#This picture makes me smile each time I look at it

[fanbasetwo]

first time w anton? virgin anton x virgin reader?

IM ON MY KNEES BEGGING YOU 🙂

✦ BABY GIRL, 143 ! ANTON

001. PAIRING , virgin anton × virgin reader

002. SYNOPSIS , anton had been away from you for some months and now when he was back, you showed him all the texts you had seen on his phone. only ending up sealing the deal at the end.

003. GENRE , smut

004. WARNING(S) , kissing, a little dirty talk but anton is just shameless lol, teasing, pussy slapping, little to no prep, boob play, nipple play (slightly), they make up pretty early after fight, hymen breaking, mentions of blood and pain, too much plot if you ask me, lmk if I missed anything.

005. WORD COUNT , 1.8K

MASTERLIST!! join my taglist by sending an ask or commenting here <3

You had been dating Anton for a few years now. You met through a dating app, and while some might find that odd, you both clicked instantly. For better or worse, you fell in love.

Since you started dating at a young age, you both decided to seek job opportunities outside of town, which meant navigating a long-distance relationship. While many say long-distance relationships often fizzle out, that wasn’t the case for you two.

In fact, Anton would send you those silly memes that made you laugh and would video call you while cooking, asking for your advice if he messed something up. His friends teased you, saying you two were practically a married couple, and while there was some truth to that, the more accurate reality was that you both missed each other terribly.

So when he finally returned after landing a high-paying job—while you worked part-time as a cashier to cover rent—he insisted on paying your rent, but you turned him down.

The relationship seemed perfect, especially with his visit after what felt like two long years apart. But everything changed when you accidentally glanced at his phone. A text from a number with a heart emoji as a name read, “Is my baby fine?” In that moment, the realization hit you hard: the person you thought was your boyfriend was cheating on you.

“SO YOU CHEATED?!” you shouted as soon as you heard him enter the apartment. Anton, always the goofy one, jumped back in surprise at your furious tone and asked, feigning ignorance, “I’m not sure what you're talking about.”

“The message!” you ground out through clenched teeth, pointing at his phone, which he had mistakenly left behind.

As understanding seemed to dawn on him, he cursed under his breath and then smiled, which only confused you more. Why was he smiling? Shouldn’t he be trying to explain himself? Did those years together not mean anything to him?

Then he stepped closer, and instinctively, you took a step back until your back hit the wall of your apartment. His hands cupped your face as he said, “Hmm… Why would you trust the text so much? The ‘baby’ wasn’t me. The ‘baby’ was her dog, the one she asked me to take care of for a while.”

You didn’t buy it, so you pressed on, “Oh really? Then why does her username have a heart?”

He paused for a moment but answered without hesitation, even though you glared at him. “Well, maybe because that’s my mom?”

Processing that, your eyes widened. It actually made a sick sort of sense. The woman in the profile picture looked significantly older and bore some resemblance to Anton. Now you found yourself in a strange situation, filled with doubt.

You had just confronted your longtime boyfriend, your heart racing at the thought of betrayal, all sparked by a simple text while he gently held your face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity.

“I’m hurt, but I’ll find it in my heart to forgive you. I could never cheat on you, Y/N,” he reassured, resting his forehead against yours, the warmth of his skin anchoring you in that moment.

It took you back to when your love was fresh and innocent, when you were just seventeen, lost in each other’s world. Those years apart felt like an eternity, and as you closed your eyes, you longed for the sweetness of his touch, the electric thrill of his lips on yours.

The kiss deepened, a beautiful melody played by your lips as you moved together in perfect sync. He pulled away just enough to catch his breath before diving back in, his tongue tracing gentle patterns that sent shivers down your spine.

You felt the rhythm of your tongues entwining, a lovely exploration you had only ever dreamed of. You had talked about waiting for one another, yet now you felt the exhilarating unknown of your connection. His hands traveled up your shirt, igniting tingles on your skin, and as he broke the kiss to rest his forehead against yours, the world around you faded away.

“Can I touch you more?” he asked, his hands gliding under your shirt as he looked at you with such intensity and love, as if he had been waiting for this moment forever. The truth was, both of you were a bit inexperienced in this area, but let’s be honest, you both wanted to explore… so you nodded.

Before long, his hands were cupping your breasts beneath your shirt and bra. He was touching your bare skin. You could feel both of your breaths hitching; it was something new for the two of you after all.

You feel Anton's warm breath on your face as he leans in close, his lips softly brushing against yours in a tender kiss. "I can... really touch, right?" he murmurs, looking for your confirmation before pulling you closer, his strong arms wrapping around you. His tongue dances with yours as the kiss deepens, sending tingles through your body.

When you nod, he breaks the kiss, and his hands move with a swiftness that takes your breath away. Your shirt and bra are discarded in one smooth motion, leaving your bare skin exposed to his hungry gaze. His thumbs find your nipples, rubbing the sensitive buds until they harden into tight peaks. You can't help but let out a soft moan as waves of pleasure wash over you, your back pressed firmly against the wall.

Suddenly, you're airborne as Anton scoops you up in his arms, cradling you securely against his chest. A warm feeling envelops you, and you can't help but wish that at least one of you had some experience with this. "You don't mind, right?" he asks, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he lays you down gently on the bed.

"Yeah, but..." you trail off, a hint of nervousness creeping into your tone. "Do you know how to...? At least one of us should know what we're doing."

Anton crawls on top of you, his powerful body hovering over yours. He leans down, planting a soft kiss between the valley of your breasts before looking up at you from between them. A sheepish grin spreads across his face. "I may have watched some... for scientific purposes, of course," he adds with a playful wink.

His arousal is evident, a hardened bulge straining against the fabric of his pants. It brushes against your jeans, sending shivers through both of you.

Your eyes flutter shut as Anton unbuttons his pants, the sound of fabric sliding against fabric filling the room. He discards them on the floor, along with your own jeans, the cool air brushing against your now bare skin. His large hand envelops your smaller one, guiding it towards his clothed bulge. You both hitch a breath as your fingers make contact, his arousal evident beneath the thin fabric.

"See what you do to me?" he whispers, his voice low and husky with need. You swallow hard, your heart thumping in your chest as he pushes his boxers down, and you see him, all hard and long, your eyes widening as a deep blush spreads across your cheeks at the exposed sight of him, vulnerable to you.

"Baby, you wanna put it in or do I?" he asks, unapologetic and direct, his tone incredulous. You squirm under him and look away, embarrassment exuding like a palpable scent.

"That's not quite. decent," you mumble, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Anton chuckles, a low, rich sound that sends shivers down your spine. "For what we're about to do, I don't think we should care about being decent," he says with a raised brow and a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as your clothes join his on the floor.

Again, his hand bumps against yours to move it to his bare cock. You can feel every ridge and vein beneath your fingertips, the heat of his skin searing against your own. Your shyness returns, but there's no denying the effect your touch has on him. He groans and his hips bulge slightly as your hand is constricted around his length.

"Have you never slept with anyone?" you ask, a note of skepticism creeping into your voice because of how confident he seemed. He shakes his head, the dark locks falling across his forehead.

"It's because I love you and I trust you," he breathes, words stuttered over a guttural curse as your hand tightens its grip. "Fuck.”

Your grip tightens on the shoulder of Anton as his cock teases your wetness, the head slapping lightly against your pussy. He lets out a sigh as that anticipation builds between you and him. "I am going to put it in," he whispers, his gaze searching yours for any sign of disapproval. Finding none, he slowly pushes forward, the tip of his cock breaching your entrance.

A shiver of agony rips across you as your cherry is broken, drops of blood trickling down into your pussy. Tears well up from your squeezed eyes, your body tensing against this strange sensation. Anton buries his face in the crook of your neck, his own breathing in ragged gasps. "It—h-hurts—" your voice cracks, the words barely audible.

He lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours as he asks, "Should I pull out?" Despite the guilt etched on his face, you shake your head stubbornly. "No, I want to do it." Your walls clench around him, your body instinctively trying to accommodate his size.

Anton takes a sharp breath of air. He waits a few moments before pushing deeper. A scream tears from your throat, your body arching off the bed as he sheathes himself fully inside you. Tears stream down your face, and he leans down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss as he stills, allowing you to adjust to the intrusion.

"This is good, right? You're not scared now. are you?" he whispers against your lips, his hips rocking gently, your body slowly relaxing as it grows accustomed to the stretch.

"Mm." is all you can say, your mind dazed by the shocks of the sensations. His cock spasms inside you, and you and he are suddenly acutely aware of the crimson stain spreading across the sheets. Concern flickers in his eyes, but he knows this is normal, a testament to your lost innocence.

"It's okay, baby. It's supposed to hurt a little the first time," Anton reassures you, his voice soft and soothing. He kisses your tears away, his lips trailing along your cheek and down your neck. "I've got you. We'll go slow."

He starts to move, his hips rocking gently against yours, easing you into the rhythm. Each thrust sends a wave of pleasure mixed with discomfort, your body struggling to adapt to the foreign sensation of being filled so completely.

"Breathe, Y/N. In and out," he coaches, his own breathing ragged as he fights to maintain control. "Tell me how it feels. If it's too much, I'll stop."

You whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders as you try to focus on the instructions. "I-It's intense," you manage, your voice trembling. "But don't stop. I want to feel all of you."

NOTE FROM SENA , this was genuinely just supposed to be a drabble, how the hell is this 1.8k words 😭💕

© fanbasetwo | tumblr

[bianca-mii]

Paul & Richard❤️

We all love pictures with our fav guitarists kissing or hugging, but I'd like to share some other, slightly less popular photos I find something truly special about:)

Here they look SO MUCH alike. Almost like the same person one frame later. They're wearing matching outfits - black pants with extra belts, black jerseys, sleeves (Richard's a little longer and with red element, but with the red lighting on Paul too it's not much of a difference). They are in almost identical positions with the left leg on Richard's podium, their guitars are in a position in which you can't tell they're different, and most of all - they're rocking the same beautiful smile of pure joy of playing together.

They look SO happy here. I don't know if it was raining (looks a little bit like it), but they don't seem to be bothered at all, they're so much like we don't care, the world is ours!

Again extremely happy guitarists. Here not so much in the world is ours mode, more like the one is the entire world for the other. And nothing else matters...

Now grumpy guitarists for a change. This pic makes me laugh so much. Aww babes, who stole your morning coffee? They BOTH look in such a bitchy mood:D

This photo has such a strong bride and groom vibe. Only Schneider as the priest is missing;)

That's probably only an illusion, but I got the feeling Paul shows a thumbs up while Richard is just about show s thumbs down. Also Paul is visibly pleased, while Richard has rather a scowl on his face. Would make a perfect picture for Richard's words "when I'm like NO, he always goes YES".

Here with those little smiles they look like two schoolgirls gossiping during the break:D Richard obviously smoking, standing on a little stair (I saw the fuller version of this pic but can't find it now:( ), Paul standing on the ground. I've noticed a few times that when they stand next to each other, Paul tries to make himself smaller, as if he didn't want Richard to cone across as barely any taller than him. Also, they both seem to have their mouths open, I wonder how they decide which one talks and which is forced to listen at the moment. Paul probably has it easier because Richard has to take drags of his cigarette:D

Guitarists in black with fans (there was a lady, similar age as the man in between, next to Richard, but I cut her off, sorry😶). I don't know where it's from, but I remember there was no other R+ bandmembers. Perhaps the guitarists flying somewhere together, just the two of them?😇

Such an interesting shot. There's something about their faces that makes them even more attractive when you see them next to each other like this. They really are the match made in heaven...

Ok, no Richard here, but that enhanced super charming smile was for him - Paul looked exactly where his fellow guitarist was sitting. I wish we could see Richard's face at this very moment too...

Edit: I remember no credits whatsoever, I'm really sorry;( please contact for credit if you're the author!

Edit 2: gif with Paul smiling charmingly to Richard by @mrsfitzgerald 🙂

Also, only 10 pics because tumblt doesn't allow more in a post:(

[persphonesorchid]

Echoes Of Nebula - MYG

Summary: Some people say that soulmates are made of the same star, a part of each other, one and the same. Stars don’t live forever, Yoongi found, but they do burn forever.  

Genre: Exes to lovers, angst, fluff

Word Count: 5.5k

Warning(s): I don't think there's any, but let me know if I've missed! Any mistakes are my own, I proofread this one (1) time 😭

Masterlist

Notes: Eep, hello! Here's this lil thing I've been working on! Also, Yoongi and Mc didn't end on bad terms, their separation was somewhat mutual and they're all good :)). Feedback is always appreciated and encouraged! Enjoy!

“Make sure to eat, okay?” 

Snow swirls along the train tracks, following a gust as a train pulls into the station.  There’s the bustle of people getting on and some getting off, bundled up warmly against the winter air. Some are going to see their families, some are taking a break from theirs. Some of them are stepping onto the train to never step foot in this town again. Some of them are just starting the first day of their adult lives. 

Min Yoongi? He’s moving to Seoul.  

Your hands tuck the ends of his scarf securely into his sweater, staring at him like you’re trying to memorize his face. Your tears make tracks against your cheeks and dry quickly in the cold.  

Min Yoongi is breaking up with his girlfriend.  

“Eat on time. And I don’t mean ramyeon because you’re too lazy to cook.” You sniffle, and Yoongi wipes under your eyes with his thumbs. His glove has a hole in it. Not that it matters much right now, he’s trying to get you to stop crying. “Sleep on time, not when the sun’s coming up.”  

Min Yoongi is trying not to cry.  

“Okay.” He holds you still because he’s trying to memorize your face. He’s got pictures, even the silly ones that he took and promised to delete, but they won’t compare. “I’m sorry.” 

He must’ve apologised for the millionth time. He doesn’t know what else to say.  

You nod, smile — sadly, tears on your waterline — and, “I understand.” for the millionth time.  

He’s moving to Seoul, a long way away from Daegu.  

A mixtape he made for shits and giggles took off and pulled him with it, and he has no choice but to follow. Your life is in this little town like a ship in a bottle and like a captain you’ll go down with it. You can’t follow.  

You both talked about it for days, compromising, bargaining, but in the end, your lives are going separate ways.  

Stars either explode or implode when they die, and Yoongi feel like the star you’re both made of has finally reached its end. It’s imploding, folding in on itself and pulling everything with it.  

He has five minutes left to take you in, how the tears shine in your eyes despite his efforts, the string of the necklace he won you at a fair peeking from behind your scarf. The way you smile and your eyes squint, the way he could feel the chill of your hands through his gloves.  

He wants to stay right here in this moment and never leave if it meant he could take you in for five minutes till eternity.  

“Remember to...” His throat feels raw, but it’s because of the cold and definitely not because he’s crying. The lump in his throat makes it hard to swallow. He looks somewhere above your head to give himself a second, things like these are always hard for him. “Remember to dress for the weather.”  

He squeezes your hands, takes a breath that he almost chokes on, and looks back at you. “Don’t skip meals. Get warm when you feel cold. Always carry an umbrella in July.”  

Sometime later, Yoongi will wonder if the things he reminded you to do made much sense, if they mattered at all. Wonders if you’d actually remember. The umbrella one is really important; you always forget.  

He sat where he could see you when his five minutes were up and eternity never came. Waving from behind a glass and missing the warmth of you and the sound of your voice. He watches you wipe your tears and smile big and you walk alongside the train when it pulls off and then you run, and then, Yoongi could no longer see you.  

Min Yoongi broke up with his girlfriend and left her in the middle of winter chasing a train.  

July is always rainy. 

And every time it rains, Min Yoongi remembers the love he left in winter. He wonders if you remember to carry an umbrella. It’s been five years; he wonders if you remember him at all. 

He watches the rain splash into puddles and listens to the patter against his umbrella. Seoul bustles on, indifferent to the weather, its crowds meandering through the mid-summer downpour. Despite the season’s warmth, a stray breeze slips past his collar and reminds him of colder days. He’s grateful his gloves no longer have holes. 

He walks along the sidewalk, carried by the crowd’s flow without much thought.  

There’s not much that he wishes for anymore, not much he can wish for when he’s got everything. He lives in a high rise, works at the top music production company. Sometimes it’s a bit hard being the most sought-after producer in Seoul. Life has been good; he can’t complain. That mixtape opened doors he thought he’d be knocking on forever, and he’s worked hard to keep them open. 

Min Yoongi doesn’t need much of anything else. 

But on days like this, when the wind is just a little chilly and the sky’s opened up and crying, he misses you. 

Sometimes he looks back on that day and feel guilt. He knows it was just as hard for you as it was for him, the pain in your eyes that you smiled through. 

For a while, he’d call you every night and update you, made sure that you were doing well. For a while, he’d keep up with you and made sure that you’re doing well. For a while, he’d call you every now and then, see if you’re doing well.  

For a while, it had been a while and life, and then five years slinked on by.  

Yoongi sighs, and there’s guilt in it. He got busy, as one gets being a producer in Seoul with a shit ton of expectations. He’s changed phones over the years, lost your contact, and he got busy. 

Of course, he’s dated — mostly blind dates his friends set him up on — and he’s tried his best to push forward. There’s no point living in the past, he’s sure you’ve moved on and on by now. Sometimes he’s fine, and sometimes he’s back on that train station platform, wishing he’d begged you to come with him. 

It would’ve been the selfish thing. It wouldn’t have been fair to you had he done that. When he got to Seoul, he’d buried himself so deep into his work he barely found himself. He would’ve dragged you out here, made you give up everything just to sit on the side-lines.  

