#does this mean i'm a real fic writer now?

[gingerbreadmonsters]

6k in and my head is about to explode. STILL not allowed to say what i want :(

[whoslaurapalmer]

[redacted] fic is like. the longest and most enduring game of telephone

[laughing-with-god]

These Things Take Time (Yandere! Supernatural! Taehyung x Reader)

Synopsis: There's something wrong with your boyfriend Taehyung. At least, you think it's him.

16.5k

Trigger warnings: yandere behavior, psychological gaslighting, violence, gore, some heavy making out, strong language, AFAB reader (she/her) I'm sure I'm missing some but you know me and what I write lol

Authors note: just a real quick thank you to @bigbuffjoonie and @mustardpop for having beta read and brainstormed with me literally a year ago about this fic that I never published until now.

-----

He passionately thrusted her against the wall, mouthing at her neck while muttering disgusting things that he was going to do to her.

It was foul…

It was taboo…

It was…..

Your fingers paused and hovered over the keyboard, the constant clicking of your writing coming to a sudden halt.

Your eyes scanned the last few lines, lips instinctively mouthing the words and checking the overall flow of the plot.

Your two main characters were about to fuck each other’s brains out after a long ‘will they or won��t they’ that spanned well over a dozen chapters.

There should be a feeling of torture, a feeling of relief, a feeling of frenzied lust that just couldn’t contain itself anymore and combusted within the contents of these pages.

That is what you desperately wanted your loyal readers to experience when they get to this scene.

Yet when reading the long-awaited buildup, you felt nothing.

You cared for every character you created like a mother does their child, them getting their happy endings was just as important to you as it was to them. So why did you feel so numb and dissociated from everything you’ve been typing the past hour?

You released a disillusioned sigh and leaned back into your chair. Your eyes stung from staring at a screen for so long and your limbs ached to be stretched with hours of immobility.

Writer’s block was a bitch.

Unlike other skills, writing was one of the few expertise that working harder at it won’t guarantee a better outcome. You could type away until your fingers were bruised and bloody, but it doesn’t mean anything you wrote would be worth shit. Writing was a talent and it came and went as it pleased. And right now it was gone.

Which left you very depressed and your editor very pissed.

You gave up the fight and reluctantly closed your laptop. Then stood to your full height, to give your back a much-needed stretch.

‘I tried today. And that’s okay. I’ll try again tomorrow.’ You thought to yourself, half heartedly taking your therapist’s advice to acknowledge your efforts and not just the outcomes.

When in a creative slump, it has been said that reading other works can be a source of inspiration. Can’t be a good writer yourself, then go out and read a good writer. With this thought in mind, you slowly exited your office and descended down the stairs.

Last week your mom sent you a book she recommended, and you’ve been so busy trying to finish your own novel that you just tossed it somewhere and haven’t touched or looked for it since. Though, you were almost certain you caught sight of it on the coffee table yesterday.

When you stepped into the living room, you spotted a familiar figure standing by the large bay window.

The sight tugged a small fond smile onto your face.

Taehyung was your boyfriend of six months.

He was strikingly attractive, tall, kind and clearly didn’t know his own worth because not only was he dating you, but he also agreed to move into this secluded farmhouse while you tried to finish your book. He assured that he could use this time and space to focus on his paintings as well, but you knew deep down he just didn’t want to leave you alone out in the middle of nowhere.

Right now only his profile was facing you, his alluring feline eyes staring at the raining scene outside, dark brows furrowed in heavy thought. He looked to be biting on his lower lip, a habit you’ve never seen before, but you supposed you two have only been dating for a few months so there was probably a whole world of little quirks you didn’t know of yet.

The scene was a bit intense, as you weren’t used to your usually cheerful boyfriend looking so ponderous. Yet you shrugged it off and just assumed he was most likely brainstorming his next painting. Taehyung was your first artist boyfriend and your friends did warn you that they could be a bit dramatic.

You quickly surveyed the room and indeed located the book on the coffee table. While reaching for it you called out, “Hey love?”

Taehyung snapped his neck at a speed too fast for your liking, instantly facing you with eyes wide and blown out in what you could only assume was shock.

You giggled, thinking he was too absorbed in his own world that he probably just now noticed your presence.

“I know I said I wanted pasta for dinner but how about we order some chinese instead?” You asked. Taehyung didn’t say anything, eyes still wide in unknown revelation, entirely unmoving. You continued, “This weather makes me not want to do anything, and I know you complain about the delivery time but we could just reheat the food if it gets here cold.”

It seemed like forever but Taehyung eventually nodded.

He then turned to face the window again.

You inwardly sighed and guessed he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of chinese. He always complained that you didn’t take care of yourself and how you needed home cooked meals rather than greasy takeout. But when creatively burnt out like this, you tended to just reach for the doordash because the act of cooking seemed entirely too much for you.

Hoping to butter him up, you tipped toed from behind and wrapped your arms around him. You nuzzled your face into his back and took a deep breath, enjoying the familiar scent of his outrageously expensive cologne. His body seemed to melt into your hold, tense posture suddenly limp and calm.

You reached up and pecked his cheek, grinning when you caught sight of his lips twitching upwards. Harmless manipulation complete, you trudged out the room with a lukewarm “Thanks honey!”

You skipped up the stairs and made a left into a hallway, quickly getting into the bedroom and preparing to plop into the heavenly crumpled mess of sheets and blankets, when an unexpected sound caused you to still.

The front door was opening.

Afraid of a possible home invasion, you rushed out to see what was happening.

The door was wide open and emerging into the home…was Taehyung.

