#and so the three of them tried to rush outside

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 18. I'm Trying (Garrick)

Summary: A certain someone's opinion has started to change, but despite his efforts nothing has changed. And one night someones friendship has him seeing red. A/N: Little bit of a filler chapter, but couldn't resist these three having a moment like this. Probably the first of many. Also next week we might get a certain someone's signet reveal.....

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist

The last few weeks had been driving me crazy. Ever since Threshing I couldn’t get her off my damn mind. She plagued my thoughts constantly, and suddenly I was aware of her anytime I was in the same room as her. Aware of every glare she sent my way. How she would constantly ignore my presence whenever I was around. I’d even tried to be nice to her on a few occasions after Xaden had suggested it and she’d thrown it back in my face, shutting me down instantly. Great idea that was.

Her laughter carries down to me from where I sit with Xaden. A sound I’d only heard come from her recently. Before now I’d only seen her smirk or smile a little bit here and there. But in the last few weeks Bodhi had managed to coax a laugh out of her. The sound even startling Dain who had been nearby when it happened. I’d often caught him starting at his sister as if he didn’t believe what he was seeing. As if he’d never seen her act this way, or as if he was reliving a past memory. Something that had definitely made me curious about the two of them. And also proving further I had probably jumped to my conclusion on her a little too soon.

”Geez, you look like you’re about to murder someone.” Bodhi teases as he slots into the empty space beside Xaden.

I don’t even spare him a glance as I stand and storm off towards the exit. Scraping and rushed foot steps follow me, and I don’t have to turn around to know they’ve both followed me. As the cold air of the fast approaching winter hits I can’t help but relax a little. The coolness relieving some of the pent up anger I’d been bottling up over the last few weeks.

”What the hell is up your ass?” Xaden asks bluntly as he falls into step next to me.

”Nothing. Just had a long day.” I tell him, heading over to the edge of the Rotunda to look out over the edge.

Being it was pretty much winter, the sun had long set behind the mountains, a pink glow on the horizon signalling it would soon be completely dark outside.

“More like a long few weeks.” Bodhi adds as he leans up against pillar next to me. “You know you can talk to us.”

Bodhi didn’t deserve my anger. He did nothing wrong. Hell he had done better than I had. Even Xaden which had surprised me. They both told me I’d come to eat my words. And I had. And here I was getting jealous over Bodhi being friends with her while she wouldn’t give me time of day.

“Do I get to tell you I told you so?” Chradh drawls in my head, a teasing tone to his voice.

“Don’t you start.” I snap back, earning me a chuckle from him.

“Oh I’m just getting started.” He mocks before I slam my shields firmly into place.

With a sigh I push up from the ledge and face my two friends. “Trust me, it’s nothing you two need to worry about.”

Xaden eyes me, and I can tell he knows exactly what’s up as his eyes flick to Bodhi. He was too damn perceptive for his own good.

“It’s about her isn’t it?” He asks, a slight hint of teasing in his voice. Great, just fucking great.

“I told you it was nothing.” I almost snap at him.

“So she’s nothing is she?” A slight smirk pulling at Xadens lips as he eyes me.

“Yes. Always has been and always will be. She’s nothing to me.”

“Right, so that’s why every time you see Bodhi with her you look like you want to murder him?”

“I do not!” I nearly yell at him, causing a few people heading to dinner to look our way as Bodhi and Xaden chuckle at me.

”Oh you do.” Bodhi teases with a smirk as I glare at him. If he wasn’t practically family I would probably punch that smirk off his god damn face.

“No. I. Don’t.” I grumble out as I clench my fists.

“Yes, you have been. Ever since that training session we did where she chose Bodhi over you, you’ve been practically death staring him.” Xaden says, almost looking proud he gets to announce it. I open my mouth to respond but he cuts me off. “And don’t try deny it. Ever since Threshing you’ve been different towards her.”

“I have not. I hate her. She’s nothing to me.” I admit, but the words felt wrong leaving my mouth. A blatant lie. “Name one situation where I’ve been different towards her.” I challenge the two of them, both sharing a look that makes me nervous.

“Where to begin. How about the morning after Threshing where I walked into the hallway to you practically eye fucking her.” Bodhi starting off the list.

Shit, I’d forgotten about that. But I wasn’t eye fucking her. Simply getting under her skin. I didn’t want her that way.

“Or after Threshing where I had to grab you to stop you from going after her father when he grabbed her.” Xaden adds with a grin.

Shit.

“Oh and at training where steam was practically coming out your ears when she pulled Bodhi off the ground and he held onto her hand a little too long for your liking. Do we need to go on?”

Bodhi’s eyes light up. “And I’m pretty sure you’ve teased her less. Barely heard you call her little Aetos since that training session.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. Maybe I’ve just come to realise she’s not as bad as I thought. And maybe she’s not like her brother or father.” I admit as casually as I can, trying to cut off the conversation.

“So we get to say I told you so?” Xaden teases with a smirk.

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Hell no. I said she might not be that bad. I don’t even know her and she won’t give me the time of day.”

“Can you blame her? You’ve kinda been an ass towards her.” Bodhi admits, looking nervous how I’ll respond.

I snap my heads towards him as I glare at him. “I’m trying ok! Well tried. She seems pretty adamant I’m nothing to her, so probably no point in trying anymore.” I say with a shrug.

If she wanted to keep this up, I was more than happy to do the same.

Bodhi sighs and shakes his head at me. “Give her time Garrick. She’s clearly had a rough life. Hell she barely tells me anything outside of her day to day life and she considers me a friend, and even that took months.”

“She’s an Aetos, I doubt her life has been that rough.” I say bitterly.

Yes there was something off about her family dynamic, but her life can’t have been that bad. But maybe I was even wrong about that. She was different to her brother. Held her self differently. Acted differently. Besides the few heated conversations I’d seen them have, he was definitely the more approachable of the two. He talked easily with other cadets, made friends easily. But something told me if it wasn’t for Bodhi pushing the limit with her, she would have been on her own. Outside of him and the other two girls I’d seen with them, she didn’t hang out with anyone else. And when she wasn’t with them, the hard mask came back down in full force. Almost as if that was her normal way of acting. As if the way she had started being around Bodhi and the others wasn’t normal for her.

“I can tell you know that’s not true. All you have to do is look at how Dain and Dahlia act around each other to know that’s not true.” Bodhi smiling softly at the end, as if he’s trying to make me feel sorry for her. Which honestly, maybe I did a little.

“Whatever. I tried and she doesn’t want a bar of it. So it doesn’t matter.” I say before stalking off to my dorm to try get some sleep before our supply run. But with the thoughts running through my head, I highly doubted sleep would come to me.

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml

[icharchivist]

CUT IT!!! RIP IT!!! SMASH IT!!

[headspace-hotel]

Nature is healing.

I burned the Meadow a couple weeks ago. At first it looked like nothing but charred ashes and dirt, with a few scorched green patches, and I was afraid I'd done something terrible. But then the sprouts emerged. Tender new leaves swarming the soil.

My brother and I were outside after dark the other day, to see if any lightning bugs would emerge yet. We had been working on digging the pond. That old soggy spot in the middle of the yard that we called "poor drainage," that always splattered mud over our legs when we ran across it as children—it isn't a failed lawn, and it never was.

Oh, we tried to fill in the mud puddles, even rented heavy machinery and graded the whole thing out, but the little wetland still remembered. God bless those indomitable puddles and wetlands and weeds, that in spite of our efforts to flatten out the differences that make each square meter of land unique from another, still declare themselves over and over to be what they are.

So we've been digging a hole. A wide, shallow hole, with an island in the middle.

And steadily, I've been transplanting in vegetation. At school there is a soggy field that sadly is mowed like any old field. The only pools where a frog could lay eggs are tire ruts. From this field I dig up big clumps of rushes and sedges, and nobody pays me any mind when I smuggle them home.

I pulled a little stick of shrubby willow from some cracked pavement near a creek, and planted it nearby. From a ditch on the side of the road beside a corn field, I dug up cattail rhizomes. Everywhere, tiny bits of wilderness, holding on.

I gathered up rotting logs small enough to carry and made a log pile beside the pond. At another corner is a rock pile. I planted some old branches upright in the ground to make a good place for birds and dragonflies to perch.

And there are so many birds! Mourning doves, robins, cardinals and grackles come here in much bigger numbers, and many, many finches and sparrows. I always hear woodpeckers, even a Pileated Woodpecker here and there. A pair of bluebirds lives here. There are three tree swallows, a barn swallow also, tons of chickadees, and there's always six or seven blue jays screaming and making a commotion. And the goldfinches! Yesterday I watched three brilliant yellow males frolic among the tall dandelions. They would hover above the grass and then drop down. One landed on a dandelion stem and it flopped over. There are several bright orange birds too. I think a couple of them are orioles, but there's definitely also a Summer Tanager. There's a pair of Canada Geese that always fly by overhead around the same time in the evening. It's like their daily commute.

The other day, as I watched, I saw a Cooper's Hawk swoop down and carry off a robin. This was horrifying news for the robin individually, but great news for the ecosystem. The food chain can support more links now.

There are two garter snakes instead of one, both of them fat from being good at snaking. I wonder if there will be babies?

But the biggest change this year is the bugs. It's too early for the lightning bugs, but all the same the yard is full of life.

It's like remembering something I didn't know I forgot. Oh. This is how it's supposed to be. I can't glance in any direction without seeing the movement of bugs. Fat crickets and earwigs scuttle underneath my rock piles, wasps flit about and visit the pond's shore, an unbelievable variety of flies and bees visit the flowers, millipedes and centipedes hide under the logs. Butterflies, moths, and beetles big and small are everywhere.

I can't even describe it in terms of individual encounters; they're just everywhere, hopping and fluttering away with every step. There are so many kinds of ants. I sometimes stare really closely at the ground to watch the activities of the ants. Sometimes they are in long lines, with two lanes of ants going back and forth, touching antennae whenever two ants traveling in opposite directions meet. Sometimes I see ants fighting each other, as though ant war is happening. Sometimes the ants are carrying the curled-up bodies of dead ants—their fallen comrades?

My neighbor gave me all of their fallen leaves (twelve bags!) and it turns out that piling leaves on top of a rock and log pile in a wet area summons an unbelievable amount of snails.

I always heard of snails as pests, but I have learned better. Snails move calcium through the food chain. Birds eat snails and use the calcium in their shells to make egg shells. In this way, snails lead to baby birds. I never would have known this if I hadn't set out to learn about snails.

In the golden hour of evening, bugs drift across the sky like golden motes of dust, whirling and dancing together in the grand dramas of their tiny lives. I think about how complicated their worlds are. After interacting with bees and wasps so much for so long, I'm amazed by how intelligent and polite they are. Bumble bees will hover in front of me, swaying side to side, or circle slowly around me several times, clearly perceiving some kind of information...but what? It seems like bees and wasps can figure out if you are a threat, or if you are peaceful, and act accordingly.

I came to a realization about wasps: when they dart at your head so you hear them buzzing close by your ears, they're announcing their presence. The proper response is to freeze and duck down a bit. It seems like wasps can recognize if you're being polite; for what it's worth, I've never been stung by a wasp.

As night falls, bats emerge and start looping and darting around in the sky above. If the yard seems full of bugs in the day, it is nothing compared to the night.

I'm aware that what I'm about to describe, to an entomophobe, sounds like a horror movie: when i walk to the back yard, the trees are audibly crackling and whirring with the activity of insects. Beetles hover among the branches of the trees. When we look up at the sky, moths of all sizes are flying hither and thither across it. A large, very striking white moth flies past low to the ground.

Last year, seeing a moth against the darkening sky was only occasional. Now there's so many of them.

I consider it in my mind:

When roads and houses are built and land is turned over to various human uses, potentially hundreds of native plant species are extirpated from that small area. But all of the Eastern USA has been heavily altered and destroyed.

Some plants come back easily, like wild blackberry, daisy fleabane, and common violets. But many of them do not. Some plants need fire to sprout, some need Bison or large birds to spread them, some need humans to harvest and care for them, some live in habitats that are frequently treated with contempt, some cannot bear to be grazed by cattle, some are suffocated beneath invasive Tall Fescue, Kentucky bluegrass, honeysuckle or Bradford pears, and some don't like being mowed or bushhogged.

Look at the landscape...hundreds and hundreds of acres of suburbs, pastures, corn fields, pavement, mowed verges and edges of roads.

Yes, you see milkweed now and then, a few plants on the edge of the road, but when you consider the total area of space covered by milkweed, it is so little it is nearly negligible. Imagine how many milkweed plants could grow in a single acre that was caretaken for their prosperity—enough to equal fifty roadsides put together!

Then I consider how many bugs are specialists, that can only feed upon a particular plant. Every kind of plant has its own bugs. When plant diversity is replaced by Plant Sameness, the bug population decreases dramatically.

Plant sameness has taken over the world, and the insect apocalypse is a result.

But in this one small spot, nature is healing...

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Hello! Can I plz request Alastor x Doe! Reader where he meets Charlie's best friend who's the reader and becomes possessive over her, maybe his instincts tell him to mark the reader as his mate. The reader is a white doe. :)

Yessss i love this idea teehee i maybe got carried away and also i unintentionally made this sort gender neutral and a teeny tiny speck of smut, i hope that’s okay if not it’s at the very end so it’s skipable, hopefully i did your idea justice and hope you enjoy!! thank you so much for this xx

At first sight

PART TWO PART THREE

Word count: 3.5K

Warnings: SMUT 18+, doe reader only describes white ears tail and pink nose rest is ambiguous, possibly corny ahh dialogue, love at first sight kinda trope, angel/hellborn reader, slightly OOC Al y’know smut love, reader cooks, biting & briefly blood, penetrative sex, reader makes deal with al to give themselves to him, swearing, NOT PROOFREAD I think that’s it lmk if i missed anything!!

Charlie ran manically around the hotel, fixing various things and studying the entire building under a microscope to ensure it looked its best. Zipping her way to the lobby, she caught the gaze of Angel Dust, who was in the middle of sucking down a frozen popsicle.

“Be nice today! Look your best, oh oh! No porn on the TV!” Charlie shouted rushed and frazzled as she came up beside Angel to fluff out the couch cushions. Husk watched silently ears zeroed in on the conversation unwillingly, focusing mainly on Angel. “Geez toots, what’s got your feathers in a bunch?”

Angel smiled amused by Charlies odd demeanour. “My best friend since, like, forever is coming here today! To see the hotel!” Charlie exclaimed lurching forward to grip Angels shoulders. Smirking at her Angel continued to suck on the popsicle. “So what, is this broad special or something?”

Charlie leaned back pulling her hands down her face, an exasperated groan crawling out from her throat. “Yes! Her mother was friends with my mom when they first came to hell, her mom ended up falling for a hell spawn and we born around the same time,” Charlie explained ringing her hands while pacing.

“She’s my best friend we grew up together, i’m worried she won’t like what i’m doing here.” Charlie finally confessed with a sigh, her body deflating as she herself came to terms with the fact she was afraid. Vaggie lingering in the background finally approached Charlie sticking her hand out to message her arm comfortingly. “I’m sure it’ll be fine toots! Plus she’s a born sinner! Ain’t no way anything here’s gonna be shocking her.”

Despite her worry she could admit Angel Dust was right, AND you’re her best friend there’s no way you’d be unnecessarily cruel to her dreams, you were always supportive and imaginative along with her. Smiling down at Angel, Charlie then plopped down beside him, resting her hooves after hours of hecticily running around. “You’re right Angel, thank you.” Angel hummed out an arrogant ‘you’re welcome’ while Vaggie circled the couch leaning over the back of it.

“So how long has it been since you’ve seen them?” Vaggie asked poking Charlie’s cheek. Looking away she counted on her fingers before turning to look at Vaggie. “Four years, they stayed with me while I tried getting over the absence of my mom; they live in wrath though and eventually went back.” Clapping her hands Charlie stood from the couch her brief moment of hoof rest over, the three sinners watching as she muttered to herself about everyone being on their best behaviour while walking off, clearly the talk only did a little to hush her nerves.

~

Standing outside the hotel doors your ears twitched at the sounds coming from beyond it, it’s clear as day that Charlie was instructing people to behave, be nice, and- not show you porn? Suddenly the door opened startling you slightly but that quickly wore off when you were greeted by the joyous face of your best friend Charlie. Tugging you into a bear hug, Charlie squealed about how excited she was, you naturally fell into her giving her a warm tight hug right back.

“I am so glad you’re here! I’m so happy to see you!” Charlie exclaimed pulling back and examining you. You hadnt seemed to change much to Charlie, the white tail you had wagged behind you happily, your equally platinum ears relaxed occasionally twitching at the sounds around you, your pink deer like nose that was perfectly contrasted with your skin colour.

It was clear you were half an angel, and Charlie lemented, when you two were younger, that she was jealous you had a more animalisitc appearance in comparison to her, but you reminded her that it didn’t matter because she was still as gorgeous as ever. “I’m so glad to be here! I was starting to think you’d never end up inviting me.” You laugh warmly.

Charlie beckoned you inside linking your arms together, the two of you walked inside. Vaggie was punctuated and ready to great you as you came further into the room. “Hi, I’m Vaggie-“ Vaggie was cut off promptly by Charlie who excitedly pulled her into a bear hug, cheek to cheek. “My girlfriend!” Charlie finished with a shout.

Your ivory tail flicked behind you happily as you grinned. “Holy shit! You’ve got a girlfriend? Damn we really need to catch up! Its so nice to meet you Vaggie.” You smile shaking her hand as she stuck it out, Vaggie only nodded smiling seemingly quite reserved.

After some rushed introduction of those around the room including Husk, Angel, Nifty, and Sir Pentious, Charlie took you to your room to settle in. Closing the door behind the two of you Charlie watched as you laid your suit cases down by the bed, unzipping them and pulling out your clothing. “Sooo,” Charlie trailed hands tucked behind her back as she wandered around the vacant room.

“You remember Alastor right? The radio demon?” Charlie questioned, sounding suspicious. Looking up from your folded laundry you quirked a brow fearing where this might be heading. “Yes… i do.” You say slowly, fixing your posture waiting for her to turn to you, but she seemed rather interested in the wallpaper. “Well… y’know… this hotel takes a lot…. and when i first started…” Charlie trailed off gazing out the open window, stepping towards her you carefully placed a hand on her shoulder.

