, pablogavi and 2,629,729 others

ferrantorres Mi novia 🩷

view comments

yourinstagram he won a banana for me cause there was no game which winning prize was miffy 😔☝🏻

⤷ferrantorres be grateful?!

⤷yourinstagram I AM.

⤷username y/n would choose miffy over Ferran anyday

liked by yourinstagram

⤷username she liked the comments lmfao, poor Ferran.

pedri why was I not invited?

⤷ferrantorres as if you don't thirdwheel us 6/7 times a week.

⤷pedri exactly. It should be 7/7

⤷yourinstagram no. give us a break.

⤷pedri R U D E.

⤷pablogavi it's ok bro, we both can hangout 🫂

⤷pedri i would rather chew on a glass.

⤷username HELPP

⤷username golden retriever gavi x black cat pedri>>>

⤷username my man was tired of driving him to training everyday 😭

username okay but the 2nd slide, I might kms.

⤷username ikr they both are WAY TOO adorable

username can someone kiss me? with a gun? down on my throat?

⤷username ayo chill 💀

username still can't believe how Ferran bagged her.

⤷mikkykiemeny me too.

⤷username mikkyyyy lmaoo 😭😭

username everyday i open Instagram, saw these fuckers on my feed, wonder when it'll be me, cry myself to sleep, and then repeat.

⤷username us moment 🫂

yourinstagram added to story 10 mins ago

caption: Ma vie 🩷 (my life)

view replies

ferrantorres thought that was that rabbit but okay te amo ❤️

⤷yourinstagram for the last time ferran torres garcia it's MIFFY.

⤷ferrantorres rabbit.

⤷yourinstagram sleep at Pedri's today.

⤷ferrantorres I'M JOKING.

mikkykiemeny can't believe I got replaced by a basic white boy 😔.

⤷yourinstagram OFCOURSE NOT, you're my no.1

⤷mikkykiemeny I better be

pedri why was I not invited again.

⤷yourinstagram can you shut the fuck up?

Twitter

iMessage

Fer<3

look what I just found

y/n

Ferran mfing Torres!!!!

You better bring one of em home

Fer<3

One? Nah.

y/n

Wjwhakshsh

Je t'aime tellement!!! (I love you so much)

Come home as soon as you can.

Fer<3

I love you too!!!

On my way

Instagram

yourinstagram

liked by ferrantorres, mikkykiemeny, sophiawebber and 2,638,920 others

yourinstagram the gift giver vs the gifts, Je t'aime 😭🩷

view comments

ferrantorres te amo ❤️

⤷yourinstagram je t'aime aussi ❤️(i love you too)

⤷pedri ew.

⤷yourinstagram go away hater.

ferrantorres the gift giver>>>

⤷yourinstagram get over yourself

⤷pablogavi fr fr and give pedri back

⤷ferrantorres no.

⤷pablo kys.

⤷username I'm dying lmaaaooo

username cuties 😭🫶🏻

username i would die for them but that's just me tho.

⤷username me too girl me too

mikkykiemeny I'm better than both

⤷yourinstagram ofcourse you are wifey 🤭💍

⤷frenkiedejong no.

⤷ferrantorres no.

⤷username the real couple is actually mikky and y/n, Ferran and Frenkie are the side chicks here.

username I want what they have.

Twitter

Grace's note: this one was quite fun, I hope you like it @zowanew and Ferran literally loves you.

#ferran torres #ferran torres x reader #ferran torres x fem reader #ferran torres x you #ferran torres x y/n #fc barcelona #barcelona #football x reader #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer x you #football fic #ferran torres fic #footballer smau #leclercloml

217 notes · View notes

nwjws · 1 year ago

Text

while you were sleeping - pjs

; PAIRING - jay x gn!reader

; SYNOPSIS - in which you’ve had the same album on repeat, unable to get it out of your mind. just like how jay, your roommate, can’t seem to get you out of his.