His hair and jacket was drenched from the rain, four or so heaping grocery bags in his hold as he looked up the stairs at you with a tired smile.

“Hey baby, can you give me a hand with some of this? I got some sauce for the pasta and picked up some other stuff we were running low on.”

Time stood still.

Your jaw dropped in bewilderment.

Your mind struggling to process this odd collapse of reality.

The nearest grocery store was, at its quickest, still a twenty-minute drive into town.

There was just no way Taehyung was able to leave and get back in the same time it took for you to get up the stairs and into your room.

No one can be in two places at once.

What the fuck was going on?

You just saw him. You just talked to him. You just smelled him. You just touched him.

Taehyung’s gaze worriedly ran up and down your face, correctly detecting that something was dreadfully wrong. He kicked the door closed behind him and rather ungracefully dropped the bags, hastily stepping over some of the falling items to race up the steps and take you in his hold.

“Y/n? Baby what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost! Did something happen while I was gone?” He fretted.

“I-w-what-you-j-just-living room…” You stammered, not even being able to bring yourself to voice what was happening.

“What? What about the living room? You’re not making any sense.”

You gulped, looking up at him with fear. “T-Tae, I could’ve sworn I just saw you in the living room. I talked to you.”

Your boyfriend’s face dropped.

“Y/n, get in the bedroom and lock the door behind you.”

You irritably huffed while blinking away oncoming tears, realizing Taehyung didn’t quite understand what you were saying. “No! Not like an intruder! It was you.”

“I’m right here Y/n. I just got back from the market. I haven’t been home in the past hour. There’s no way you just saw me in this house.” He slowly explained, as if you were having some mental breakdown and needed to be talked off the ledge.

Your temper rose. “No shit Kim Taehyung! That’s why I’m scared! Do you have a twin brother or something? Or did you come into the living room before going back to the car to get the groceries?”

Taehyung backed away from you, clearly put off by your outburst. “No? First off, you know I’m an only child. Secondly, why would I come in and let you talk to me before going back out in the pouring rain, bring in groceries and then pretend I have no idea what you’re talking about when you said you saw me in the house just now?”

You glared up at him, now feeling foolish for even being scared in the first place of something that most definitely had a logical explanation.

Your boyfriend always had a more playful side than you and this was most likely the first trick he was trying to play in your very young relationship.

“I told you I don’t like pranks, Taehyung. You can pull them on your friends all you want but you promised to never pull one on me.”

He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “I’m not pranking you! It probably was an intruder who looked kinda like me and instead of letting me go and investigate, you're arguing with me?”

“It wasn’t an intruder! He didn’t take anything!”

Taehyung laughed incredulously, “Great, you're defending some robber over your own boyfriend now? I almost feel jealous.”

“There’s nothing to be jealous over because the guy was you!” You exploded.

“Which isn’t possible!”

“Go look then!” You relented.

Taehyung didn’t need to be told twice. He swiftly ran down the stairs and went through the entire house, searching for an unseen man who managed to trick his girlfriend into thinking he was him.

He found no such person.

It was only while you both wordlessly unpacked the groceries while licking the wounds of your little spat did Taehyung make a point that chilled you to the bone.

“Y/n, when you saw me…how did I look?”

You raised a brow at him. “I don’t know? You looked just fine.”

“Okay…and your working theory is I parked outside and came in, talked to you, then went back out, just to enter through the front again like nothing happened?”

You meekly shrugged, “Yeah I guess that would be a good trick.”

Your clever boyfriend pointed at the window, where it was still raining heavily. “I would've been soaked then, Y/n.”

That was the first incident.

— Dinner that night was a tense affair.

At least until Taehyung solemnly apologized for being so bad at hiding his true identity.

He then fessed up to being the Korean version of The Flash.

Against yourself, you bursted out laughing.

Maybe it was all the anxiety of the day that made you loopy, or your desperate need to just return to normal but you apologized for snapping and blamed your overactive writer's imagination for everything.

Taehyung said it was okay and that you actually looked hot when angry, you knew for a fact you didn’t but took the compliment nonetheless and suggested an early night in.

And just like that your first couple fight was over.

Yet that night when you were in the arms of your slumbering boyfriend, with his peaceful snores rumbling in your ear, all you could think about was the other Taehyung.

You regretfully lied to your boyfriend.

You knew for a fact that it wasn’t your imagination.

You were never the type of writer who got so immersed in your work that you began imagining things and confusing them for reality. If anything, you were too grounded in reality. In addition to this, you highly doubted that multiple weeks of writer’s block would even allow for such a vivid mirage to occur.

And the most damning evidence of all, if it was your imagination…why would your mind conjure up the exact replica of your boyfriend? The very man you live with and see everyday for hours on end? Wouldn’t it be a character from your book? Or at least someone you haven’t seen in a while?

It all didn’t make sense, but you didn’t have enough information to say what it was, you just knew what it wasn’t.

You rolled over and buried your face into Taehyung’s chest, practically praying for the mystery to soon be over and solve itself quickly.

It was most likely the overthinking and looming dark corners of the bedroom, but you began to feel like someone was watching you through the small gap in your ajar bedroom door.

– A few days passed and you have almost forgotten about the incident.

I mean, maybe not entirely but you were at least willing to chalk it up to a freak incident.

Scrolling through some discussion boards online showed that your story was actually pretty tame to what other unexplainable experiences some people have had. At least the other Taehyung didn’t try to scare or hurt you. It just seemed like he was doing his own thing really, like he was lost in his own world staring out that window. Thus you concluded that you weren’t in danger, and it therefore wasn’t worth freaking out about.