He misses you sometimes, anyways. He’s forgotten the sound of your laugh, but he still remembers the way your nose scrunches when you do. He’s forgotten the scent of your favourite perfume, but he remembers the way you lit up when he saved up and bought you a bottle forever ago. 

Min Yoongi wonders if you remember him at all. 

As Yoongi turns the corner, his umbrella catches a gust of wind and flips inside out. He fights with it for a moment before giving up, letting the rain soak his hair and the front of his jacket and jeans. He can’t help but laugh at the irony, standing there drenched, remembering the countless times he reminded you to carry an umbrella. 

In the distance, he spots a small café and decides to seek shelter. The bell above the door jingles as he enters, and the warm, cozy atmosphere wraps around him like a comforting hug. He shakes off his umbrella – finally pulling it back down – and steps up to the counter, ordering a hot coffee to chase away the chill. 

As he waits, his eyes wander around the café, taking in the rustic décor and the soft hum of conversation. A bulletin board on the wall catches his attention, filled with flyers and photos. His gaze lands on a familiar face, and his heart skips a beat. 

It’s you. Your photo, smiling brightly, pinned among various advertisements and announcements. You’re standing next to a large canvas, looking proud. He steps closer, reading the caption beneath your picture: “Local Artist Exhibition - Featuring Works by ________.” 

Yoongi’s mind races as he takes in the information. You’re here in Seoul, and you’ve been showcasing your art. A mix of emotions floods through him—relief, excitement, and a twinge of nervousness. He jots down the address of the gallery from the flyer without much thought and leaves without his coffee. 

As Yoongi steps out into the rain, a million thoughts swirl through his mind, each one more turbulent than the last. He wonders why you never sought him out. Seoul is vast, but you’d known he was here, making waves in the music scene. Did you ever think about him? Did you ever miss him? 

The realization hits him hard: he never knew you were doing art before he left. In all your conversations, all your late-night talks and shared dreams, you never mentioned a passion for painting. He feels a pang of guilt. Had he been so wrapped up in his own ambitions that he failed to notice yours? The thought stings, and he can't shake the feeling that he should have been there for your journey, supporting you the way you always supported him. 

The gallery isn’t far, and soon he’s standing in front of it, his heart pounding in his chest. He takes a deep breath and pushes the door open, the sound of soft music and hushed voices greeting him. There’s quite a bit of people mingling about in quiet discussion, taking photos of the art mounted on the walls under ambient lighting. 

Inside the gallery, he feels out of place. The walls, adorned with your art, are a testament to a part of your life he knows nothing about. Each piece is beautiful, but they also serve as a painful reminder of how much he’s missed. He wonders how many late nights you spent creating these, how many times you might have needed someone to share your successes and frustrations with. 

Yoongi wanders through the gallery, the sound of soft music and hushed voices creating a backdrop to his thoughts. The rain outside has left him feeling introspective, and as he takes in the various pieces of art, he feels a strange mix of pride and sadness seeing how far you’ve come. 

Each painting tells a story, each one a glimpse into your life over the past five years, a life he wasn’t a part of. 

His gaze is drawn to a large canvas on the far wall. The colours are bold and dramatic, the brushstrokes chaotic and full of emotion. As he steps closer, he realizes with a jolt that the scene depicted is achingly familiar: a train station, snow swirling in the air, and two figures standing close together, wrapped in scarves and winter coats. 

His breath catches in his throat as he takes in the details. The style is unmistakably expressionist, the exaggerated forms and vibrant colours capturing the raw emotion of that day. The figures are abstract, but he knows them instantly: one is you, and the other is him. 

He remembers the way you tucked his scarf into his sweater, the tears that made tracks down your cheeks, and the way you both tried to memorize each other in those final moments. The painting captures all of it, the pain and the love, the sorrow and the hope. 

Yoongi feels a lump in his throat as he stares at the piece. It’s a testament to your skill as an artist. He wonders how long you carried the weight of that moment, how many times you revisited it in your mind to create this masterpiece. He’s overwhelmed by a wave of emotions: regret, longing, and a deep, unspoken connection. 

The title of the painting, written on a small plaque beside it, reads “Departure.” It’s fitting, he thinks, for the moment it captures, but also for the way it marks the beginning of your separate journeys. 

As he stands there, lost in thought, he hears your voice nearby, and for a moment, he simply stands there. Your words meld together and he isn’t hearing much of what you’re saying, just the sound.  His heart pounds against his ribs as your laugh — it sparks a memory and adds sound to the ones that were muted — bounces off the walls and around in his head.  

He turns and sees you, in a corner, your back to him talking to a taller man, discussing a point of space where you’re standing. The sight of you, so vibrant and alive, sends a mixture of relief and nervousness fluttering around in Yoongi’s tummy.   

Gathering his courage, he takes a step forward, then another, until he’s standing just a few feet away. You turn and startle, staring at him like he’s a ghost. There’s a brief moment of surprise — he gets it — and then you blink. 

“Yoongi,” you breathe, and turning to the man next to you, you smile gently. “Taehyung...Can you give us a moment?”  

The guy looks between you both for a second with a raised brow before he’s gone, walking off to some other part of the gallery. Yoongi’s mind is too occupied taking in the sight of you to wonder what that man’s presence may mean. 

“Hi,” he replies, his voice soft and filled with all the words he’s wanted to say for years. Despite this, he doesn’t actually know what to say, he didn’t actually think this far ahead. He glances back at the painting of the train station platform, then back at you. “I saw your painting.” 

You follow his gaze and nod, your smile tinged with a hint of sadness. “It was a significant moment for me. For both of us, I think.” 

It’s a lot awkward, with him just standing there, not sure what to do with himself. You look the same, though now your hair is styled professionally and not the frizzy, wind swept mess it was when he last saw you.  

There’s so much he wants to say but he feel like he doesn’t have enough words, or the right ones, so he takes it easy. “I saw a flyer...in a café. Um... It’s amazing...your work.”  

“Thank you,” you say, your eyes reflecting a mixture of pride, nostalgia and a certain sadness. “I didn’t know you’d be here. It’s... good to see you.” 

The conversation goes slowly, awkwardly. There are long pauses and nervous laughter, each of you trying to bridge the gap of five years with small talk about your art and his music. 

“You’ve done well,” he says, gesturing to the paintings around you both. “I didn’t even know you were into art.” 

You smile, the same just barely there sad smile from earlier. “It was something I started after you left. It helped me cope.” 

“Oh...” His heart aches at the thought of you turning to art just to fill the void he left behind. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You shake your head and shrug. “We both had our paths to follow. It’s just... life.” 

He nods, but the guilt lingers. Life had taken you both in different directions, but he can’t help but wonder what might have been different if he had stayed, or if he had at least tried to stay in touch better. 

Min Yoongi is an idiot and he’s always told himself so. He’s an idiot and he sucks at this sort of thing. 

As the gallery starts to empty out, Yoongi looks at you, the rain pattering gently against the windows. There’s a part of him that wants to apologize, to make up for all the lost time, but he knows it’s not that simple. 

“Do you have time for a coffee?” he asks, hope and uncertainty mingling in his eyes. 

Your smile is a little hesitant, but you nod, “Sure.” 

You excuse yourself to grab your jacket and an umbrella — you remembered, he smiles privately —, and then you talk to the man from earlier for a minute before Yoongi follows you out of the gallery and onto the wet street.  

The walk is quiet, filled with the awkwardness of five years’ worth of missed everything’s, and Yoongi holds tight to the handle of his umbrella. There’s a confidence to your step as you weave your way through the crowd, head straight forward and not looking down at your feet like he remembers. 

You’re not the girl he left on that platform five years ago just as he’s not the guy that left you there.  

You walk back to the cafe he’d come from, and he realises that you’re probably a regular here. The barista behind the counter greets you with a smile and asks if you’re having your usual. You order a coffee and Yoongi asks the girl behind the counter to reheat the one he bought earlier, and the barista’s eyes dart between you both. 

You lead him to a cozy corner table after the order was called, and as you settle in, the conversation starts up slowly again. 

“How long have you been in Seoul?” Yoongi asks first, his voice a little hesitant, not sure if he’s allowed to ask.  

“Almost three years now,” you reply, looking down at your coffee cup, the tiniest furrow between your brows. “It took a while, but I got settled.” 

Yoongi takes a moment to observe you, trying to reconcile the person in front of him with the memories he’s held onto for the past five years. You don’t look much different, your hair’s in an up-do, your cheeks are a little fuller, but that’s as much as he notices.  

The silence that rings between you both is louder than the other customers in the cafe. Yoongi can only imagine what this scene looks like to others; two people who are barely looking at each other, like awkward strangers forced to share a space.  

His coffee is still hot, and it burns his tongue when he sips at it, but at least it’s given him a distraction. He steals glances at you, watching the way your eyes comb the cafe and avoid his gaze.  

Unfortunately, Yoongi is naught but a man, and there’s a nagging sound at the back of his brain. It grows louder until he fidgets, the nerves of his free hand feel like they’re dancing and he takes a breath. He looks down at his coffee cup, glances at you and then back to the cup. Then, he asks a question that made him want to crawl out of his skin.  

“So...that guy back at your gallery seemed nice...”  

He knows it’s been five years, and a lot can change in that time.  As toxic as it may sound, the thought of you moving on with someone else stirs a mix of emotions in him. 

He knows he has no right to be upset if you’ve found happiness with someone else. It’s not his business anymore, not after all this time.   

Still, the fear is there. He doesn’t want to admit how much it hurts to think of you with someone else. He can’t deny the pang of jealousy at the thought, but he tries his best to ignore it. He has no claim over you. You deserve to be happy, and if you’ve found that with someone, then he’s happy.  

He sighs inwardly, pushing the thoughts aside. He wants to focus on the present, on the fact that you’re sitting in front of him right now. Whatever happens, he’s happy to be here, he hopes he can be a part of your life again of you let him, even if it’s only as a friend. He doesn’t want to ruin this, whatever it turns out to be. 

You stare at him for a moment and Yoongi can’t tell what you’re thinking, “He is...he’s got an eye for art.”  

Yoongi nods slowly, his fingers tracing the rim of his coffee cup. He hums softly, and now it’s his turn to pretend you’re not looking; he finds interest in the light fixtures above.   

His next question sits on his tongue trying to pry past his teeth. He feels like a kid trying to find the right moment to ask his parents if he could go play outside. There’s a nervous churning in his tummy that isn’t at all pleasant. How does one ask their ex of five years if they’re seeing someone?  

Yoongi imagines they’d just ask, out of curiosity, and get it out of the way. He could play it well. Maybe lean back into his seat and appear more casual before he says the stupid words. Maybe he could stop staring at the lights like a damn moth, and act like a being with a fully developed frontal lobe.  

“Are you two...close? Or...you know...” He waves a hand and then lays it on the table. The sound of his ring knocking against it is kind of jarring, but it gives Yoongi an opportunity to look away again. 

You make a quiet sound, and Yoongi finally meets your gaze. There’s amusement in your eyes, it’s obvious you’ve figured him out already — he wasn’t exactly being subtle. Which is unfortunate, because now Yoongi could feel embarrassment tapping on his shoulder. 

You say nothing of it, even though he knows you want to. He could feel it.  

“As close as business partners can be, I suppose.” You say, and Yoongi can see the beginning of a smile as you lift your coffee to hide it.  

“Right...Sorry.” Yoongi says sheepishly, though, a weight lifts off his chest. As he looks at you, he notices something that makes his heart skip a beat.  

You’re still wearing the necklace he got you all those years ago, the one he won for you at the fair. The twine that the little pendant hangs on looks worn, fraying a bit at some points, but you’re wearing it.  

You kept it. 

He clears his throat, the words he’s been holding back spilling out. “I’m sorry I lost touch. I got so busy, and then it felt like too much time had passed to reconnect. I lost your contact, and… I didn’t know how to find you again.” 

You nod, your fingers brushing over the necklace like you sensed his gaze on it. “It’s okay. Life happened, for both of us.” 

“But why didn’t you seek me out when you got to Seoul?” Yoongi asks, his voice soft, devoid of accusation; genuinely curious. 

“I thought it would be for the best,” you say, equally as soft, staring into your coffee as though it would give you the words you’re looking for. “So much time had passed, and I didn’t want to disrupt your life. You were doing well.”  

You look so sad when you say it that it almost breaks Yoongi’s heart.  

“You know I wouldn’t have...” He wouldn’t have turned you away.  

“I know, I just...” You sigh, your eyes dart somewhere to his left, and then back at him, “...I really missed you.”  

Yoongi wants to reach out and take your hand so he does. Your fingers are warm from the coffee, squeezing his own, and tears beads at your waterline.  

“I missed you too.” His gaze is soft and he knows it, but he doesn’t care because its you. You’re still you and he’s still him, and he misses you and the girl he left on that platform.  

You’re both still made of the same star. It’s imploded but still glowing, and your necklace pendant catches the above head light.  

His finger brushes over your knuckles, he stares at them, the shape and colour and all the little things about them that makes them a part of you. All that with his heart in his throat because he wants to ask something.  

“Do you think…” His voice is barely a whisper, as if he’s afraid the wrong volume might shatter whatever delicate thread holds this moment together. “Do you think there’s a chance… that we could try again?” 

You stare at him, your eyes wide, and he feels the subtle pressure of your fingers in his. He knows it’s a lot to ask,  but the longing, the sense that maybe something beautiful can still be salvaged from the pieces, presses him to keep going. 

Hope catches on the glint of your necklace pendant, and he clings to it. 

“I don’t expect anything to happen right away. I just… I want to be in your life again, even if we start slow. No pressure, just… what feels right.” 

You’re quiet for a moment, and then a soft smile curves your lips, almost as if you’ve been waiting for him to say something like this.  

“We could try,” you murmur, the words tentative but filled with the same cautious hope Yoongi feels. 

And from there, the pace is unhurried. You both ease into each other’s lives like rivers that find their way back to the same stream.  

Some days Yoongi feels like he’s been whacked on the head with a giant stick. Anyone could tell by looking at him, when he’s got that stupid look on his face. Like he’s seen a goddess and she spared him a glance. He feels like he’s dreaming, and the last five years without you seem to blur.  

He starts small, a text here and there; good morning and good night. Even if he’s busy he’d keep up with you, except when his work demands his focus. There are some days when you’d disappear, and Yoongi understands when you explain you’ve been in your studio for hours.  

Your gallery isn’t far from his work, and as much as he could he’d go see you. He finds himself drawn to small gestures—bringing you lunch or a cup of coffee, or sometimes a sweet he thinks you might like. Each time he steps into the gallery with something for you, he feels a warmth settle in his chest. 

It’s an excuse, he knows, to see you smile, to watch you light up at the thoughtfulness of it. And each time you look at him with that gentle, appreciative gaze, he feels his hope grow a little stronger. 

You’d tell him all about your creative process, how you’d spin and weave what’s in your head onto a canvas. He’d listen attentively because he’s interested and he owes it to you. All those nights spent burning the midnight oil, steeping in his frustrations; you were there. You’d listen to him rant and cry when things weren’t working out the way he wanted. 

He owed you much more than that.  

He feels like he has to learn you all over again, which, in a sense, he does. Even if the bases of you are the same, there’s new facets. Little shards that fit into the mirror that reflects you, some pieces are a little dusty and worn with time and others are new and shiny. Yoongi has to take his time cleaning the old ones to see them again, and get used to the new ones that twinkle his eyes.  

He invites you to his place for dinner, something simple and easy, and the conversation flows a lot better than it had a month before.  

There’s no awkward sentences that cut off somewhere in the middle. Yoongi knows what to do with his hands and he has a better time looking you in the eye now. He feels a lot like he did back then, like a school boy taking his crush to meet his parents. His hands are a little sweaty, but the food is good and your eyes sparkle like they did back then, too.  

You seem so sure, like you’re not worried one bit. Like you knew you’d meet him again and you’d be here in this moment; sipping on white wine – something new he’s learned – and chucking over stories set in the past.  

The day he let a pet name slip was the day Yoongi wished a chasm would open up and swallow him. He had his excuse ready; the clock’s pushing one in the morning; he’s tired. The truth? It’s so easy to slip back into old ways, like nothing changed at all.  

Like a smouldering fire in a hearth. It’s not quite out yet, and if you throw some sticks in there, they’ll catch.  

After a while, on some sunny evening, Yoongi invited you to his studio. 

“This is where I spend most of my time.” And he means that, letting you into his studio. There’s a blanket tossed haphazardly on the black couch that lines the wall near the door.  

There’s day old take away coffee cups that never made it to the bin, cluttered in a designated spot. The bin he meant to empty is overflowing with scraps of paper and crushed takeout containers. That’s as far as the clutter goes. Though, Yoongi’s embarrassed now – he prides himself on keeping tidy. He wasn’t thinking when he asked you over, didn’t expect you to agree either.  

So now he’s clearing up his desk and tying a knot on the waste bag. You make yourself comfortable on his couch like you’ve been there before, throwing the blanket over your lap as your eyes dart about to take everything in.  

You’re impressed, he could tell by the gleam in your eyes and your little down turned smile. He’s come a long way from his old computer and MIDI.  

“Its nice, cosy. Beats camping out in your bedroom.” You smile and Yoongi chuckles, nodding.  