; WC - 1.4k (minus the lyrics)

; TAGS - college roommates au, fluff, from jay's pov, based off laufey's 'while you were sleeping' ; WARNINGS - not proofread

i still can't believe that you noticed me

mindlessly scrolling on your phone, you patiently wait for your roommate, park jay, to finish cooking up some breakfast. a comfortable silence has settled between you two, with the only sounds being the sizzling oil on the pan and your humming.

"you've been listening to the same 14 songs for the past week."

"what?" you ask, looking up at him. you stare at his back, broad shoulders exposed by his tank top.

he turns his head to look back at you over his shoulder, raising a perfect eyebrow. you realise then what he's saying.

laufey had released a new album last week, and you literally haven't played any other song outside of it since it dropped. you can feel jay judging you, but you just shrug at him. you were definitely not stopping.

"so what if i've had bewitched on repeat? can you deny that they're good?" you challenged him.

"no, of course not," he chuckled to himself, turning back to the pan. "i'm just surprised you haven't gotten sick of it yet."

"i would never get sick of laufey," you say with mock offence.

"alright, then," he said with a teasing undertone.

you wanted to retort, but he placed a plate in front of you, making you forget what you were going to say.

"hey, you have a later clinical today, right?" he asked as you two dug in.

"mhm."

"take the box i left in the fridge with you before you go then. its some extra lunch i made so you'd have enough energy to get through the day."

"thank you," you say appreciatively. "you really don't have to do that every time i have a heavier day."

"well, if i have time to, then i don't see why i shouldn't."

"what about you? what are you doing today?"

"my professor cancelled class today, so i'll go check out if i can bother heeseung or jake."

"i'll pray for whichever victim you choose, then," you joke.

"maybe i won't make you extra lunch next time," he pouted playfully.

"no, no. those actually really help me. god knows if i didn't score you as my roommate, i would have passed out several times by now."

"grateful to be of service"

after breakfast, jay lounges around the apartment as you're getting ready. some show plays on the tv, but it doesn't drown out the sound of must be love playing from your speakers.

you shout your leaving when you exit the shared apartment, and jay wishes you a good day. he watches you close the door, leaving him completely alone.

i'll never forget the first time i saw you then

when he drives to the shopping centre with jake later that day, he pauses mid-sentence when he realises something.

"is everything good?" his friend asks.

"yeah, i just recognised the song playing."

"really? you listen to from the start by laufey?" jake asks. he had decided to connect his phone to jay's carplay, and had been in the one in control of the playlist.

"not really, but my roommate does."

"y/n? that's pretty cool. they've got good music taste," he replies.

"they've had her newest album on repeat since she dropped it," jay laughs, eyes on the road.

"do you find that annoying?"

"of course not, it's funny seeing them prance around the apartment, belting their heart out," he laughs at a memory of you singing at the top of your lungs. "i guess i'm more of a second-hand listener now? if that's even a thing."

"probably," jake shrugs.

a light pink bouquet, a promise you'll stay and i start to believe

the two had decided to eat out at wagamama's first, before anything else.

"i think i'll get the pad thai," tells the waitor, who nods and notes it on his ipad.

"hm, i'm feeling like trying the grilled chicken ramen," jay says. "oh, could i also get the miso mixed vegetable salad to-go?"

"sure," the waitor replies. he pockets the small device in his apron, and leaves for the kitchen.

"you ordered another meal?" the younger asks curiously.

"me and y/n go here often. of course, i had to get them something. usually, they'll go for the typical miso salad, or some curry, but they've decided they wanted to try being vegan recently. so i got the vegan one," jay explains nonchalantly.

"wow, you really care a lot about them, huh?"

"of course, we're sharing the rent, after all. have to be a good roommate, otherwise they'll leave and i'll have to pay the bills on my own."

"maybe i should get a roommate," jake chuckles. "but i don't think i'd be able to get someone like you."

"i'd feel sorry for whoever ends up with you," jay teases him. "and anyway, they're a good roommate. they do the laundry for the both of us, and we usually spend the weekends cleaning together."

"you guys are so lucky," is all jake says.

i don't recognise myself ; who've i become?

jake dragged jay into their third clothing shop that day, despite jay's protests. in self-defence, jake whines about needing some new shoes.