Mainly because your editor was on your ass and there was nothing productive about thinking of him when you were already so late on a deadline.

Naturally, you attempted to throw yourself into your writing, which was proving to be as fruitless as ever. Yet you knew giving your editor anything was better than nothing, leading you to sending half-assed drafts to him and enduring long calls about how your writing was okay, but not great.

You and Taehyung have been off too.

There was no more fighting or even words exchanged about the fiasco. However there still was an uneasiness between you two. You doubted that Taehyung believed your imagination excuse, but you also knew that he didn’t trust your original recollection of events either. Your boyfriend sort of walked on eggshells around you, almost as if you’d somehow think he was the imposter whenever he’d step into the room. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little offended by it.

Luckily, Taehyung was currently immersed with his art, rarely leaving his little workspace. You wished you could say the same but you felt like you were simply writing in circles without actually getting anywhere. It was hard to not be jealous, but at least you were given some space away from him after a rather unresolved fight.

Meanwhile, you were planning to take a day or two off of writing, to just let your mind wander and relax so that maybe the next time you sat behind a laptop you could actually produce something worthwhile.

Of course it would just so happen that it would fall on the very day you get sick.

Waking up that morning you felt feverish and lightheaded, telling yourself that you could just use fifteen more minutes of sleep and you’d probably feel better.

You woke up five hours later; feeling even more feverish, lightheaded, and now nauseous.

You trudged downstairs to the kitchen and popped back some painkillers with a glass of water, already fantasizing about getting back into your warm and comfy bed once again.

Except what could make your bed even warmer and comfier? Taehyung.

Your boyfriend was always the more affectionate one between you two, you often practically had to push him away when you were trying to get work done. But now that you were willingly going to ask for his affection, there was no way he’d let you go uncuddled.

Any awkwardness in the relationship was long forgotten as you stomped towards his workspace, a demand to be held heavy on your tongue. You were too sick and exhausted to try to navigate relationship politics, but the whole point of a boyfriend was that he was supposed to provide attention on demand, right?

You reached his door and feebly knocked, trying to be polite to his artistic process and not just barge in.

You heard some shuffling on the other side and soon enough your boyfriend was in front of you. Taehyung hadn’t shaved his face in days, a faint goatee gracing his already intimidatingly handsome face. His black hair was messy and fluffy, a gold chain gracing his neck and drawing attention to his lack of shirt and gray sweatpants.

He grinned at you, “What’s up baby?”

You pouted up at him, momentarily not even ashamed to resort to such cheap tricks, “I feel sick and want to be cuddled back to sleep.”

“Aww poor thing.” He crooned while leaning against the doorframe. “Why don’t you head back up to bed and I’ll be up as soon as I can? I just finished a sketch and really need to focus on the next few steps before I can quit for the day.”

You huffed, kind of annoyed that he wouldn’t even take a break to hold you.

He rolled his eyes at your reaction, “Don’t look at me like that, honey. When the muse strikes, I gotta paint. Otherwise I don’t know when I’ll get the next chance for inspiration. You understand, right?”

“Yeah, I’m just really crabby and being held sounded really good.”

Taehyung chucked, muttering to himself a “cute” before leaning forward and pecking your lips. “I promise I’ll try to be quick. Go drink some water and wait for me. I’ll bring you some soup when I’m done.”

You just nodded and left him to his work. Instead of the bedroom, your feet somehow led you to the living room.

Maybe you should watch some tv while Taehyung worked? You already slept a lot today and if Taehyung was gonna be in bed with you later, perhaps it was a good idea to stay up for a little bit. Besides, you’ve been avoiding this part of the house ever since the incident and you needed to get comfortable in your own living room eventually.

Such a reminder of that rainy day caused you to cast a wary glance at the bay window, oddly feeling both relief and annoyance that nothing was there.

You plunked down onto the couch and wrapped a throw blanket around you, searching your usual streaming services for some comfort show to watch.

It was halfway through an episode of some show you’ve already watched countless times, when you heard footsteps approaching.

You looked up and saw your boyfriend, looking as cute and messy as before. Except now he held a sheepish smile on his face as he held up a steaming mug of something.

“What’s that?”

He took a seat next to you and gently handed the drink over. “Hot chocolate. I know protocol is tea whenever someone is sick, but I know how much you hate the taste.”

You fondly smiled and took the mug, flustered that he remembered such a minor detail about you. “Thank you love but you didn’t have to. You should be focusing on your work. Don’t let me distract you!”

Taehyung shook his head and threw an arm around you, holding you tight against him. He craned his neck and looked down to you, almost meeting you nose-to nose to connect his gaze with yours. Suddenly a serious expression replaced his formerly sheepish one.

“Actually, I wanted to talk.” He said, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I-I wanted to say sorry.”

“For what?”

He licked his lips, “I know we’ve been kinda out-of-sync ever since you said you saw someone and I didn’t believe you. But, it just didn’t make sense. Like, how is that possible? Whatever the case though, I shouldn’t have made you feel like you were going crazy or something.”

You raised an eyebrow, “So you believe me then?”

“Yes. I know you wouldn’t lie. I don’t know what happened but…I know you know what you saw.”

A warm feeling spread across your chest, temporarily putting your sickness on the back burner. In truth, you weren't sure if the situation even called for an apology but you felt so pampered that your boyfriend cared enough to. “I-I’m sorry too, Tae. I shouldn’t have assumed you were being mean and pranking me. Snapping at you wasn’t cool.”

Taehyung just shrugged. “Nah, I probably would’ve done the same thing.”