“Damn right.” He agrees, but he wouldn’t trade in those days for anything. Truthfully, he’s been here for three days, only going home to shower. Inspiration on an all time high and he’s just been riding the wave, you’ve been his muse for the past month. It isn’t the first time, at moments over the years gone you’d float into his mind like a mirage, and he’d get stuck on you.  

He’s grateful for the break, though, there’s nothing much to do and he doesn’t want to bore you with rambling about what he’s working on. So he orders something, and lets a movie play on his laptop.  

The clock ticks softly in the corner, its sound nearly drowned out by the hum of the desk lamp — he should really get that replaced. You’re still curled up on his couch despite the hour, the blanket pooled around your legs, your eyes scanning a painting on the wall he doesn’t remember hanging. 

“It’s peaceful here,” you say, your voice quiet but steady, like you’re speaking directly to the heart of the room—and to him. 

Yoongi glances up from the cluttered desk he’d been half-heartedly straightening; resorting his things because he can’t sit still. He watches the way you seem to belong in his space, your presence settling into the corners he never realized were empty. The faintest smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. 

“You think so?” he asks, moving to lean against the edge of the desk. He crosses his arms, the soft light from the lamp catching on the fine lines of his face. “I always thought it was too chaotic.” 

You turn your head, your gaze locking onto his. “Chaos can be beautiful. It just takes the right eyes to see it.” 

The words settle between you, their weight both gentle and profound. Yoongi feels something inside him shift—a small piece of armour finally cracking and falling away. 

He takes a step toward you, his hands slipping into his pockets, his expression tentative. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” 

You sit up a little straighter, tilting your head. “What is it?” 

“Would you…” He hesitates, his fingers brushing against the edge of a USB drive in his pocket—the same drive that holds the tracks he’s been working on for weeks. “Would you let me write something for you? About you?” 

Your surprise shows in the slight widening of your eyes, followed quickly by a soft, warm smile. “You already do that, don’t you?” 

Yoongi chuckles under his breath, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment. “Maybe,” he admits, with a small smile that meant more than he could say. “But this time, I want you to know it’s for you. No hiding it in metaphors or beats no one else understands. Just…you.” 

You rise from the couch, the blanket slipping to the side as you close the small distance between you. Standing so close, Yoongi count all the things that make you you.  

“Okay,” you say softly, your fingers brushing against his. “But only if you let me paint something for you, too.” 

Yoongi takes your hand because he wants to, and his fingers make home in the spaces between yours. It feels like déjà vu and an epiphany all at once: five years ago you were this close and he was saying goodbye. His gloves had holes. Today...he’s saying hello again, and it feels like no time had gone by. And he kisses you now because he didn’t kiss you then, and you sigh into it like you’ve been waiting a lifetime.  

Some people say that soulmates are made of the same star, apart of each other, one in the same. Stars don’t live forever, Yoongi found, but they do burn forever.  

Tagging: @hoseoksluna @xpeachesncream @amon-rei @allhobbitstoisengard @euphoricfilter @madbutgloriouspond

[butlervibesonly]

𝐴𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛'𝑠 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑦 𝑓𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 || Austin Butler

• Summary : Y/n and Austin are invited to birthday party of one of his friend's baby, and who would have thought Austin will catch a huge baby fever by watching his love Y/n play with kids?

• Pairing : Austin Butler x female! reader

• Warnings : fluff, if we count baby fever?

• Note : I don't know much about Austin's friends so the one mentioned in this fic is all made up by me!! As I respect their privacy or don't want to spread misinformations this is all FICTION! (name is mentioned by ★ if there is a friend named by the same name I choose it's complete coincidence)

You absolutely love any kind of gatherings, whether it's family gathering, or simple friend gathering, but you never knew how much you adored birthday gathering until today.

Austin and you are invited to the birthday party of his friend's daughter, who is already one year old. Time flies so fast – when she was born you rarely saw each other because of your or Austin's busy schedule, but neither you or Austin would miss her 1st birthday.

You and Austin arrived at James' (★) place seeing everyone already being in the garden. The garden is a colorful explosion of pastel balloons, streamers, and an adorable banner that read "Happy birthday, Lily!". You couldn't help but gasp at the beautiful decorations. "I can't believe she's already one year old!" you smile at Austin who smiles back at you, leaving his hand on your back.

"Look who it is!" James pulls both of you in hug. "Hey, buddy!" Austin pats his back, all happy that he sees him. "Nice to see you again, Lily is looking forward to see you!" James smiled.

Your eyes immediately landed on Lily, perched in a playpen and clothed in a tiny pink dress. "Oh my gosh," you whisper, clutching Austin's arm. "She’s so tiny and cute! Look at her little cheeks!" James picks up Lily from playpen.

"We have some gift for birthday girl." Austin smiles, handing Lily a cute stuffed bear. Lily makes some cute noises, grabbing it from Austin. "Thanks, guys. Y/n, do you want to hold her?" James asks.

Without hesitation, you approach James, holding out your hands to Lily. Lily stares at you with big, curious eyes before offering a toothless grin that totally melts you heart on the spot. "Hi, birthday girl! Aren't you just the sweetest?"

Lily seems to agree, because she reaches out, wiggling her chubby little fingers, grabbing your face. You immediately tighten your arms around her, carefully holding her.

"Well, she might not let you go now," James teases, and Austin chuckles.

"I wouldn’t mind," you reply with a laugh, gently bouncing Lily. She giggles and you can't help but cuddle that little girl. You play with her, 'talk with her' as she mumbles some sweet baby noise.

Austin is already sitting with others by the table, arms crossed, but he doesn't pay attention to them – he watches you with a smile that grows wider by every second. There is something about the way you interact with Lily— your gentle touches, the way you talk to her as if she is the only thing that matters. It is adorable, heartwarming, and undeniably stirring something deep inside him.

For a moment, it's almost as if Austin shifts into future, imagining you with your own baby. Something he can't deny is the fact that you'll be an amazing mom to his kids one day. He actually can't wait to start a little family on his own.

"You’re staring, man," James teases, sidling up beside him.

"Can you blame me?" Austin replies, his voice soft. James smirkes knowingly. "That look on your face says one thing and one thing only—baby fever."

Austin scoffs, though his cheeks flushes. "I’m just admiring how great she is with kids, y'know," he tries to hide his true baby fever. "The way she can handle stuff, make Lily laugh..."

"Sure you are," James nudges him. "You’re already picturing a little one of your own, aren’t you?"

Austin opens his mouth to retort, but the sight of you planting a playful kiss on Lily's forehead stopped him. The baby squealed, clapping her tiny hands, and you laughed.

"Alright, maybe a little," he admitts sheepishly. "Don’t worry, you’ve got my vote," James pats him on the back. Austin smiles again, watching the both of you again.

As you're finally free you sit down beside Austin, joining others. During the day Austin is quiet, mostly smiling softly watching you. He touches your hand, kissing you softly.

"What's going, Butler?" you ask, teasing him. A grin appears on his face, tucking a hair behind your ear. "Mmm.. nothing." he looks away, trying to avoid eye contact as he's clearly lying.

"Come on, I know you're lying, Aus,"

"You'll be a wonderful mom one day."

His words surprise you. You and Austin have barely spoken about starting a family, but that seems very different in this moment. "Austin Butler, is that a baby fever I see on you?"

"I guess." he kisses you passionately. There's no doubt you've chosen the best man to be dad of your kids.

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER ELEVEN

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @slvt4her @uconnpazzi @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @ch12334 @wbb4l

warnings angst, allusions to sex, more julian mentions

kalena speakss 🪽! yall will hate me and thank me for this chapter, sorry :(

July 2025 — Hartford, Connecticut 

“Nuh uh! I’m standing next to Boogers, she was my senior!”

“She was everyone’s senior, she was here for too damn long.” Sarah responds, making the bunch of my former teammates laugh.

I don’t even bother to fight back. I didn’t realize how much I’d miss these girls until I was across the country. Connecticut has become home to me, five years of lessons and friendships that I’ll hold into forever. It’s my first time back in Connecticut since the national championship, and the feeling is unreal.

The amount of UConn jerseys is unreal, cheers each time I checked in, after every shot. It became normal to me, loudest crowds in LA, then Minnesota, and now Connecticut. My third home.

We all stand at center court at Mohegan Sun, all of my former teammates excluding Aubrey who’s in New York and Kaitlyn who’s in San Francisco.

We take the picture and everyone disperses, breaking into a multitude of conversations.

“So, we going out tonight? Like old times?” Ice is beaming at me, a smile fitting her face as she tugs me down with an arm around my neck. 

I chuckle. “I’m too damn old to be showing up at Ted’s again.” I mutter. My shoes squeak against the hardwood with each step I take to get out of her hold.

“No, not Ted’s, a different— that doesn’t matter. You coming? Please?”

I nod, tugging on the gatorade towel that accumulates the sweat around my neck. “Cam’s coming too.”

“Perfect! The more the merrier.”

—

The more the merrier was right.

The club was loud and fucking packed, from athletes to college kids, anyone that you could imagine. My leg bounces along to the music playing while Allie and Azzi talk about God knows what a few feet in front of me. The beer I’m drinking glides down my throat while I look around.

“This place is jumpin’.” I murmur to Caroline next to me.

She nods, the hair that frames her face swinging over her shoulder as she looks at me. “I know. Maybe you can get some play tonight.”

“You think I’m not gettin’ any in LA?” I laugh, taking another swig.

“I know you’re not getting any. I have my sources.”

I roll my eyes, spinning back around in my bar stool for another drink. 

There was definitely enough alcohol in my system. Tequila burning in my chest and a couple beers downed as well. I’m well beyond thinking straight, which to me is fine since we don’t play again for another two days.

“Lemme get a dirty shirley.” I tell the nice bartender who’s probably cringing at my alcohol breath.

“Can I get one of those too? And two shots of vanilla crown, please?”

The voice literally makes me freeze.

I know it well, so well, that I’m not even surprised when I look to my right and Nyla sits there with a smile towards the bartender. I haven’t seen her in what feels like years, even if the last time was in Tampa during the tourney.

She looks good. I mean, she always does. It’s why I let her walk all over me for so long. Why I kept going back no matter how much it hurt.

Nyla wears a blue corset top, it contrasts beautifully with her brown skin and cups her breasts in a way that drags my eyes down to them. Sober, I wouldn’t have paid her any mind. But right now my head is spinning and I can’t help it.

“Good to see you.” She feeds me a tight lipped smile.

I look over my shoulder at Caroline, who is no longer paying any attention to me.

“You look good, Ny.” I say through squinted eyes.

The bartender slides my drink to me over the table, her’s as well. And when Nyla picks up her drink, and her lips purse around the small black straw, my mind immediately goes to Maraye.

I haven’t thought about her in a while, not since she left my apartment. Yet, the second I look at Nyla I think of her. The way her hands, done up with pretty french tips, would wrap around the glass cup. Or the way she smiled at me when I bought her a drink that night in Atlanta.

I turn away, feeling the wood of the bar dug into my back as I watch Allie, and now Cameron and Caroline. They’re inebriated, definitely more than me, and dancing freely to Teenage Dream by Katy Perry. 

“You don’t wanna talk?”

“What’s there to talk about, Nyla.” The statement navigates through the air, and the second it reaches her ears she huffs.

“You’ve never been good at talking about things.” Nyla laughs.

I’m quick to scoff and take another hefty gulp of my shirley. “I’ve always been good at that. You just don’t seem to listen to me.”

We sit in an uncomfortable silence, her heal taps against the tiled floor in a rhythm I wish would stop.

“We should talk, P. About Tampa, about everything. You ghosted me the morning after.”

“And you ghosted me after I told you I had feelings for you.” I returned. “It was forever ago, Nyla. Move on.”

I see her down one of her shots before slamming the small glass down on the counter. She takes in a sharp breath of air, swiveling in her chair to look at me. Nyla’s upset. 

So many months of me getting angry, then realizing how badly I need her, then going right back. Countless times spent having sex with her rather than realizing how much I was letting myself go by just being around her.

She ruined me, and now that I’m not falling for it, she’s upset.

“Why’re you being such an ass about this?” She yells, the music drowns out the noise but I can still make out the bass in her voice. “It’s that bitch in LA, huh? That’s why you can’t talk to me?”

“Watch your fucking mouth.” I snap almost instantly.

It’s too often that I forget that Maraye and I aren’t the only two people in the world. That everyone around us still sees the way we look at each other or act around one another. 

We co-exist with everyone else. They are also affected by the shit we do. The things we say.

The way we kiss each other.

“Oh so she is your girlfriend?”

“You’on’t get to be mad about shit. I’m setting boundaries with you.” I say, refusing to bring Raye’s name up again and make things worse. I care about Maraye, obviously, and if I had to hear a girl who literally ripped my heart out of my chest and stomped on it repeatedly call her out of her name again, I might get suspended.

I finish what’s left of my vodka filled drink, mouth tasting of grenadine and tingling faintly from the sprite. 

“I want you, P. Y’know that.” Nyla hums. She’s so damn sadistic. She knows the exact way to get under my skin all the while turning my brain to mush for her.

“No you don’t.” I scoff. “You don’t know what you want, Ny. That’s why I ended all this shit.” 

This conversation is entirely reminiscent of the one I had with Raye earlier this week. Which makes me think that she didn’t do anything about the pressing Julian-situation.

Then I’m getting angry all over again. Pissed off that not only is the girl that I want is probably at home pillow talking her boyfriend, but that the girl I once was fucking helpless over is sitting in front of me telling me everything I want to hear from her. Not her–Nyla, her–Maraye.

Even though I have on shorts and t-shirt, my body still feels like I’m on fire as if I was wearing a full snow suit. The alcohol and combined anger has my brain running in laps, from Maraye to Nyla to the fucking flight I have to be on time for in the morning.

And it’s hard to keep it all intact with the way Nyla fucking looks at me. Like she hates me but there’s still a glint in her eye that reminds me of the first time we met. When I saw her in the stands sophomore year, her hair was short and brown with blonde streaks. She was everything then.

“Paige.”

“No, Nyla.”

But now, I don't even recognize her. Her voice sounds like a fever dream, or a fragment of my imagination.

“I can fix this.”

Her hand rests on my knee. I should jump or push her away but I just stare at it like an idiot.

My legs spread apart subconsciously, welcoming her between them. And I am an idiot, allowing her to stand in this place that I have decided belongs to Maraye. 

“Lemme fix it, P. Like old times.”

We’re at eye level like this. Her hand trailing up my thigh and to my shoulder. I need to push her away. Tell her to get off me, and then head back to the hotel. By myself.

But I can’t.

For whatever damn reason. I can’t.

—

July 2025 — Los Angeles, California 

I rock awkwardly on my heels, bottom lip tucked between my teeth so tight it might bleed.

My heart beats rapidly in my chest while I wait for the door to swing open. I can hear the hum of the air conditioning system blow through the hallway and the sound of my breaths coming out heavy and ragged.

The lock click echos when the door finally does pull open and there he stands. Hand stuffed in the pocket of his black dress pants. 

It’s crazy, that just months ago I was head over heels over this man. The sight of him like this would’ve sent me into orbit, but now it’s like he’s just here. Just another person in my world.

“We need to talk.” I stutter, eyes glued to him.

“Yeah.” Julian responds, turning around and walking into his apartment. He doesn’t close the door, leaving it open for me to follow him, I do so not forgetting to lock it behind me. 

“This needa be quick. I got a meeting.” He murmurs as we approach his bedroom. 

I haven’t been here in forever, and that’s totally and completely my own fault. I’ve been so damn avoidant. Sure I was always working, but I made time in my day to go see Paige or Rickea or my sister. But with Julian I just chose not to.

“That’s fine.” I say. “We uh, Ion think this is working, Ju.”

He hums, nodding and throwing on a button up shirt over his wife beater shirt.

I don’t even think he’s surprised, more content with the result. Like he expected this the second I rang his doorbell. Maybe even earlier than that.

“Damn.” It’s not a disappointing damn, quite the opposite actually.

“I’m sorry. I just— I can’t give you what you want. We’re one opposite ends of life right now, and I don’t wanna hurt you. Really.”

I don’t know how much is the truth and how much is meant to be a lie to get him to not talk about our last argument. I know I can’t give him what he needs, it’s not because of my alleged time management struggles. 

My heart wasn’t in it. Even if it wasn’t for Paige, I’d be calling it quits because I’m not into him the way I should be. She taught me that. The lengths I’d go to for someone I had feelings for, I simply don’t think I could do for him.

“That’s it? Y’just can’t make time for me?”

I huff at the undertone of his voice.

“Nah, this isn’t me arguing. You really think that?”

I nod. “Among other things, yes.” I can’t look at him. Because even though I think he doesn’t, Julian knows me well. He knows my tells and the way I react under pressure. “You deserve better than me, Julian.”

His cologne burns through the air when he sprits it out across his skin. I’m sure that the second I leave, that damned scent would be ingrained into my mind forever, I’d never forget it.

“And this has nothing to do with her?” 

Julian doesn’t look away from me for a second, staring holes into my soul that make me feel naked. My hands sweat, and I stuff them in the back pockets of my jeans.

I’d be dumb to stand here and keep lying. I’m already an idiot for thinking that everything would be peaches and cream after this. So I take a breath of air, which basically confirms any doubts Julian has running in his head.

“I— Ju.”

“I fuckin’ knew it. You sleepin’ with her?”

“No. No, Ju. She just— it’s so easy to be myself around her, and I feel like I'm always fighting to be myself with you.” I explain, partially trying to save my ass. “I dunno.”