Looking at you she knew there was no sense in keeping such a prominent part of the reason this hotel was possible secret. “Alastors here, he helped since the start. He hasn’t asked for anything in return and he’s already fought for us!” Charlie spat the words out so fast you barely had time to comprehend. You and her were raised around each other meaning you had the same interactions with many of the princes’, sins, and hellborn, but human overlords were always were more…. well they weren’t used to power and immortality so they often over did it, Alastor was no different from what you were aware of.

“Are you sure having him is a good idea? Does your dad know?” Charlie nodded confirming her dad did know. “Yeah he doesn’t know who Al is, and to be fair none of us did! I promise he’s not that bad. Give him a chance?” You hummed looking away as she looked to you, you didn’t want to upset her by the discomfort that would be evident in your eyes. You didn’t enjoy brawls and fights, and you fear the demon would initiate that.

“Well i suppose i could trust him if you do, but i am skeptical; you’re always seeing the light in demons, even when it’s not there.” You laughed out recalling some things of the past that ended poorly because of a Charlie’s trust in certain sinners. And though at times foolish it was still an admirable trait and you aspired to be as kind hearted as she could be. “Where’s the guy anyways?” You asked after a short moment of pondering.

Charlie shrugged looking as if she was trying to recount the day. “Well he did say he had a meeting with Rosie,” She muttered quietly, although you didn’t know who Rosie was, you didn’t bother questioning it instead you pat Charlie on the shoulder, telling her that you’d like to get some rest, and you’d worry about Alastor later.

And so you spent a bit of time unpacking your things and settling down, you always preferred to be more in touch with the animalistic parts of yourself so your belongings held a lot of earthy aesthetics to them. Sitting on your bed, stripped of the hotels sheets and remade with your own, you opened your laptop and began typing.

You had forgotten about Alastor for the most part but you remember Charlie brining it up as he began his tyranny after his death. Charlie had always been pretty involved with her people, mainly focusing her energy on human sinner so you weren’t surprised that she knew of him, you were however surprised she was so willing to let him in when he massacred her people.

After a few minutes of light research about the demon, you established with how long he was gone perhaps he would be willing to change however you’d keep up your guards just to be sure.

~

Humming to himself Alastor got ready for the day, though he rarely slept he did occasionally get into evening outfits if he was staying in. He fixed his hair, ensuring not a hair was out of place and with a finally dust of his sleeves, he materialized his microphone and trotted his way out of his room.

A new scent hit him the minute he got to the staircase, the reaction was instantaneous, his ears perked, his tail stiffened thank the hellions no one was around to witness his discomfort, because it was evident. Fixing his posture, and his smile, he pretended nothing was up and continued his way downstairs. He greeted Husk as usual, and like usual Husk only grunted at the demon.

Making his way into the kitchen Alastor was stunted in place by the sight in front of him. There you stood deer tail wagging, singing along to music as you mixed a bowl of who knows what together. Alastor observed you quietly as ever, and definitely not checking you out because that would be rude- however your tail was very much distracting.

Clearing his throat the static spitting out behind his voice, you jumped slightly at the sound of him, looking over your shoulder to where he stood at the kitchen entry. The two of you simply stared at each other for a moment, the song in the background seemingly quieter than before, as if the two of you were in your own little zone.

Alastor couldn’t describe the gravitational pull he had toward you, he would’ve been a fool to deny your beauty, but he’d never had issue admitting when a demon or person was beautiful, it didn’t matter to him, so he couldn’t grasp why you seemed to have an immediate effect on him.

You too felt similarly gawking at the sight of him, i mean you’d never seen pictures of him, only art or depictions, which really didn’t do him any good. You were honestly a little embarrassed, you thought he was incredibly handsome, contrary to your beliefs prior to this moment, and you felt a little silly to suddenly feel like going back on your apprehension about him simply because of how attractive he was.

Deciding to finally break the intense yearning gaze the two of you held, Alastor perked up stepping close to you swinging his hand out to shake. “Alastor darling, pleasure to meet you, quite the pleasure.” Going unnoticed by you, Alastor’s voice involuntarily dropped lower, making it come out more sultry than he’d ever done during an introduction. Of course Alastor was aware it wasn’t his normal voice and wondered why the hell he decided to modify his tone to come out as seductive as it did; was it just by nature?

“I’m YN, Charlie’s best friend. I don’t know if you knew i was staying but i am, surprise! Heh,” You say a little nervously sticking out your hand but quickly retracting it, as it was covered in dough. “I’m making bread and breakfast, do you like french toast?” You finish finally gaining the courage to meet his gaze properly.

His eyes were lidded, and he looked down at you only with his eyes keeping his head forward, which made you feel some type of way. He had such a big presence, height aside, that would make anybody on the receiving end of his heated gaze, shrink. “I suppose i wouldn’t mind a little bite to eat, tell me little doe, how do you make such a meal?”

Of course Alastor knew what french toast was, but he’d much prefer to play stupid so he could listen to you speak, and have you look up at him so deliciously. “Well, i’m making some homemade no yeast bread, and then i’m gonna do the egg and frying, normally i mix some cinnamon and honey in, but i might not since i don’t know what you guys like. A lot of people put syrup, but i can’t stand it; too sticky.” You explained mixing all of your ingredients, turning to him you smiled.

“Would you mind greasing the pan for me, please?” Alastor nearly purred at you with how you requested his help he would’ve bent himself backwards if it meant you’d ask him like that again. The way these emotions hit him in the gut; the undeniable feeling of desire he was trying to fight against was incredibly intense and oddly, he liked it. “Of course my dear, whatever you wish, i shall see to.” With the snap of his fingers his hair had been pulled back, suit jacket gone, leaving him in only his white button up, and a pink apron.

Shamessly your eyes roamed his figure watching as he began to grease the pan with his hand. His eyes still lidded and smile relaxed. You enjoyed how he stood tall and relaxed, and it was only now when you caught a peek of his red tail that you realized; “You’re a deer?”

Alastor paused momentarily, eyes lazily difting toward you. He didn’t mind that you saw his tail, and he was a little surprised you lacked to notice he was a deer. “What did you think i was sweetheart?” Alastor exclaimed his entertainment persona peeking through as he did. You peeled your eyes away feeling a little bad for staring at him, instead you focused on placing the bread into the bow greased pan before responding. “Maybe a fox, but to be honest i didn’t think too much about it.”

Alastor hummed in agreement, watching as you placed the bread in to the oven. There weren’t many does Alastor has seen, many bucks but does were more of a rarity. The two of you made breakfast, bantering about things here and there and getting to know one another.

“What’s earth like?” You asked watching him prepare dough for beignets which he insisted you tried as it was a lousiana breakfast staple- but also because he wanted to have you to himself just a bit longer, and show off his cooking skills. “What do you mean dear?” Alastor questioned brows furrowed slightly, but his inquiry came soft with no judgement. “I’m not human, moms an angel, dad was one of the few hell borns that kinda just popped up, we don’t know where he went to though, anyways i’ve never seen the earth.”

Now that, was news to him. He suspected you were something special based off the tugging feeling he had toward you, but being a literal angel wasn’t something he would’ve bet on, but should’ve guessed on. Without a worry in his mind, Alastor happily told you about his home in new orleans, what it was like being a radio host, how in got into voodoo, how he new some cajun french, as well as his mother.

Leaning on the counter head rested on his hand, looking at you dreamily while the beignets fried. “My mother was an angel, she was my biggest supporter at the time, the reason i kept pushing. I have the upmost respect for mothers like mine.” You, as equally lost in the dream like bliss Alastors presence brought you, smiled at his story’s ogling at the man who spoke so highly of his mom. “That’s the sweetest Alastor, I wish i could’ve met the woman who made you into such a gentlemen.” You flirt subtly gently patting his arm.

Alastor hummed a lovesick smile on his face his tail wagging happily behind him as the two of you continued to yap. Tails syncing with the way they swayed unnoticed by you two as you lost yourselves in eachother, also going unnoticed was Charlie giddy as could be, in the background jumping up and down. Slipping away to Vaggie, Charlie gripped her like she was her life line. “YN and Alastor are totally going to get together! Ahh!” Charlie squealed shaking a limp Vaggie back and forth.

~

“Mhm Alastor please please please,” You chant wrapped tightly around the demons waist, as he pressed you up against your dresser. After a full day of being alongside Alastor the tension snapped between you two, although it took a few things to get there. First Angel hitting on you right after breakfast, it made Alastor seethe the symbols and static materializing as he watched Angel hit on you. It made Alastor realize such a sweet doe like you must be marked, can’t have other buck or demon filth thinking they can just put there hands on you.

The second thing that egged him on was when the two of you went for a stroll together, and while in a store witnessed a demon repeatedly harass you while you simply tried to pick out a dress! Alastor apologized for the blood shed, but he professed he needed to obliterate that demon to protect you and that would be the only time he would ever put you in a position to see such things. Which made your heart flutter, you felt the desire to have him protect you, it’s not like you couldn’t do it yourself but it made you weak in the knees to have a demon like Alastor jumped to protect you.

Thrusting into you needily, Alastor growled like a mad man his hand climbing up your body to grab your cheeks gently fixing your gaze up to him. “You’re mine,” Static laced his tone as he hissed out at you, pushing his body flush to yours. Moaning like a whiny porn star, you nodded in your head in a daze. “My mate,” He muttered again breathing deeply as he clenched his teeth.

Reaching your hands up to grab his antlers that sprout, you couldn’t help the way your body shook and the way you lewdly moaned. You felt so electrified and couldn’t contain the pleasure Alastor was making you feel. “Please Al, I love it so good,” You whined against his lips, his smile closed and strained as his lips brushed against yours, your breath tickling him as you whined.

Smashing your lips together Alastor picked up the pace feeling like a wild animal. He wanted you, forever, he wanted you to be his one and only, his only doe. Making himself hornier with the thought of having you all to himself his static crackled loudly as he thought up something mischievous. Pulling back from your heated kiss, you whined begging him to kiss you, touch you and fuck you, smiling at you in your disheveled state, a green huge suddenly engulfed the room.

The two of you lit up like neon as symbolize shined in the background. “Give yourself to me little doe, be my mate for entirety and the world is yours, anything you or your friends want i will give you. I can’t let such a thing like you go, i need you.” Alastor statically said, it sounded quite ominous but you were too horny to pick up on that, you could only pay attention to the need you had between your legs and in your heart. Alastor wanted you to be his forever, linked to you for eternity. Perhaps it was the fact that you were both deer that you two had this simultaneous connection, but regardless you couldn’t care you just wanted him back as much as he wanted you.

Thrusting yourself upward into him, you gripped his hand, while clenching down on him at the same time. “Yes, always i’m yours only; it’s a deal.” You moaned. Growling demonically Alastors green disputes like electricity, escaping this room and flowing through the hotel like wave. Feeling his heart bloom Alastors ears clipped back as he jackhammered into you, the dresser slamming against the wall while you squealed a little giggle bubbling out from how needy he became. That giddiness left as a violent hot mass washed over you, screaming out a moan you clutched Alastor, singing out his name through moans of appreciation as he coaxed you with praises through your orgasm.

It shook your body, and soon after Alastor came to a halt inside you, biting down hard on your neck. You moaned his name, not even feeling pain as he sunk his teeth into you down to the gum. After a few moments of licking up your blood he pulled away gazing into your fucked out eyes. As you were about to tell Alastor that you needed to figure out why you were both so suddenly connected, Charlie bolted in.

“YOU MADE A DEA- FUCK IM SORRY!” Within the span of two seconds Charlie had two separate panic attacks, one because she saw the green deal making light shoot through the hotel while you were alone with Al, and the second right after she closed to door from seeing the two of you intertwined at the hips.

[leilakisakabiri]

Cut The Camera (LN)

Summary: Working as a reporter at the Miami Grand Prix when your boyfriend wins it.

Warning(s): None.

A/N: She's back! and with an F1 story of all things. Requests are open.

Word Count: 1.3k+

Masterlist

It was a warm day in May and you and your team were gearing up for another race weekend, this time in Miami.

Since Miami was the home base of your organization, and also your hometown, you decided to take the trip over from Monaco a few days earlier than everyone else.

That meant you had also left Lando behind, promising to see him once the race weekend started.

You wanted to spend some time with your family before work took over.

Now the weekend had arrived and you were busy getting ready in the garage, running through your pre-race questions and attaching your mic.

You were beyond excited. This would be the first time since you began working with F1 that a race would be held in your hometown and you had the opportunity to interview the drivers. Nothing could go wrong.

Pre-race questions went off without a hitch and you were able to interview at least three different teams drivers, which was a win for you.

Of course, you interviewed Lando, who was more than eager to answer any questions you had for him. In reality, he was just excited to see you again after being apart for a week.

"Good luck today." You gave him a genuine smile that the camera couldn't pick up.

He grinned back, handing you back the microphone, hand lingering on top of yours for a second too long, "Thanks. Feeling good about this one."

Since you had started dating six months ago, the longest the two of you had been away from each other was only a measly two days when Lando took a quick trip to London - other than that you had been attached at the hip. Of course both of you working in the same place and traveling to the same locations helped significantly.

However, although the staff at McLaren and around the pit were used to you two being affectionate, the rest of the world was not.

To them you were just y/n, the F1 reporter, who interviewed drivers and had no relations to anyone outside of that. They had never even seen you and Lando interact outside of work. Half the fans didn't know your name, so you flew under the radar pretty effectively.

You and Lando had been talking about the possibility of making your relationship a bit more public, nothing crazy, but just something small so people got the hint that he might be seeing someone. You wanted a soft launch, in hopes of reducing scrutiny, and Lando just wanted whatever you did.

As you passed the six-month mark in your relationship both of you grew annoyed at the prospect of never getting to be around each other. If you guys went to dinner, you would have to arrive first, and then around 15 minutes later Lando would show up. If you went out in a group, again, one of you would have to go first, with the second trailing behind after a couple of minutes.

You planned to wait until the season ended before making any decisions.

That was until today.

Things slowly started unraveling the closer the race got to finishing. You were sitting in the reporter tent, eyes trained on the monitor with bated breath as you watched Lando take the lead. You couldn't help the smile that broke onto your face when he managed to break through, you clasped your hands together, resting your chin on them while staring at the TV and trying your best to seem unaffected.

You shot out of your chair as the race drew to a close and you had to squeeze your eyes shut to not get overwhelmed with emotion once you heard the crowd start chanting Lando's name and your co-anchor in your earpiece screaming about Lando's first win.

You wanted to celebrate with him, so badly. He had done it. And in Miami no less.

You rushed your team as you tried to get to the barricade to watch the trophy celebration. You saw the McLaren team running to the podium, letting out a laugh once you realized a certain driver had jumped on them.

The entirety of the trophy celebration consisted of you yelling your lungs out cheering for your favorite person while also trying not to cry every time he looked up at the sky in disbelief.

"Y/n we're on in 10 let's head back." Your cameraman yelled over the crowd.

Once the drivers started to trickle back into the paddock after the celebration it was pure mayhem. Everyone was excited about Lando's first win and didn't have much to say in the debriefs leading to very short responses.

Finally, the man of the hour himself, came out drenched head to toe in champagne, a large grin settling onto his features once he spotted you, prompting him to immediately cut his conversation short and making a beeline to you.

He reached out to hug you, eyes twinkling with sheer joy, seemingly forgetting the camera was there, and you had to push his hands away below the camera lens so no one would notice.

His eyes immediately shot up to yours at the rejection, and you hoped he would understand once you started talking,

"Hello, Lando! Congratulations on the win, you're very first! How do you feel?" You couldn't hide the excitement in your voice.

He continued to gaze at you for a beat longer before responding, "It feels amazing. I'm so happy to have won, I feel like our team really put in the effort this week and it paid off. I for one wanted to win this weekend in particular."

You arched an eyebrow, a smile ghosting your lips, "Any reason why?"

His smile mirrored your own, "I've always loved Miami. Think this city has my good luck charm," He boasted.

You felt your cheeks heat up at his response, his boldness taking you off guard, as you moved to hastily tuck your hair behind your ear, his eyes following your every movement.

You glanced back up at him, "What does this win mean for you?"

"It means everything." His words were rushed, almost like he physically couldn't hold them back any longer.

You waited for him to continue, "It means that all the sacrifices my parents had to make, all the years spent helping me, supporting me, and allowing me to chase my dreams even though it was a long shot, finally paid off. It means that I was finally able to make a team proud that has believed in me time and time again even when I gave them reasons not to. This win isn't just for me, it's for every single person who helped me get where I am, every person who made me who I am, and for those who continue to shape the person I'm becoming."

Your heart melted at his answer, and you could see the sincerity and passion so clearly in his eyes that it was hard to form a response,

"Well you earned the title you got today, and I'm sure every person you mentioned is immensely proud of what you've just accomplished. I'll leave you to celebrate with your team."

You wanted to end the interview there. After his emotional response, you weren't sure how much longer you could remain professional.

It seemed Lando had other plans though.

As you reached for his mic, his hand landed on top of yours, stopping you.

"No."

"No?" You looked up confused, but he was already leaning down.

His free hand wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you closer as his other hand pushed the mic against the camera, trying to block the shot.

Your head tilted back in his grip and your hand instinctively wrapped around his shoulder bringing him closer. It took your brain a few seconds to register what was happening, and where, and by then he was already pulling away, tugging you into his side as he looked down with a shit-eating grin.

Your cheeks were pink, and your mouth was slightly open, not believing what just happened.

You looked at your cameraman, and he seemed just as shocked, finally you spoke, voice unsteady, "Cut the camera?"

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Animal Farm: Thursdays

Kinktober Day 5: Double Penetration

Male Yandere Cat Hybrids x Gender Neutral Reader

CW: Noncon, cum as lube, double penetration, some fluff, clingy yanderes, general yandere behavior, cat men, centaurs mentioned

Word Count: 457

(Wrote for kinktober though I have been meaning to write it for a while. Sorry for the wait. I hope you enjoy it even though I rushed. This is the long awaited fourth day in the farm harem series Animal Farm. The original fic and other days can be found HERE!)