You secretly agreed that you were in the right but still, if he was being a big enough person to say sorry so should you. You turned your attention back to the drink in your hands, taking a sip.

You nearly moaned in pleasure when the flavor graced your taste buds.

“What did you put in this?”

“Oh just some cinnamon and-”

“Ginger.” You interrupted, knowing without a doubt that it was the other spice.

“Yup. Why? Is something wrong?” He asked, probably worried you didn’t like it.

“No! It’s perfect.” You said before gulping down more of the nostalgic hot chocolate. “When I was a kid, I had a babysitter who would make her hot chocolate with cinnamon and ginger. Mrs Fritz was her name, a really kind old lady from down the street. I was her favorite so she made hot chocolate for me all the time and watched me for free whenever my parents went out.”

Taehyung hummed, a small smile on his face as you fondly recalled one of the biggest figures of your childhood. “She must’ve had great taste.”

“Mrs. Fritz had impeccable taste.” You good-naturedly corrected with a giggle. “I miss her. When other kids wouldn’t play with me she would stay inside with me and color or read me these cool stories.”

“I would’ve played with you.” Taehyung grumbled, in all likelihood noting how you grimaced at the memory of not being all too popular as a kid.

“Haha, you definitely wouldn’t have! I was such a dork and actually hated playing outside. Kid me much rather be at home watching some old movies or something. Not to mention I was quite an ugly little girl.” You laughed.

Tae gasped dramatically, “That’s not true! You were adorable!”

“You saw like one picture of me at eight! And my mom did me all up for that picture! Trust me, I didn’t look that good at all.”

Taehyung looked like he wanted to argue further, but realizing you were right he just dropped it with an unconvincing, “Whatever you say.”

“But anyway babe, you really can go back to painting. I don’t want to keep you. If I had any inspiration right now, you wouldn’t be able to tear me away from my laptop.”

His arm tugged you even closer. “Nope, I’m alright where I’m at right now. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left my sick girlfriend all alone?”

You blushed, logically aware that you could handle yourself but emotionally over the moon that this beautiful man didn’t want you to. Selfishly, you wanted to take advantage of his presence even if it came at the expense of his art progress. So you placed the mostly empty mug on the coffee table, fishing out your phone from your sweatpant pocket and setting it there too.

You then curled up into his side, suddenly feeling so drowsy.

Taehyung held you closer, even playing with your hair as you lost the battle with your increasingly heavy eyelids.

You felt him press his lips against your forehead in a drawn out peck, as his nose ticked the crown of your head. He inhaled deeply, his everlasting love for your shampoo revealing itself once more.

“You okay?” His baritone voice whispered.

“Yeah. I just took some medicine that’s probably making me all sleepy.” You mumbled back.

You didn’t hear anything else, just felt as he rested his head on top of yours, presumably also closing his eyes to rest.

Slowly but surely feeling the mechanisms of your brain shut down, the darkness steadily taking over as the sound of the tv became more and more distant.

A notification from your phone caused you to open a single eye, quickly scanning the screen on the coffee table.

Taebear: Hey almost done over here! Do you mind turning down the TV a bit tho? Kinda distracting :(

Before you can even gasp, the medicine-induced darkness consumed you completely, effectively and brutally knocking you out.

That was the second incident.

–

“So like I was saying, I dumped his ass because what the fuck do you mean you ‘don’t know what we are’? I met his damn parents, Y/n!”

The voice blarred over the phone speaker, as you hummed rather noncommittally. “What a jerk. You can do a whole lot better, Lisa.”

You were in the laundry room, slowly taking clothes out of the dryer and folding them as you spoke on the phone with one of your closest friends. About once a week you two would have a call and catch each other up with your lives. Although, Lisa led a much more interesting life than you and usually had a crazy story to share every week, while you just reacted to it. It was kinda like a one listener podcast, but you didn’t mind as you were always very entertained with her.

“Thank you! I don’t know where I keep finding these guys. You really got lucky with Taehyung, all the other men our age are such assholes.” She groaned.

You wanted to laugh, but at the mention of your boyfriend’s name you froze.

Not catching your silence, Lisa continued, “Anyway, how are you and Taehyung doing? What’s it like to live together only six months into a relationship?”

“Actually…we had our first fight.” You told her. “Maybe. I don’t know. It may not even be considered a fight so much as a disagreement but I’ve been feeling a little awkward.”

“Oooh, what happened?” She didn’t even try to mask her excitement.

“It…I…Something happened and he didnt…I don’t know, Lisa. I’m going to sound crazy but I feel like I’m experiencing a glitch in the matrix or some shit.”

She pushed, “Try me. Remember when I used to be a flat earther? I’ll believe anything.”

Lisa made a good point, she was always down for conspiracies and even proclaimed herself a supernatural expert. So you relented, “Okay. Look, I don’t want you to laugh at me or anything because I’m being completely honest. I’m telling you this because I desperately need theories.”

“I promise I’ll give you a theory! Just get to it!” She barked over the phone, anxiously awaiting your story.

“Um, so earlier this week I went downstairs and saw Taehyung. I talked to him about ordering out instead of cooking, hugged him then went up the stairs. Then not even a second later Taehyung came home with groceries, telling me he wasn’t in the house at all when I said I saw him.” You paused, waiting for her to interject.

“Huh…” She trailed off, stumped herself with what that could mean.

“And yesterday, I went to Tae’s workspace to try to cuddle but he said he needed a bit more time with his painting and then he’d meet me upstairs. I went to the couch to wait and he suddenly came in and apologized for not believing me earlier. We cuddled and talked then…I got a text from Taehyung asking me to turn the tv down because it was distracting him.”