“So that’s it. You cheat on me and think shit just gonna work out with her?”

“All I can control is this. We aren’t working, so we’re breaking up. That’s it, Julian.” I say, fully aware of how disgusted he looks with me right now.

Never in a million years did I think this shit could happen to me. I’m so conflicted, I don’t deserve whatever happy ending may come with Paige. I don’t deserve his forgiveness either, that’s for damn sure.

“Whatever.” Julian shrugs, walking out of the room with his shoes in hand. I follow behind him, trying to meditate the situation any way I can. It doesn’t work, as I expected.

He trots to the door, unlocking it again and pulling it open. He stands in the doorway, looking at me expectantly. His height looms over me as he waits.

Words form on my tongue and instantly die there. I shut my mouth, slipping through the corridor and hearing it slam behind me.

And for a brief second, I feel good. Like everything is going the way it’s supposed to.

Then the reality of it all hits me, and I feel like I want to run into a wall.

—

July 2025 — Hartford, Connecticut

My heartbeat rings in my ears while I make an attempt to catch my breath. 

Nyla lays next to me, sweaty and naked, and months ago I would’ve been completely enamored by the sight. But now I’m just fucking disgusted.

She’s gorgeous, always has been. That’s not the issue.

The issue is her lips don’t taste like that vanilla sweet cream I would always taste after being with Raye. It’s almost bitter, just pure alcohol.

I eagerly throw my legs off the side of the bed. We’re at her apartment, not too far from my hotel. I feel her stare into my back, piercing through me and suddenly I’m well aware of my own nakedness. I toss my bra followed by my shirt over my head before picking up my boxers and putting them on too. The bed shifts, dipping slightly before I feel her hand on my arms.

The events of the last hour have sobered me up tremendously, her hands that once were burning hot to the touch are suddenly freezing. Almost dead.

“Where you goin’?” Nyla asks. Her voice is raspy from the screaming of my name. It should make me feel good, as it always seems to no matter who I’m with.

This time it doesn’t.

I shrug her off of me standing up from the bed and searching for the rest of my clothes. My shorts, socks, shoes all scattered somewhere. I threw the hair tie that kept my hair in a ponytail somewhere too, and Nyla was definitely crazy enough to use it to make a clone of myself.

“Paige, I said—”

“I heard what you said. I’m getttin’ the fuck outta here.”

“You’re not doing this shit again.” She grumbles, pulling on her panties and trying to chase after me. Nyla grabs my arm as she spins me around, looking up at me while I stare up at the ceiling in an attempt to avoid her tits in my face.

“This was a mistake.” I explain, pushing her off of me and finally putting on my shorts. My shoes follow. “You and me are fuckin’ done. Ion know how many times I gotta say that for it to click in your damn head.”

“‘Cause you say shit like that and then come crawling right back!” She’s yelling now, and I can only imagine how irritated her neighbors have become with us. “You wanna act like you didn’t just fuck me? Or that you didn’t tell me you missed me.”

“I’m fucking drunk! That’s the only reason why I do any of this shit with you.” I yell, back. “Ion want shit to do with you, Nyla. I’m moving on.”

“Moving onto that ho, in LA? Is she better than me?”

“You got one more fuckin’ time to—” I cut myself off with a heavy breath, shaking my head and grabbing the rest of my belongings off her nightstand. “Get over it. We’re done. This is never, and I mean never, fuckin’ happening again.” I muse. I’m quick to rush out of the apartment, phone in hand, while I shut the door.

I feel dirty. Like I just committed a fucking felony and was on the run. 

The cool air finally hits me like a breath of fresh air when I finally touch the streets. My hotel wasn’t far, a block, maybe more, away.

I’m ashamed of myself, for going back to Nyla and falling for her dumbass words as if they meant something. They never did. 

Then it hits me.

Maraye.

I nearly stop in the middle of the street before picking up my pace and walking into the hotel building.

God knows what decision she’s made. She could be with Julian right now telling him everything he wants to hear. Or she could be waiting for me. To call her, to text her, to tell her that I miss her.

And believe it or not, I do. I fucking miss her crazy. Her voice and those gorgeous fucking eyes. The way she listens to me like I’m the only person left on Earth, like it’s just me and her. I miss her smell, the Chanel no.5 combined with some vanilla body spray that she almost always seemed to have on, that permanently left its mark on my nose and my soul. Everything about her being, I miss it like crazy.

I’m in the elevator, the hum of the gears and the corny ass elevator music that plays only leaves me with my thoughts. Feelings of disparity and fucking anger.

How could I be so stupid. All it took was a few drinks and a fucking glare and now I’ve made arguably the biggest mistake of my life.

My phone starts ringing when I pull out my key card. I stand in the hallway, flipping the device over and staring at it.

Her name, in bright and bold font with the anatomical heart emoji next to it. It’s so intimate, an emoji that I think I’ve only ever used in correspondence with her. The picture is recent, I changed it after she left my place that night. It’s the two of us seated on my couch, her head resting on my shoulder with her lips in that cute pout she does in almost all her photos. My eyes are red from sleep but I still keep a nose-scrunched smile on my face.

I catch myself just standing there, looking at her looking at me until the call goes to voicemail.

I’m glad that it does, because I know that if I were to pick up the phone and hear her voice as she talks I might break down.

I unlock the door, kicking my shoes off the minute the door closes. I rest my back against it, head tossed onto the white painted portal. 

Then my phone buzzes again.

i miss you. call me in the morning k?

I fucked up. Fucked it all up.

[it-happened-one-fic]

Twisted Weddings: - Introduction

Author Notes: This is the first part of my 800 Followers celebration event for the Twisted Wonderland fandom. This is just going to be the introduction section for the story itself (which is going to be 9 sections in total). I chose the wedding theme on a whim based on a fic I read a long time ago on AO3 that has long sense gone missing, but no one is actually going to be getting married. Reader is going to be female for the sake of my own ease for this series. I hope everyone enjoys!

Type: Female reader/ sfw/ fluff/ featuring Crewel (Note for sake of avoiding confusion: This is not x Crewel)

Word count: 775

I frowned slightly at Crewel as he sat down across from me, a stack of papers in his hands that he slowly laid out. One sheet at a time.

“I’ve recently finished designing a line of wedding dresses and suits,” He spoke as he fanned the sheets out across the table. Each page had a sketched-out design of a wedding gown that had me blinking slightly in surprise.

Of course I’d known that Crewel was a designer. As if his fashionable nature wasn’t enough to tip me off, then Vil talking about his clothing line would have been. I hadn’t realized that he designed bridal clothes, though. And I certainly didn’t know what these clothes had to do with me or why he’d called me in to look at them.

I slowly glanced back up at my instructor as he continued, utterly calm despite my wary confusion, “I’m wanting to market each of these dresses differently than I usually would though. You see, this is my first line of bridal designs.”

I nodded, shifting slightly in my seat as Crewel eyed me, “I’ve decided that, along with the runaway models, I would do an advertising campaign where I have just one woman model all the gowns with varying different grooms.”

I blinked, already seeing where this was heading but not quite able to keep myself from staring at him in surprise in a way that had him smiling at me, “Of course I’ll pay you for modeling all eight gowns.”

I glanced down at the page in front of me, a picture of a classic wedding dress. Pristine white with a veil and looking like it was directly out of a fairytale. But as I glanced back up at Crewel, I shook my head slightly in blatant disbelief, “But I’m not a model…..”

“That’s what will make these ads more unique. You aren’t a model of any sort, and yet you will be the bride for this marketing campaign and will be far more relatable to prospective brides looking for a dress.”

I had to hand it to him; he’d come prepared. And I couldn’t deny that earning some money was attractive when I considered the state Ramshackle dorm was in.

There was no telling how many repairs I’d be able to manage with whatever Crewel was willing to pay me.

“The campaign will consist of seven pictures for magazines and billboards and one video for television advertising. For each dress, you will be paired with a different groom,” He continued calmly. Clearly explaining his plan for the marketing campaign even as I weigh my options.

“Are the models of the groom’s suits going to be professional?” I tilted my head when I spoke, and he hummed in response before shaking his head. 

How he avoided sending any of his black hair into the white half of his head or vice versa was beyond me, but I didn’t question it as he responded, “Only one. As I said, there’s going to be a different model for the grooms in each image. I thought it would be more interesting to use other fresh faces for this campaign for the grooms.”

I felt my eyebrows arch, “But wouldn't it make more sense to just use one model for the suits since you’re just going to be using one for the gowns?”

Crewel frowned, a flicker of annoyance going through his gaze as his eyes met mine, and I tilted my head slightly, “That was the plan, but the candidates for modeling being how they were made things difficult.”

“And who are the candidates?” I couldn’t help the wariness that slipped into my tone, and Crewel sighed slightly before handing me a stack of pictures that was filled with familiar faces.

“They ended up being the winners. Whether they entered themselves or were entered by someone else,” As he spoke, I sifted through the pictures.

Trey, Ruggie, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, Sebek, and Leona.

“Winners?” I echoed him amusedly, and Crewel shook his head. 

There was a perfectly annoyed expression on his face as he frowned down at the pictures in my hands, “Suffice to say they all turned it into a competition.”

I almost wanted to ask exactly how this supposed ‘competition’ went down, but thought better of it as I took a secondary glance at Crewel’s expression.

I shrugged lightly, laying the pictures down on top of the wedding sketches, “Well, I can’t really think of any reason to say no to modeling for you…”

I trailed off and Crewel nodded, back to business as usual as he collected all the papers, “Then we’ll start tomorrow.”

If you would like to read more

Next: Coming Soon!

[kooksvspogues]

Happy 1st Birthday Lilian!! 🥳

Part 4 -

Authors note: Let me know if y’all are enjoying the slow burn with this story or have any suggestions! Would love some more input from y’all ❤️❤️❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~ Drew’s POV ~~~~~

I know I told her I didn’t want anything more than to just be friends, but how could I not want more. The connection we had the night at the wedding was something I’ve never experienced before. She is something I’ve never experienced before. I thought I could handle being around her and keeping our deal, and I think I could’ve if Austin never showed this much interest in her. The way he talked about her when she was walking into the pool with my niece; “look at the ass on that girl, holy shit, and those boobs, jaaackpooot” he grinned putting up both his fist waiting for Chase and I to bump his, to which I just gave him a stern stare while Chase nonchalantly bumped his fist, trying to send a text.

“You know girls aren’t just a piece of ass, right?” I stared at him

“Well yeah, but it makes it so much better when they have one, ya know why I’m talking about Drew” he winks at me

“That’s my sisters friend, don’t do anything stupid” I plead

“I won’t do anything she isn’t about” Austin tapped my shoulder before getting up and joining Mack and Maddie in the pool.

I couldn’t help the pit that was forming in my stomach or the rage and adrenaline I was feeling in my entire body. I watched as she smiled up at him, but not the same way she smiles at me. She kept trying to keep her distance with him no matter what he tried, and for that, I was grateful.

Austin snatching her up before anybody could say anything to be his partner for beer pong, now that hurt. Beer pong was how we met at the wedding. She stepped up to be my partner since my buddy Paul had stepped away and she ended up being the best partner I’ve ever had in beer pong, plus, she was nice to look at too.

She had done changed out of her bridesmaid dress and into a short light yellow dress and had ditched her heels. Her curled dark brown hair was falling around her shoulders, and for some weird reason, all I could think of was the Disney princess, Belle. When I found out her name was Maddie and put it together that she was my sister’s roommate in college, I couldn’t help but me intrigued. I had heard so many stories and felt like I knew her personally but this was the first time we have been in the same area at the same time.

We won every round of beer pong we did. We laughed and flirted with each other like it was the most normal thing we’ve ever done. When we finally got done playing, we went upstairs to where the balcony was. I had untucked and unbuttoned my shirt to where it was just hanging, leaving the undershirt revealed. I sat down, leaned against the paneling,before pulling her down to sit in between my legs and lean back against my chest. Opening the bottle of champagne we snatched on the way up. That was the most comfortable I had ever been. We sat there for hours just talking about everything, what we wanted out of life, where we wanted to be in 10 years, family, kids, kid name ideas, dream vacations, just anything that come up while we just sat there playing with each others hands and passing the bottle back and fourth with the other. At one point she turned sideways and put her legs over mine while one of her hand planted itself on the wood behind us causing her to face me.

“You really are not what I expected” she admitted

“I’m gonna need you to elaborate on that, love” I teased smiling

“Just that, I have seen pictures of you, but just didn’t really expect you to be this hot in person, plus the fact that you’re insanely amazing at conversation.” She admits, her face turning a light shade of red when she makes eye contact with me

“I could say the same thing about you” I smile before leaning in closer to her, looking back and forth from her eyes to her lips. I reached up and placed my hand on the side of her neck, my thumb against her jaw just as our lips met.

“You are so beautiful” I whisper to her, feeling her smile against my lips, as she pulls her legs back to her before turning completely and straddling me, reconnecting our lips immediately.

The kiss was so deep, tender, gentle, rough, everything you could ever want in a kiss. What felt like would never end got cut short the moment I started kissing down her neck. She tapped my chest making me pull back and look up at her.

“We shouldn’t be doing this, your Mack’s brother” she says starting to stand up

“Maddie..” I say grabbing her hand

“No, let’s just pretend it didn’t happen, okay? For Mack?” She begs and I just nod slightly, watching as she takes a deep breath before running back downstairs.

Now I’ve had to watch Austin’s hand on the small of her back, lifting her up, her almost naked body against his, his hand so close to her ass and his face so close to her chest, then for him to have the audacity to place his hand on her leg right next to me.

I couldn’t do it, I can’t watch this, I can’t let her get away this time. I just need to make sure she still feels something on her end towards me before I do anything else. Which is why my feet quickly sped upstairs to her once Mack came back outside, telling everyone I had to run to the bathroom.