"don't you have like, thirty pairs? what could you possibly need another one for?"

"actually, i only have twenty-eight. and i need one for graduation, of course."

"right, because none of your almost-thirty pairs suffice," jay rolls his eyes.

"don't act like you dont have seventy pairs of the same polo shirt."

"i don't!"

"i've seen your closet, don't lie to me."

jay sighs and leaves jake to wander around the shop on his own.

"there you go again, buying another shirt," jake's voice sighs from behind jay fifteen minutes later.

"not for me," jay shakes his head. he turns to show the clothing piece to his friend. "for y/n. this is definitely their style, and it'll fit them so well. they have a pair of shoes that are this exact colour, so it would be good outfit if they sandwhich it with any bottom piece they choose."

"you think a lot about your roommate," jake raises his eyebrow at him.

"i see them all the time, why wouldn't i?" jay asks.

"no, like, you think too much about y/n considering you're 'only roommates'," he says with a quote gesture.

"stop suggesting weird things," jay walks ahead to the counter, leaving jake to follow behind.

"is it really so weird, though? if you like y/n like that?"

jay just ignores him, and pays for the shirt. it's not, he thinks to himself, because it's not a new thought either.

i trace it all back, 3:30 am that night something turned in my heart

"thank you, jay," you hug him when he shows you what he got. "you really need to stop buying me things."

"i can't help it," he smiles. "when i see something that reminds me of you, i just feel like i have to get it."

"with how often you buy me things, i'd say a lot of things remind you of me, huh?"

"seems like it..." he scratches his nape, awkwardly avoiding eye contact with you. thanks jake, he scowls in his mind. now he can't stop thinking about what he said earlier.

you and jay decide to watch a movie the next night, since it was a friday, and neither of you had to be up early the next day.

but jay couldn't focus on the tv when you two were basically cuddling under the shared blanket on the sofa. his skin prickled where his arm hung around your shoulder, and the weight of your head on his made him feel light and airy.

the warmth of your body seeped through your clothes, and brought him immense comfort. your sweet scent filled his nose, subconsciously recognising it to be one of the perfumes he'd bought you.

it was only when the movie ended he realised he hadn't been watching at all. and neither were you, if your light snores were any indication.

he huffed amusedly to himself, and shifted on the sofa to get you two in a more comfortable position, actually lying down. reaching for the remote, he carefully switched off the tv, leaving the only source of light to be a soft, warm yellow coming from a corner lamp.

jay stared at your features, illuminated by the dim light. he realised right then, in the comfort of your arms, far into the night, what he felt for you.

while you were sleeping, i fell in love.

; AUTHOR'S CORNER! do u guys ever feel like throwing up at your own work? ALSO THANK YOU FOR 200 this is my offer of thanks 🤭

; TAGLIST - @lovelovelovebts @miyseung @babyy-bambii

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bosbas · 11 months ago

Text

Chapter 10: writing letters addressed to the fire

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader WC: 3.8k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love, angst, pining, like a lot of pining, anthony being controversial

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You’re struggling to find someone you’re as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: they're so in their evermore era i can't

July 7, 1814 - The expectations were as high as the chandeliers at the Bridgerton Ball two nights prior. And the night did not disappoint. Our forgone diamond of the season made an appearance at the social event. A fact that is expected given the close relationship between the Beaumonts and Bridgertons, but a pleasant surprise given her recent absence from social happenings. While previously the center of attention, Miss Beaumont danced only once at the Bridgerton Ball with one Mr. Alexander Beaumont. Yes, dear reader, her brother. This leaves us with the lingering question: why did Miss Beaumont choose her brother over the allure of a potential match? It seems that Miss Beaumont is simply tired of the ton's social scene, or perhaps she has lost some of her shine now that her best friend has left for the countryside.

He cleared his throat, rubbing his thumb on his lower lip. Finally meeting your eyes, he said, "Well, I was wondering if you'd want to marry me."

You choked, completely taken aback. "Are you alright, Anthony?" you asked, nervously laughing. "Was the whiskey too strong for you after all?"