You took a deep breath to calm your rising nerves, not liking how you were managing to scare yourself all over again. “Lisa, how was I in Taehyung's arms when Taehyung wasn’t even in the room with me?”

“How did this other Taehyung act? Was he any different than your actual boyfriend?”

“I mean, the first time he didn’t say a word and I left the room quickly. The second time he was so sweet and…I don’t know. Maybe even nicer than my actual boyfriend but not like suspiciously so.”

“And there’s no difference between him and Taehyung? Same height, voice, birthmarks, everything?”

“Yes.”

A brief silence as she no doubt was working with a theory. “And you’ve never had experiences like this before you moved into that farmhouse?”

“None.”

“Ah-ha! It’s probably a ghost then!” She assured triumphantly.

You, however, weren’t so sure she solved the case. “A ghost that looks exactly like my boyfriend?”

“Well, crazier things have happened. You know, scientists say that each person has around six doppelgangers out there somewhere. What if this ghost was your boyfriend's doppelganger?”

“Still, why would he act like he was my boyfriend? Like, this ghost must have a different name and background than my Taehyung so why does he go along with it whenever I call him Taehyung and treat him like a boyfriend?” You questioned.

“The afterlife can get pretty dull. The ghost is probably just bored and noticed that Taehyung looks alot like him, so he’s using that to his advantage to mess around.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.” You grumbled, pissed at the prospect of you being a little plaything to a bored spirit.

“I know babe but ghosts are mostly harmless. If it really starts to bother you, maybe get a medium to move him along or whatever.” Lisa advised.

“Yeah, maybe.” – Mom: Look what I found!

The text came with a video attached, and you clicked it without thinking much.

A chubby little girl of about three to five years of age was badly hiding in a school cubby. Her mini feet sticking out and wiggling as the rest of her body was covered by a hung up winter coat. The cameraman sighed dramatically from behind the scenes, asking loudly, “Oh where could Y/n possibly be?!”

The girl giggled and a new figure slowly snuck into frame, approaching the cubby with a large grin.

The preschool teacher suddenly reached into the cubby and snatched the girl up, holding her up in the air as if the toddler was a prize of some sort. “Gotcha!”

The mini version of you laughed in her hold, kicking the air in glee. “Miss Addison you found me! You’ll find me anywhere, right?”

The young teacher nodded as she placed you on your feet. “Of course! I have a really good Y/n sense! I’ll find you anywhere.”

“Even the moon?” Innocent you asked, most likely just having learned about the star.

“Yes, I’ll find you on the moon if I have to!” Miss Addison chuckled.

The video ended and you went to type your mom a half-hearted reply, mostly inquiring how she still even had that clip after all these years.

While doing so, you caught yourself wishing that you could show this to Taehyung and prove that you were indeed not the best company as a child, your teacher had to play hide-and-seek with you because no one else would.

Yet, it wasn’t Taehyung you had that particular conversation with. Rather other Taehyung.

Or as you and Lisa had nicknamed; ghost Taehyung.

You failed to tell your boyfriend about the second incident. He woke you up an hour or so later with his promised bowl of soup, softly scolding you for never turning down the tv.

Deep inside you were sure that he was already convinced you were crazy from the first time his replica showed up. You didn’t seek to push that theory even further. Mostly because you didn’t want him to admit you to a psych ward, but also because of another glaring reason. The first time you were sure that Taehyung himself was messing with you somehow, which prompted you to accuse him, but this time around you knew for a fact he was innocent.

Instinctively, you didn’t feel threatened by the doppelganger spirit. If anything you sorta wished he’d pop up again with a ginger-cinnamon hot chocolate. It was kinda weird that he was acting like your boyfriend when he wasn’t, but he didn’t try to be too intimate with you or anything. The lease on the farmhouse was only twelve months so you could put up with a friendly ghost for a while if need be.

The only creepy thing was that you weren’t sure how you were going to tell if you were talking to the real Taehyung or not. Thankfully, the sick day incident seemed to be the last one, the last few days being almost eerily mundane.

The door to your bedroom suddenly slammed open, revealing your beaming boyfriend.

He held up a champagne bottle with one hand and two glasses in the other. “Guess what just happened!”

You sat up in bed and placed your phone on the nightstand as he giddily approached you. “What? Are we celebrating something?”

“Only the Bauhaus Gallery agreeing to schedule a showing for my latest collection!”

You jumped up in surprise, instantly wrapping your arms around him and plastering his face with kisses. “Oh my god! Tae! That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you! When is it?!”

“Next Friday at eight.” He chuckled through your kisses, fully basking in your attention.

The Bauhaus gallery was an uppity German gallery in town that apparently served as a who's who in the world of painting. Personally, you didn’t get what the big deal was, but Taehyung made it one of his career goals to have a show there. He always said that his career would really take off if he could showcase his work at such a place.

You pulled back and began thinking out loud as Taehyung worked on the bottle, “Wow, okay! I need to get a dress. And we should invite some friends to support you. Oh! Namjoon and his wife would probably try to buy a painting so we should see if they’re free-”

Taehyung cut you off with the resounding pop of the bottle, “Yeah yeah, we can plan that all out later. Right now I just wanna celebrate with my pretty girlfriend please.”

You quieted down and held the glasses as he poured. He then placed the bottle aside, took a glass and held it up for you to clink. You did so while your boyfriend declared, “To my collection and girlfriend; both beautiful and priceless!”

“You better announce that again at the afterparty!” You laughed, covering your blush.