But, yet again, she ran away. But she also didn’t deny still feeling anything. Just gonna take some time to break through that wall, and I’m willing to do whatever I got to do.

~~~~~ Maddie’s POV ~~~~~

I walk into the downstairs bathroom, closing and locking the door quietly. Fanning my eyes, trying to keep myself from crying, but I fail quickly at that, feeling a tear fall from both eyes. I place my hands on the counter and look at myself in the mirror.

“I got this, it’s just a week of being around him, I can make that, I’m here for Liliana and Mack, that’s it” I whisper to myself before looking down at the floor shaking my head. I wipe the few tears away, open the door, and head back outside when I see Drew coming down the stairs.

“Maddie” he says

“Drew” I say opening the back door slightly

“Wait” he says just as I open the door completely and walk out “or not” I hear him mumble before walking out behind me, keeping the door cracked just incase Liliana wakes up.

Everyone else was back in the pool so I went to the edge and just sat down putting my feet in the water. A few minutes later, Drew walks over with two bottles of beer, offering one to me.

“Truce?” He asks as I look up at him

“…truce” I say grabbing the bottle as he goes to sit down next to me.

“I’m sorry” he whispers as we watch the rest of the groups playing beer pong

“It’s okay, I get it, that night was great, neither one of us can deny that, but me and you in any way, just can’t happen” I whisper to him

“Can I ask why?” He asks looking over at me with curious eyes

“Me and Mack made a promise, both of us have brothers, we knew at some point we’d meet them, and we promised that family, especially brothers were off limits cause we never wanted to jeopardize our friendship in any way” I explain quietly as he nods biting his lip, looking down at her hands right next to each other.

“I get that.. but is that real—“ He starts but I cut him off when I see Austin swimming over to us grabbing my legs, rubbing his thumb against them

“Hey gorgeous” he smiles up at me as I smile down at him slightly, “want to come be my partner again?” He asks me

“Nah, I’m good right here, I’ve done dried off” I say

“Oh okay, well if you change your mind, I’ll be waiting for you” he winked before getting called back over for his turn.

“Is that really gonna be a thing?” Drew asks looking over at me

“I don’t know… he’s sweet.. we’ll see” I confess

“Please don’t jump into something with him” he pleads

“I’ll be okay” I smile over at him

“I know, but still..” he says locking eyes with me as we just stare at each other.

“Why aren’t you looking away?” He asks me smirking

“Oh shut up” I say smiling, pushing him away making him laugh

“You can’t do that” he says in a warning tone

“Do what?” I ask furrowing my eyebrows

“Look at me like that” he states

“Like what?” I curiously ask

“Like you want me to just lean over and kiss you like we did their wedding night, like we’re the only two people that are here” he quietly explains keeping his eyes locked with mine

“Are you ever gonna give that up?” I tease him knocking my shoulder into his

“Not a chance sweetheart” he winks at me making me shake my head.

“You’re a headache” I laugh

“Just a man trying to be your headache, my bad” he throws his arms up laughing making me roll my eyes playfully

I catch Mack and Garrett in the corner of my eye looking over at us before whispering something to each other. I clear my throat and jerk the huge smile off my face looking over at the group of boys playing beer pong.

Me and Mack lock eyes and she has her arms crossed, an eyebrow raised, with a slight smirk on her face. I raise my eyebrows at her in curiosity and she just shakes her head, still smirking before looking away from me.

Great…

Chase and Austin end up leaving not too long after they got done with playing beer pong. Of course, Austin couldn’t leave without planting a kiss on my cheek. Which made me feel more weird than anything.

“Mack, can I stay here, I’m too drunk to drive home” Logan says a lot louder then needed as he wrapped his around around me planting his chin on the top of my head

“Yeah, that’s fine, Drew you staying here too?” Mack’s asked

“Yeah, might as well” he says

“Okay, y’all can take the other guest bedroom till mom gets here if you want or one can stay on the couch and the other in the bed, y’all choose.” Mack tells them, “you know where everything is, me and Garrett are going to bed” she said giving all of us a hug, “do you need anything before I go to bed?” She asks me when we she pulls away

“Oh no, I’m good, thank you though” I smile at her as she gives me a look that I can’t decipher before walking upstairs.

“Mads, can I just sleep with you, I want cuddles” Logan begs

“Why don’t you go cuddle with your brother” I tease

“That’s weird” he said making me and Drew laugh

“Here, let’s get you to bed” Drew says taking Logan’s arms off me before walking him to the guest room. I go to the fridge and grab a bottle of water before heading for the stairs.

“Hey, goodnight” Drew says at the door. I turn to face him, giving him a smile

“Goodnight Starkey” I say before going up the stairs and into my room.

I decide to go ahead and get a quick shower, wash off all of the stress from today. When I get out, I throw on a big shirt and crawl into bed. Leaning over to turn the lamp off is when I notice a note sitting on the nightstand. I grab it off the table to read it,

Maddie,

I know you say that we can’t happen and all I know as of right now is because of Mack. But, at any point you’re ready to give it a shot, I’ll be waiting, cause I’m not giving up on you. There’s nothing in me that will allow me to. Just give in to what we both know you’re feeling.

Text me - ###-###-####,

Drew

I can’t help but smile but also know deep down I can’t give in completely. Not yet. But I do decide to go ahead and add his number to my contacts, deciding to go ahead and text him so he has my number too, just incase something ever happens and he needs it.

“Goodnight again Starkey” I text him and roll over to get comfortable.

“Goodnight beautiful, glad to finally have your number” he texts me back.

I shake my head, deciding to leave it at that for right now, closing my eyes and letting the alcohol take over and hopefully giving me a good nights rest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @percysley @dilfs-4life

[rottenpumpkin13]

......... so could we perhaps get a bit of genzack? just a few things to chew on? :3c

Sorry this took forever, but I woke up this morning and went "I GOT IT!" so it is now time to be not normal about GenZack 🥳

The way I see it, Zack is bright and sunny, but there's something volatile lying dormant beneath his positivity, just as Genesis is composed but hiding a lot of bite beneath his dramatics. They bring out the raw and ugly parts in each other, but they also share the same dreams and lust for life, creating a tension that neither knows quite how to handle.

"one thing leads to another" in an AU where it's 2004 and nothing bad has happened, and now they're:

• Golden Retriever Boyfriend x Black Bird Boyfriend.

• Comic books boyfriend x classical lit boyfriend. They absolutely get each other to give their favorite books a try, and it usually ends in "this comic book dialogue is rubbish" paired with "how am I supposed to read this? It doesn't even have pictures??"

• Quoting famous Poets x quoting cartoons. It's Genesis quoting fine poetry and Zack countering in his own way, then Genesis pretending to be annoyed but secretly he's hiding his smile behind his wine glass.

• Zack hyping Genesis up when he gets dressed up, proudly (and loudly) showing him off— he'll whistle, he'll sneak an arm around Genesis' waist, and keep repeating "doesn't Genesis look look awesome?? He's my boyfriend, you know :)" to literally anyone who'll listen.

• Zack pays attention to even the smallest things Genesis says X Genesis taking everything Zack says seriously.

• Financially irresponsible boyfriend x rich boyfriend who buys him things.

• They spar aggressively, and Zack wins frequently. Zack has a knack for catching Genesis off guard during training. After one sparring session, Genesis began complaining, and then Zack to threw him over his shoulder and ran off laughing, ignoring Genesis' protests.

• Genesis calms Zack's ADHD spirals, like when Zack gets overwhelmed or restless, Genesis sits him down and reads to him while holding him gently until he settles down. Zack tends to fall asleep in his arms.

• Zack matches Genesis' dramatics, except to him they're completely valid concerns, he doesn't brush them off and lets Genesis rant to his heart's content because he may or may not look really hot when he's mad.

• In fact, where Angeal or Sephiroth might disprove of Gen's temper, Zack empathizes entirely. Once, when Genesis ranted about a perceived insult, Zack grabbed a hammer and said "just say the word!" which managed to completely disarm Genesis, who's anger dissipated into laughter.

• I think the sweetest part of their relationship is Zack working hard to understand Loveless, reading not only the books but Genesis' annotated notes. The look on Genesis' face when Zack counters one of his tirades with a flurry of Zack-ified opinions is priceless.

• Genesis makes it a point to make the first two letters of every word of the emails he sends Zack bold, because he learned bionic reading is easier for people with ADHD.

• Their shopping trips are a blend of Genesis selecting fine wines and artisanal cheeses while Zack tosses in energy drinks and chips. It's Genesis' "Do you need six types of gummy worms?" Vs. Zack's "As if you're gonna use that truffle oil!"

• Their fights can be intense and explosive, with their opinions often clashing. Genesis thinks Zack can be too naive while Zack thinks Genesis can be hard-headed. Although Zack is usually the one to end the argument by walking up behind Genesis an hour later, right before bed, and pulling him into a hug.

Genesis: What do you think you're doing, Puppy? I'm still mad at you. Zack: Okay cool, but can you be mad at me in bed while you cuddle me? All that yelling made me sleepy. Genesis:

[runningincircl3s]

Nothing Ever After

Noah Sebastian x Reader x Vinny Mauro

Chapter Seventeen

masterlist

chapter warnings: alcohol, SMALL SMUT WARNING (through a flashback), reader singing just pretend, subtle foreshadowing through the songs...

this is just a fun and super silly filler chapter! bad omens want to keep their cool and mysterious reputation but ik these guys are lovers of fun, also i wrote this chapter when i was soo tired so reading this back honestly felt like a fever dream

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The bar was pretty lively tonight, the constant hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter filled the air, along with a lingering smell of alcohol as you stood at the bar and ordered another margarita before asking Noah if he'd like another drink

“I’ll have a pepsi.” He smiled, looking up from his phone. 

“One margarita and a pepsi…” The bartender nodded, adding it to Noah’s tab. 

“I just told the guys we’re here, they're already on their way,” Noah mentioned, leaning against the bar as you waited for your drinks.

The two of you had already been here for about half an hour. It’s been nice to spend time with him away from the others and somewhere that isn’t a hotel room or empty tour bus.

“You sure it's okay for them to join us?"

“Yeah of course, I thought that was the plan anyway.” You smiled, glancing at your phone as you waited for the bartender to return with your drinks. You had been hoping for a text from Vinny, maybe an apology, but so far, nothing.

“So," Noah asked as you were given your drinks, "How was your weekend?"

“It was fine,” you said, putting your phone down on the bar, “Vinny’s parents were lovely, and I made sure I got plenty of pictures for them.”

“I didn’t know you and Vin were even that close,” Noah says, raising an eyebrow, “Wasn't it kind of weird?”

“Not at all, anyway his parents invited me, didn't they. Vinny and I are pretty good friends, I guess you just don’t see us around each other that often.” And you wonder why that is. 

“Well, after seeing you two the other week I’d say he might have a crush on you,” Noah smirked, “I don’t blame him.”

You almost choked on your drink, holding back laughter.

“A crush? What are we, seven?” You scoffed, “I don’t see him like that at all, he's just a good friend.”

“Vinny please! Fuck, you’re the only thing on my mind when I’m with Noah, there's nothing between us… Not when this is all I think about!”

“Oh yeah?” He smirks, your words only egging him on as he lifts your legs over his shoulder, his cock hitting deeper than it ever had. He looked even more beautiful like this, the sweat beading on his forehead, the hair hanging over his eyes as he leaned down, his lips attaching to your neck, “I bet you wanna moan my name too… Oh what would he do if he ever found out you're my pretty whore, sweetheart.” 

You tried to push away the thoughts that came flooding back from last night, you also tried to stop thinking about Vinny so much as you were with Noah tonight. Between the silence on the drive home and the way he spoke to you in his hotel room, you realised your feelings towards him probably weren't as reciprocated as you were led to believe.

“Hey it’s your birthday next month, right?” Noah asked, noticing how you had gone silent.

“Yep,” you smiled, “I’m not telling you the date though. I don’t want anyone making a fuss, and Bry knows how I’d feel if he ever told anyone.”

“Okay,” Noah chuckles, “I was just asking.”

“There you guys are!” You heard Folio before you spotted him, with Matt, Jolly, Nicholas and Bryan. 

“So... When does karaoke start?” Jolly asked, clapping his hands together, noticing how nobody was singing yet. 

“I’m pretty sure it’s already started-”

“Since when? You could’ve told me, Noah!” You gasped, smiling at Jolly as you took his hand, “Can we do a duet?”

“I thought you’d never ask!” 

"We're gonna play 8-ball, we'll watch from over there!" Folio called out as you and Jolly walked up to the makeshift stage.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“What’s the sense in sharing, this one and only life.” You sang into the microphone, getting caught up in the energy with a wide smile on your face as you looked over at Jolly, who was reading the words off of the screen.

“Ending up just another lost and only wife.” Jolly sang, “You count up the years.”

“And they will be filled with tears” You sang together. 

“Love only breaks up to start over again!”

“You’ll get the baby, but you won’t have your man…” Jolly seemed to be a little off, you chuckled to yourself as you assumed he didn’t know the song too well. 

“While he is busy loving every woman that he can… Uh huh!” 

This was easily the most fun you’ve had the whole tour, as you were catching your breath you spot Matt leaving the guys and making his way over to the two of you, looking ready to join in. 

“Young hearts run free! They’ll never be hung up, hung up like my man and me!” The three of you sang, Matt leaned towards you to share the mic, as s couple people in the bar cheered for all of you, and you saw Noah singing along with a grin on his face. 

As you three continued to sing the rest of the song, you kept motioning for Noah to join in, or one of the other guys, but they all shook their head- even Folio which surprised you the most. 

When the song ended, you noticed no one else was eager to get up next and sing, so you took a sip of your drink and promised the small "audience" an encore. You scanned the song list, hoping to pick one you knew Noah would join you in.

Then you saw it, the perfect song. You turned to Noah, watching his expression change as the music started.

“Come on, Noah!” you smiled, “Just this one?”

His smile was slow but inevitable, though he shook his head, looking down at the ground. Anyone watching would have thought he was a little embarrassed. A faint blush coloured his cheeks as you pouted, calling out again.

“Please!” You pleaded, “...Do it for Cher!”

Somehow, whatever you did managed to convince him and he said whispered something to Nicholas before slipping his phone in his pocket and began walking over to you. As he approached, you noticed how good he looked tonight, even in a simple pair of black joggers and a matching t-shirt. Maybe it was his hair, he’d clearly styled it differently tonight. It was growing out again, and you couldn’t help but hope he’d let it keep growing.

“No matter how hard I try… You keep pushing me aside and I can’t break through! There’s no talking to you…” You bobbed along to the music as you sang, a wide grin on your face as Noah picked up the other microphone.

“It’s so sad that you’re leaving,” he joined in, “It takes time to believe it, but after all is said and done, you’re gonna be the lonely one.”

“Do you believe in life after love.”

“I can feel something inside me say…”

“I really don’t think you’re strong enough!”

“Do you believe in life after love!”

Noah knew the song so much better than you, which didn’t surprise you at all. You thought back to the night by his pool when he told you about his love for Cher, explaining how a fan had gifted him the Cher shirt he wore all the time.

“I don’t need you anymore!” Noah sang, trying not to laugh.

“No, I don’t need you anymore!” You matched his energy, grinning.

After the song ended, you both bowed dramatically to the small handful of people in the bar who were enjoying the show you were putting on. You couldn’t help but smile contently as Noah threw his arm around your shoulder, walking back to the guys. You noticed Folio raised an eyebrow.

“Who knew you could sing like that?” Noah chuckled, taking a sip of his drink as you both sat down opposite the pool table, it was currently Ruffilo's turn.

“Yeah well compared to you-”

“Well, if you two are gonna keep flirting, me and Bryan want to see if they have 'don't stop believing'.” Folio announced with a grin.

“We're not-”

“It’s okay,” Noah patted your knee, “He’s not wrong is he.” He smirked, and you hid your smile as you took a sip of your drink, finishing yet another margarita.

"So, y/n," Bryan cleared his throat, "How was your weekend?"

"Why does everyone keep asking?" The words left your mouth quicker than you intended, sharper than you meant for them to be. "It was fine."

"Did something happen?" Jolly asked after a moment of silence, concern in his eyes as he noticed how the question clearly pissed you off.

It only pissed you off because it reminded you of him.

"Oh, no not at all!" You shake your head, "It was fun, I just, uh, everyone keeps asking me but I was just there to take pictures. I was working." You said, almost trying to convince yourself.

"What do you think about Vin?" Bryan asked, "I didn't realise you guys were even friends."

It was as if the guys all shared one single braincell between them.

"That's because I wasn't there as his friend, Bry," You were so thankful the only two of the guys who knew about your situation with Vinny weren't here at this moment, "I think he's a great guy, we're good friends but his parents specifically asked if I could come because they wanted a photographer."

"But, wait isn't his sister a-"

“Oh my God they’re really doing it,” Nicholas laughed, pointing over at Nick and Matt, “And they’ve only had one beer!” 

“Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world! She took the midnight train going anywhere!” Folio sang and you tried to contain your laughter, he looked so happy to be up there, bless him. 

“Just a city boy, born and raised in south Detroit… He took the midnight train going anywhere!” Matt sang, nodding his head as he read the lyrics off the screen. 

You couldn’t help but crack up at Nick’s air guitaring, followed by the way Matt looked so passionately at him as they sang together. 

However, your attention was drawn back as Noah’s phone started to ring. But, to your surprised, he took one look at the contact which happened to be ‘Toby (Sumerian)’ and he didn't hesitate as he flipped his phone over. 

“Weren’t you supposed to answer that?” You asked, and he thought for a moment before shaking his head. 

“No, not tonight,” he sneakily wrapped an arm around you as you felt his hand rest on your waist, “I’m here having a night off with my friends, with you.” 

He kissed your forehead, and suddenly your cheeks were hot, a rush of warmth spread through you. It had been so long since you’d felt like this with Noah, so long since the Noah you’d fallen for had shown up. But tonight, it was like he had come back.

You noticed Nicholas giving you two the side eye, his lips curling up into a teasing smirk, but you chose to ignore this. 

As Nick and Matt finished their song, you had an idea that you knew the guys would hate you for, but one which would be quite funny. You would need to sneak away from them- maybe pretend to go the bathroom. You wouldn't do it yet, you'd wait a little while first, maybe have a couple more drinks first.

"Wow," was all you could say as Matt and Folio returned, "We need your guys' vocals on the next album!"

"I've been saying that for years, y/n. They just won't listen." Folio sighed dramatically, "Anyone want another drink?"

"Please." You smiled, the rest of the guys shook their heads in response, their glasses still full.

You checked your phone again, still no text from Vinny. You wondered if you should text first, but held yourself back.

"So," you put your phone back down and look up at Noah, "What did you get up to whilst I was gone?"

"Not much..." He thinks for a moment, and you noticed he gave Bryan a look before saying, "Me and Matt went to the gym... Uh, yeah that's pretty much it."