He pinched his nose, annoyed at your flippant response, but couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips. "Be quiet! I'm trying to help you!" he said, laughing.

You were in hysterics now, too. "Help me?! Help me how, pray tell," you managed to get out between giggles.

"You are impossible! How Benedict deals with you so regularly, I have no idea!" he shot back, poking you in the arm as he said each word.

You gasped in mock offense. "Low blow, Anthony, even for you," you said, shaking your head at him, unable to keep from laughing. "Surely you're joking. Why should I let you marry me?"

"Let me marry– Bloody hell, Y/N, and excuse my language, but really, I am coming from a good place here, and you are making it so difficult," he responded, clearly exasperated by your inability to take him seriously.

You ceased laughing and looked at him directly, cocking your head and widening your eyes when you realized he was being sincere. "Anthony? Surely you're joking, right? Does Alex know? He'll kill you if he finds out you proposed to his little sister."

He sighed deeply, shifting in his seat. "Look, I am not joking. But let me explain first, and then you can ask me questions."

You could do little but stare at him, lips parted in confusion. "Go on, then," you said finally, very interested in hearing an explanation for this incredibly unexpected proposal.

Anthony looked over to where Alex was sitting, deep in conversation with your father, and then looked back to you. He turned in his seat so he was fully facing you, one hand on the back of his chair and the other on his knee, contemplating how best to explain himself without sounding insane. "I know it sounds like a crazy idea. Trust me, I can barely imagine it myself. But I do think it might be a good one," he said finally, hoping to get some kind of response from you, only to be met with a blank stare. You were still entirely unconvinced of his proposal, barely believing that he was being serious.

"Listen, what you said two nights ago is not something I take lightly, given that you mean so much to us, to me and Benedict and our family. And I can see that you're having a rough go of it. The roughest go of it, actually," he continued.

"And you think marrying me will solve my problems because...?" you cut in, not quite following Anthony's logic.

"Well, I've been trying to explain my thought process for the past five minutes, but you're making it awfully hard, Y/N," he shot back, raising his eyebrows at you, amused. You rolled your eyes good-naturedly in response but sat back so you could let him continue.

"This might make more sense if I explain my side of things a bit more, actually," he decided, mentally rearranging what he was going to say to you. "Alex and Simon already know this, but my intention has never been to marry for love. Above all, I view marriage as a duty to my family. Since my father passed, I have been the one responsible for them, and they are the dearest thing in the world to me, as you well know."

At the mention of Edmund, you reached out and placed a hand on Anthony's, remembering how difficult it was for the family when his father passed. He shot you a grateful smile, covering your hand with his and clearing his throat before he continued speaking.

"I will be perfectly candid with you, Y/N, because you deserve nothing less. I was planning on looking for a wife next season, but even so, I believe that pursuing love is an unpleasant and unimportant endeavor, at least for me."

You gasped, slightly taken aback at his cynical views, though yours weren't much sunnier. "Don't you want to fall in love, Anthony? Don't you think you'll find a partnership like the one your parents had?" you prodded, overwhelmed by a sense of sadness. But you also felt somewhat understood, knowing now that Anthony had an unconventional view of marriage.

He gave you a knowing look, saying only, "Don't you?"

Knowing he had a point, you let up. "Fair enough, I suppose," you answered. Is that how you sounded when you spoke of getting married? You were completely disillusioned with the notion, but you had given it more than a few honest tries, while Anthony was set on never looking for a love match. It was quite ironic, seeing how much your parents loved each other and the love between Daphne and Simon, that you and Anthony had developed such depressing views on marriage. You saw Anthony nod in your direction, seemingly happy with your answer.

After a slight pause, Anthony winced, knowing he was about to share much more than he usually would. However, he knew that this would potentially benefit you both, so he fought through the discomfort. "Seeing my mother fall apart after Father died was awful to watch, and I would never want to cause someone that pain. My goal is not to find passion but to secure my family's future. And I was hoping to find someone who would want this different sort of partnership," he said, looking at you pointedly. You had already started connecting the dots in your head and thought you were catching on to where this was going now.