It was Thursday. That meant two horny cat men. Leeko and Meeko. It wasn't so bad; their dicks weren't any bigger than a significantly well-endowed human's, and most of the day was cuddling and playing rather than just fucking. 

You didn't even bother washing off from the last round with the centaurs. Cum still dribbled down your thighs. What was the point? The cat men would lick every inch of you when they saw you, no matter what.

When you entered their shelter, your prediction was proven correct immediately. They had been waiting in anticipation to ambush you as soon as you walked in.

"Farmer!" They exclaimed in unison. 

Leeko, the pale cat man who looked human except for his furry orange cat ears and tail, started at your neck. Meeko, the dark-skinned cat hybrid with calico fur, started cleaning at your thighs and happily lapped up the centaur cum.

They made short work of the task, though they left a bit of cum to use as lube when they made love with their favorite human. 

The calico laid down and pulled you on top of him. He quickly slipped into your cum-lubed hole that had been so kindly pre-stretched by the centaurs. 

Leeko rubbed up your sides as he cozied up behind you and slid his dick into your entrance to join Meeko's. He nuzzled and licked your neck as he pounded you.

So much for a break from huge cocks. It didn't matter that they were smaller than the others when they were both in you at once.

Both cats were purring loudly as they plowed you hard. Neither of them lasted very long. They were just so excited to have time with you. They quickly added their own seed to the cum already inside you. 

They had much more stamina and resilience than a human and quickly went back to railing you together. When the three of you were tired from several orgasms each, you could finally rest.

They laid down with you between them, kissing, nuzzling, cuddling, and cleaning their precious farmer before you fell asleep on one of their chests. 

With the mandatory sex out of the way, the rest of the day would consist of lazing about, using a laser pointer and watching them "hunt,"  spending time outside watching them run about, and maybe a bit of fishing on the lake that bordered the farm.

Though fishing with them was more them pestering you into fishing and then purring, nuzzling, and clinging to you while you tried to catch them fresh food. 

There may be one last round of sex before bed, but overall it would be a nice break from the non-stop fucking that filled most of the other weekdays. 

[jiminrings]

four seven eight, phase 3 (1)

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 9k

glimpse: jungkook's secure when it comes to being a husband and a dad, knowing that he grew to love being both after everything you've been through. what he isn't so secure about is the possibility that it's everything he'll ever be.

alternatively, jungkook pursues his dream of making a film, even if it means making your rival his main lead behind your back.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale — complete series masterlist, from phase 1 to 3 ]

[ the return of 478jk (derogatory), major angst, fluff, the weight of devotion except jk's mean this time, flashbacks to phase 1 (im so sorry), the both of them r in an identity crisis, The Return of yoongi, yearning and the ache of unfulfillment all over, eventual redemption ]

notes: FINALLYYYYYY after a long wait, phase three is finally here :-) the og era of 478 is a time i'll truly never forget so now that i'm putting them in Several Inconveniences again, i look forward to creating another era with u citizens!!! mwah thank u love yew

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Jungkook likes to be needed.

He likes to be needed fully, sometimes even all at once to the point that every mention of his name makes him think that his assistance is needed. He wants to be needed like the way you rummage through your old film canisters that you dumped in a large drawer just to retrieve a specific picture of him; needed like the way you sigh in relief when you find said roll.

Jungkook wants you to seek him in a crowd, past all the banners of your name from your fans and lanyards of your staff, and ask specifically him for a cold water bottle he keeps in his bag for you. As a matter of fact, he wouldn’t even mind if you ask it from him indiscreetly — he wants to be needed, even if neither of you are alone with each other.

He’s used to the feeling of being needed because it’s practically routine for him. The way Jungkook loves you has changed and evolved (needlessly to say for the better) through the years, and although he tries to look for the balance in it all, there’s a tiny, tiny part of him that wonders what would’ve happened if neither of you changed.

It’s perhaps the change in seasons, or maybe it’s the build-up of the stupid little things Jungkook’s seen recently; one of those things happen to be a ridiculously long thread by your fan, who happens to also be a fan of Yoongi, assuming that your marriage with J*ngkook (that’s exactly how they typed his name out) is ending, hence your recent collaboration on a brand deal. Jungkook, of course, has half the mind to go on his secret stan account and snark at said poster before reporting, but even then, there’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch.

Whatever weather it is outside nowadays or whichever stupid little thing pisses him off online, Jungkook can’t shake off the nagging question of what if in his mind.

When Jungkook cleans your water bottle every night for you to take to set the next day, he wonders if the two of you would still be together if only he didn’t rush to your place by the exact second your month-long break ended, right when he takes off the rubber from the cap to clean the ridges thoroughly.

When he blowdries your hair (even if you tell him not to bother) after you begrudgingly take a shower because you can’t sleep in bed after going outside and not washing up the second you come home, he wonders if you would’ve kept loving him even if the very incident with Sora didn’t push him to change, right when he sees you close your eyes while his hands scratch your scalp.

When Jungkook sounds out syllables to Hwayoung and tries his very best not to baby-talk her (he can’t help it sometimes) as he recounts his day to the toddler, he wonders if you would’ve even had a daughter with him if he stayed the same silent lover that he used to be, right when she parrots your name back to him with a smile.

“Young-ie’s probably starting to need me less and less,” he sighs to you with a pout, eyebrows knitted in concern as he gives you his rookie version of a blowout he’s still trying to perfect. Jungkook can’t flick his wrist the way professional hairstylists do, just in the same way you can’t pick up why he’s brought up the thought out of nowhere.

“How could you say that? She’s the biggest daddy’s girl ever,” you chuckle, placating him with the truth despite your initial confusion. If you weren’t fully awake awhile ago, you certainly are now — mostly because Jungkook springs up an unbelievable idea, and partly because whenever he tugs the brush at your hair, your whole head comes along with it.

“Not really. More like biggest mommy’s girl, you mean,” he defensively scoffs, apologizing quickly when he hears you wince at a particular experimental tug he does on your ends.

“Should we wake her up right now and let her decide?” you murmur, your eyes locking with his on the mirror.

Jungkook, at his most comfortable state, wearing ratty oversized pajamas and glasses on his face that he’s yet to update the prescription on, has never felt more competitive in his life.

“Well we could-…”

“I was joking,” you deadpan, the silence between the two of you getting long enough to the point that you suddenly find yourself laughing, effectively getting Jungkook out of his daze.

“… I knew that.”

You may have had an inkling about Jungkook feeling slightly off before in the past weeks, but all it took was his random, unprompted question tonight for you to solidify that seed of concern in your chest.

Jungkook likes to be needed, even if he can’t say the same that you need him as much as he thinks you do. He thinks it’s a perfectly rational feeling to want to be needed by both your wife and your daughter, and although he’s not as receptive to being needed as much by anyone other than his family, the feeling still stays the same.

He has all the time in the world. You’ve enabled him to do so even if he’s the one mainly looking after Hwayoung while you worked, but despite that, Jungkook doesn’t feel needed enough.

There’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch with neither your constant affection nor Hwayoung’s grabby hands. There’s an unplaceable, agitating urge in Jungkook’s chest to put a pause on everything and be back to who and what he used to be, despite your affirmation that he is needed.

There’s that tick going on in Jungkook’s brain that amplifies everything he does to seem wrong; that makes him grumpy when he wakes up to prepare you breakfast whenever you had early shoots, that makes him purse his lips when his daughter asks him to watch the same movie with her for the third time in the week.

All of the uneasiness in him, however, disappears when Namjoon, the acclaimed screenwriter that he has for a friend (whom he actually met through you), calls him up with an offer that Jungkook can’t refuse.

It’s an offer that releases the ache from his bones, makes him want to blowdry your hair better, and watch the same movie over and over again with his daughter — but Jungkook postpones saying it to you when you come home and want nothing more than to be in his arms, and for Hwayoung to be in yours.

( ♡ )

Jungkook could wait more.

He convinces himself that he can because although there’s a date set for the short film that Namjoon’s pitched for him to produce, it hasn’t grown yet to become the unstoppable force against Jungkook’s immovable object: family.

He knows he needs to tell you eventually and that he’s not really asking for permission in the first place, but there’s a sense of guilt in him whenever the thought of breaking the news to you comes into mind. He’s not nervous per se because he knows you’re as supportive of him, if not more, like he is with you.

It just happens that it’s within the fine details that Jungkook truly feels hesitant to tell you that he has to leave for awhile.

Jungkook could wait more, and although that means he has to deal with the occasional voice in his head telling him that lying to you (even under the guise of protecting you) has the capacity to bite back at him, he manages. He swallows down the words whenever you unintentionally give him an opening to tell you about the news of him going abroad, and just settles for holding your hand.

He could wait more because telling you now wouldn’t be the right time, now when you’re on your day-off as you’re close to wrapping up your current project before moving to the bigger, more exhausting one; not now when you have a time of reprieve to spend with your family before taking on the biggest project of your career to date.

Jungkook hums to himself as he looks down on Hwayoung who has a tiny shopping cart to herself, her strikingly round eyes that she got from him (Hwayoung looks more like him the older she gets) looking up to his own.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he lulls, mumbling loudly enough for only her to hear. “You’d understand if appa left for awhile, right?”

“Left?” she questions, holding up her left hand at the mention yet she reels at his query, brows furrowing as she seems to digest the question. “Why?”

“Yup. That’s your left. Good job, baby,” Jungkook praises, the knot in his throat growing when he looks to his daughter who looks confused at the sudden query, again, that came out of nowhere. “You would, won’t you?”

Hwayoung hums because she doesn’t quite understand, but that’s the thing that Jungkook fears most — she’s young and smart and although he wants to use those facts to his advantage, he realizes that Hwayoung being the age that she is in now could also prove him to be dispensable.

Jungkook likes being needed, but he’s much too afraid of the possibility that Hwayoung won’t even recall him as soon as he leaves.

Your husband’s snapped out of his reverie when you go downstairs with a skip in your step, the tell-tale mischievous tone to your voice already predicting that Hwayoung would make the two of you chase after her in the backyard all day. “What are the two of you plotting again?” you ask playfully, hands on your hips as Jungkook chuckles at the sight of his two girls.

“Nothing!” Hwayoung giggles, the word slipping out of her seamlessly as she even shakes her hands fervently, accustomed to what you mean exactly with your tone of voice. She’s young and bright and you see so much of Jungkook in her, even if Jungkook would argue otherwise.

Jungkook’s dazed this morning with the way his gaze locks in from far away, his bottom lip bit between his teeth more often than not as if he’s always at war with himself.

“You okay, Kook?”

“Mhmm. Couldn’t be better,” he hums half-heartedly, his lips grazing your temple as he guides you to sit down on the carpet with him. “You finally slept for more than eight hours. That’s good,” he says as an afterthought, the pauses in between his words growing in distance as his gaze is fixated on everything but you.

Jungkook looks at your daughter who’s now pushing Miso around the house in her shopping cart, and while your cat (who’s always seemed to hate your husband) looks more than pleased at being played with, she meows to Jungkook and only at him with a hiss at the end of her spiel as if in warning — as if Jungkook is guilty of something that only the two of them know about.

Almost as if out of everyone in the room, it’s only your cat who knows that Jungkook’s lying.

Jungkook can wait, but he’s certain that he can’t wait any longer because if his brain is unoccupied for long enough, he’ll start to hear Miso cursing at him through her yowls.

“Hwayoung doesn’t look like she needs you any less,” you say gently, your line of sight following Jungkook’s as he tenses at your words.

“Oh,” he sighs, jaw grinding down to a halt. “Right."

Your words seemingly came out of nowhere, even if the both of you know deep down that they’re influenced by his impulsive thoughts from last week.

“You can say the same for me,” you add, not as an afterthought, but as a lesser-known fact that Jungkook seems to forget every now and then.

There’s a weight in his chest because all of a sudden, Jungkook can’t wait anymore. The itch in his mind has already been scratched too much that it had already bled and scabbed.

There’s a weight in his chest that reminds him he can’t wait anymore, because in hindsight, the weight of him and everything that comes with him settles on his shoulders.

Maybe, Jungkook doesn’t want to be needed as much.

( ♡ )

Jungkook drops the news on you while you’re folding laundry.

He was meant to go for sincere but the way the words leave him, right when you’re in the middle of folding Hwayoung’s pajamas that she’s about to overgrow in the soonest, it sounds as if he’s been dying to tell you; now that he has, he sounds beyond relieved.

“Namjoon offered me a script,” he announces, taking the pajamas from you to put in his pile as he sees your eyes widen, the remnants of the heavy mascara they used on you on set awhile ago highlighting your surprise. “He wants me to produce.”

“What?” you punctuate, tilting your head as you try to make sense of what Jungkook’s saying. You know he’s speaking and you’re familiar with said words; you just never expected for them to be compacted in the same sentence, meaning the way that he makes it out to be. “Kim Namjoon, as in the producer for In Terms of Eternity?”

He chirps at that, posture straightening as he tries to jog your memory. “Yeah. You’ve worked with him before and introduced us, then turns out Jin’s also a friend of his and-…"

“I mean I know Namjoon and that you’re friends with him, Jungkook,” you interrupt, trying to reel yourself in as you’ve lost your focus trying to fold Hwayoung’s clothes and talk to your husband at the same time. “But I didn’t know you were that close for him to ask you to produce something for him.”

Jungkook doesn’t completely crash from the high he’s in over finally telling you the news, but there’s that spike that flashes briefly over his face, the frown on his lips letting on more than he shows.

“What’s that supposed to mean?"

You sigh at the impossible position the both of you are in, the words that try to line themselves up in your temple being no match to the way they translate out-loud. “It means nothing. I’m just… surprised that he’d ask you to be a producer for his script, that’s all. It came out of nowhere.”

Jungkook recoils at that, a stubborn brow raised as he tries to keep his composure. “Because you don’t think I’m capable of being a producer?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you inhale sharply, gripping a random article of Hwayoung’s clothing beside you to pace yourself. “Namjoon’s.. big. He’s established, and well, you’ve never become a producer before.”

“And you have?” Jungkook digs, even if it’s unnecessary to do so, and the way his face falls at the forthcoming regret that creeps up to him lets you know that he thinks so too.

“Jungkook,” you try again, quirking your lips to the side as you try to manage with the pace he’s set you up on. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. This is all new to me. All new to you, even. If anything, it’s nice that Namjoon trusts you a lot.

“He does. We’re close,” he nods, clearing his throat as he feels that the both of you could move on to the other phase of the news you had interrupted him at. “As a matter of fact, we’re taking it on a global scale.”

Jungkook doesn’t get why your face falls.

He doesn’t get why your shoulders rise and fall, not in relief, but out of controlled tension that threatens to pour over.

“What?”

“The script. The film,” he smiles, trying to get you to finish his sentence and connect the dots together but to no avail. “It’s… it’s — we have to film in the US for a few months.”

“What?” you repeat, the knot in your throat tangling up more and more hesitance in you the longer it stays there.

“I said, we have to-…”

“No, I heard what you said,” you interrupt, jaw clenching tightly as you try to grasp everything Jungkook has said.

You don’t get why Jungkook’s smiling.

You don’t get why he’s completely at ease and only in confusion as he sees you piece everything out.

“Then what’s the matter?”

“Kook, all of this is new. Everything you’ve just said is and will be new,” you chuckle humorlessly, running your hand through your hair in frustration as you try to relax. “I’m happy for you, believe me, but Jungkook, what you’re saying is serious. It’s a lot to take in,” you pause, eyes wide as you repeat the words to yourself. “You. Producing. In the US, of all places, a-and for months.”

There’s not one exact emotion that runs through you because the longer that Jungkook looks at you, ecstatic, while you’re weighing what he’s just said like a bag of bricks — you feel even more conflicted.

Your husband wrings his hands together, nervously smiling at you as if he’s asking for permission, but the both of you know that his mind’s already set. He thinks the opportunity of producing a short film that’s been drafted by his friend is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, eager to take off even if he’s had no experience at all in the industry.

“I don’t know, baby. It’s just been so long since I got this excited and alive, y’know? It’s a nice change of pace and I get to do something nice-…”

“Isn’t being with your daughter nice?” you ask abruptly, unable to mask the conflict that’s been brewing in your mind ever since Jungkook pulled you aside to talk. You feel hesitant; disconnected even from wrapping your head around his wording.

Even convincing yourself that you’re just spent from working sunrise to sundown doesn’t work. No matter how hard you try, Jungkook’s tone remains as is.

“Y/N,” he sighs, lips in a tight line as he screws his eyes shut. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything, Jungkook,” you grit, crossing your arms in defense. You feel guarded more than ever, not because you’re the one whom he’s pertaining to, but because your Hwayoung is involved and you won’t sit around for it. “It’s just that when you put it like that, it sounds like taking care of Hwayoung is a chore.”

You used to be sure awhile ago that you were seeing double because in between memorizing scripts and going from schedule to schedule without any time to rest in between, you’ve been worried sick because Jungkook hadn’t texted you the whole day. You were shocked enough to come home to your daughter playing by herself downstairs (with Miso watching her the whole time), even more-so when you saw Jungkook engrossed in a highly-enthusiastic phone call.

Jungkook sighs as if talking to you completely exhausts him, pinching his nosebridge before muttering under his breath. “Like you’re one to talk.”

“Excuse me?” you blink in surprise, tilting your head in sheer confusion. You’re about to shrug it off but he does that thing again, the one where he almost rolls his eyes at you but realizes it at the last minute.

“Nothing.”

“Say that again, Jungkook.”

“My god,” Jungkook groans, throwing his head back. He runs his hands through his hair frustratedly, sucking in a rushed breath. He looks straight at you when he gives his grievance. “I’m just saying! Why do you get to live out your dream but I don’t?”

“This is my job,” you bite back instantly, the second it took for you to digest his words being enough time for him to groan again. “If it were up to me, do you think I’d work six days a week? Do you not know how much it kills me to stay away from my family?”

You’re at a loss for words, the tiny bit of insecurity you have being dug up once again. You feel guilty because you actually don’t — you know to yourself that you still dedicate so much of yourself to Jungkook and Hwayoung even if you work full-time.