You watched as Nick returned with drinks for him and yourself, placing yours down on the table before he sat down with his.

"Well, I went fishing and caught a..." Folio lost you as he began explaining the fish he caught, how he had never caught one of them before and how rare it is. You just smile and nodded your head, it was quite wholesome to hear him talk so passionately about his hobby.

"That's so cool!" You smiled, despite not understanding a word he said.

The guys all talked, and you occasionally joined in, but as you finished your drink you thought now would be the perfect time to execute your plan.

"I need to pee." You said to Noah, "Can you look after my stuff?"

"Of course." He smiled, and you got up from your seat and headed to the bathroom.

However, as you returned, instead of going back to the group, you made a beeline to the karaoke stage. A couple of young girls were belting out a song when you approached, and you patiently waited and cheered for them as they finished. As you searched for the next song, you could feel the anticipation building inside you, this was your moment.

You were almost certain they wouldn't have this song, and you were right, but you knew all the words so all you needed was the backing track and you were good to go. 

As the music began to play out of the speaker, you felt the familiar rush of adrenaline mix with the alcohol in your veins, making you giddy with excitement. Your smile was wide, and you couldn’t suppress it as you picked up the mic. You glanced over at the guys, who had no idea what was coming. They were all busy talking, unaware that you were about to take them by surprise.

“I’m not afraid of the war I’ve come to wage against my sins…” 

Their reactions were priceless. You couldn't contain your laughter as you saw the pure terror on Noah’s face, the way Folio's smile quickly faded, Ruffilo's eyes widening in fear and the way Matt, Bryan and Jolly all burst out laughing. 

“I’m not okay… But I can try my best to just pretend, so will you wait me out? Or will you drown me out… So will you wait me out…" You began to really feel the music, bouncing up and down as you sang, "Or will you drown me out?! I can wait for you at the bottom! I can stay away if you want me- Noah what are you doing?” You giggle as he takes the microphone from you, cutting the music and beginning to lead you away from the stage.

“You’re drunk,” he chuckled, “C’mon it’s probably time we leave now.” 

“But I didn’t thank them!” You pouted as he puts his hoodie that he brought with him over your head, letting you slip your arms in.

“Thank who?”

“My audience.” 

“You mean the two old guys eyeing you up?”

“Exactly!” You giggled, feeling Noah’s arm wrap around you as he walked back to the guys. 

“I think I’ll get y/n to bed and make sure she has some water. See you tomorrow guys.” He chuckles, collecting your things as you wave to the guys.

The group gave their goodbyes, and Noah led you out of the bar, his arm protectively wrapped around you as you stumbled slightly, leaning into him for support. The cool night air hit your face, and you smiled up at Noah, feeling an odd sense of calm settle over you.

“I’ve had a lot of fun tonight, Noah.” You tell him, holding onto his arm as you walk together. 

“Yeah? Me too, I’ve actually been able to switch off from work for the night, and I don’t think I’ve done karaoke in about 10 years!” 

“You do karaoke every other night on tour!” You laugh, “Have I ever told you how much I love your voice?”

“Uh…” Noah thinks, “No I don’t think so.” 

“I fucking love your voice...” Your words slur as you mumble, “You’re unreal!” 

“Well, thank you,” he grinned, clearly entertained by your drunken honesty. “And your rendition of Cher? It was... unique.”

“Hey we could be Sonny and Cher for halloween!” 

“Really? I’d rather not spend my birthday with a moustache.”

“You’d look hot with a moustache!” You blurted out, without any hesitation.

“I’ll have to disagree with you there, angel.” He laughed.

“Yeah me too.... you always look fucking hot.”

Noah couldn’t help but chuckle at how open you were being right now, but they do say drunk words are sober thoughts. 

“And you always look beautiful.”

Your steps faltered for a moment, and you suddenly stopped walking, catching his gaze under the streetlight. His words seemed to hang in the air between you.

“Really?”

“Why would I lie?” He says, “Y'know, you always look best in the morning when we have to rush you out of your room on to the bus, , the messy hair, old stained pjs, grandma slippers-”

“Bastard!” You smack his chest, “I value my comfort over anything, thank you.” 

“And that's what I love about you y/n… You just don’t care. You’re real, and that’s something that’s so rare to come by these days. That's part of the reason why I gave up on dating," He confesses, "But then you came along again, I've always wanted to get to know you better since the time we first met, it was my idea for you to join us on this tour-”

“Really?” You ask once more, feeling a lump in the back of your throat at his words, “Noah I-”

“I wasn’t finished,” he chuckles, pressing a finger to your lips to silence you, “I was worried whilst you were away with Vin this weekend-” 

“Fuck Vinny!” You spat out, the anger suddenly flaring up in your chest. But he shook his head, cutting you off.

“My point is,” he said, taking a deep breath, “I don’t want to hide anymore. If you think we have something real, I think we should give it a shot... I know I shouldn’t be telling you this now, because you’ll probably forget everything by the morning, but I can’t keep pretending like this. I don’t know how much longer I can go without you, y/n. I feel terrible about the way I’ve been acting lately. I never realise how much I hurt people until it’s too late, and you’re the last person I ever want to hurt.”

You were stunned, unable to find the words to respond. His sincerity hit you like a wave, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to disappear.

You suddenly reached up, pulling him down to your level, pressing your lips to his. The kiss was unexpected, but it felt right, and for a few seconds, the chaos of everything else faded away.

When you pulled away, your breath coming in shallow gasps, you suddenly turned, feeling a wave of nausea hit you.

“Y/n are you okay?” He asked, rubbing his hand on your back as you bent over. 

“No… I think I’m gonna be sick…” You whispered, feeling his hands move to hold your hair back. 

“Think you can wait until we get back to the hotel?” He asks softly. 

“Maybe…” You breathe in and out slowly, “Just don’t make me walk too fast.”

That’s okay,” he chuckled, his arm steadying you. “Let’s go and get you to bed.”

"Yeah..."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“C’mon,” Noah says as he pushes your door open, “Let’s get you ready for bed.”

“I’m so tired.” You mumble, sitting on the edge of your bed, barely able to keep your eyes open.  

“I know, baby,” he murmurs, crouching down in front of you with a soft pout. He carefully slips your shoes off, his touch surprisingly tender. “But trust me, you’ll feel so much better in the morning if you let me take care of you tonight.”

“Okay…” You sigh, trying to keep your eyes open as he searches your room for your pyjamas. 

“Can you dress yourself?” He asked, setting the tshirt and shorts down next to you on your bed. 

“Can you help me?” You asked, picking the shirt up to find it’s inside out. 

Noah smiles gently.

“Of course,” he says, taking the shirt from your hand and flipping it the right way around before helping you out of your clothes. His hands are steady and he remains respectful as he slips his fingers under the hem of your shirt, lifting it carefully. There’s a quiet intensity to the way he helps you, his gaze never straying from your face as he helps you step out of your jeans.

You don’t mind the intimacy of the moment. It felt strangely comforting.

When you’re in nothing but your underwear, he picks up the band t-shirt you’ve stolen from Bryan all those years ago. He pulls it over your head with a soft chuckle as you mutter nonsense.

Once you were dressed, he led you to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth. You couldn’t help but giggle as he sat you on the toilet and tied your back, pumping some of your cleanser onto his hands and carefully massaging it into your face. 

“Since when were you into skincare?” You smiled.

“...How’d you know?” He questions.

“You knew what the cleanser was for.” He chuckles as he runs a cloth under warm water and begins wiping it off your face. 

“Maybe I like to take care of my skin too.”

“I love your skin.” You mumble, getting up and reaching for your toothbrush. 

As you got into your bed, Noah grabbed a bottle of water from the mini bar and handed it to you, telling you to have at least three sips before going to sleep. 

“Thank you, Noah.” You smile as you pulled the covers over you, getting comfy as you let your eyes shut. 

“For what?” He chuckled, fixing a strand of hair that had fallen over your eyes. 

“Tonight… It’s been fun…" You mumble as your eyes fall shut, "Even if you did have to look after me…”

“It’s not like I haven’t done it before, angel.” He smiled, noticing how peaceful you looked as you fell asleep, “Sweet dreams.”

As he moved to get up from his place beside you on your bed, he heard your phone vibrate from it’s place on the nightstand.  He knew he shouldn’t, but he looked over anyway in case it was something important, but he furrowed his eyebrows as he looked and saw it was a text.

From Vinny?

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

@rumoured-whispers @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lma1986 @thisbicc @dominuslunae @miss570 @miamore0570 @jilliemiw86 @itsyaboinoah @kait16xo @discocowgirly

[littleslaywrites]

pas de deux- variations | spencer reid x bau!reader 

pt 3 of pas de deux - based on request by @kakamixoxo

summary: while teaching the ballet class your substituting for, spencer comes in to “help”

word count: 1.5k

cw: f!reader, fluff

Having finally put together your lesson plans, you were on your way to teach the ballet class you’d agreed to substitute for. You had left work an hour early for the fifth day, Hotch not minding giving you the time off since you were consistent otherwise. 

Driving to the studio for the past few days, you felt oddly nervous. You faced criminals every day but were anxious over some baby ballerinas. You remember being in your first years of ballet, how you looked up to your teachers and the older girls in the studio. The girls were energetic, but eager to learn. You felt yourself saddened by the fact that today would be your last day filling in. It sounded cliche, but you were going to miss the feeling of teaching the next generation of dancers. 

After changing and setting up in the studio, you open the door to let the kids pile in. Whispered conversations between each other and shouts of “good afternoon, Miss y/n” fill the room. 

A few minutes into class, you hear the door opening, Spencer’s tall frame juxtaposed against the girls at the barre. 

“It seems like we have a special guest joining us today in class,” you say. Spencer walks over to an empty space behind you. 

“I came to help,” he says. You raise an eyebrow, recalling your attempt to teach him. Nevertheless, you decide to go along with it, introducing him as “Mr. Spencer” and allowing him to stand behind you at the barre in the middle of the floor. 

“Now we’ll move on to rond de jambe,” you say. The girls have learned the combination by now, so you review it very briefly before reaching for the remote to turn the music on. Spencer watches the moves, remembering the steps but having no idea how to execute them correctly. 

Seeing everyone else grab the barre and straighten their posture, Spencer follows suit. He suddenly realizes he’s the tallest in the class, feeling a little awkward. When the music begins, he follows along to what you’re doing, until he has to turn to the other side. When he’s no longer facing you, he begins to hear giggles from the students at his creative interpretation of technique. He can tell they’re trying to be polite, not wanting to make fun of a guest. 

The music ends, and you try to move on without giving in to the laughter, knowing once you do, you won’t be able to stop. “Okay, frappé is next.” You model the steps, taking extra care to show how you go from flex to point with the ball of your foot hitting the floor, thinking of Spencer watching behind you. You can imagine the way he was staring, absorbing the information. 

Unfortunately for him, even the best memory could not make up for his lack of knowledge. Even before you turned, you could tell he was taking creative liberties from the sound of his stomps. When you face him, you see the way he’s executing the step, almost tap-dancing. You can’t hold yourself from laughing at the picture, and the girls join in. At one point, he even managed to literally trip over his own feet. Giggling through the rest of the combination, you watch as he turns to look back at you, smiling when he meets your eyes. 

“If you couldn’t tell, I haven’t ever taken a ballet class before,” Spencer shrugs after the music stops. This makes the class laugh even harder. “Miss y/n gave me a quick lesson last week,” he defends himself. “Watch—“ he says, trying to do a pirouette. His foot only makes it up to his ankle and the turn goes about 90° before he falters.  

“I don’t think Mr. Spencer is dressed right for class,” one of your students says. You study his outfit: sweater, dress pants, mismatched socks (he took his shoes off at the door), and a tie. 

“I regret to inform you that she may be correct,” you say after looking him up and down. “You know, most people wouldn’t be allowed to attend class with that kind of dress code violation.”

The girls all shake their heads and shout out their opposition to that idea. “I guess we’ll let him stay,” you sigh. “You should be grateful for your backup, Mr. Spencer. Let’s hope you're better at battements.”

It goes without saying that Spencer was not better at battements. He watched your kicks reach the tip of your nose, thinking it couldn’t be that difficult from how easy you made it look. Intently, he prepared to kick, but his foot only made it about a foot and a half off the floor. This causes the room to break back into laughter, especially considering the focus that was visible on his face. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Spencer, but I’m beginning to think a career in ballet may not be for you,” you say. 

“The reason we can kick higher is because we’re shorter,” a student pipes up, making you raise your eyebrows. 

“I’m sure that’s it,” you reply sarcastically, sending the giggling girls outside to their five minute water break before center. 

“It’s really a good thing you’re smart, because your talent does not lie within anything physical,” you tease him. 

“Nothing physical?” he teases back.

“Oh my god, Spencer,” you snort at his innuendo. “But really, if you weren’t so cute doing ballet, it would be painful to watch.”

“You make it look easy.” You blush at his compliment, going to get your own water. He smiles at you, restraining himself from pulling you into a kiss, not wanting to embarrass you in front of your students. 

“I guess I better get back to work,” he says. 

“You’re going back?”

“I took a half hour break from my paperwork,” he admits. “I couldn’t resist seeing you dance.”

You thought your smiler couldn't get any wider, but his comment somehow does. He smiles back, savoring the joy he brings you. He loved seeing you in the studio because of how happy you were when you were dancing, even if it was a simple warm up at the barre. Similarly, his goal was always to bring the same smile to your face with his words. Every time he made you blush or giggle, he’d swear it was the most beautiful sight his eyes had ever beheld, more than any painting in a museum or poem he could read. 

Spencer always made you feel spoiled. His pilgrimage to the studio was just one example of the lengths he’d go for you. You’d scold him, but you knew it was just as much for himself as it was for you. Besides, whenever he’d sense you were going to tell him not to go out of his way to please you, he’d look at you with those eyes that he knew would make you weak in the knees (and the heart).

Ever the gentleman, he checks to make sure the girls are distracted before giving you a quick kiss goodbye. “You're a fantastic teacher,” he says before slipping out the door. “Even for a difficult student like me.” 

“Is Mr. Spencer leaving?” one of the girls asks as they all come in from their break. 

Returning your water to its place by the stereo, you say “Mr. Spencer needs to get back to work.”

“But he’s so funny!” one girl protests. 

“Maybe I can come visit another time,” he says, “once I get some more practice in. Then maybe I can be as good as you all are.”

They wave goodbye as he slips out the door, quickly distracted by the new combination you teach them. 

Coming home that night, you find Spencer is already on the couch. 

“How were the rest of your classes?” he asks, looking up from his book. 

Setting your bag down, you meet him at the couch and sit down. “Pretty good, less entertaining without you as a student.”

He smiles, placing his hand on your thigh. “I went to the bookstore after work.”

“Shocker.”

“I found a history of ballet. Did you know that ballet was originally a display of athleticism?”

“No wonder you’re so bad at it,” you say, causing you both to chuckle at your mean comment. Despite your teasing, his interest in what you love will always warm your heart. 

He closes the book, pulling you closer into a hug. “It’s too bad your time subbing is over.” He traces his thumb along your thigh. “I’ll miss seeing you practice your lessons.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, and he kisses your forehead. Eyes closing, you feel comfort in his presence. Your mind begins to wander, comparing the comfort of his arms to the feeling you get when you’re dancing. 

“What are you smiling about?” he questions. 

“You.” 

He pulls you up into a kiss. He’s glad you share your life and your art with him. Letting you rest your head on his chest, he feels you fall asleep. He knows you’ll be annoyed that you fell asleep on the couch, but he can’t bring himself to wake you. He picks the book back up, only pausing his reading to look down at the way you smile in your sleep.

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 🔞

Main Masterlist here

Whispered Vowes Masterlist here

Summary: You thought planning your wedding was going to be a magical memory. You didn't realize that it might make you second guess everything.

Pairing: Fiancée Yoongi x Insecure F. Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst, Smut, Hurt-Comfort

Warnings: Explicit Sex, Toxic Family, Arguments, Sex Toys, Self Doubt, Over Thinking, Unprotected Sex, Yoongi Overworking Himself, Reader Needs To Speak Up

A/N: I finished the epilogue!! I hope everyone that's celebrating Thanksgiving or Friendsgiving has an amazing one!

You walk down the sidewalk with your two best friends flanking each side of you. Today was the THE day! The thought of wedding dress shopping has been eating at you for a week now. You were finally going to have to face your mother for the first time in person since she practically kidnapped you to look at overpriced venues that she could only dream about. You were thankful that Yoongi's mom couldn't be here today. You didn't want her to witness what was sure to be a shit show. You had promised to send her pictures.

“Are you absolutely sure that you want both of them here?” Jisoo asked as the three of you approached the boutique.

“I get inviting your mom but….your sister. I think you have gone nuts,” Lisa says.

“I told you,” you say as you stop walking to look at them. “She and I are fine. Things are getting better.”

It's not a lie. Things have definitely been getting better between you and your sister. While the two of you haven't met up in person since that fateful day in the coffee shop in February, you have talked and texted a lot. It might not be every day, but you do communicate several times a week. It’s mainly mundane topics and wedding talk, but that was perfectly okay with you. This is how you found out that your mother has every intention of buying you her dream wedding dress. That poofy, sparkly princess dress that you absolutely hate. You are pretty sure that someone is going to walk out of the shop today crying, and it's not going to be tears of joy. Will it be you or your mom? You are hoping it's the latter.

You can see your mom and sister standing outside of the wedding dress boutique as the three of you finally get closer to the destination. Lisa throws her long hair up in a ponytail and takes her hoop earrings out before throwing them in her purse that hangs at her side. You throw her a look of confusion, and she shrugs.

“If I have to fight, I need to be ready,” she whispers loudly.

“There will be no fighting,” Jisoo counters. “We are here to support our friend. This is a very special day.”

“I will support her by punching a bitch if I have to,” Lisa hisses.

“Listen,” you say, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. “I'm really stressed out right now. I really appreciate your willingness to fight, but please, please don't do it today.”

“I make no promises except for that I will try,” she tells you as she rolls her eyes.

“Good enough,” you grumble and continue your walk forward.