"So you want to have an unconventional marriage together, then?" you asked, hoping you had understood correctly.

He patted your hand, relieved you finally understood what he intended the proposal to sound like rather than the abrupt and blunt question he had asked earlier. "Yes, precisely. Of course, I want you to take as much time as you need to consider this decision since it is quite important. I doubt we would seek an expedited marriage license, but obviously, we can sort out the minutiae later if you decide to do this. There is no pressure one way or another, I simply wanted to give you an option you had probably not considered before," he said, searching your face for any reaction.

However, you remained guarded, still unsure about your feelings. Saying yes to this proposal would definitively mean saying no to Benedict. But Benedict had not even asked you anything, you argued internally. There was nothing to say no to. In fact, he had been the one to say no to you. But you didn't know if you were ready to give up all hope yet. Perhaps you were a fool, but then again, you always were when it came to your best friend.

If you accepted Anthony's proposal, would the now-permanent ache in your chest worsen at the knowledge that you could never have Benedict? Or would you feel better, getting closure Benedict would never give you?

You felt a surge of anger shoot up your spine. Why couldn't Benedict be the one asking you this? After twenty years, why was he the one who left you alone and confused while Anthony was left to pick up the broken pieces of you Ben left behind so carelessly? Even setting aside the added issue of your unrequited feelings for Benedict, Anthony was being a much better friend than him right now. But your anger dissipated quickly, dissolving into desperate sadness. You missed Ben so much; the short letters he had been sending were unsuccessful in placating the ever-growing need to feel his presence beside you. The overwhelming sense that something about you was missing was almost too much to handle, and you felt yourself going around in circles in your head about what you wanted to do.

You knew it could never be the same with Benedict regardless, so you reasoned that you would at least consider Anthony's proposal. You owed it to yourself to consider someone other than Benedict and something other than perpetual singledom without any children to raise or read to.

Realizing Anthony was patiently waiting for you to say something in response, you spoke up. "In theory, this doesn't sound like a terrible partnership," you started, laughing when Anthony snorted and muttered a short "Why, thank you."

"Shush! I'm trying to consider your proposal, and you're making it quite difficult to spend longer than twenty minutes with you, let alone the rest of my life," you joked, stomach dropping slightly when you mentioned the concept of forever. Pushing through your fear, you kept speaking, "I know you, Anthony Bridgerton. And I know you would not do something like this without a plan. So tell me your plan, and I will consider it and give you my answer once I have one."

Anthony couldn't help but laugh at your scolding tone, "You're not wrong." However, he knew he had to be careful about how he presented his reasoning for this proposal. It was no secret that he thought his brother a complete buffoon for refusing to marry you. Anyone could see that your best friend was madly in love with you, and Anthony was beyond confused as to why Benedict was being obtuse and frankly stupid when you so clearly loved him just as much.

It was hard to miss the alarmingly fond looks the two of you exchanged, not to mention what must be dozens of sketches of you in Benedict's studio, try as he might to make it look like there weren't that many. But what really made it the most obvious was Benedict's manner of speaking about you. It was beautiful to hear when Ben forgot himself and spent nearly an hour discussing a fascinating observation you had made about one of his paintings. Or when he saw Eloise reading a book you had read and launched into a speech about your genius way of interpreting a particular passage. Or even when Anthony inquired about any of the paintings of you in his studio and his brother began a lengthy explanation of how he wanted to paint your eyes in a way that captured your thoughtful yet soft gaze, in Ben's words. Benedict's unwavering and wholehearted admiration of you rivaled that of his parents. It seemed to Anthony that you were the sun, and Benedict was happy to be in your orbit if only to relish in the warmth and comfort you brought him. And the same could be said for you.

So, choosing his words carefully, Anthony avoided saying anything that would upset you, knowing you were still raw from Benedict's sudden departure a few weeks ago. "To start, a legal union between our families would only strengthen our bond, and I know we both would still like to remain close with our families after we are married."