Jungkook chokes up a laugh in front of your face.

“Then quit your dream if you’re so miserable.”

Your jaw clenches quickly in annoyance, unable to retain the disbelief that builds up in your chest. “My dream is my job! It’s why we’re living this life in the first place, Jungkook! Your dream is this project that was pitched to you like what, two weeks ago?”

“Can I not live my life the way that I want to?” he asks exaggeratedly, eyes wide in defense. “Why am I only your husband and why am I only Hwayoung’s dad? Why can’t I go to the US a-and try things out? Why can’t I be free from all this even for just a while?”

Your mouth falls apart at that, your moment of shock simultaneously being Jungkook’s instance for guilty. He wants to reel it in right then and there, but the small part of his pride grows to hold him back.

“Do we hold you back that much?” you whisper, the headache that has been building in your head since this morning shrinking to the size of Jungkook’s words. “What are you getting so angry for? I’m not saying no. I’m asking you why you’re so hellbent on suddenly leaving to do this.”

A large part of you, if not all, feels more disappointed than angry. Hwayoung has not and should never be an afterthought for the both of you yet Jungkook brings her up with you like mere variables.

You can grasp the fact that being a parent is a full-time job like yours yet what you can’t get a hold of is your husband’s apprehension; his sudden need of pursuing something beyond your family.

“Because I’m scared, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers, exhaling heavily. “I’m scared that this is all what life could ever be for me.”

It’s only when you’re completely silent that he comes back to the severity of his words, the tension that’s been building up in him breaking the moment that you break eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry for being your wife.”

“Baby, that’s not-…” Jungkook tries to correct himself, hot on your heels as you get up from your seat on the couch. You’re not even speeding up yet he catches you just as urgently, the hold he has on your arm doing little to put you at ease.

“And I’m sorry for making you a dad.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m-…”

“You should do this project if you really want to,” you quip, back still turned to him as you enter the bedroom. Jungkook noticeably stops in his tracks, the furrow in his brows fading because you’ve put him on whiplash.

“What?”

“You’ve held down the fort while I was out being the breadwinner. It’ll be nice for you to do your own thing,” you smile tightly, eager to sleep on the whole thing just so you don’t stay hung-up for too long.

“What about Hwayoung? What about your film? They want it to be an entry for the Academy, right?” he asks in concern, different from the worry he had awhile ago when he thought you were against him leaving.

You nod, easily shrugging despite the weight on your shoulders. “I’m her mom, of course. She’s gonna come first. And for the film, I think I can still do it. I’ll juggle them both if I have to.”

Jungkook nods, eyes set on the floor. He didn’t think this far at all.

“Do you want to hire a nanny? I know a friend.”

“I’ll pass. I don’t trust nannies.”

There’s an overwhelming silence that engulfs the both of you, the white noise machine in your nightstand unable to fill it completely. Jungkook looks at the ceiling while you look at Hwayoung who’s sprawled in the middle of your bed, clutching Miso like a teddy bear — she already fell asleep waiting for the both of you.

“I didn’t mean what I said awhile ago, I’m sorry. It came out the wrong way,” Jungkook apologizes after some time, hand darting out to hold yours while you only hover above your vanity, taking off all of your jewelry except for your wedding ring.

“When do you leave?” you ask, still unable to meet his gaze.

“Next week,” he clears his throat. “When do you start filming?”

You nod, coming into terms that Jungkook would leave no matter what you say. “Next week.”

You’re arranging the covers when your husband tries to hold you again, voice strained and rushed. “Y/N, I really am sorry. I love being your-…”

“Shh,” you interrupt, pursing your lips. “Hwayoung’s sleeping.”

( ♡ )

You asked for a day off.

You’ve rarely ever asked for them throughout your entire career because you were built on the mindset that at the end of the day, you’re also an employee no matter what gig you land. Be it the cameos you used to book with Yoongi or the titular characters you take from studio after studio, you’re still the employee who had worked her way up fairly.

You didn’t ask for it during that instance when you fell sick after back-to-back shoots because you didn’t want to waste anyone’s time. You didn’t ask for it when you woke up with the type of fatigue that settled in your body no matter how hard you closed your eyes or laid your head against the cushions.

You’ve never asked for it for your sake, but you’ve asked for a day off now because Jungkook’s leaving for a place you can’t come and go to as you wish.

Unlike your house or the hotels you book for him and Hwayoung to be at whenever you have to film out of town, Jungkook’s out of reach. He’s one call away, granted that your timezones match up and there’s a connection strong enough for it to continue without a hitch. He’s far from your grasp and he will be for months on end, and you don’t think you can ever stomach working on the same day he’s leaving.

“Are you seeing me off at the airport?” he asks during the car ride, voice audible enough for only you to hear and not Hwayoung who’s sprawled across both of your laps, sleeping soundly with her plushie that resembled Miso.

“I will, but I don’t think I can see you off near the gate. I can only manage up to here,” you answer honestly, willing yourself not to break down even if the both of you are still in the car, away from any prying eyes of the media that lurks outside. “So can Hwayoung,” you add, a large part of you being grateful that she’s asleep when Jungkook has to leave so neither of you would hear her cries.

Jungkook sees that hesitance in you, the same kind that softens him into fragments.

“It’ll only be for awhile, okay? Just for a few months,” he smiles tightly, rearranging his backpack next to him, the keyring that held Hwayoung’s second-favorite toy (not the ultimate favorite because she won’t ever let him take it) clattering loudly. “I love you,” Jungkook murmurs. “Do you know that?”

“Mhmm.”

“Say it back.”

You refuse to do so because saying it back feels finite, perhaps even forced, because although you love Jungkook, saying so at the moment only weighs you down as reality sinks in. “This is gonna be easy for us, right?"

“It’s not like we’ve never been in a similar set-up before,” he shrugs, the pout on his face casual as he tries to level with you.

“But this is different, Jungkook. This is beyond different. We have Hwayoung and now, we’re both working,” you stammer, chest rising and falling as you wrap your head around everything. “This— this isn’t Seoul to Jeonju. This isn’t a leave by day, come back by night type of trip. This is-…”

“You’re freaking out,” Jungkook interjects, his soft yet stern voice cutting through your thoughts as he lays a hand on your thigh, the platinum of his wedding band looking right up at you.

You surrender in defeat, not because you’re fighting with your husband, but because there’s simply no other answer he could ever conjure for you as to why this is happening.

“Why aren’t you? Why am I the only one scared?” you whisper.

“You’re not supposed to be.”

“Of course. It’s not like you— we put everything on the line,” you clear your throat, looking down on your shoes as you convince yourself. You ignore how you’re still not entirely aware of what’s with Jungkook’s project, other than the fact that Namjoon’s the screenwriter, all in favor of giving you a semblance of sanity before Jungkook leaves you and Hwayoung. “Right?”

( ♡ )

You wonder if Jungkook already ate breakfast.

You wonder if he ate the supposedly excellent in-flight meal that comes with first-class tickets, or if he ate the ramen he’s always had a penchant for eating especially during your trips, whether by land, sea, or air. You wonder if he’s grumpy with the altitude and the way he has to pop his ears ever so often, along with the way he always seems to be too long for airplane seats turned into beds.

You call but Jungkook doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll never not purchase in-flight wifi because he’d rather knock himself out than have to read a book or something of the sort. You message, but then again, your husband doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll much rather reply via text than to record a voice note because he’s shy with people hearing him in public spaces, albeit closed.

Hwayoung waits patiently beside you, swinging her legs back and forth on the couch as Miso stays up with her. She should’ve been in bed half an hour ago but you let her stay up with you, all in the pursuit of getting Jungkook to respond.

“Appa?” she asks again after a minute of you trying for her dad but through another app, her pout reminding you of Jungkook’s who’s unreachable.

You try not to frown in front of her, leveling yourself as you settle for kissing her forehead to cover up the sigh that originates deep from your chest.

“Not yet, Young-ie.”

.

.

.

There’s no text from Jungkook when you wake, but there is a picture of him in the buffet of the private lounge he’s staying at during his layover.

Atleast Jungkook did eat breakfast and Hwayoung was able to sleep without him (the first of what you dread is many), nevermind the dull thrum in your chest in Jungkook’s absence.

( ♡ )

Hwayoung's been behaved the whole time you were on set.

With Jimin prioritizing his voluntary role of being a babysitter to your daughter over his position of being a manager to you, you became instantly comforted at the reassurance that you're not in this situation alone.

It's only been a week since you started working right after Jungkook left, his absence rearranging every system you've previously had in place. You do your very best to have Hwayoung still thriving, and even just the reminder that you are succeeding at being the only present parent for the meantime melts all of your fatigue away.

Your trailer's more equipped for her than it is for you, the space apparently reminding Hwayoung of home so much that it's enough to make her remind you that Miso should go join the both of you sometime. Your dressing room's always been hers, and so has been the affection of everyone close to you.

“I take my role of godfather very seriously.”

Yoongi explains even if you haven't asked him anything. In fact, you weren't talking to begin with. It's not in his nature to talk for the sake of talking (that's Jungkook's), but even with Hwayoung in his arms and you still being lost in your thoughts, he can't help but to feel concerned.

“I can tell," you snicker, finally taking notice of the sight in front of you. The earpiece that was previously on Yoongi is now slung over Hwayoung's shoulder, obviously too big on her. She wanted it as an accessory (it reminds her of the toy stethoscope she'd put on Miso as a collar) and with Yoongi being himself, he can't bring himself to say no.

Your shooting day's nearly over and although today wasn't as long as your previous record of hours on end, you already seem exhausted. Yoongi, of all people, knows what scenes wear you out. You hated doing monologues as a rookie and still despise monologues (but with random, out-of-place advertisements in between) as a veteran — you’ve done neither today.

"What's with the frown?" he asks gently, not only because Hwayoung’s been quiet for the past two minutes and she’s getting groggy, but also because if he were to ask you any louder, he feels as if you’d break.

"It's nothing," you answer automatically, looking at Hwayoung to ground yourself. "Just usual family things, I guess."

"Trouble in paradise?" Yoongi asks with a chuckle, abruptly stopping his fit of amusement when he gets goosebumps starting from the tail of his spine. He instantly recognizes it as deja vu. "I've asked you this before, haven't I?"

The realization doesn’t hit you until he points it out.

"Mhmm," you hum absent-mindedly, playing with the hem of your dress. “I don't think the problem now is anything like how it was before, though."

One night several years ago, you and Yoongi were sat side-by-side in the booth of a club, the heartbreak you had over what Jungkook’s done (and haven’t, at the time) being the wedge between you.

Now, Yoongi’s standing in front of you while you’re sat down, your daughter with Jungkook in his arms.

“Me neither. I don't know how you and Jungkook can encounter any problem worse than last time, to be honest," he chuckles, shaking his head at the recollection of the hell you’ve been through. "Also, I think I can say that because I literally don't know what's going on with you. But if you do tell me-!"

"You're so nosy,” you snort, the brief moment of playfulness welcome because your head aches the longer that you dwell over your worries.

"I can be the judge to see if what you're going through now is worse than before," Yoongi shrugs to fake nonchalance, unaware that you’re gasping in awe until you kick him lightly in the shin.

Hwayoung’s asleep in his arms.

"She's never did that with anyone before," you murmur, fishing for your phone to take a picture, but not before quickly skimming to see if Jungkook’s sent you any messages; he hasn’t. “She only either sleeps in mine or Jungkook's arms. Not for my parents, not for my in-laws. Just me and him."

Yoongi smiles proudly, stroking Hwayoung’s hair proudly. "What can I say? I'm godfather of the year."

He only sways her gently back and forth, rocking her with the patience and attention that remind you of Jungkook’s when Hwayoung was a newborn.

You’re calm and quiet to see her adjusting so well already, but you can’t help but to feel lost because you feel the exact opposite. No one’s gonna stroke your hair for you and tell you to take your time — those are Jungkook’s tasks alone, yet your grievances are also because of him.

"Jungkook's producing this short film in the US. It's by his friend," you mutter under your breath after some time in silence. Yoongi flicks his eyes up at you as if you’re talking about the weather, careful not to make you feel more conflicted than you already are. “You know… by Namjoon.”

"Since when was he into that?" he asks out of curiosity, eyebrows furrowed because he didn’t know that your opening line would ever transition to this point in the conversation. Yoongi catches a second wind the longer he processes your words, the scoff that leaves his lips making his bangs loose despite the hairspray on them. “Since when did Jungkook and Namjoon belong in the same sentence?”

"I don't know either.”

"So we're both producers now?" he snickers, the teasing already coming natural. "Nepo husband alert."

You roll your eyes in recognition, clearing your throat as soon as the laughter died between the two of you. “We got into this argument and I don't know, I-I realized I was being selfish for a moment because I didn't want him to go at first, you know?" you admit in full sincerity, exhaling the lump that forms in your throat. “He said he was afraid that this is everything he'll be. My husband, Hwayoung's dad. So on and so forth."

Yoongi only listens this time, giving the occasional hum there to remind you that he’s still there.

"And last night, he, uh, he forgot to call," you gulp, already feeling the weight of your worries settle in your stomach. "The call wasn't even for me. It's for Hwayoung because he promised he'll still read her whatever she wants."

The three of you cherish that time together because normally, it happens as soon as you get home from work. Hwayoung’s long graduated from storybooks and has now branched out to the most ridiculous texts that Jungkook indulges her with nonetheless — from the ingredient list at the back of milk cartons, and all the way to Reddit threads of how cats find their way back home to owners.

"He's been secretive about the whole thing and I-I… I do that too with my projects, I get it. But only at first because I'm literally bound to an NDA," you stammer, pinching your nosebridge to get past the frustration. “I’m just-…!" you give up, admitting the truth. "I did some snooping."

"And?" Yoongi prompts, tilting his head in anticipation.

"I think he's been secretive because the main lead's Eunsu."

Yoongi recoils at that, so much so that it almost wakes up Hwayoung.

"Eunsu? As in Park Eunsu?" he repeats, the scowl on his face getting deeper the more that you stay indifferent. “Eunsu as in your nemesis?"

You relent, the mention of her finally hitting close.

"Nemesis sounds a little childish."

Yoongi scoffs immediately, rolling his eyes at your correction. “I mean yeah, because people keep pitting her against you when she doesn't even come close," he shrugs easily, make you tut in warning. "What? I'm just saying what everybody's been thinking."

To know that you can still confide in Yoongi no matter what comforts you — what doesn’t is that this time around, your gut feeling’s stronger than it had been the last time.

"I hope I'm wrong."

"I hope so too," he exhales, shaking his head in disbelief. "What kind of asshole sleeps with his wife's enemy?"

"Don't put that out there,” you grumble, the unintentional yet weird arrangement of words making you dizzy.

"Sorry. It's a metaphor, dummy," Yoongi surrenders, clearing his throat. "Okay. Retake. What kind of husband produces a film featuring his wife's rival?

"Hopefully not mine."

( ♡ )

It takes little effort to love you.

Loving you specifically doesn’t have to be hard.

Jungkook thinks that loving you isn’t hard when you serve as the peace to his otherwise hectic and turbulent mind. You manifest into the comfort he looks for in all seasons, be it the heat pack you wordlessly put in his coat pocket or the scrunchie you put around his wrist no matter the weather whenever his hair got too long.

You don’t text him at every hour of the day whether you were working or not, but you’ve made it a point to always check up on him multiple times even if the both of you are at home, going as far to randomly waking up in the night to pause your breathing and check up on his with a hand on his chest.

It’s easy love — one that could be grasped by everyone because as the world has proved to him time and time again, you’re easy to fall with and for.

You may not coo and awe at every single thing he utters, but the adoration behind your eyes always makes him warm from the inside because you held onto him, no matter how anticlimactic his stories could be.

Neither you and Jungkook are easy, that much he knows.

He knows it because although it’s never been his intention to come home late during his allotted short break between filming (it’s disguised as a break even if he only came back to take care of work-related matters personally), you make it known that you’re irked with him for every other reason.

He knows that you aren’t easy because for the past three weeks he’s been gone, you’ve reiterated twice in the last hour alone how you’ve asked him again and again who will star in his short film. You’ve asked Jungkook repeatedly to give you details outside of Namjoon and the vaguest bits he could ever give you, establishing the fact that he isn’t even bound to an NDA.

It’s the persisting barrage of questions in your head that bothers you without a single break. It’s the hovering feeling of doom above your head because having no answers to any of them, on top of Jungkook closing himself off with or without the physical distance between the two of you and being Hwayoung’s sole caregiver, that your patience ultimately thins.

Your annoyance towards your husband is clearly obvious and it bothers him to the point of frustration. Jungkook’s been convinced since last week that if he just dodged your questions for long enough and blamed it on the connection of your call, he wouldn’t have to answer to you; he wouldn’t have to explain the fine details of the project he’s kept from you.

If he had only avoided you for long enough, you would’ve forgotten about the rumors surrounding Namjoon’s upcoming screenplay that had been leaked to the press, and the roster of actresses thought out to be the main lead of his short film.

If he had only ignored your pleas for long enough, he would have never succumbed to the preliminary guilt that comes with lying to you under the impression that he’s only being protective, pushing him to drink until his vision spins — enough for him that when he admits the truth to you, your face of heartbreak directed at him isn’t as anguishing.

“Fine, fuck it! Since you’re so nosy, yes. Eunsu is my main lead, there! She’s my muse!” Jungkook just about yells, breathless from the burn of alcohol in his throat that spreads all the way to his chest, and from the back and forth he’s been going at with you for the last hour.

“Why didn’t you tell me in the first place?!” you retort, fists clenching at your sides as the thought of Jungkook with Eunsu, with her of all actresses, in a foreign place at almost every minute of the workday irking you.

“Would it have made a difference? You’d still be angry at me,” he rolls his eyes, placing a hand on his hip as he tries to stabilize his gaze on you.

“And even then, you wouldn’t do anything about it, right? Because that’s just your nature, Jungkook,” you scoff, your dig at him being incredibly low yet you steel your pride, unwilling to back down at the thought that Jungkook’s been lying to you for three weeks– perhaps even longer.

He presses a tongue to his cheek as you pertain to the past loud and clear, the sarcastic nod he gives you making your breathing tremble.