You both finished the drinks rather quickly, him with a refreshing “ahh” and you with a cringe. Champagne really was overrated in your opinion, having no idea why it was the token celebratory drink. The glasses were then shoved somewhere aside, courtesy of Tae.

You laid back down in the bed, Taehyung unhurriedly following suit and even climbing on top of you at a leisurely pace.

Taehyung’s face was now inches away from yours, his every breath tickling your skin. His previous mood of joy shifted into something more…sultry. Cat eyes darkened, fully taking you in with a steadily growing smirk. The artist licked this bottom lip in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it speed, before quirking one brow up in faux inquiry. His voice was low and husky, purring into your ears, “You know, it’s been a while since we’ve fucked.”

You snorted, “Gee, that’s hard to believe when you put me in the mood like that.”

“You like a man who's upfront.” He shrugged, not wasting a second more as he leaned down to slowly melt his lips against yours.

The intimate sensation felt almost foreign, the last few days having only been filled with obligatory pecks due to you two being so caught up in your work. You almost forgot how talented he was at making you feel special.

You kissed back just as slowly, feeling the intensity of his lips and taking the time to reacquaint yourself with them. It was gentle, deep, and meaningful. He kissed you gingerly, carefully, but that’s not what you wanted. Not after all this time. Pent-up sexual frustration caused you to knot your fists in his shirt, pulling him harder against you.

Taehyung groaned softly, low in his throat while encircling you in his arms to gather you against him. You two rolled over in the bed, tangled in the sheets, still locked at the lips.

His tongue slips into your mouth, tender but demanding. You swirl your tongue against his, moaning into his mouth as his hands snuck up to twist in your hair and grip you impossibly closer. Taehyung’s slight stubble prickles you, but somehow the extra sensation just excites you even more. Your boyfriend's lips pull back and meet their ultimate home at your neck, him now mouthing fervently at the sensitive nerves there as you gasped for air.

As you felt hotter and hotter, Taehyung answered your unsaid prayer and positioned his thigh between your legs, obscenely brushing against the place you needed him most. Knowing you like the back of his hand, he purposefully tensed his thigh as you not-so-subtly grinded against it, all the while he sucked and nibbled at the spot just below your ear.

A tug at your clothes.

Softly biting your earlobe, he whispered, “Be a good girl for me and take this shit off.”

Just when you were about to oblige, an unexpected sound cut through all the haze and caused you both to freeze.

It sounded like a…bang?

From somewhere deep within the house.

It was so loud and shrill, it effortlessly echoed off the walls of your humble bedroom. If you had to describe it, it was as if someone had just thrown a bowling ball with all their might.

Undoubtedly snapping into protector mode, Taehyung immediately jumped off of you and reached under the bed to retrieve a metal baseball bat.

“Stay here.” He ordered, already marching out the door before you could even protest.

You fearfully obeyed, reaching for your phone in case 911 had to be called.

Your once warm and flushed body was now icy with panic. Sitting upright in the bed, you strained your ears for any idea of what was occurring downstairs.

But alas, the house remained freakily silent. Almost as if that brutal sound was in your head and nothing more.

This did nothing to help your anxiety, a cold sweat quickly forming.

Minutes passed, you waited with bated breath for something. Anything.

But nothing ever came.

Your worry grew tenfold.

The longer Taehyung was away, the more you felt weighed down with dread, heart nearly in your throat.

‘What was happening downstairs? Was Taehyung okay? Did he find something? If there was a struggle, surely you would’ve heard it by now, right?’

Then ultimately, as the seconds ticked on, ‘Was your boyfriend going to come back?’

At the ten-minute mark, you made your decision.

Now concerned for your boyfriend’s safety, you sprung out of bed and ran out of the room. Your body purposefully moving too fast for your mind to catch up and halt your movements in the name of self-preservation.

“Taehyung?!” You desperately called out as you practically plummeted down the stairs.

“In here!” A croaky voice answered, sounding like your boyfriend but oddly…defeated?

You correctly traced the voice to his workroom, stepping into the space and seeing a scene that swiftly broke your heart, effectively replacing all your fright with woe.

Taehyung was on his knees in front of an easel, head bowed down.

The easel held a half-done canvas.

It was a sketch of two people, a man and a woman that closely resembled you and Taehyung.

It was partly painted, the scene depicting a warm sunny day at the park that looked alot like where Taehyung had taken you for a picnic and officially asked you to be his girlfriend. You were in Taehyung’s arms, kissing his cheek as he smiled his signature box-smile. You could recall that precise moment easily, you had just said yes to being his and sheepishly pecked his cheek, embarrassed by the old man on the bench a few feet away that eyed you two like a hawk.

It was a wonderful piece of unfinished art, not only due to the sentimental value but also the artistry and time that clearly went into it.

If only there weren't angry red sloshes of paint that cut through it, ruining the picture and turning it into something that looked like a horrible bloody mess of goo and not the romantic day it was.

“I-I was going to gift this to you….on our seventh month.” Taehyung’s voice was watery.

You didn’t even know what to say.

All of his hard work and thought was simply…gone. Erased. Ruined.

It would’ve been the equivalent of someone breaking into your laptop and deleting your entire novel’s draft. What would you even do? If roles were reversed, would there even be a way for Taehyung to console you? To make matters worse, it was his gift of love to you. He didn’t make that painting for himself, a buyer, or a collection…he made it for you.

Your empathy made you almost cry for him, but you knew that would be the last thing he’d want to see right now. His guilt would only grow.

You walked further into the room and got on your knees beside him.