As you approach your family, you can see that your mom and sister seem to be in some sort of heated discussion. Your sister has her arms crossed over her chest and is shaking her head vigorously while your mom looks like she is attempting to scold her. Great. You clear your throat, and your sister quickly turns to you, giving you a tight smile.

“Finally,” your mother says, looking at you with a pinched look on her face. “I must say that I'm surprised that I was still invited here after all the trouble you're going through to ignore me.”

“Now is not the time to talk about this,” Jisoo said gently as you bit the inside of your cheek. “Why don't we go into the store and look around some.”

Jisoo takes your moms arm and directs her into the dress shop. Lisa stays near you and glares at your sister, who glares right back at her. You nudge Lisa and point to the door to the boutique. Taking your hint, she huffs and walks past your sister, growling at her as she passes to go into the store.

“She really hates me, doesn't she? " Your sister asks, as she turns her attention away from Lisa.

“She's just protective,” you say in defense of your friend.

“Listen, mom bought you the dress,” your sister tells you. “Mingyu and I overheard her on the phone last night confirming the details when she was over for dinner.”

“What?” You ask with wide eyes.

“Yeah, Mingyu even kicked her out of the house when we confronted her about it. He said she needs to learn to respect our wishes, and if she can't, then she's no longer welcomed in our home. She is pissed at me because I won't back her up,” she says quickly as she shoots a look to the large window you two were standing in front of.

“Holy shit,” you say, looking at the ground as you let her words sink in. “Is that what you were talking about just now?”

“Yeah, she wants me to call off the wedding,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “She always said how he was the perfect man. How he was so good-looking, rich, and how we looked so good together. Now, he stood up to her, and she wants me to get rid of him.”

“You're not…” You start, but she cuts you off.

“NO!” She exclaims. “I'll choose Mingyu over her every day.”

There is a knock on the window of the boutique. You look and see Lisa waving for the two of you to come in. Glancing at your watch, you see it's almost time for your appointment to start.

“We will have to talk about this later,” you tell her, and she nods her head in agreement.

“You ready?” She asks, walking over to the door and opening it for you.

“As I'll ever be,” you respond and walk into the shop.

“No,” you say as you look at the dress that's hanging on a champagne fabric wrapped hanger in your moms hand. You are positive it’s the one that she bought for you.

“You don't even know what it looks like until you try it on,” your mom argues. You look to your friends or sister for help, but they are busy looking through the dresses on the racks spread throughout the room to notice. “Please, just try it on. What harm is it going to do?”

You snatch the hanger, maybe a little too roughly out of her hand, and head to the dressing room to shut her up. You feel shy upon entering the room that was surrounded by mirrors when an attendant accompanies you inside. She takes the dress from you and hangs it from a gold hook on the wall. You quickly undress as she unlaces the back and pulls the zipper down, getting it ready for you to step into. You watch as she expertly lays it out on the floor that you hoped they cleaned before your appointment. You might not like the dress, but you don't want to ruin it. You carefully step into the material barefooted as she gently pulls the dress up your body. You close your eyes and take in how the dress feels heavy on your frame. That wasn't a good sign, and you can't bring yourself to look in the mirror. You know that you probably look ridiculous.

“You can look,” she says gently after she finishes zipping you up. “It's a little big on you. We would have to take it in some.”

One…two…three. You open your eyes, and you stare at yourself expressionless in the mirror as soon as you see the reflection of yourself. You look like an abominable snowman, a marshmallow, a cotton ball. The dress was stark white with layers upon layers of tulle in the skirt that made you feel like you were being swallowed up by the fine netting. The bodice was covered in probably hundreds of iridescent beads that were scraping your inner arm, irritating it. They were accompanied by a plunging sweetheart neckline, showing off way more skin than you would like for your wedding day. Especially in front of Yoongi's family. You hated it. You knew you would.

“We have plenty of other silhouettes that you can try on,” your attendant tells you as she takes in the look of disgust on your face. “Brides go through so many dresses before they find the one of their dreams. It's okay to not like this one.”

“I have to show my mom,” you tell her. “This is the dress of her dreams.”

“What about your dreams?” she asked, smiling sadly at you almost like she understood what you were going through. You wonder how many brides come through here trying on dresses to make others happy. You hope it's not many.

You shrug and give her a small smile in return. Leaving the room, you go back out onto the floor and stand in front of a set of cream colored couches where everyone sat. Your mom lights up as she looks at you being swallowed by all the tulle. Her hands pressed against her chest as she beams at you. Of course, your pageant mother loves the over the top dress. Jisoo's face is cringing, and she's trying to hide behind her phone, Lisa is literally straight up pointing at you as she silently laughs, and your sister is subtly shaking her head no at you.

“Turn, turn,” your mom says, as she pulls out her phone to begin snapping pictures. “I told you. It looks perfect on you. Do you have a tiara? She needs a veil, preferably with a long dramatic train. ”

“I don't want a tiara,” you grumble, but your mother brushed you off with a wave of her hand.

“How about we try something else,” your sister says, interrupting your mother as she walks over to you and hands you another dress. This one, thankfully, seems like it had much less material.

You cautiously take the dress from her and head back inside the dressing room while lifting the skirt of the dress so you don't trip. You carefully take the heavy dress off once the door closes with help, and you try on the next dress without really looking at it. The attendant makes a noise of surprise as she buttons you into it. She steps away and smiles at your reflection in the mirror.

“It fits perfectly. It doesn't even need to be altered. Go ahead and take a look,” she said encouragingly.

You turn with a deep breath and slowly open your eyes to look in the mirror. She was right. It fit perfectly against your body and hugged you like a glove. The vintage sleeveless, lace mermaid dress flowed beautifully as it hugged every curve of your body. The off-white color seemed to be much more flattering compared to the stark white marshmallow, making it seem much more elegant and simple. It made you feel beautiful. It was perfect.

You turn and glance at the back of the dress before doing a small circle, trying to see every view of the dress. You loved it. You absolutely loved it. Damn it, you can feel yourself start to cry. You understand now why women always cry on those dress shows on tv. You can actually envision yourself walking down the aisle to Yoongi in this dress. It felt magical. It felt right.

“I think this is the one,” she said, handing you a tissue so you can dab at your tears. “Like it was meant to be.”

Wiping your eyes, you take a deep breath and go out to the floor once again. You take one look at your best friends and the damn breaks. Tears start falling rapidly now, and you can hardly keep up with catching the droplets.

“Oh, sweets,” Lisa said, crying along with you.

“It's so beautiful on you,” Jisoo said over Lisa’s whaling as she took several pictures of you.

“A perfect fit,” your sister said softly, smiling at you.

You are able to calm yourself after a minute and turn some circles for them. Your hands run over the floral lace fabric as you once again look in a mirror off to the side in the main room. You don't want to look at your mom. You can imagine what her expression is. It's probably an angry, sour expression. You have to quickly remind yourself that this is not about her. You are not going to let her take this moment from you.

Your attendant approaches you again. Reaching up, she clips a veil in your hair and lays the train out flat behind you. Lisa cries louder, and Jisoo shushes her as she lightly pats her on the back. You finally look at your mom, and she's quietly staring at you. You think her eyes look glassy. This is it. You know it is. This is the one.

“I'll take it,” you say with a smile as you look at the attendant. “I don't need to see anymore. This is the one.”

Leaving the store, you button up your jacket with Lisa and Jisoo right next to you, the latter holding your dress. Your mom and sister leave last, but your mother comes around and stands in front of you, stopping you from being able to walk away from her.

“Umm,” Jisoo said and looked at you. “I'll get this home. Don't worry, I'll keep it safe.”

“Thank you,” you say softly and hug her goodbye.

“Do you want me to stay?” Lisa asks you but stares directly at your mom. “I have all day.”

“You know what, Lisa,” your sister says, and Lisa's eyes snap to her. “Why don't you and I grab a coffee. My treat.” Lisa's sharp eyes turn to you, and you nod your head, yes, encouraging her.

“Fine, only because you are paying,” Lisa sniffed and squeezed your hand in departure.

You sigh as you watch them walk away. You didn’t want to be alone with your mother, but you can't stand the stress of avoiding her anymore. It's been getting to you more than you want to admit.

“I must say,” your mom said, nodding her head. “You looked beautiful.”

“Really?” You asked shocked, not expecting those words to come out of her mouth.

“Yeah,” she sighs. “I still like the first dress better, but you looked…happy. I think it's the first time I've seen you happy in a while. Our last interaction…you seemed…angry. Even right now. You seem so tired.”

“Mom,” you sigh and dig your hands in your pocket. “It's wedding planning….it's stressful.”

“He should have been there looking at venues with you and not me,” she tells you, and it makes you roll your eyes.

“It's not like you gave us a chance to do it on our own,” you argue.

“Has he helped at all?” She asked, crossing her arms.

“He's helping the best he can,” you defend him. “He's just busy right now. His job is important.”

“So, that's a no,” she sighs and shakes her head. “You're so young, Y/N. I know Yoongi is handsome, talented, and rich, but that will only get you so far. I want you to be sure about this. Divorce isn't fun. Are you sure he is the one?”

“Mom,” you say, rolling your shoulders trying to ease the tension. “Thank you for worrying about me, but I'll be fine. Yoongi, he loves me, and I love him. Even if he weren't talented and rich, I would still love him, and I would still marry him.”

“What happens when you have children? Will he be there then, or will work still be more important? You don't know what it's like to take care of two sick children at the same time…alone….no help because I do,” your mother argues. “I don't want that for you. Your dad was like him. Always busy, never enough time for the family, and always running to his office as soon as things got hard.”

“Yoongi won't do that to me,” you argue back. “He's not going anywhere. Mingyu isn't going anywhere. Stop trying to control us before you lose us for good.”

With that, you walk away before she could say anything else. You didn't need her to try and plant any more seeds of doubt in your head. Yoongi was not your father. He knew exactly how you grew up and was sure he would do better for your future children. He would show them love and shower them with attention. Right? You're positive he will. He will show them unwavering support and their number one cheerleader. Right? Yes, of course he will. Hopefully.

You lie on the couch, scrolling through your phone later the same day looking at shoes to match your wedding dress. You have plenty of heels, but none are off white in color. A part of you wonders if you can get away with going barefoot. You wanted to take the option of comfort over stylish. The dress is long and would definitely cover your feet, but you are sure the winery probably would not allow it due to health codes. Flats? Possibly, probably the best option.

The front door swings open suddenly, startling you, and Yoongi quickly comes into the apartment. The door slams shut behind him, and he's on top of you before you can even fully react to him being home. You look at him with a startled expression, which he kisses off your face.

“What's going on?” You ask as you lay frozen underneath him.

“I have good news and better news,” he said, biting his bottom lip. “Which one do you want first?”

“Good news,” you say warily.

“One, Jimin is my best man so that way he can walk with Lisa down the aisle. Hobi and Jin are fighting over the second spot. It will get figured out before our tux fitting. Which….I made the appointment today. Two, I also made an appointment at the jewelers downtown to find our wedding bands next week. Three, I started planning our honeymoon,” he explains and gives you a big kiss on the mouth.

“What's the better news,” you ask as you push him away with a smile.

“Oh, we finished the album,” he said casually.

You gasp and launch your body up off the couch. You wrap your arms around his neck, effectively knocking the two of you off the couch and onto the floor. He lands first with you, landing right on top of him. You might have hurt your knee upon landing, but it will be fine.

“Done! Like completely done?” You ask, looking down at him.

“Well, like 98 percent done,” he said, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “ Do you remember the two men from Darling Media that you met?” he asks, and you nod your head, yes. “We have a meeting with them next week to work out a contract for promotional stuff. Then, that's it. It's done.”

“That's amazing,” you say and slide off him, sitting on the floor.

“You don't seem happy. What's wrong?” he asks, coming to sit next to you.

“I'm really happy,” you tell him. “It's just I know that you will probably have another album to work on right after, and we will be right back in the same place.”

“I promised you that I would try harder to make time for you….for us,” he said, lightly grabbing your face and making you look at him. “Jungkook has been doing amazingly well. He will be able to shoulder a lot more responsibility. Also, we are in talks to hire another producer. Things are going to get better.”

“Does that mean you are going to be home tonight?” You ask him and stare down at your hands. Yoongi tilts your chin up and kisses you firmly on the mouth.

“I’m going to take a super quick shower and change,” Yoongi informs you. “I have to go back in to finalize some things, but I WILL be home tonight.” You nod your head and give him a small smile. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you tell him.

You get back on the couch as Yoongi heads for the shower. Lying back down, you smile to yourself. You felt as though a huge weight lifted off your shoulders, knowing that he had taken some initiative with the wedding. You haven't even had time to think about the honeymoon, but he has. It makes you feel giddy thinking about where you were going to go. Knowing him, it's probably going to be somewhere private with very few people around. That was perfectly fine with you. You just wanted to be with him, whether it be somewhere tropical or holed up in your apartment.

You hear Yoongi exit the bathroom after a few minutes of being lost in your thoughts, and you turn back to the endless pages of shoes on your phone. Would lace flats be too much? Maybe they should be a solid color instead. You chew on your bottom lip, and you go to the next page on the website.

“Baby,” Yoongi calls out from the bedroom. “What is this box in the closet?”

Box? What is he talking about? Your eyes suddenly widen in realization and sprint off the couch and make your way to the bedroom as quickly as you can. You see Yoongi unlatching the black latches on the damn red chest holding the unmentionable items and opening the lid.

“No,” you squeak out and jump on his back, but it is too late.

“Baaabyyy,” he said in awe as his eyes took in Lisa's gifts. “Holy shit is that a tentacle?” He grabs that pink and purple textured object, staring at you, mouth completely agape. He picks up the black leather cuffs next and smirks at you before moving them to the side. He reaches in further to pick up a small box that you didn't see before. Yoongi opens it and makes a choking sound as he pulls out a chain with something dangling off the ends. “Baby,” he said breathlessly.

“I don't even know what that is,” you say, hiding your face. “I didn't buy any of this.”

“I will send Lisa a thank you card,” Yoongi said as he held the chain in front of your face, and his eyes flicker to your chest as he licks his lips. “They’re nipple clamps.” You gasp and cover your chest with your hands. Your face turns beet red.

“Put them back,” you squeak.

“Why are you embarrassed?” he asks. “We are going to be married. It's good to be open about these things. I know I enjoyed playing around last time.”

“You did?” you ask in a small quiet voice.

“Yeah,” he assured you. “If it makes you uncomfortable, then we don't use anything. If you want to experiment, then I will fully support you.”

You smack him lightly on the chest. He just chuckles and places the clamps back in their case and closes the lid. He doesn't, however, put them back in the chest that was once hidden. You lift an eyebrow at him, and he gets up and places them on his bedside table.

“Just in case,” he says with a smirk.

You take a deep breath and slowly release it as you watch him get dressed. You felt like you could finally breathe. It wasn't a breath riddle with anxiety and worry. It was smooth and easy. You just hope that it stays that way.

Tagged Readers:

@mggv97 , @granataepfelchen, @kam9404, @svnbangtansworld , @futuristicenemychaos, @notarshia, @busanbby-jjk

[maodear]

This is me yapping about alien stage to its fullest. I Mostly yap abt round 7 and the video All-in

Till is alive. I think. Because in the end of round 7, his little stupid picture flicks. And his earpiece that probably tracks his heart rate ((checking on his breathing probably??) fell out. So that’s why it flickers since the alien doesn’t know if he’s still alive or not.

SO. HYUNA & MIZI CAN GRAB HIS ASS AND RUN AWAY. ((And I guess Luka too..)

Though realistically, I think Till will survive due to him having such a big role in alien stage. I don’t think Vivinos is THAT evil to let him die, if Ivan already sacrificed himself.

But I do think that Hyuna and Luka will definitely go against each other. (Or what if Till survives and goes against Mizi or smth.. and Hyuna goes against Luka. ???) because 3 is a odd number. (Yeah I didn’t know) Having 3 go against each other would be difficult. Why have 3 when you could get 4? And two more bonus rounds am I right? ((Please leave till alone. He’s my son. Yes I am his mom. Canon.)

Mizi and Hyuna will definitely get captured. No way they will be able to get out of a stage. FILLED with aliens all round. No way. Unless Dewey & Issac bomb the whole place and happy ending.

One of the most anticipated to happen is Hyuna and Luka going against each other. Maybe finally would Luka will show fear? And crack his “perfect” appearance. I would love to see him break because of Hyuna.

As much as I love Hyuluka. It cannot work, because Luka (maybe?) killed Hyunas brother. I have no idea how Hyuna could possibly forgive him.

Unless.. he didn’t? ((Which he probably did but let me cook. I want some hope.)

((Yes he probably did. But I want to put this theory somewhere)

In Hyunas All-in video, during the flashback to the Hyun-woo and Luka “fight” Luka was bleeding from the side of his head,but when looking at Hyun-woo’s hand. He had no blood on his hand? What if the fight was started by Hyun-woo? Possibly since Luka was rather odd to Hyuna. I don’t think Luka would start a fight, due to his conditions. It doesn’t click in my mind for him to fight. What if Hyun-woo hit him on the rock first? I mean hyun-woo didn’t have any blood on his hand. The whole scene isn’t shown. We don’t el know what fully happened. Not saying Hyun-woo is in the bad AT ALL. If he did, then Luka for sure deserved it. And maybe a fight broke out. Causing Luka to kill Hyun-woo.

Luka probably wasn’t that old in that time. Most can be 15. At that age, no matter what. The feeling of killing is horrid. Yes maybe Luka did intend to hurt him. But not kill him. Has it been shown in comics. It did show that Luka and Hyun-woo would fight and Hyuna would break them up. I mean boys usually fight. Look and Ivan and Till.

I read a theory that said Luka might have PBA. Which causes you to laugh,smile or giggle in inappropriate situations. Even if you don’t truly find it funny or even if you’re actually horrified. 

And do remember that Heperu taught Luka to overcome Fear. Possibly he messed up Luka that much, to make him laugh or smile even if he is truly scared. (Which also explains why he is also shown trembling.)

No way am I saying Luka is innocent. He’s a bitch but I feel like people do forget that he is also a victim as everyone else. Alien stage is a fucked up show, which Vivinos will not let us be happy 😭 We can only be happy in the Actor Au..

[lh44girl]

“Dreaming Together”