“Why? Why does it have to be her?” you try again, this time with your jaw clenched so your anger won’t flare up because you’ve been dying to have a decent explanation from Jungkook for weeks.

“Why can’t it be her?” he counters. “B-because she’s what, she’s your rival or something? You’re jealous? Bitter?”

The knot in your chest tightens, the recall you have of the woman who had sabotaged you repeatedly when you were still a rookie putting a metallic taste on your tongue. She’s hindered you in ways that not even Yoongi could explain fully despite being the closest friend to you in the industry, the vitriol you’ve had for Eunsu in the past reviving back to life.

You have no words except for the fact that begs to be acknowledged without a single syllable.

“I’m your wife, Jungkook,” you exhale shakily, the gravity of it seemingly not enough for him because he refuses to use it as a reason to get on your side.

“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think everybody knows that by now?” Jungkook spits. “When I’m producing my film with Eunsu, I don’t want to be your husband, Y/N! I’m sick of it,” he seethes. “Eunsu has nothing to do with me. Why should I fight your battles for you? Why do I have to carry your grudges for something that doesn’t even concern me?”

Jungkook’s the drunkest he’s ever been in his life, yet he utters the clearest words you’ve ever heard him say.

“This is showbiz, Y/N. It’s inevitable for you to get caught up with shit.”

“You’re talking as if being my husband and being Hwayoung’s dad is a chore.”

“Because maybe it is!” Jungkook bursts with a cry, the tears that spring out of his eyes momentarily blinding him. “Because maybe, I’m fed up trying to be sickeningly devoted to you all the time.”

There’s something akin to white, hot, searing pain that spreads across your chest all the way to your temple, the tremble of your lips not enough for Jungkook to realize that you’re on the verge of sobbing.

“Sometimes I hate this. I… I-I hate this life I’m living because of you, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers. “I hate how you’re so, so perfect in juggling everything. I hate how I could spend an hour just convincing Hwayoung to eat a single carrot and you come in the room, and she finishes the bowl with a smile on her face. I-I hate how you never complain whenever you need to do late night feedings after a long day because I’m already snoring. I hate how with or without work, you’re still just—…” he stills, looking at you with a distraught gaze. “You’re still so content. You’re still able to be yourself like you’ve always been.”

There’s no words left in you; no thought at all that could ever pick you up from the ground and gather yourself the way you’ve always had whenever you and Jungkook had felt the furthest from each other.

“Jungkook,” you sniffle, even if he waves you off half-heartedly. “I’m sorry if-…”

“There it is. There it fucking is again!” Jungkook whines, foot agitatedly stomping against the floor as he pulls at his hair. “You’re apologizing for being so perfect in life that it’s making me feel bad!”

“But I’m not! I’m far from it, what the hell are you talking about?” you rasp, the sarcastic laugh that goes past your lips making his ears ring. “I’m sorry if it seems that way but I’m telling you myself that everything is not perfect the way you make it out to be. I’m sorry because it makes you feel bad, but if anything-…”

Jungkook raises a finger at you, his jaw tightening the longer he stews in displacement.

“Don’t. Don’t. Don’t tell me how content you are with everything despite being exhausted, or how you juggling everything is worth it. Don’t tell me how good of a dad I am."

“Then what can I say to make it lighter for you, Jungkook? What can I say that won’t make you resent me?” you grit in surrender, chest falling so lowly, you’ve forgotten to breathe for a long second. “Do you hate the life that we’re living now so much that you can’t even look at me?”

Love isn’t always a matter of ease and although it’s always stuck to you, you prove now that Jungkook coming home to you at this instance, in this light, that he makes love the most difficult thing.

“Do you hate the life that I gave you so badly?”

“I don’t,” he answers, mouth dry as his vision spins. “Sometimes. Tonight, though — maybe I do. It comes and goes.”

“Then what can we do about it?” you whisper, your vision hazy as you look at him. “Where do we go from here?”

“It’s getting late,” Jungkook only whispers, unwilling to look at the bed you share. “I have an early flight tomorrow.”

[heich0e]

"can i call you later?"

the wind bites at your cheeks, but the sting you feel is as much from the smile on your face as it is from the chill.

"dunno," you muse, pursing your lips as though you're contemplating the question deeply. "can you?"

rintarou groans, but the sound isn't half as plaintive as it ought to be. you watch as his head hangs down defeatedly where his frame is folded over the railing that lines the front of the train station, his body pitched forward over the barrier like he's trying to reach you on the other side.

you've been saying goodbye for the past twenty minutes—or, you've been trying to. sort of. maybe. the train you'd planned to catch has already come and gone, and the next is set to soon arrive. one more and it will be the last of the night, but not even knowing that fact seems to be moving you closer towards the door to the station—content to stay here, like this, as the wind of the late fall night nips at your cheeks and the two of you muddle through your goodbye with the inelegance of two people who couldn't be less committed to it if they tried.

rintarou lifts his head to meet your gaze.

"i mean it, though." he says. "can i call you tonight?"

your stomach flips when he looks at you this way. when he keeps looking at you this way.

"we just spent hours together," you remind him, but your words are too breathy to make impact. too elated to be reproachful.

you've been on three dates with rintarou now. you think they're dates anyway, though it's never explicitly been stated. his invitations are always casual, sandwiched in between all the other texts he sends to you these days, so you might be reading into things too closely for your own good. but dinner doesn't just feel like dinner when rintarou has this way of looking at you like you're the only person he's ever laid his eyes on.

"i know," he answers. it's not an explanation, or an excuse, or even an apology. it's plain acceptance. a shamelessness you find wretchedly endearing.

you glance back at the station behind you, biting the inside of your cheek to temper your delight.

"my train is coming," you say.

he looks a bit crestfallen. laughably glum, considering the circumstances.

you drag the heel of your shoe back ever so slightly, not quite a step—at least not in any meaningful way—but inching in the direction of the doors at a glacial pace. continental drift seems positively hasty in comparison to your retreat.

"bye," he calls, his tone dejected. you watch as he lifts his hand weakly, still slumped over the railing, and waves at you with only a few fingers raised.

you want to laugh, but your chest is so full of something else—something syrupy and fluttering and good—that it's like there's no space for it underneath your ribs.

you call back to him just before you step into the station.

"rintarou—"

there are other people around, stepping between and around you both—rushing into the station to escape the cold, or moving briskly as they brace themselves and step out into it—but you hardly notice them when your eyes meet.

you smile.

"—call me later."

he calls you almost every night after that.

even as the cool autumn winds change with the seasons; carrying flakes of snow as winter blankets nagano, warming with the spring, turning heavy with humidity in summer, and then repeating the cycle anew.

even as your reluctant goodbyes turn from late nights outside of train stations to early morning words whispered under blankets as rintarou leaves for practice or away games.

even as the uncertainty of whether or not you're getting your hopes up—of whether those meetings were even really dates at all—melts away into nothing more than a memory.

you're not even sure what the two of you manage to spend so much time talking about on the phone. nothing, really. everything in its own right. rintarou's phone calls are something you come to look forward to at the end of a long day. something you anticipate when you have exciting news to share. a comfort when you're missing him and a relief when you need him most.

"is that the last one?" you ask, turning just in time to see your boyfriend—your live-in boyfriend now, officially—flop back on the sofa after he drops the last moving box atop the stack piled near the balcony door.

"yeah," he wheezes, evidently winded from the exertion—from the exhaustion—of moving house. you laugh a bit to yourself as you shuffle over to the sofa, leaning over the back so you can peer down at him where he lays sprawled against the cushions.

"aren't you a professional athlete?" you tease him. "shouldn't you have better stamina?"

rintarou cocks a brow, something sly swimming behind his gaze.

"i need better stamina?" he drawls. "you're usually complaining about the opposite."

you roll your eyes in the wake of his remark, grabbing a throw pillow from beneath his head and yanking it from under him unceremoniously, only to press it lightly against his face.

you shuffle back towards the kitchen where you'd left the box you were unpacking abandoned. you grab a plate from inside the cardboard and turn to place it on the shelf you'd decided would house your dinnerware.

"it's late," you tell him, reaching for the next plate in the box. "you should go wash up first."

you don't get a reply, and that surprises you. you creep over to the sofa again, only to find rintarou staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

"hey," you laugh a little, leaning on your elbows against the back of the couch. "where'd you go?"

rintarou's gaze snaps back to yours. he still looks at you like he did on your first date. like he did outside the train station on your third. he smiles, bit it's a bit sheepish.

"sorry, was just thinking," he answers quietly. he reaches up from where he's lying on his back, brushing his thumb against your cheek. his smile turns a little bit giddy, then. boyishly charming. "can't believe we finally got a place together."

you lean into his touch, huffing a little breath through your nose—halfway to a laugh.

"guess you won't have to call me anymore," you joke, and rintarou's expression changes—falls slightly—but only for a moment. you realize what you've said, or at least think about the implications more, and you sort of understand the shift.

you fell in love through those phone calls.

you'll miss them—the ritual, the familiarity, the comfort—even though you know they've been replaced by something better.

you turn your face, pressing a fleeting kiss to rintarou's palm. "go wash up," you tell him again, heading back towards the kitchen and your (now twice abandoned) box of plates.

he seems to heed your advice this time, peeling himself up off the sofa and shuffling off in the direction of the washroom.

"don't use all the hot water!" you call after his retreating frame, and you hear him reply noncommittally under his breath before the door clicks closed behind him.

you've only got three dishes left to unpack before your box is emptied, but the shelf you'd been organizing doesn't seem to want to accommodate all of your bowls in the way you wanted, so you're left arranging and rearranging them as you try to find a way to get them to fit.

in the back pocket of your jeans, your phone begins to ring. with three plates balanced in one hand, you reach for it with the other—the movement muscle memory now, instinct more than volition, after all this time. you answer the call without even looking at the screen, holding the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you continue juggling the dishes in front of you.

"oop—hello?"

you pause after you answer the call, realizing for the first time that you shouldn't be getting a call at all. not at this time of night. not in this apartment.

the line is quiet, just the sound of breathing that you could recognize anywhere to be heard from the other end of the call.

"why are you calling me?" you ask rintarou, but the words are light. too fond to be reproachful.

you hear rintarou laugh—from the other end of the call and from the other side of the bathroom door.

"just wanted to hear your voice," he answers you (the same way he has a thousand nights before when you've asked him that same question.)

"you're ridiculous," you tell him, completely enamoured.

"i know," he replies.

it's quiet for a moment as the two of you stand on opposite sides of your apartment. on opposite ends of your call.

you shift a stack of bowls a little to the left. it all fits now. just the way you wanted it to.

"y'know, the hot water won't run out as fast if we shower together—"

you hear the bathroom door open, and when you look over your shoulder, rintarou is peeking at you from around the edge of the door—his phone held to his ear, a smile on his face you know is mirrored on your own, and a look in his eye that's never once wavered.

he tilts his head.

"—wanna join me?"

[vroomvro0mferrari]

LN4 | Panic at the Disco

Summary: When you call your brother to pick you up from the club, it's his best friend who answers.

Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader

WC: 1.3K

Warnings: Maybe slight panic attack, insinuated sexual harassment/assault

Part 2

Masterlist

You rush through the club in a hurry, bumping into God knows how many people as you search for the exit. The hot, stuffy air makes it even more difficult to breathe as you keep pushing through the crowd. You can feel the wetness of your tears run down your cheeks as you reach the exit, nearly running into the bouncer checking IDs outside. You stand close to him as you wipe your cheeks and sniffle, trying to calm yourself down while you rummage through your purse in search of your phone. Taking a deep breath, you call your brother.

You wait impatiently as the phone rings. He doesn’t answer, so you call again. And again. Eventually, after three tries, the phone is picked up. 

“Hello? Max?” You say rushedly.

You hear some noise on the other side. In your frenzy, you don’t realise it’s not your brother, not from the mere grumpy hello the phone is answered with.

“Can you come pick me up? Please?” The sheer panic you’re experiencing is clear in your voice. Lando can even hear your sniffling through the phone as you wipe your hand under your nose. 

“Y/N? Is that you? Are you crying?” He asks, much more awake now as he sits up from his position on the couch.

“Who’s this? Lando?” You realise now that you hear him speak; it's your brother’s best friend – to your frustration.

“Yes.”

“Why are you answering my brother’s phone?” You ask annoyed.

“We were just hanging out, he fell asleep and—”

“You know what – it doesn’t matter. Can you tell him to come pick me up please?”

“Where are you?”

“I’m not sure, uhm, it’s called Palace, I think.” You sniffle. “You’ll send him to get me?” You ask hopefully.

“I’ll come get you myself. I’m just putting my shoes on, I’ll be there in a bit,” he says, putting your brother’s phone on speaker mode and stepping into his shoes.

“Lando you don’t have to come, just tell Max to come pick me up, please. I need him right now,” you say, frustrated that Lando wants to come. He’s not who you want and need at this moment; you need someone who you can trust, who’ll protect you and make you feel safe after what just happened. You need your brother, a close friend, or maybe even your father, but not Lando. Why can’t he understand that? You can feel your tears welling up again in frustration.

Lando ignores you, however. “Are you safe right now? You should try to find a group of people or something, stick to them until I get there, okay?”

“Lan—” He cuts you off, in a rush to get to you. 

“Do you want to stay on the phone? I’m getting in the car right now, I’ll be there in, like, eight minutes.”

“Lando, just send Max, please.”

“I’m already in the car. Do you want me to stay on the line, or not?” You hear the car revving in the background.

You sigh. Nevertheless, you’re relieved he’s on his way and you don’t have to stay here much longer. “That’s not necessary, Lando. I’m with the bouncer right now. Just come quick, please?” You’ve given up on the idea that your brother might come, Lando’s very much set in his ways.

“Of course, I’ll be right there,” Lando says firmly before hanging up.

Although you and Lando aren’t the best of friends, you get along well enough. Regardless, you get caught up in discussions quite regularly; both of you are passionate and stubborn in your opinions – it rarely happens that you and Lando do not end up being separated by your brother or a mutual friend. However, that you know exactly how to push each other's buttons doesn’t mean Lando doesn’t care about you. In fact, the opposite is true. Although he would never admit it, Lando has liked you for quite a while and cares for you deeply, even though he doesn’t generally show his feelings. And so, when you call him (well, not him specifically, but that doesn’t matter) crying and upset, he worries about you. He could’ve woken up your brother, who you obviously would have preferred over him, but he wants to be the one who’s there for you. He wants to be the one who protects you and keeps you safe – better yet, the one who makes you feel safe, if he could ever accomplish such a thing.

Lando exceeds his own expectations when he arrives at the nightclub in under five minutes. Already spotting you standing with the big, bulky bouncer, arms wrapped around yourself in an attempt to keep yourself warm in the cold, late night (or early morning) breeze. He carelessly parked his car on the side of the road, barely turning on the hazard lights before exiting the car. 

“Y/N! Are you okay?” He jogs towards the club entrance, concern showing on his face.

You lifted your head at the familiar voice yelling your name. Quickly thanking the bouncer who kept you company, you rushed over to the familiar boy. You had never been so happy to see Lando.

He pulled you into his arms as soon as you were within his reach. Cradling your head and brushing your hair with one hand, while the other pulled you closer by your waist. Although you initially wanted your brother to come, this was good too – you’d even go as far as to say you were enjoying it. Despite your differences, Lando’s presence (more specifically, his strong arms holding you tight) made you feel at ease and calmed you down. He relieved the tenseness of your body and you relaxed in his hold. Hiding your face in his neck and fisting the fabric of his shirt, you nestled yourself comfortably in Lando’s body and exhaled the breath you had been holding.

He buried his nose in your hair on the top of your head, breathing in your scent and smiling at the feeling of you snuggling into him. It felt right, so right, to be holding you like this. He whispers, “Are you okay?” You merely nod your head, not wanting to leave his embrace. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” He questions further.

You stay silent, enjoying Lando’s strong hold on you. It makes you feel safe. Safe enough to share what happened in the club. “There was some random guy who thought he was entitled to my attention.” You mumble into his neck.

“He didn’t touch you, did he?” He continues, already fearing the answer.

You let a silence fall before answering, “He did,”

Lando squeezes you tighter at the revelation. He’s not surprised a man ruined your fun night out.

You continue quickly, “But there were some girls who helped me, and I think they kicked him out. I’m not sure though, I left as soon as I could. Then I called Max, but he didn’t answer, and now…”

“I’m sorry,” Lando says, a pained expression on his face. “Men are shit.”

You let out a small laugh and Lando can barely avoid shivering at the feeling of your warm breath hitting the sensitive skin of his neck. Nevertheless, he smiles in accomplishment when he hears the sound, glad he could cheer you up.

“You want to go home? To my place, I mean, Max is there…”

“Yes,” you say into Lando’s neck, sighing before distancing yourself from him.

He kisses the top of your head before letting you leave his hold, “Let’s go then,” he says, pulling you along to his car, still tucked into his side.

– – – – –

Part 2

[sugurusombereyes]

sleepy mornings with suguru

“c’mon we have to get up.”

sunlight peeked through your half closed curtains, the liquid gold painting your exposed skin in the warmth geto gave you whenever you were in his presence. you attempted to cover your eyes from it since you already were going blind from your horrible eyesight that suguru would always tease you about.

(he would then later tell you in bed how it was a joke and he wasn’t making fun of you. you would then smile and tell him that you knew, his small doubts sending a flutter to your heart that was practically beating outside your chest)

shoko and gojo would constantly talk about how you and geto were complete opposites all the time. how he was the sunlight that everyone would be trying to get in pictures and how you were the night sky that he would disappear into.

(it was supposed to be somewhat of an insult to geto as he would always be teased about how he was so much softer around you. but he took it as a compliment as he truly felt like he could be himself around you)

“wake up.”

you groan for the fifth time in the past minute, you both had slept in for the past three days as you the two of you didn’t have work. but it got to a point where you most literally wouldn’t leave the bed, as much as you weren’t a morning person you had to take some control over your zombie body.

and zombie boyfriend.