Wrapping your arms around him, you cradled his head in the nook between your head and shoulder while rocking the two of you. “Tae baby, I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, although you felt wet teardrops on your skin.

“Who would do this? It doesn’t make sense why someone would break in, take nothing and just destroy my gift?”

You didn’t know either, but you wanted to make him feel better. “Listen, I think it was the perfect gift. It’s really the thought that counts and I’m just happy that you even thought to make me something like that. Especially in the middle of working on your own collection, it must’ve been hard.”

Taehyung pulled back, regarding you with a tearful but hopeful gaze. “Really?”

“Of course! I was literally going to just get you a watch or something. That gift kinda would have made me look bad.” You attempted to joke.

He shakily smiled, even chuckling a bit before pulling back entirely and standing to his full height. Tae then held a hand out for you, pulling you up as well.

Not wanting to be in the room anymore with that awful mess, you gradually pushed him towards the door, eventually up the stairs and into your bedroom.

You both sat on the bed, him with his head in his hands and you awkwardly suggesting yet another early night in.

But instead of agreeing and attempting to join you under the covers, Taehyung continued to sit almost painfully still at the edge of your bed.

Then, he spoke.

“Y/n, you were lying when you said that guy was probably just a figment of your imagination.”

It wasn’t a question.

He knew.

He believed you now.

–

It was now the official opinion of the house that a ghost was indeed roaming around somewhere.

You wanted to pat yourself on the back because truly, your taste in men was superior.

Taehyung wasn’t one of those horror movie boyfriends that was convinced every unexplainable occurrence must’ve had a logical explanation. It only took that one experience for the artist to admit that something weird was going on, and although he never saw the ghost himself, Taehyung believed you when you said it looked exactly like him.

You were happy that you two were on the same page…well, mostly.

Taehyung reasoned that the lookalike ghost must’ve been the one to ruin his painting.

You don’t know why, but somewhere deep within, that accusation just didn’t feel right. Without thinking much, you had told your boyfriend that destroying his gift didn’t seem like something ghost Tae would do.

Obviously Taehyung was bewildered at your sudden defense of the spirit’s character and demanded to know how you could be so sure that it wasn’t him.

Feeling that your hand was forced, you fessed up to the second incident in which you ran into the other Taehyung. You explained that he was sweet, brought you hot chocolate and even held you as you fell asleep. It was only after the real Taehyung texted you that you realized it wasn’t your boyfriend, but by then it was too late.

Your boyfriend was understandably furious.

For one, you never told him that you were cuddled and taken care of by another man, dead or otherwise. And secondly, this spirit seemed to be taking too much of a liking to you. The artist was a weird mixture of jealous and protective, following you around the house and barely leaving you alone in fear that his replica would show up and snatch you away.

You thought he was overreacting, but Taehyung's determination to get rid of the ghost only grew as the days passed.

One day you took a break from writing and went downstairs to refresh your coffee, when you paused at the sight of your boyfriend waving an odd burning stick around the living room in a fashion that somehow made sense to him.

“Sage cleanses the home of negative energy and basically tells unwanted spirits to fuck off.” He told you as if you were the idiot and not him- wildly thrashing his arm around in a puff of smoke and demanding that his evil ghost twin left the premises immediately.

You shrugged, “Just don’t set off the smoke detector, please.”

The next day, Taehyung informed you over dinner that he called a security camera company and had ordered a set to be installed in your home.

“Don’t you think that’s kinda a big fucking thing to not run by me?”

“I’m sorry baby, but I knew you wouldn’t have agreed.” He apologized without seeming even the tiniest bit apologetic.

“If you knew I wouldn’t have wanted it then why do it anyway?!”

“Because as the man of the house it’s my job to protect us and I would like to witness everything that’s going on. Next time he comes out and tries to touch you, I will be able to see it from my phone and confront him.” He then reached for his water and took a self righteous sip before muttering under his breath, “That is if the sage didn’t kick him out already.”

“Man of the house?!” You echoed incredulously. “You call twirling around with some burning twigs and yelling at a harmless ghost being the man of the house?”

“He’s not harmless! Why are you so convinced that it’s just a casper that we’re dealing with?!”

You opened your mouth to retort, but snapped it shut when you realized you didn’t really have any reason to believe he wasn’t dangerous. So you just focused on the main glaring issue, “Nevermind that. I just don’t like how you made a big decision without telling me. Are we not equal in this relationship? It wasn’t even worth consulting me about?”

Taehyung didn’t say anything.

It would seem that he understood your point, but was stubbornly holding onto his just a tad more.

Appetite ruined, you stormed away in a display of vexation.

Not wanting to go to sleep beside him either, you stayed all night in your office and tried to just focus on editing the latest version of your draft.

Somewhere along the way, you managed to fall asleep on the keyboard.

You blearily awoke hours later to the sound of the door firmly shutting.

Groggily you sat up and twisted to see if anyone else was in the room with you, all the while rubbing off the key imprints on your cheek and leftover drool.

No one was there.

When you turned your attention back to the desk, you softly gasped in surprise.

A plate of grilled cheese sat there, still hot.

Alongside it was a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

One sip and you instantly recognized the ginger-cinnamon.

It wasn’t your boyfriend who left this.

The sage didn’t work.

–

Ralph was a man of about fifty years of age.

Tall, lumbering, calloused and not necessarily easy on the eyes, he shifted awkwardly at the entrance of your delicate farmhouse as Taehyung listed off the places in the home that he’d like covered.

Ralph was to set up the cameras while you and your boyfriend went out for a quick errand.