Gauging a positive reaction from your raised eyebrows and slight nod, he continued. "Perhaps the most obvious advantage is that we would have the marriage we both want. I would, of course, encourage you to continue pursuing your studies after we were married, and though I would like to have children, and I know you do as well, I am in no particular rush if you don't feel ready yet," he continued.

To be fair, Anthony made a compelling argument. Although your ideal marriage was still the one you had imagined with Benedict as a child, Anthony was realistically the best option for you, especially with the men of the ton being as dreadful as they were and Ben off in the countryside for who knows how long.

"I don't want to feel suffocated by my husband, Anthony," you warned, earning a laugh from him.

"I know you think I'm insane, but I promise I don't want to be a suffocating husband. We want a lot of the same things, just for different reasons," he responded, ready to answer any and all rebuttals you had. Anthony knew this would be a difficult decision, and he had come prepared with the utmost patience to ensure he got rid of all of your doubts to the best of his abilities. Having watched you grow up and grown up alongside you, he had a deep fondness for you, often feeling as protective over you as he did over Eloise or Daphne. Anthony cared about you and wanted the best for you, no matter what that might entail. And if he could find a wife a season earlier than he had expected while you got what you deserved, that was just an added bonus.

In the back of his mind, Anthony hoped that if you accepted his proposal, Benedict might come to his senses before the engagement progressed too far. But he would be a fool to count on his brother to do so, based on how Ben had acted so far. Anthony knew it would be cruel to tell you this and raise your spirits only to be disappointed again. If it came to it, Anthony would be happy to marry you. It was a very practical union, and Anthony quite liked practical things.

"It makes sense, in a way, I suppose. We do want similar things," you muttered to yourself. "And you'd let me read as much as I wanted?" you asked, needing reassurance.

"I promise," answered Anthony, smiling sweetly at you. "Besides, we are already very acquainted with one another, having grown up together, and I'm sure it'd be good fun to be married. Well, at least I think so. And you know me well enough to be able to make that decision for yourself."

You nodded thoughtfully, mulling over all of the possible caveats you could think of to bring up to Anthony. If you were going to go through with this, you needed to be absolutely sure that it was what you wanted. Although it was getting difficult to find negatives about this possible union. It seemed that you would have much more agency with Anthony than if you were married to anyone else, bar Benedict, or as a spinster.

"What about Alex?" you settled on asking. "Have you talked about this with him?"

Both of you subconsciously turned to look at your older brother and then at each other. Anthony gave a slight shake of his head. "No, not yet. But I have a feeling he'll understand and even be supportive. Especially after the other night. And especially now that Benedict left."

You furrowed your brow, confused. What did Anthony mean, especially now that Benedict left? You were about to ask for clarification when Anthony cut in.

"Anyway, don't worry about Alex. I will talk to him and your father, and I know they will be on board with whatever you choose. So all you have to do is decide if this is something you want to do or not," he said quickly, trying to make up for the fact that he had revealed too much before. Anthony knew Alex had similar feelings to Anthony, perhaps even more pent-up anger at Benedict than he did since Benedict was hurting Alex's little sister. But he hadn't meant to tell you so directly. Anthony mentally kicked himself for rubbing salt on your metaphorical wound. Although it seemed that you had let go of his comment, for now, he noted as he watched you rubbing your temples, deep in thought.

You sighed deeply, coming to the realization that this could be it. This decision could change your life forever, and perhaps Benedict's life, depending on how he handled the news. If you accepted the proposal, of course. You couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of guilt, knowing that you could never feel for Anthony the same way you felt about Benedict.

"And you'd be alright with me not being in love with you? I don't think I can do that again. After Benedict," you said softly, still wanting to avoid thinking about losing him as much as possible.

"Yes, I would prefer it, actually," said Anthony, smiling at you. But his playful demeanor was wrapped in a careful tenderness. He understood you better than most people, having learned to see you, above all, through Benedict's eyes. He knew you were terrified. Of being married and not being married, of losing yourself and of staying exactly the same as you were now.