“m’tired angel go back to sleep.” he groaned, turning over to your side and attempting to rest his head on your chest as you pushed him off. you rolled your eyes and tried to rub the tiredness out of them, “we all sing.” you referenced to that one video of victoria justice that would make geto cringe as you would cry out laughter which would make tears fall out of his eyes at your reaction to his facial expression. “close your eyes.” geto slapped his hands over your eyelids and attempted to close them as you giggled.

“i’m not sleepy sugu, we need to-.”

his big arms immediately wrapped you up in a giant bear hug, trapping you towards his body while your face met his chest and his chin meeting the top of your head. “getooo.” you groaned as he let out a laugh, his husky voice dripping like honey into your veins and slowing down your blood rushing as well as the moment. “i rarely get these with you so let’s just relax a bit, yeah?” he murmured into your hair, pressing a soft kiss onto your forehead.

(the same feeling heat that would make him blush rising up to your cheeks)

“you always have me.” you say quietly, relaxing your body into his. intertwining your legs and practically sewing together your hearts even though they were at very different placements geto still felt like his heart was stitched with the colour of your eyes.

“mm i know baby, just wanna love on you right now.” suguru rubs your back soothingly, slowly and gently as you sigh in content; your eyes drooping down as he snaked a hand underneath your t shirt and drew shapes that you were too tired to guess on the curves of your hips. “love you.” you sleepily mutter, your breathing slowing down as you couldn’t fight off the drowsiness. “don’t say you love me more or i’ll haunt you in your dreams.” suguru nods while fighting off a laugh. you yawn as his heartbeat fades out as you fall into a deep slumber.

“i love you most angel.”

[bitchesuntitled]

Wrong Delivery

Summary: Sleepin' with the hot construction guy doing the remodel at your work, he winds up buying flowers for someone else...

Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI go on get! No outbreak/pre outbreak(you decide), fluff, smut, miscommunication, cussing, oral f!receiving, unprotected piv(don't do that, make smart choices), cream pie, Joel being a dork.

A/N: First time I've ever actually finished a Joel story I started working on! Many thanks to @strang3lov3 for the encouragement and taking a look at this, @jay-zzle as always for giving me ideas and making moodboards for me because I hate doing them myself! ❤️❤️❤️

🌹This is for @morallyinept’s flora & fauna challenge! 🌹

Divider provided by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist||AO3 Link

As you rush into the building, trying to avoid the construction team surrounding the place, a timid smile crosses your face when you spot Joel, the man responsible for why you’re running late this morning. Instead of getting ready for work like you were supposed to, Joel Miller decided he wanted to spend his morning coaxing another orgasm out of you, as if the three last night weren’t enough. It’s been a couple of months of this. 

It had never been your intention to start sleeping with the hot contractor who had been doing construction at your place of work, you both just happened to be at the same bar one night. One thing led to another and now it’s been this, whatever this is.

“Mornin’ guys,” you say passing the crew, each giving their own sort of greeting back, be it a grunt of acknowledgment or repeating the greeting.

“Mornin’ ma’am,” Joel says with a cheeky smile, “Runnin’ a little late?”

“Yeah, woke up late,” you shrugged, feeling your face heat up.

“There you are!” Becky shouts, making her way towards you, “Angie is up my ass right now about where you are with those reports you said you’d get done yesterday.”

“On it,” you sigh, “Nice talking to you Joel.”

“Oh!” Becky said with a smile, grabbing his bicep, “Hi Joel! You guys sure have been working hard on all of this.”

You try to keep your eyes from rolling at Becky’s consistent attempt at flirting with Joel. She has definitely tried her hardest to get his attention, made cookies “for the crew” but only handed some of them to Joel, tries to talk to him every chance she can, wearing lower cut tops so her cleavage is on full display, batting eyelashes and laughing at any dumb thing he says. It’s starting to get on your nerves, if you’re being honest. Making your way to your desk you open the drawer, shoving your purse inside before closing it and turning on your computer. You open the teams app, sending Angie a quick message to let her know you’ll put the file with the reports in the folder outside her door, grabbing the file and making your way to her office.

Becky is still talking Joel’s ear off and you have to stifle your laugh, watching his eyebrows scrunch together and his polite nod before excusing himself. She catches you as you're on your way back to your cubicle to start the work day.

“That Joel Miller is a man,” Becky sighs, walking beside you, “The things I would let him do to me.”

“Oh jeez,” you laugh awkwardly, sitting down at your desk.

“I wonder what his dick is like,” she continues, “I bet it’s big.”

You turn to your computer hoping she can’t see the look on your face because then the jig would be up.

“Uhm,” you say, clearing your throat, “You better be careful. Don’t wanna get turned into HR.”

—

“Hello,” a frazzled delivery guy announces himself at the entrance to your cubicle. “I have a delivery for you, miss.”

“For me?!” Becky asks excitedly, seeing the bouquet of flowers. The delivery guy nodded, handing her the flowers. “Who are they from?!”

“Uh… Joel Miller?” The guy says, looking at his sheet. Your jaw drops upon hearing his words. Why on earth would Joel send Becky flowers?

“Oh my god!” Becky squeals with delight, grabbing the card, “Aw! Look! It says darlin’ on the envelope!”

Becky opens the card, reading it aloud:

“Figured a pretty lady like you should have some flowers to look at. Been havin’ the time of my life gettin’ to know ya and would love to take you out. He signed it off with a heart and J. Miller! How sweet is that?!”

Beside yourself on handling this, the only thing you could think of was finding the man himself. If this entire thing between you two was just for fun so be it, but you needed answers.

“Real sweet,” you mutter standing up, “I’m…  uh… I’ll be back.”

“Okay.” Becky hums dreamily, staring at the flowers on her desk.

You make your way to the front of the building, spotting Gus, one of the construction guys.

“Can you tell Joel I need to talk to him?”

“Sorry ma’am, he had to leave earlier, something about Tommy.” Gus shrugs. 

“Uhm… okay.” You nod, deciding to make your way to the breakroom, sitting at one of the tables trying to collect your thoughts. Maybe it’s for the best that he left. That way the entire building wouldn’t see you blow up. Are you even still supposed to see each other tonight? That had been the plan when he left this morning. What the actual fuck, you think to yourself, give annoying ass Becky flowers to ask her out, and then fuck you? That two-timing son of a bitch!

“So fucking stupid,” you mutter to yourself.

—

You make it through the workday, as best as you can, trying not to think of Joel and how mad you are all while Becky continues to talk about him all day. What should she wear, wondering where he’d take her, what they would do, should she sleep with him on the first date. Hopefully, the Excedrin will kick in soon to help with the teeth grinding headache you’ve had all day. Walking to your car Becky’s shrill voice rings out wishing you a good evening.

“Yeah, you too,” you grumble, pulling your car door open and throwing your purse inside. You’re still so mad, fuming, seeing red as you drive towards your place. Once getting home, you quickly change into comfy clothes, and see you have a text from Joel.

JMiller: Can’t wait to see you beautiful ;) Leavin’ Tommy’s

You scowl looking at the text. How do you even respond to that? Petty, that’s how.

You: K.

You see the text bubbles pop up, disappear then pop up again before his face shows on your screen with an incoming call.

“Hello,” you snap.

“Hey,” Joel says hesitatingly, “Bad day at work?”

“Well, Becky got some lovely flowers delivered at work.”

“Oh?”

“Yep,” you say with a harsh pop at the end.

“And?” Joel asks, “Is that it?”

“Delivery guy and card said they were from you.”

“Fuck me,” Joel groans “Those were not for goddamn Becky!”

“Sure about that?”

“I got them for you.” Joel argues.

“Yeah, okay.” You huff into the receiver, rolling your eyes. “Look, I get it. It’s fine if you didn’t want this going anywhere but you could’ve been honest with me about it.”

“Fuck, darlin’,” Joel groans, “I do want this going somewhere! Like I said, the flowers were for you!”

“Sure,” you say, shaking your head, “Just be honest, Joel. This has just been fun, that’s it. You’re getting your dick wet, stringing me al—“

“God damn it! I am telling the truth!” Joel growls, cutting you off. “I even have proof!”

“What proof?!” You spit back, “The proof of the flowers you sent Becky? Yeah, I saw them, and the card too. Sweet touch signing it off with a heart and then your name.”

Suddenly there is a knock on your door. You cock your head to the side, hearing the knock sound through the phone as well. Of fucking course, Tommy’s is a five minute drive to your place, making your way to the door you swing it open to see Joel standing there. His nostrils flared, phone held up to his ear, dropping it and angrily stuffing it back into his pocket.

“Just give me five minutes, I swear, they were meant for you and I have fuckin’ proof,” Joel says, holding up a piece of paper.

“What the fuck, Joel?” You groan, smacking your phone onto the entry table.  “Why are you here?”

“I was on my way home from Tommy’s. Figure I’d come here first,” Joel says, holding the paper out to you, “Go on, look at it.”

You grab it, glancing it over. Farrah’s Flowers printed at the top, with your name listed as the order’s recipient, eyes bulging out of your head as you look at him.

“Told you.”

“Wait, then how the fuck did they get to Becky then?”

“Somebody fucked up, that’s all I know but that is my copy of the receipt for buyin’ them in the first place, and that is your name on it,” Joel smirks in triumph, crossing his arms across his broad chest.

Your shoulders relax as you open the door wider, motioning your head for him to come in. He gives a subtle nod, making his way into your home, you slump against the door once it’s closed.

“Joel,” you start, “What the fuck are we?”

He cages you against the door, pushing his lower half into you. You sigh, looping your arms around his neck, looking at those dark chocolate eyes.

“Well,” Joel says, kissing your cheek, “I want you,” placing a soft kiss against your lips, “More than just for sex,” he whispers, against your lips breathing in each other's air causing you to feel a dizzying arousal. Lips collide with him in a hungry kiss, tongues rolling against one another, gasping when his hands creep down to hook around your thighs lifting you, grabbing onto your ass before pulling you away from the door and carrying you to your bedroom.

Joel lays you down on your bed hovering over you, never breaking away from your lips, licking into your mouth with desperation like this might be his last chance. Arousal begins pool in your underwear. Hands gliding down his back, feeling the warmth radiating from him, lifting the bottom of his shirt until he finally lifts to fling it off.

“Don’t want anyone else,” Joel husks, lightly biting your neck, causing you to moan at the sensation of his teeth against your skin, “Just you.”

“Joel,” you whimper as his hand travels down the length of your shirt, pushing it up to expose your tits, ducking his head down. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the stiffened peak before switching to give the other equal attention, kissing a trail down the soft flesh of your stomach until he reaches the top of your leggings.

“Can I?” He asks, looking at you, fingers hooking into your waistband. You give a firm nod and he pulls them off along with your underwear. He sighs once they are off, using his shoulders to spread your legs further apart, “So fucking pretty,” he hums, nipping and kissing along your inner thighs, slowly making his way to your center.

You can feel his breath against your folds, trembling with anticipation for his tongue and lips to make contact, letting out a soft moan Joel begins lapping at your folds, sucking your bundle of nerves into his mouth. Tongue massaging circles against your clit.

“Fuck,” you moan, raking your fingers through his hair and lightly tugging.

Joel’s hum reverberated into your core. His mouth opened and he began to fuck you with his tongue while firmly holding your gaze. You’re back arched at the sensation, letting out a gasp. You roll your hips against his face, his nose pressing deliciously against your clit. He grunts, moving his thumbs to spread your lips, licking a stripe up to your clit and sucking it into his mouth. Your legs begin to shake at the sensation.

“Oh my god, Joel!” You whine, arching your back, feeling the band tightening within your core, begging for release. Joel sinks two of his thick fingers into you causing you to cry out, moving them to massage that sweet spot against your walls, “Yes! Oh my god, fuck!” You could feel the smug smirk on his face, knowing you’re about to come.

“Come on,” he coos, firmly licking your bundle of nerves “Let me have it baby.”

You cry his name out over and over as you feel the waves of pleasure crashing through you. He continues lapping at your folds, wanting to make sure he gets every last drop before you push his head away. He crawls up the length of your body, the denim of his jeans scratching against your skin.

“Good?” He asks, you nod giggling and he smirks, grabbing the nape of his neck you pull him closer to your face, looking into your eyes he whispers a hi. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face, surging forward to kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue. He groans into your mouth, grinding his bulge against your center, the rough denim providing friction against your core. His hand moves to his belt, swiftly unhooking it and unbuttoning his jeans. Hands sliding down to help him push the denim off his hips, boxers following suit. You grip his hard length, stroking it from tip to base. Palm spreading the precome over his long thick length. Joel lets out a soft moan at the touch.

“Want you inside me,” you whimper, rubbing his cock against your slick heat. “Please.”

He bats your hand away, grabbing his cock to tease your folds more, rubbing his tip up and down your slit. You let out a moan when his tip catches against your entrance. Only for him to slide back up to your clit, rubbing agonizingly slow circles against you.

“Joel,” you begged, titling your pelvis, “Please, please fuck me.”

Joel smirks, sliding his cock back down to your entrance, feeding you his bulbous head. You writhe, feeling the stretch. He sinks into you slowly, filling you up until his tip kisses your cervix. Fingers gripping his back, each of you letting out a satisfied moan.

“Fuck, darlin’,” Joel murmurs into your neck, nipping and sucking on your pulse point, letting you adjust to his size, “Best pussy ever,” placing gentle kisses along your jaw.

“Joel, move,” you plead, hitching your legs up on his waist, “Need you to move.”

He pulls out slowly before snapping his length into you again, letting out a shaky breath at the harshness of his thrust. Your grip on his back tightens, sinking your nails into his skin. He lets out a hiss as he rocks his hips into you, trying to find that spot that makes you see stars. 

“Fuck,” he grunted, “Don’t want anyone else, darlin’.”

Breathy moans shared between kisses, sweat slicked skin gliding against each other. He pushes your thighs back further into a mating press, finding that sweet spot inside your walls.

“Oh my god,” you whine, back beginning to arch, “Right there!”

His cock massages that spot with every stroke, causing your muscles to tighten. You can feel the coil in your belly tightening, walls beginning to flutter around his shaft as he drills into that spot over and over.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel growls, feeling the heat of his skin slapping against yours, “I need you to come, baby. Ain’t gonna last much longer.”

You moan wantonly as you feel his dick twitch inside of you. Joel holding out to make sure you come first. The coil in your belly finally snaps, sending you over the edge, white hot electricity flowing through every limb. He thrusts into you harshly half a dozen more times before his hips stutter.

“Only you, darlin’, only want you,” he grunts, as he empties himself inside you, painting your walls with his sticky release, “only want you.”

Joel collapses, holding himself up by his elbows on either side of your head, nuzzling his nose against yours, placing soft kisses against your lips.

“Only want you,” he sighs.

—

You spent the next hour, in each other's arms, talking, snuggling and kissing.

“I can’t believe you would think I’d want Becky,” Joel booms with laughter, eyes crinkling around the edges. You smirk playfully, slapping his arm.

“Look,” you giggle, “I didn’t know if her flirting finally wore you down!”

“Hi Joel!” He says in an exaggerated high pitch, batting his eyelashes, “My, you sure have been working hard!” he adds with a girly giggle, lifting his pecs to create some sort of cleavage.

“Oh shut up!”

“Did you see the flowers though? Like actually look at ‘em?”

“Not really,” you sigh, playing with a loose thread on your blanket.

“Purple tulips for new beginnings and love,” Joel says, planting a kiss on your cheek, “Jasmine for devotion,” he continues, kissing your other cheek, “and pink roses for appreciation,” he smiles before kissing the tip of your nose.

“Really?”

“Yep, the florist helped me pick them out,” Joel says, grabbing the back of your neck pulling you into a kiss, “Told ya they were for you.”

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Teen Villain Alliance

Chapter 1 - Damian

Despite his proficiency in the skill, Damian hated spying on the Teen Villain Alliance. 

Having appeared two years ago in alliance with Klarion Bleak, the Teen Villain Alliance, or TVA, quickly made themselves known as little more than pests, often rushing in to assist other young adult criminals or harass Justice League officials. Father wanted to investigate when they first appeared, but with Todd’s reveal and Damian himself coming to take his place as Robin, he’d been… busy. 

Which allowed the TVA to flourish into a respected criminal enterprise. No vault was safe, no hero strong enough. A group had even banded together to take down Superman! And while there was no lasting damage other than some bizarre markings on the Kryptoian’s face, it was enough to prove these teenagers as a threat. 

Damian, as much as it galled him, was not the first chosen to infiltrate. Martian Manhunter, shapeshifted into a meta fourteen-year-old girl, tried and was identified as a hero on sight. The Teen Titans and Young Justice got closer, actually able to talk to the villains about joining, but “it was like they could smell the hero on us,” Beast Boy had explained. “I don't know how else to explain it.”

Most likely, the TVA kept tabs on the Justice League and affiliated organizations. They needed someone fresh, someone who wasn’t a hero.

Damian had been more than willing to volunteer. 

Introducing himself as Damian Al Ghul, the recently escaped Heir to the Demon Head, he’d been accepted immediately despite having approached the group mid-heist. All he had to do was extrapolate about how Grandfather’s assassins were chasing him, and the Wolf—a designation given to the members of the TVA’s inner circle—allowed him to join, but he was forced to stay with the hacker of the group while the heist commenced with no interference from a hero.

Damian had been confident. He’d gotten so far in mere minutes when a member of the Justice League, and even Drake, couldn’t get past the first few questions. He’d have the Teen Villain Alliance dismantled within the week.

Then Manson, as the Wolf had introduced herself, took out a device that transported them all to another dimension. Which was where the main base of the Alliance was. And none of his communication devices or trackers worked there. 

Damian had only been able to update the Justice League a few times since his tenure as a spy began. Superman had reassured him it was fine, that there had been plenty of missions were communication was infrequent, but after a month of living in the TVA Base in the Infinite Realms, Damian hated not being able to contact his father easily. And in return, Father and Drake had taken to interrogating him for as long as possible the couple of times he was outside Headquarters. 

(Phantom’s Haunt is what the TVA members called it. It was Phantom Dark’s home that he opened up to them all. Damian didn’t know how to feel about that.)