The late afternoon sun poured through the windows, casting a golden glow over the living room. Roscoe was in full play mode, darting between you and Lewis as you both sat cross-legged on the floor, tossing his favorite toy back and forth. Lewis had invited you for a Sunday roast dinner among family & friends at his house in LA after the chaotic burst of Las Vegas GP. A get together with close friends & family. You both have known each other (friendly encounter) for almost 4-5month ago ( but who is counting ) Lewis felt from the first time meeting you, that you’re family(as if he knew you in a past life) ,someone special ,worm & kind like the warmth of the sun during a winter afternoon & a breeze of fresh air during a summer day .

“Come on, Roscoe, I thought you were faster than this!” you teased, crawling on all fours to grab the toy before Roscoe could.You always had a soft spot for pets (dogs) & kids,even though you had none of both of your own.The bulldog gave an excited bark, beating you to it with a triumphant wiggle of his little tail.

Lewis laughed, leaning back on his hands. “You’re really out here losing to a dog, huh? Shameful.”

You shot him a playful glare. “I’m going easy on him! Don’t make me take you on next.”

“Oh, is that a challenge?” Lewis grinned, inching closer as if preparing to wrestle. Roscoe, not to be left out, plopped himself directly between you, earning another round of laughter.

Eventually, the playful energy faded, replaced by a warm, quiet contentment. Roscoe flopped onto his back with a happy groan, demanding belly rubs, and you both obliged, your hands bumping together as you showered him with attention.

“Alright, mate, you win,” Lewis murmured, lying down beside Roscoe and letting his head rest on the floor. He looked over at you, his smile soft now, his eyes catching the sunlight. “I think he’s officially tired us out.”

You lay down too, propping your head on your arm as you looked at him. “Speak for yourself. I could go another round.”

Lewis chuckled, his voice low and warm. “Sure you could,” he teased, his hand lazily reaching out to tap your arm before resting near Roscoe’s belly.

Roscoe shifted, nestling himself snugly between you, his warm body a comforting weight. Even though the house was full of people roaming around but in that area between kitchen & living area it was quiet ,the afternoon slipping into stillness. As your eyes grew heavy, you inched a little closer to Roscoe—and by extension, to Lewis.

It felt natural, the way your head found its place near his chest and how his arm instinctively draped over your waist. His fingers brushed against your back, a soft, absentminded gesture that sent a warmth through you that had nothing to do with the sunlight.

Before long, both of you had drifted off, tangled in each other and the warmth of the moment. Roscoe snored softly between you, his presence grounding the tenderness of the scene.

When Lewis’ mum came in later from the outdoor terrace into the kitchen , she stopped in her tracks. There you were, curled up on the floor with Lewis, your legs intertwined and your head resting against his chest. His arm was wrapped protectively around you, his face relaxed in a way she hadn’t seen in years. Roscoe lay nestled between you, snoring blissfully.

She smiled, quietly pulling out her phone to snap a picture. Miles, peeking over her shoulder, come inside ,grinned. “This is one for the memory books,” he whispered.she nodded & smiled .

When you stirred awake a little later, you felt the steady rise and fall of Lewis’ chest beneath your cheek. His arm tightened slightly, as if even in sleep, he didn’t want to let go. You blinked up at him, your heart fluttering at how peaceful he looked, and for a moment, you just stayed there, soaking in the warmth and closeness.

It was simple, unexpected, but it was perfect. In that quiet moment, for the first time since you met him , something unspoken settled between you—soft, natural, and undeniably real.

[bexxa12]

STUDIO SECRETS|| JJ x Y/N

{Summary}

Jungkook, a musical prodigy whose voice captivates millions, finds himself drawn into a world beyond the spotlight. His path crosses with the enigmatic daughter of his esteemed producer, a woman whose secrets run as deep as the melodies he crafts.

Chapter 3

WC: 2,210

The door closed behind her, the sound echoing through the studio like a final note of a symphony. Jungkook couldn't shake the feeling that she had left an indelible mark on him, a spark of something he hadn't felt in a long time. 

Mr. Kim cleared his throat, the spell broken, and Jungkook turned back to the task at hand.

They worked into the night, the energy in the studio palpable. The walls seemed to hum with the power of their collective passion, the music growing more intense with each passing hour.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air, melding with the faint metallic tang of new technology and the nostalgic scent of worn-out vinyl records.

As Jungkook played, Mr. Kim's eyes never left the monitors, scrutinizing every note and beat with a meticulous precision that had made him a legend in the industry. 

His graying hair was swept back in a neat style that defied the chaos of the cables and instruments scattered around the room

Finally, the last note of Jungkook's song faded into the quiet embrace of the studio. Mr. Kim leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh, his eyes closing briefly as if to savor the sound that had just filled the space. He opened them and nodded, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

"Good job, Jungkook," he said, his voice gruff but warm. 

"We're done for the day. That was the final take."

The song they'd been crafting together had finally come alive, a fusion of beats and melody that felt like a piece of his soul.

As Jungkook stepped out of the music booth, the cool air washed over him, a stark contrast to the warmth of the spotlights.

"It was nice to finally meet her." Jungkook said casually, as he approached Mr. Kim.

Mr. Kim's eyes lit up at the mention of his daughter, Y/N. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. 

"How did she seem?"

"Determined, like you," Jungkook observed, chuckling.

Mr. Kim's expression grew thoughtful. "She's got a good head on her shoulders, that one."

Jungkook nodded, picturing the young woman who had visited the studio earlier that day. 

She had the same sharp gaze and focused demeanor as her father, yet there was a warmth to her that was all her own.

"Yeah, she was pretty intense," Jungkook said, smiling. 

"But in a good way. She talked about her cases like they were the only things that mattered in the world."

Mr. Kim's eyes twinkled with pride. 

"That's her alright," he said. "Her passion for justice is unrivaled."

The conversation grew quiet as they both reflected on the day's achievements and the paths their lives had taken. Jungkook had always admired the producer's dedication to his work and family. 

The way he balanced the two, especially in the fast-paced world of music and entertainment, was inspiring.

Mr. Kim's phone buzzed on the desk, breaking the silence. He picked it up, squinting at the screen. 

"Looks like Y/N is stuck at the office again," he said with a sigh. "She's always working."

Jungkook leaned against the soundboard. "Is she okay with that?" Mr. Kim rubbed his temples. 

"It's tough, but she loves it. Says she's fighting the good fight. Sometimes, I wish she'd take a break though."

Jungkook nodded sympathetically. 

"You've taught her well," he said. "She's following her dreams."

Mr. Kim couldn't help but smile. 

"I just want her to be happy," he said. "And if that means fighting for justice, then so be it."

Jungkook nodded. 

"You know, I've never met anyone quite like her. Most people in my line of work are chasing fame or fortune, but she's out there making a difference."

Mr. Kim's expression grew contemplative. 

"Yeah, she's one of a kind," he said, a hint of wistfulness in his voice. 

"When she told me she wanted to be a lawyer, I was worried it'd consume her, but she's found a way to keep her passion from becoming a burden."

Jungkook nodded thoughtfully. 

"I can see it in her eyes," he said. "The same fire you have for music, she has for justice. It's pretty amazing."

Mr. Kim's gaze drifted to his phone's lockscreen. In the picture, his daughter, Y/N, was a young girl, her tiny hands clutching a makeshift microphone, mimicking her father's every move as he worked in the studio. 

He couldn't help but wonder if she had inherited his love for music, or if it was his passion for his work that had inspired her to pursue her own dreams with such fervor.

"Well," Jungkook said, breaking the silence, "we should start wrapping up. It's late." Mr. Kim nodded, his eyes lingering on the picture before he set the phone down. 

"You're right," he said, standing up and stretching. "Let's get you home. You've earned it."

Jungkook grabbed his bag and jacket from the chair, feeling a mix of excitement and exhaustion. As they walked out of the studio, the cool night air was a welcome change from the stale air-conditioning. 

The city outside was alive with the hum of traffic and distant laughter. 

"You know," Jungkook began, "I never thought I'd find a producer who understands me so well."

Mr. Kim chuckled, his eyes never leaving the descending numbers. "You've got a unique style, kid," he said. "It's been a hell of a ride working with you."

"Same to you," Jungkook said, his smile mirroring the producer's. "Couldn't have done it without you."

"Hold on a sec," he said, turning to Jungkook with a sudden seriousness. 

"You ever think about what comes next?"

Jungkook cocked his head, a bit confused by the shift in tone. 

"Next?" he echoed.

Mr. Kim nodded, his eyes searching Jungkook's. 

"Yeah. You're on top of the world right now, but there's more to life than just music, you know?"

Jungkook took a moment to digest the question, his thoughts drifting to the moment he'd shared with Y/N during her visit. 

"Sure," he said, his voice a little softer than before. "But music is what I know. It's who I am."

Mr. Kim clapped him on the back. 

"I know, I know," he said. "But don't let it consume you. There's more to life than what's in there," he said, gesturing to the studio.

Jungkook nodded, understanding his mentor's concern. He knew all too well the pressures of the industry and the toll it could take on one's personal life. 

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, his voice earnest.

Jungkook couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in his chest. Mr. Kim's words echoed in his mind, prompting him to consider the future beyond the glitz and glamour of the music world.

"You've got a big heart, Jungkook," Mr. Kim said, his voice gentle. 

"Don't let the industry change that."

Jungkook nodded, feeling the weight of Mr. Kim's words. He knew the path ahead was fraught with challenges, but he was determined to stay true to himself. 

"I won't," he promised, his voice firm.

Mr. Kim nodded back, his eyes reflecting a silent understanding. 

They walked towards Mr. Kim's car, the rhythm of their footsteps syncing with the distant sound of the city's heartbeat. Jungkook broke the silence once again, "You know, I haven't been home in a while," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia.

"Yeah?" The producer's tone was curious. "I think it's time," Jungkook said, looking up at the neon lights of the city. "It's been too long since I saw my family." Mr. Kim's gaze followed Jungkook's, understanding the unspoken longing in his voice. "They'd love to see you, I'm sure," he said.

Jungkook nodded, a wistful smile playing on his lips. "Yeah," he said. "But it's more than that. I miss the simplicity of it all. The quiet mornings, the smell of mom's cooking."

Mr. Kim chuckled. "Sounds like you're due for a visit," he said, unlocking the car door. 

Jungkook slid into the passenger seat, his eyes lingering on the cityscape as the Mr. Kim started the engine. 

"I hope so," he said, his voice a mix of excitement and apprehension. "It's weird, you know? Being famous and all, but still feeling like the kid who used to run around the neighbourhood."

Mr. Kim nodded as he pulled into the flow of traffic. "You're still that kid, Jungkook," he said. "Don't let the lights and cameras fool you. They're just a part of the show."

Jungkook leaned his head against the cool window, watching the city lights blur into streaks as they drove through the night. His heart felt a tug of longing for the simple life he'd left behind.

The producer's words resonated deeply within him, reminding him of his roots and the importance of staying grounded.

As they pulled up to Jungkook's apartment complex, the stark contrast between the bustling streets and the quiet residential area was palpable. 

Mr. Kim put the car in park and turned to him, his expression a blend of pride and concern. "Take some time, Jungkook," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a man who had seen too much of the world. "Go home, recharge, and remember what's truly important."

Jungkook nodded, his eyes reflecting the neon glow of the city. "I will," he said, his voice filled with a newfound resolve.

Meanwhile, in the bustling law firm across town, Y/N was deep in thought, her eyes scanning through a mountain of case files that threatened to topple over at any moment. 

Her office was a beacon of order amidst the chaos of the open-plan workspace, her desk a bastion of neatness in a sea of clutter. 

Her concentration was shattered by the abrupt ring of the office phone. She picked it up, her heart racing from the sudden noise. 

"Yes?" she barked into the receiver, expecting yet another urgent demand from a colleague.

"Y/N, the senior partner wants to see you in the conference room," the voice on the other end said. "Now."

Her heart skipped a beat. This was unexpected. She'd been burning the midnight oil for weeks, but she hadn't anticipated a meeting at this hour. 

Y/N quickly gathered her thoughts and her files, straightening her blazer and taking a deep breath before heading down the hallway. The sound of her heels clicked against the marble floor, each step echoing through the late-night emptiness of the law firm. 

She could feel the weight of anticipation growing heavier with every stride.

The conference room was a stark contrast to her cluttered office. It was sleek and modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows that revealed the sprawling cityscape outside. 

The senior partner, a sharp-featured man with a reputation for his no-nonsense approach, sat at the head of the table, his expression inscrutable. Y/N took a seat opposite him, her palms damp with nerves.

"You've been working hard," he began, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "Very hard."Y/N nodded, her eyes never leaving his. 

"Thank you, sir," she said, her voice steady despite her racing thoughts.

The senior partner leaned forward, his gaze intense. "We've noticed your dedication, and we have a case that requires that level of commitment."

Y/N's eyes widened. This was the moment she'd been waiting for. A chance to prove herself, to show that she was more than just the daughter of a legendary music producer. 

"What is it?" she asked, her voice betraying the excitement she felt.

The senior partner slid a thick file across the gleaming mahogany table. "We're taking on a high-profile case," he said.

Y/N's heart raced as she reached for the file, her fingertips brushing against the cool metal of the folder. It was the kind of case that could make or break a career. 

The kind that had the potential to change lives. She felt the weight of it in her hands, the pages thick with legal jargon and the stories of those in need of her help.

The senior partner began to lay out the details, his voice measured and precise. 

"It's a murder trial," he said. "The defendant is a man named Lyle Castellanos. He's been in the system before, but this is his first degree charge. If we win, we could set a precedent."

Y/N's eyes scanned the file, her heart racing. A murder trial. This was bigger than she had ever imagined. The gravity of the situation settled heavily on her shoulders, but she felt a strange sense of excitement. This was it, her chance to make a real difference.

"You'll need to leave for Busan tomorrow," the senior partner said, his tone no longer one of praise but of urgency. "The case is complex, and we need you to be fully prepared."

Y/N's eyes snapped up from the file. 

"Busan?" she repeated, surprise colouring her voice. The city was a world away from the bustling streets of Seoul, where the law firm was situated.

The senior partner nodded, his expression unyielding. "The case is there," he said. "We've got witnesses to interview, evidence to review. It's a fresh start for you, Y/N. A chance to show us what you're made of."

Y/N took a deep breath, her heart hammering in her chest. 

"I won't disappoint you, sir," she said, her voice firm.

The senior partner's eyes narrowed. "I'm not looking for perfection, Y/N," he said. "I'm looking for someone who won't back down from a challenge."

Y/N met his gaze without flinching. "Then you've come to the right person," she said, her voice steady. 

"I'll take the case."

[arcane-ish]

Nobody is forced to ship it but imo the biggest "pointers" are:

Some people see their jackets hanging together as a Brokeback Mountain reference (= a famous movie about a gay love story).

When Viktor looks into Vander's mind the first thing that pops up in Vander's mind is him and Silco as miners followed by an incredibly sappy "rose colored glasses" picture of young Silco looking cute with a little smile on his lips. It feels like a shorthand from the writers "this is the person Vander loved the most". It makes sense for the character of Vander to be haunted by how he attacked Silco so things like the nightmare picture of the disfigured Silco. But this memory of Silco just seems very cheesy and not very "back in the gold old times when my bro didn't hate me".

The line in the AU where Vander says Ekko should run this place which leads to Silco to pop up and say "So there's a chance for us yet" (imo refering to him and Vander based on body language) To me that just reads like a couple making plans.

Back in season 1 one if the animators went to Twitter and said that they were given a neutral script but chose to interpret them as bitter exes.

We know from season 1 that apparently Silco talked *excessively* about Vander even though Vander has been dead for years. So much that Jinx gets annoyed by how often he does it. "You told me a million times. [...] he was like a brother to you, and he turned his back and blah, blah, blah. Did I miss anything?"(and we know that whatever he told her about Vander made her think that it would have made a huge difference if Silco had found the letter.

Again you are not forced to interpret it like that, but imo that's why I think there's a good chance it is meant that way rather than just "I like it that way".

The reason why I like it that way was in season 1 that you had these two sisters who desperately wanted to make up but were at odds and Silco was sort of a symoblic of Jinx and Vander as a symbolic of Vi in what drives them apart. So those two opposing forces making up and creating a family again and healing the thing that imo clearly haunted both of them was just appealing to me. And Season 2 just takes it further into "Jinx has two dads" territory where Silco of course meant a lot to her, but apparently so does Vander so it's just cute that the happy AU is where Powder has two dads. I just think they would be two fun dads together who tease each other (Bozo no 1 and Bozo no 2).

So that's why I like it, but jackets, watercolor Silco and just the way Silco and Vander act with each other in that scene in the AU verse makes me think it might actually have been meant that way or at least be highly open and suggestive of that interpretation.

And in the end, people who like characters are just prone to shipping what they think makes the character happy and that AU shows them at their happiest and it with them together (rather than "AU where Vander or Silco married Felicia")

Basically, feel free to not ship it, but don't try to police people who do. For example, I also ship Ekko/Jinx and I also thought there were signs in season 1 of there being more to the story. Season 2 of course made it sort of canon. But even now there are people who don't like them even though we KNOW that Ekko is romantically interested in her and she likes him back in at least one universe. But people are still allowed to not like it or prefer another ship. They then go that it's just a phase or that Ekko doesn't really love Jinx. And people have a right to their other preferences. Just don't be an asshole to people just because they chose to see Ekko and Jinx as this tragical potential love or as just a dumb detour.

People are allowed to see different things as cute.

It seems everyone thinks Vander and Silco were in a relationship at some point. And they believe the alternate universe proves that.

I don’t see it though. I’ve always read them as best friends who were practically brothers. Is there somthing I’m not seeing? Did the creators confirm it and that’s why everyone is shipping them? I’m so confused. Even my sibling is saying they thought the were just brothers so it’s not just me.

I mean no disrespect but if someone could help me see what everyone else is seeing, I wouldn’t mind a conversation. I just personally don’t see it at all. I just see two brothers who had a terrible falling out and only in another universe did they manage to reconcile.

I really hope I don’t get shit on for this 😭

[redflannelsheets]

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