He was terrified, too, to be honest. He knew Benedict would be impossibly angry with him, even though he really had no reason to be, and feared their relationship could be fractured. Not to mention that Anthony had been dreading marriage ever since that fateful day his father fell ill from a bee sting, leaving his mother alone in the empty shell of their loving partnership. He supposed the two of you did sort of make sense in a peculiar way.

"Alright, go away, please," you shooed Anthony away. "I have to actually think about it now. But no matter what happens, I want you to know I'm grateful for your offer. I know it's coming from a very generous place, and it really does mean the world," you added, squeezing his hand as he stood up.

"Of course, Y/N. I'm not Benedict, but you're very important to me nonetheless. Take as much time as you need," he responded, returning your squeeze and making his way over to Colin and Theo, giving you space to mull over your decision.

That was precisely the situation, you thought. Anthony wasn't Benedict. And you had to decide whether or not that was good enough for you. It was a very compelling offer, and you knew it might be your only chance to have anything close to the sort of life you had hoped to have before Henri and the rest of the men of the ton so pointedly crushed your dreams. Benedict was the only reason not to marry Anthony, and he had been quite clear in saying that he wouldn't marry you. But you wanted to enjoy a few more days of imagining that Ben could be yours in some capacity before you had to move on from him forever.

---

Shoving a pile of unsent letters aside, Benedict set a fresh sheet of paper down and started yet another letter he was unlikely to send to you. Now that he had ceased going to parties and bringing home a different woman every night, he found himself with ample bouts of time that he dedicated almost exclusively to thinking about you.

With each new letter you sent, Benedict found himself lost in your words, re-reading them constantly and clinging to any fragment of you that he could still claim as his. In response, he wrote pages and pages of prose he would never send. These ranged from letters he could plausibly send to you, responding to every comment you had made about the book you had read that day. Others were less tame. Sometimes, he found himself unable to keep his overflowing feelings inside of him any longer, choosing instead to write heart-wrenching confessions of a love so deep and all-consuming that it permeated every fiber of his being. But Anthony's words reverberated in his head, warning him not to lead you on, every time he contemplated addressing these letters.

But Benedict loved you. The real, soul-crushing sort of love that only came once in a lifetime. The kind of love that grew from years of being by your side, knowing every detail of you, and still wanting to know more. He was far past the point of denying it and had now stumbled on an agonizing feeling of wanting. He wanted you by his side while he painted, quietly discussing the colors or the shading he was working on. He wanted to put his head in your lap as you sat in the garden, feeling your fingers running softly through his hair. He wanted to look over at night and find your sleeping form beside him, less than an arm's length away as he fell asleep holding you. Most of all, he wanted to be content in the knowledge that he could hold your hand, breathe in your scent, and twist your hair in his fingers as he kissed you every single day for the rest of his life.

The moment in your garden by the rose bushes from the day before he left, where he came so close to kissing you, haunted his every waking moment. He couldn't seem to forget the way your lips parted, moving ever so slightly closer to his. The feeling of your soft breath against his skin, luring him in. He had been so close to just giving in and touching your expectant lips with his. It was all he had dreamed about doing ever since he had come back from Oxford and felt you in his arms, realizing that he never wanted to spend another day apart from you. He still wondered what would have happened if he had just done it. If he had just leaned over a few inches to join your lips and brushed his thumb on your cheek as he grabbed your waist. But he hadn't. Instead he had fled to the countryside, where he was missing you more than ever and ridden with jealousy at the thought of you with another man.

Benedict didn't know if the ache of longing would ever fade. All he knew was that you were a permanent mark left on him he would never be able to wash off even if he wanted to. A part of him would always be you. The proof of that was on his desk cluttered with letters that would never find their way to you and in his studio housing nearly a dozen unfinished portraits of you.

Clutching to a sliver of hope, he held onto the fact that no news of your engagement had reached him. Yet, each day brought with it a tormenting dread as he approached his unopened letters, torn between the desperate hope for a letter from you and the paralyzing fear that he would receive an invitation to your wedding. But for now, he could still pretend you were his, at least partially.

—

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