Damian had only been able to contact Father three times in his four weeks undercover, each time on a supply run… which was essentially just a grocery trip for the Haunt. The first time Damian had slipped away to the bathroom and called, Father had been… furious. He’d thought Damian’s lack of updates was on purpose. It had been five minutes before Damian could correct him. 

He wished Grayson had answered during any of his updates, but he was on a mission in space and wouldn’t be back for another two weeks. 

In those four months, Damian was still the newest member, and had yet to be involved in the truly illegal aspects of the organization. All the information he’d gathered purely administrative, like how Duulaman, a reincarnated pharaoh turned hacker, stole money from various billionaires and government organizations to fund their plans. He’d yet to be involved with anything serious. 

He wasn’t allowed on serious missions either. He only had the supply runs to look forward to, and those only occurred once a month. 

His other objective, to undermine the Teen Villain Alliance and spur a mutiny, was also going poorly. The children he surrounded himself with were fanatically loyal to the Alliance, citing Phantom and his harem as the reason they were alive today. Even those who weren’t directly rescued were loyal. One such child, a boy named Kyd Wyckyd, had confessed to turning to a life of crime due to his terrifying meta abilities and their effects on his appearance. 

But the TVA took him in after the collapse of HIVE Academy. He hadn’t participated in a crime since, preferring to work with the Wolf named Jasmine who led individual and group therapy sessions for the villains. Jasmine had tried multiple times to convince her therapy sessions—more like brainwashing sessions—but Damian had stayed strong in the face of adversary. 

Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be much more Damian could do. He tried to push, to get involved with the criminal aspect of the organization, but the Wolves blocked him at every turn, saying he was “too young.” That he needed “stability” and to “rely on them to keep him safe.”

Perhaps Damian oversold the danger of the League of Assassins. 

For now, Damian hid in his room in Phantom’s Haunt. His castle. Even the magnificence of the compound he grew up in couldn’t compare to the headquarters. There were an infinite number of rooms—”as many as we need,” Phantom had told him—that changed based on the user’s preferences. Right now, Damian’s room looked like a cave. The Batcave, to be precise, though he didn’t allow references to his Father and legacy. 

He was hiding because Manson had suggested he attend some of the classes held in the libraries—there were four libraries at the moment. Classes were taught by ghosts under Phantom’s control and weren’t mandatory, but “everyone’s worried about the lack of structure in your life.”

He tried to tell himself it was because he didn’t want to be brainwashed by Phantom’s lackeys, and that he already knew everything they were going to teach. But in truth… Damian was anxious. Attending school at the Haunt felt too permanent, too much like he was planning to stay. He hadn’t gotten the choice to attend school back in Gotham, with Father acting like he would compromise their identities around children. He wasn’t that petty. 

Someone knocked on his door. “Damian? Are you inside?” 

Sighing, Damian stood up and opened the door. “Dr. Fenton. Am I needed for anything?”

Dr. Daniel Fenton was another Wolf, another member of the harem Phantom had built around him, twenty years old and not an actual doctor but everyone called him that anyway. While Damian had yet to see Fenton and Phantom in the same place, Damian was keeping a detailed record of how the Wolves’ polyamourous relationship worked. Phantom and Fenton both dated Manson and Duualman, though they didn’t seem to be dating each other or Jasmine. Klarion often inserted himself into those relationships for hugs and hand-holding, but only seemed to kiss Jasmine. 

“Actually, yes.” Damian’s lips parted in surprise. “I wanted to talk to you about something down in my lab. Would you join me?”

Fenton’s lab was off-limits to low level members of the TVA. He was the engineer, the creator of all their weapons of destruction. Fenton had no minions, while Manson had her thieves, Duualman had his hackers, Jasmine had her helpers, Klarion had his witches, and Phantom had his fighters. 

Fenton was alone. 

Isolated. 

Damian agreed. 

Fenton led him to the depths below the castle, past the never-used dungeon and through a secret door into a surprisingly bright and airy lab. He caught Damian looking through a window that displayed one of the Haunt’s many gardens, an impossible feat for being so far underground. “Magic castle, remember,” Fenton chided him. “Those work as portals that lead to the garden too, so it’s an easy one-way exit.”

Damian scoffed, abashed that he’d been caught so easily. From a glance, the lab was perfectly maintained, with every piece of equipment assigned to an outline meant to indicate where it belonged. As he walked further into the room, Fenton made slight adjustments to his tools, meticulously shifting them back into place. It looked more like a set than a laboratory. 

But then, Damian observed Fenton. The twenty-year-old relaxed as he put his space back into order, nudging the screwdrivers and beakers back into their designated outlines. As he worked, the sleeve of his lab coat road up, revealing a glimpse of lichtenberg scars before it was hidden again. 

Finally done, Fenton turned back to Damian. “My sister, Jazz, has told me that you’re not attending individual or group therapy sessions, is that correct?”

Well, that revealed a  lot of information. Ignoring the fact that Fenton and Jasmine were apparently siblings, Damian replied, “I do not see a reason to attend. If this meeting is an attempt to force me–”

Fenton held his hands up in surrender. “No, I would never. Therapy doesn’t work if the person receiving it doesn’t want it. But you haven’t been attending any of your classes either, and Phantom has mentioned that you don’t hang out with the other kids. Are you settling in alright? I know the others are a few years older than you, so it might be harder for you to connect with them.”

Damian chewed on the question. While part of him was furious that someone, especially a villain like Fenton, was concerned about him and discussed him with his fellows, the other part… wasn’t. It was true; he was having difficulty connecting with the villains. Damian didn’t particularly want to, but it would make his mission easier. 

He chose a neutral answer. “In the League of Assassins… I was the only child in the entire compound. Other children weren’t allowed inside, not unless their parents did something wrong. And those children…”

“Were used against their parents?” Fenton offered when he struggled to find the words. 

“Precisely. It’s not in my nature to associate with children.”

Fenton nodded in understanding, stroking his chin in thought. “That does present a conundrum alright. How unfortunate; the task I needed your help with requires you to interact with at least some of the others, but if you’re that uncomfortable with the idea, then I could find someone else.”

Damian stared at the man in suspicion. “What task?” he demanded to know. If this was a way to get more information for father, he needed to know. But if this was another trap to get him into therapy…

“You’ve probably noticed by now, but I’m the only Wolf without someone working under me. Sam has her Bats, Tucker has his Flies, Jazz has her Rats, Klarion has his Strays, and Phantom has the TVA as a whole. The others have been pressuring me to create my own group, but babysitting a group of teens in a lab where anything could explode is just asking for trouble.”

Damian stepped away from the nearest device. Fenton continued, “However, I think a group dedicated to investigation would work much better. Here in the Infinite Realms, we’re very isolated from the human world, so my research on competing inventors is always lacking. Tuck and Sam help, but Tucker has his own hacking projects, and Sam targets financially viable targets instead of labs.”

“You want me to be a member of your new… group?” Damian read in between the lines of what Fenton was saying. Surely Father would be proud of him for gaining information about Fenton’s inventions and targets—

“I want you to lead the group.”

His glare dropped right off his face in shock. “Lead?” he whispered. 

“That’s right,” Daniel agreed. “It’s not conventional and I barely got the others to agree, but Damian, you’re one of the best trained villains to ever join the TVA. Yeah, you’re really young, but you are serious and professional. To be honest, most of the kids we take in don’t take our work seriously. It’s not a bad thing, but I need a leader who is willing to keep their group in line. Infiltration and information gathering can be very dangerous, and I need someone who can keep the team safe.”

Daniel trusted him enough for that? Father didn’t trust him enough to be his partner; honestly, Father didn’t even trust him enough to introduce Damian to the world as his son! Perhaps he was aggressive towards the interlopers in his home, but he wasn’t going to stab a civilian!

And while Damian didn’t understand why Daniel was so cautious around what amounted to breaking and entering, he wanted Damian to lead. He trusted Damian for that. 

And Damian was going to take back whatever information Fenton revealed back to his father, like a hunting dog to its master. 

Daniel continued, “Of course, this is still a few months off from being necessary. But that should give you plenty of time to attend some classes to prepare you more! One on leadership skills, one on modern technology, one on basic magic and wards, maybe a refresher on hacking… Knowing you, you’ll test out of them in a few weeks, but the main point is to find other people to join our team. I’m looking for four other team members, and while I am looking for certain traits and skills, it's up to you to decide who you want on the team.” Daniel placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “So, what do you think?”

He’d betray Daniel by saying yes. He’d betray Father by saying no. 

He made his choice. 

Damian looked up at Daniel, determination set into his face. “I won’t let you down.”

Daniel smiled. “I know you won’t. You couldn’t if you tried.”

[luveline]

Ok but can you imagine if bombshell!reader who is pregnant does fall down somewhere?? Everyone, Spencer very much so, freaks out and she tries to play it off cool even though she’s really sore. She and baby are ok but she and Spencer are definitely shaken up by this and he’s even more hover-y from this 😭🥲

ty for requesting <3 pregnant!reader falling and panicking lovely bf spencer, 1.3k

“We’re like, the dream team,” you say, sewing your arm through the crook of Spencer’s. He’s trying to zip up your jacket, which is difficult given the ever-growing curve of your stomach. With one arm, it’s hopeless. 

“We are,” he murmurs obligingly, thinking about how cold it is outside and how you’ve yet to give in to the ‘ugly-fest’ of maternity clothes at work. It’s a shame. You look adorable in them at home. “Maybe you should put on your hoodie.” 

“It’s fine, it’s like, three steps between the station and the hotel.” You smile at him. He loves your eyes, your lashes, and he forgets to be stern. 

“Let’s go, then.” He waves at Emily where she’s chatting with an officer. “You ready?” he asks. 

Penelope pops her head out of the office with her laptop bag tucked under her arm. “Let’s go home, my chickens.” 

You and Spencer devolve into one of your murmured conversations, giggling, pressed arm to arm as you and the team emerge from the warmth of the police station and into the cold winter air. It’s sub zero outside, Spencer’s sure, wanting to get you back out of the elements as quickly as possible. 

He takes the steps first and holds out his hand a few beneath. Emily laughs, says, “He’s so chivalrous,” to Penelope’s delight. 

“He’s always been our gentleman,” Penelope says. 

You look eager to agree. “He’s my prince,” you tease gently, taking his hand, leaning just a little too far forward. 

Your foot slips out from underneath you with a sound like a knife scraping the snow. You fall hard and fast, and the horror is that your one leg trips more than the other and you end up slamming flat on your side. 

Spencer has you up again before the slush can so much as wet your clothes, but it doesn’t matter. Your eyes go wider than he’s ever seen them and your lips struggle down into an immediate frown, a wobbly expression, alarm in your voice as you say, “Oh, woah.” 

“Oh my god, Y/N, are you okay?” Penelope asks, she and Spencer rushing down to the bottom of the steps to meet you. 

“Sit her down, Spencer,” Emily says quickly, not scornful or anything but her concern turning her tone hard. 

“It’s wet,” he says, as his head bubbles up with horrible statistics. 

“Spencer,” you say tightly, “I’m fine.” 

You don’t look fine. He yanks his suit jacket off and drops it to the floor, a write off, he and Penelope encouraging you to sit on the bottom step. Your eyes are filled with tears, he suspects from panic and pain at once, and he doesn’t really know what to do in this situation for a second, he has to think back. It’s hard to think and hold your hands at the same time. 

“It’s okay,” he says, enthusing his voice with false pep. 

“What should we do?” Penelope asks, quicker to panic than the rest of you. 

Spencer bends down in front of you. You’re the only person that matters in that moment. “What hurts?” he asks, hand hovering over your side. “Does anything hurt?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, before shaking your head, “What about–” You cut yourself off. “Yeah.” 

Spencer takes your wrist. “I’m gonna call Dr. Cordell right now. Okay? Just as a precaution. That’s what you’re supposed to do, okay?” 

“I think I hurt my hip,” you say smally. 

With some help from the girls, Spencer gets you back to the hotel. He calls your doctor, and they decide to get you an emergency check up with an antenatal doctor he knows while you’re still out of state. It feels less panicky and more dread while you wait, but the appointment goes well, and you’re given the all clear a few hours after your fall. 

You’re uncharacteristically quiet at the hotel. Spencer asks if you’re alright and you say, “Of course,” while he spends the rest of the evening watching you wince. 

It’s getting ready for bed where he finally gets you to crack for him. You’re not expecting to be sore, that much is clear, and you’re bashful asking for his help. “I can’t get my shirt over my head,” you say from the bathroom, with no need to shout. He can hear you from his not so casual seat at the foot of the bed. 

He lost his tie a few hours ago, and his suit jacket lays soggy in a plastic bag on top of his suitcase. He rolls his sleeves up as he eases into the small bathroom, eyes dropping to the naked bump of your stomach where your shirt is pooled. You have a yellowy bruise taking form on your hip. Another on your bump, like the lines of the stone steps. 

“Angel,” he murmurs, fingers glancing over the bruise gently. 

“Doesn’t hurt.” 

“You don’t have to lie.” 

You poke him. “Help me get changed, handsome.” You laugh at your demanding. “Please help me get changed.” 

“So rude,” he says. 

He grabs the ends of your shirt and pulls it up your back and over the back of your head so as to not agitate your cut up elbow again. You sigh as he pulls it clean, leaving you shirtless and gorgeous in the bathroom, despite all your worrying. He should tell you. He can’t not tell you, really. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, taking your shoulders into his hands. 

“Even with the baby weight?” you ask. 

He rubs your arm. “You’ve never been this beautiful.” 

“Oh, no, don’t say that.” You cover his arm with yours, hand over his, fingers intertwining loosely. 

“You’re always…” He leans down. He’d been about to stop himself, but he continues, lips just an inch from yours, the two of you eye to eye. “Beautiful. I’m sorry about today, it was my fault.” 

“It was my fault.” 

“I should’ve been more careful, I knew it was cold enough for frost.” 

“I should’ve been more careful,” you say, frowning at him indignantly, “I know how fragile I am right now and I’m not being careful enough.” 

“You slipped,” he argues. It could only be an accident.

“What if she felt it?” you whisper. 

Spencer was trying to assuage your fears and he’d been planning on a kiss, but a hug feels more important in that moment, a careful loop of his arms under yours. His few inches of height over you are especially helpful in steering clear of your stomach. “She didn’t feel it, Y/N, I promise. You took the fall for her, and the doctor said everything is just fine. She didn’t even know it was happening, I swear.” 

You let out a long, slow breath. You nod into his should after a few moments. “Okay. Thank you for picking me back up, Spence.” 

“That was impressive, right?” 

You poke him some more as you let the entirety of your weight slouch into his front. “You’re quite impressive, Reid. I felt the muscle.” You kiss his neck, voice dropping to a murmur, “I’m okay.” He hasn’t realised how badly he needed reassurance too. 

“I know.” 

“Sorry if I was dramatic,” you say. 

“Dramatic?” he laughs, thumb on your neck drawing shapes. “You tried to tell me you were fine. That’s the opposite of dramatic.” 

“…Maybe I should slow down some. Maybe. Take some days off.” 

Spencer kisses the top of your head. “That could be nice. You’ve been bouncing around for months. We could just spend a couple of days laying down, right? You can try out some of those maternity pyjamas you’re so reluctant to wear.” 

“Why’d you buy so many?” 

“I’m trying to take care of you. I thought I’d finally be allowed,” he says. 

Your voice turns to a whisper. “You always take care of me, Spence. You really do.” 

[theemporium]

and to the poll voters who i thought i cheated you out of these two idiots, here they are!!

series masterlist

.

“You know I love you, right?”

Max lifted his head when you stopped right in front of him. He raised his brows, leaning back in his seat on the couch as he took you in. You looked serious, which was only slightly unsettling, as you stood with your hands on your hips.

“Yes?” He said eventually, though it came out more like a question.

“And I only want what’s best for you. You know that, right?”

He frowned a little. “Yes. Although stressing me out with whatever you are going to say next doesn’t feel like it’s best for me…” 

“Okay, good. As long as you remember those things in a few minutes when you’re cursing me out,” you said with a nod, ignoring the discombobulated look on your husband’s face before you let out a sharp whistle. 

Max’s frown deepened. “What’s—”

However, he was promptly cut off when the door swung open and all three Leclerc brothers made their way into the flat. Max barely had a chance to acknowledge them before they were grabbing him—two on his legs and one on his arms—and carrying him out the house. 

“What the fuck?! Let me down!” 

“I’m sorry, baby!” You called out as you followed the four of them out of the house. “But this fear of the dentist can’t keep getting in the way of your health!”

Max’s struggles seemed to quicken at the mention of the dentist. “Baby—”

“Max, you know it’s for the best.”

And it was. He knew that. He knew that the second he was outside of the dental practice, there was little else he could do. But he would put on a great damn struggle until then, on the off chance he could escape and top up on the painkillers he had been having over the last week to numb the pain in his mouth.

…

“Do you think he will be mad at me?”

“He could never be mad at you,” Lorenzo assured you as he tugged you into his side. “You were doing what’s best for him. He knows that.”

“What if I broke his trust doing this and he never forgives me?” You continued, letting out a shaky breath. “He was just in so much pain and I couldn’t just sit there—”

“The man worships the ground you walk on,” Arthur pointed out. “He couldn’t even give you the silent treatment for longer than five minutes the last time he tried.”

But his words didn’t ease the tightness in your chest. “But what if—”

“He’s not going to break up with you over this,” Charles spoke up, a sincere understanding glimmering in his eyes that your other two brothers lacked. “He loves you far too much for that.” 

You nodded, opening your mouth to say something else but a voice interrupted. 

“Mrs Verstappen?”

You barely glanced back at your brothers as you followed the nurse through the dental practice. You nodded as you listened intently, taking in everything she said about how to best treat Max at home with painkillers and the healing process in general. 

You were about to ask a few more questions when you heard a familiar voice that made your stomach flip.

“WHERE’S MY WIFE? I WANT MY WIFE! BABY? WHERE ARE YOU?” 

Your cheeks burned as you shot the nurse an apologetic look before quickly rushing into the room, making your way towards Max as you tried to quieten him down. However, the second he noticed you, his face instantly lit up and he had little care in the world for anything else.

“Where have you been?” The words were muffled and slightly slurred, but the slight lisp made your smile widen. 

“Waiting for you,” you assured him as you took his hand, raising it to your lips to place a quick kiss on the back of his hand.

He stared at you blankly. “That’s not my lips.”

You snorted. “Your mouth is a bit too busy right now for me to kiss.”

Max frowned before he turned to the dentist. “Take these out right now! My wife won’t kiss me!”

Your eyes widened. “Max!” 

“No, I want kisses from my wife!” Max said, shaking his head before he tried to reach out and pull the gauze out himself.

“Looks like you’re gonna have a handful with him,” a nurse teased as she watched you grab both of his hands before he could rip his stitches open in his mouth.

You smiled. “Yeah but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Because she loves me!” Max added. 

“I do.”

“Soooooo much!”

“That is also true.”

“She loves me so much that she even lets me—”

“Okay, that’s enough talking, babe!”

.

[lordprettyflackotara]

more than friends || Sam & Colby

smut, literally smut w a string of a plot, pure filth, minors dni, 18+, obvi threesome

You should’ve kept walking.

It wasn’t unusual to overhear Sam and Colby talking or making noise.

After all, the three of you were best friends and lived together. As adults with busy schedules, it would be impossible to not accidentally overhear each other at a certain point.

You were fine with that. They were modest men, trying to keep the noise down so you could get some sleep at a decent hour. You typically tuned out the excessive noise they did make, their presence becoming normal to you.

But when you heard Colby’s pants and moans through the bathroom door, you couldn’t ignore it.

You froze in the hallway outside of the bathroom, the faint sound of running water from the shower hidden underneath Colby’s desperate noises.

Heat rushed to your cheeks, your mouth running dry.

It was wrong listening to your best friend jerk himself off.

But as he whimpered, you found arousal pooling in your panties. Colby was a dominate man, in the bedroom and out of it. And to hear him whimper?

It did something to you that you couldn’t even process. You held your books close to your chest, your breath hitched as you listened closely. Colby’s soft moans became a little louder, causing you to be able to hear more without leaning noticeably on the door. Your cunt was practically dripping, your thighs shifting uncomfortably.

A string of curses left Colby’s lips, the running water from the shower shutting off. You began to attempt to scurry away, a book falling off of your stack.

Thump.

Fear ran through your body as you scurried to grab it, the bathroom door opening behind you. Afraid Colby would see how flustered you were, you continued walking down the hallway. You could feel Colby’s gaze on you as you turned the corner, swiftly entering your room.

That night you stayed secluded in your room, afraid Colby would try to talk to you. You couldn’t stop thinking about being the shower with him, letting him throat fuck you instead of him having to use his hand.

You thought maybe reading would take your mind off of it, deciding to open a book. As your eyes scanned the page, the sound of Sam’s voice came through the shared wall you both had.

“You look so pretty for me. Spread your legs,” Sam ordered, his voice sounding husky. You froze at his words, his tone one you had never heard before. You could feel the butterflies swarming around your stomach, your focus no longer on your book. You knew Sam didn’t have anyone over, the blonde struggling to get over his ex.

Involuntarily you did what he said, pulling down your shorts. His next command was even more satisfying to do. You could even hear the smirk in his voice. “What a good girl. Now pull your panties to the side, let me see that pretty pussy,” Sam groaned. You felt sinful, realizing he was having phone sex with someone. His hypnotizing words weren’t meant for you, but for whoever he was on the phone with. Your fingers ghosted your cunt, trying to break out of the lustful trance these boys had put you under.

You would’ve broken out of the spell, if it hadn’t been for the moans that left Sam’s lips.

After that, Sam and Colby fucking you senseless was all you could think about.

It was all that could get you off too, your mind obsessed with the idea of your two best friends ruining you. You weren’t a virgin by any means and neither were they. You had spent countless years with them, the friendly conversations about sex not something the three of you were afraid of.

The more addicted you became to the thought of them, the more you replayed those conversations in your head.

How Colby enjoyed being dominant and degrading. Sam was more or less the same, although he enjoyed being a soft dom more.

You tried to pleasure yourself when they weren’t home. Not only was it considerate of you for their sakes, but it also gave you the ability to moan their names freely.

Tonight was one of those nights, the boys having left to go to a party one of their creator friends were throwing. They had invited you, but they knew as well as you did that wasn’t your scene.

The moment they left you rushed upstairs, throwing yourself onto your bed.

It didn’t take long for you to grab your vibrator or for your fantasies to ensue. Your mind wondered to Colby’s veiny hands, how rough he would be choking you. You bucked your hips against your vibrator, groaning Colby’s name. In front of you would be Sam prying your legs open, overstimulating you into a permanent bliss.

You moaned Sam’s name as well, your hand slipping up to one of your breast. You teased your nipple, imaging it was Colby’s teeth grazing it. You felt so filthy and sinful, whimpering for your best friends.

But you just couldn’t stop.

The idea of them gave you pleasure that was blinding. So much so that you didn’t notice your door opening.

Colby clearing his throat caused your eyes to pop open, fear shocking itself down your body. Swiftly you turned your vibrator off, desperately covering yourself up with your comforter.

“I uh, well-” You began, awkwardly clearing your throat. Cotton mouth had just become your worst enemy. Sam and Colby couldn’t help but stare at you, their blue eyes focused on you as you scrambled to maintain composure.

“I thought you guys were supposed to be at a party?” You asked. As if the two could telepathically communicate, Colby approached your bed first. Sam shut and locked your door, before rounding your bed on the opposite side. “We were going to, until we realized we wanted to spend time with you more. I think we picked a good time to do that, don’t you Sam?” Colby teased. He leaned towards you, your face flushing red.

“I think we did. After all, you’ve been depriving us of those pretty noises all this time,” Sam purred. The two were inching closer to you. You knew you had been caught red handed, the humiliation and tension of the situation only making you more wet.

Colby leaned towards you, his breath hot against your ear. “I know you heard me in the shower y/n,” He whispered. He nibbled at your ear lobe as you quietly whimpered. “I-i’m sorry I shouldn’t have ease dropped-” You began apologizing, before Sam cut you off. He grabbed your face gently but assertively, forcing you to look at him. “What you should’ve done, is gone in there and sucked his cock like a good girl,” Sam answered for you.

The blondes eyebrows shot up in amusement as you rubbed your thighs together.

“It’s the same thing you should’ve done when you heard me on the phone,” Sam purred. Colby gently kissed the side of your face, his soft lips trailing down to your neck. “How d-did you-?” You began to ask, Colby’s firey hot touch distracting you from finishing your sentence. Sam grinned mischievously as he leaned forward, his lips an inch away from yours. “Our walls are paper thin remember? You can hear me and I can hear you,” Sam purred.

Colby abandoned your neck, your body feeling like it might burst into flames.

“We heard you moan our names pretty girl. Trust me when I say we want this as badly as you do,” Colby told you. He brushed some hair gently out of your face, your cheeks still full of warm. “We need to hear you say it y/n. Tell us you want this as bad as we want you,” Sam ordered. His voice sounded the same it did that night, your body becoming putty in the boys hands.

“I want you,” You whispered. You looked back at Colby, before looking back and forth at the two boys.

“I want you both, I mean. Right now. If you’ll have me,” You admitted as bravely as you could.

Sam and Colby exchanged glances, Colby working on pulling your comforter off of you. You would’ve been embarrassed, your vibrator still between your legs and your juices still coating your cunt. You would’ve been, if it weren’t for Sam placing his lips on yours. You groaned into the kiss, Colby’s hands hungrily spreading your thighs.

“You remember our last merch drop? How we had that photoshoot?” Colby asked. Sam’s lips refused to stray from yours, forcing you to nod in response. His lips worked harshly against yours, practically yanking your attention away from the brunette between your legs. “That’s when I knew I wanted you. You and that short skirt. It took everything in me to not fuck you then and there,” Colby said. You felt a chill go down your spine as he guided your legs to open. Sam readjusted himself behind you, your back leaning against his chest.

He chuckled at the amusing sight, moving your vibrator out of the way. “You won’t be needing this tonight. I have something better in mind,” Colby mumbled. He lowered himself onto the bed, kissing the inside of your thighs. The minimal touch made you groan into Sam’s mouth, the blonde finally pulling away from some air. His pale cheeks were pink, a playful smile dancing across his lips. “Desperate are we?” He teased.

His eyes darted down to your bucking hips, one of your hands having found its way to Colby’s hair.

Colby’s eyes remained focused on your cunt, teasingly opening your folds to admire you.

“Go ahead, beg,” Sam ordered. He placed a sloppy kiss against your neck, his hands grabbing your breast. You whimpered, looking down at your brunette best friend.

Colby’s big blue eyes met yours, waiting for your response.

“Cmon princess, just wanna hear you,” Colby said gently. You bit your lip anxiously, humiliation washing over you all over again.

“Please Colby, please eat me out. It’s all i’ve been able to think about. Fucking please-” You began rambling, your words stringing together. Colby cut you off, licking an antagonizing slow stripe up your cunt. He smirked as you groaned his name, your legs tightening around his head. Once your eyes met his, he began devouring your cunt.

Your cunt was dripping wet, two of his slender fingers sliding in with ease. You could feel the coolness of his rings against your cunt, causing you to whimper. He finger fucked you quickly, while continuing to suck and flick at your precious clit. He couldn’t get enough of you.

You couldn’t hold back your noises, Sam’s mouth fixated on sucking your neck completely purple. He littered your skin harshly, marking you for his own pleasure. Colby noticed this, releasing your clit with a pop. You shivered at the loss of stimulation, your hips buckling upwards involuntarily. He slowed his fingers down, but didn’t remove them from you.

“Hey leave some of her neck for me dude. She’s ours. Not just yours,” Colby spat. He brought his thumb to your clit, drawing slow circles around it. Sam released your neck, your tender skin throbbing from his assault.

“She likes it. And i’m going to give her whatever she likes, not what you prefer,” Sam argued. You could feel your walls squeezing around Colby, their argument over you exhilarating.

Colby grinned up at you mischievously, momentarily putting aside his jealousy.

“I think she likes it when we talk about her like she isn’t here. She’s squeezing my fingers,” Colby teased. You felt your cunt flutter around him, his circles on your clit speeding up. He slowly pumped his fingers inside of you, purposefully taking his time brushing against your g spot. Sam’s hand snaked away from your breast and up to your throat, his breath hot against your ear.

“You’re so cute when you’re about to cum. Your bodies tensing up, look at that,” Sam purred. You could feel the cord in you grow tighter, the boys filthy words driving you closer to the edge. Your thighs began to shake as they tightened around Colby, his fingers curling up into you with ease. “I can feel your legs starting to shake, cum for me,” Colby commanded. Your legs were visibly starting to shake, Colby’s hands relentless.

Sam’s hand slithered around to your throat, giving you a soft but assertive squeeze. “Thats it, cum for us,” Sam ordered, ensuring to emphasize the both of them. Your orgasm was blinding, your vision temporarily turning white. You had thrown your head back against Sam’s shoulder, while Colby slowly played with your cunt until you rode out your orgasm fully.

You whimpered as he slowly pulled out his fingers, a smirk on his face.

“You’ve gotta have a go at her cunt dude. Shes so tight,” Colby gloated. Sam quietly huffed behind you, the two boys readjusting themselves. He ignored Colby’s comment, Sam’s jealousy practically radiating off of him.

“Get on all fours love, i’m gonna fuck you senseless,” Sam ordered, his eyes focused on glaring at his best friend. Their tension drove you wild, so much so that you were scrambling to get on all fours.

Colby stood in front of you now, while Sam was behind you. You arched your back, flattening out your tongue for the brunette in front of you.

“You’re dripping on my fingers. You’re such a slut,” Sam commented, the sound of their clinking belts almost in unison. As Colby undressed himself he brought his thumb to your tongue, watching in satisfaction as you began sucking on it.

“And look at that arch,” Colby murmured. He leaned forward, slapping your ass harshly. You squirmed, swirling your tongue around his thumb. Colby bit his bottom lip to refrain from groaning, before guiding his cock to your mouth.

“Open up, let me see that slutty little tongue of yours again,” Colby told you. You did as instructed, releasing his thumb and allowing the brunette to slide himself into your mouth. At the same time, you felt Sam collect your slick on his cock as he rubbed up and down your folds. His hands dug into your waist, guiding his cock into your cunt. You let out a moan, the sound vibrating the cock in your mouth.

The three of you let out a sigh of satisfaction in unison, Sam bottoming out quickly.

“Oh fuck, you’re practically milking me,” Sam groaned. His fingers dug harshly into your waist, so much so you almost assumed he would leave bruises. Colby gathered your hair into a ponytail, his eyes meeting yours. “Can we move sweet girl?” Colby asked softly. You nodded as best as you could with his cock in your mouth, deciding moving your hips and bobbing your head would send the right message.

Sam found his rhythm quickly, muttering your name and curses as he found his pacing. He liked to fuck you fast and rough, barely giving you a chance to breathe. Colby was almost the same, his eyes gleaming with pride as you took him down your throat.

“Fuck can I face fuck you?” Colby asked, almost desperately. In response you tried to take him deeper down your throat, trying to say ‘yes’ as best as you could. But with his cock lodged in your throat, it just came out as a muffled incoherent babble. Sam’s thrust were relentless, his cock abusing your g spot with every thrust he made.

Colby began bucking his hips as he pleased, knowing he didn’t have to hold back anymore. The most sinful of sounds filled the room, tears filling your eyes as Colby used your throat as he pleased. “You were right Colbs, her pussy feels so fucking good,” Sam groaned. Colby didn’t let up his pace in the slightest, tugging at your hair as he forced you down on his cock. He groaned your name as you took him to the base, your nose nuzzling against neat pubic area.

“Next time we need to switch, you’ve got to t-try her mouth,” Colby sputtered, his hips seemingly fucking you on their own. The vibrations from your pretty noises only pushed Colby closer to the edge, causing his grip on your hair to tighten. Tears flooded your waterline, your gags ignored as Colby used your throat.

“Fucking take it whore, i’m gonna cum down your tight little throat,” Colby groaned. You felt Sam’s hand slither down to your overstimulated clit, causing you to only moan louder. Colby’s hips sputtered, his cock twitching down your throat. He moaned your name as he came, the heavenly sound almost distracting from the feeling of his seed flooding your throat.

You gagged trying to swallow him all, struggling to breathe through your nose. Colby slowly pulled his cock out, allowing you to gasp for air as you swallowed his cum whole.

Your moans now flooded the room, the boys names leaving your lips religiously. Colby knelt down in front of you, getting eye to eye with you as Sam fucked you harder and harder. “You’re such a good whore for us, taking both of our cocks,” Colby praised. He lovingly stroked your cheek, as Sam’s fingers circled your clit faster and faster.

“Feels so good Colbs. I c-can’t-” You began sputtering, your body shaking from pure euphoria. Colby’s hand slithered down to your throat, gripping it tightly. “I know how much you like choking. Wanna make sure our pretty girl gets off, right Sam?” Colby asked mockingly. His blue eyes never strayed from yours, assertively watching you get corrupted on his best friends cock.

Sam smacked your ass, a wave of electric shock shooting up your spine. They were ripping another orgasm out of you, your body engulfed in their flames. “I want you to cum on my cock and look at Colby in the eyes as I breed your tight cunt,” Sam ordered. You could feel your tender flesh turning red, Sam’s slender fingers surely going to leave bruises on your waist. Colby squeezed your throat, regaining your attention.

“If you close your eyes for even a second, we won’t let you cum. Understand?” Colby said sharply. You babbled out something of understanding, your brain not fully functioning.

Sam squeezed your clit harshly, your body feeling like it was about to collapse.

“Cum,”

The blondes simple command made your body shake violently, your eyes fighting to stay open and focus on Colby’s blue ones. The lack of oxygen was making you dizzy, your body convulsing around Sam’s cock. A few slow thrust was all it took for Sam to cum, his warm seed filling up your abused cunt.

By the time Sam pulled out you were trembling, covered in sweat, tears, and dripping with cum.

As your vision settled and you tried to ignore your cotton mouth, the inevitable question escaped your lips.

“We’re going to be friends after this, right?”

Sam and Colby exchanged glances, telepathically communicating before Sam answered.

“I think we want to be more than friends,”

[choso4u]

Stepbrother!Geto who immediately found you appetizing the moment he laid eyes on you.

Stepbrother!Geto who offers to help you everytime you do household chores just to be close to you.

Stepbrother!Geto who hugs you from behind everytime you wear shorts, just so that he could feel your ass on his boner.

Stepbrother!Geto who immediately gets hard upon seeing you in such short skirts, scrambling to get his phone, and secretly takes a picture underneath your skirt.

Stepbrother!Geto who volunteers to do the laundry just so that he can have free access to your panties, and steal them.

Stepbrother!Geto who jerks his cock off with your panty, his other hand, holding another one up his nose, inhaling the sinfully addictive scent of your pussy.

Stepbrother!Geto who goes behind you, puts your hair to the side just to kiss your nape. he just likes to see you shiver from the feeling.

Stepbrother!Geto who one night heard you touching yourself, and was about to take his cock out, planning to jerk off outside while listening to you, when he heard you moaning out his name, calling for him.

Stepbrother!Geto who immediately walks into your room, finding you fully naked, as you tried to cover yourself up and make up an excuse.

Stepbrother!Geto who's blood immediately rushed to his dick when you told him you were a virgin.

Stepbrother!Geto who couldn't stop eating you out, savoring the delicious taste of your cunt, making you cum at least three times.

Stepbrother!Geto who finally sinks his cock in your pussy that he's been dreaming of for months, groaning on how tight you are.

Stepbrother!Geto who fucks you hard, finally. his hands on your waist as he hammered into you, carving your walls for his cock only.

Stepbrother!Geto who couldn't stop ramming into you even though you begged him to stop, because it's too much, he just can't.

Stepbrother!Geto who's now addicted to the sight of you crying while cumming on his cock.

Stepbrother!Geto who cums inside you, painting your walls white, pulls out, and plays with his cum, swirling it around your clit using the tip of his cock.

Stepbrother!Geto who gives you the sweetest aftercares, kissing you softly, asking if you're okay.

Stepbrother!Geto who one day decides to invite his best friend, Gojo to have some fun with you.