The gallery showing was tomorrow, and so was the little afterparty that you had arranged to take place. You did so without really realizing all that you would need for hosting. The guest list was an intimate circle of seven, but given you and Taehyung were running out of groceries for even just the two of you, you figured a trip to the market was needed to properly prepare.

You rolled your eyes and waited for your boyfriend to finish his little pep talk, sighing in relief when Ralph was finally free to disappear into the living room with his bag of tools.

“Ready?” You asked Taehyung, not really waiting for an answer as you stomped past him and out the door.

He followed you wordlessly to the car.

The ride into town was stiff and awkward, neither one of you saying anything and music not even playing in the background as Taehyung drove.

You both were still angry at each other.

Well, more like you were angry at him and he was correctly trying to not poke the bear by instigating useless chatter.

The cameras were overkill in your opinion and a giant waste of money. You both were artists, which means a severe lack of steady income. You needed to be smart with what you threw cash at because no one knew if your next book or his next painting would even sell. Nothing was ever guaranteed.

You felt for him that his gift was wrecked, but you weren’t lying when you said that the thought was all that really mattered to you. You genuinely didn’t care either way, it would’ve been nice to have the painting, but it was just as nice to know that he was painting one for you.

If you were a betting woman, you would bet that this was more about Taehyung’s unfounded jealousy than anything else. Usually you would find harmless jealousy kind of attractive, but not when it went into installing cameras into your home at the “low” price of a couple hundred dollars.

You thought of this in a quiet rage as Taehyung pulled into the grocery store.

He parked, you both got out and walked inside before grabbing a cart.

“Let’s split up.” You said, your tone leaving no room for argument.

“Fine. What do you want me to get?”

“Get the drinks. They’re mainly your friends so you’d know what they’d like more than me. I’ll get some stuff for a charcuterie board.” You ordered, just wanting to get back home as soon as possible

He nodded and swiftly went over to the alcohol section as you made way into the food aisles.

You were looking at the different types of crackers and wondering what the fuck the difference was when a sudden call of your name took your attention.

“Y/n?”

The voice was light and airy, tone warm and nostalgic to the ears.

No way.

It can’t be…

You swirled around to face the owner, nearly choking on your spit when you realized your suspicions were correct.

Park Jimin was as gorgeous as ever. The cherub face was just as you recalled, somehow both ruggedly handsome and softly docile. His eyes crinkled behind a pearly smile, a small hand coming up to swiftly brush through his dyed blonde hair as he approached you.

“I thought that was you.” He chuckled. “How have you been? It’s been so long.”

You managed a wry smile.

Jimin was once your college boyfriend of one year, five months, and eight days.

But hey, who was counting?

“I’m doing okay.” You choked out, not liking how he quickly frowned at your strained tone. If there was one man you could never lie to, it was Jimin. “How about yourself? Did you open up that studio you always wanted?”

The truth was you knew he did. Before meeting and dating Taehyung, you were guilty of occasionally checking his social media. It simply couldn’t be helped. Jimin was the longest relationship you ever had. The first man you ever really loved. And your first ever heartbreak.

“Um, yeah I did! I heard you published your first book last year. I bought a few copies myself…” he trailed off sheepishly, suddenly avoiding eye contact. “It uh, was really well written. Are you um, working on anything now?”

You bit your lip, not sure how you felt about the man you were once wildly in love with reading your novel after years of not talking. Much less buying more than one copy to support you. “Y-Yes I’m writing my second book.”

He nodded, a proud expression on his face as he pursed his lips in thought.

“I’m sorry this is…weird.” He finally huffed. “I really didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

You sighed with some relief, thankful he felt the same way. “Same. After you said you wanted to date other people I really didn’t expect to say another word to you like, ever.”

Jimin laughed, “Haha, what? Your memory continues to suck, Y/n. If anything it was you who ghosted-”

“Y/n.”

A much deeper voice cut through the air, bringing all the attention to a new figure descending upon the scene.

Taehyung strode up from behind you, placing an arm around you and regarding the other man with a brooding look of regard.

“Whose this?” Your boyfriend asked, purposefully deepening his already deep voice.

You inwardly rolled your eyes, noting how the artist was practically puffing his chest and glowering at the much shorter man.

“Taehyung, this is my old friend Jimin. Jimin, this is my boyfriend Taehyung.”

The two stiffly nodded at each other, you dodging the questioning look Jimin secretly shot at you for being described as ‘an old friend’.

A pregnant pause hung in the air.

“So…how long have you two been together?”

Before either you or your boyfriend could answer, a pretty lady suddenly skipped into the aisle and grasped onto Jimin’s arm.

“Babe, I can’t find the oat milk! I thought you said- Oh hello!” She just now noticed you and Taehyung, smiling politely and not-so-subtly nudging at Jimin to introduce her.

“Oh, um, this is Molly.”

“His girlfriend! And you two are?”

“I’m Y/n and this is my boyfriend Taehyung.” You introduced. “Jimin and I went to school together.”

“Really? I never get to meet any of Jimin’s old friends! We should have a double date or something!” Molly was an over the top girl, your ears almost ringing at the volume she exuded. But she seemed nice, so you smiled warmly at her and vaguely agreed.

Another brief, awkward and only slightly painful silence.

“Actually…” You trailed off in thought, an idea forming in your head but you didn’t know if it was a good one. Yet it was too late. Before you could even backtrack, all three sets of eyes were on you, eagerly waiting for you to finish the thought. “…what are you two doing tomorrow night?”

“Was just gonna drag Jiminnie to see this new movie! We can totally blow it off though!”

“Well, my boyfriend is a really talented artist and he has a showing tomorrow night. We’d love it if you two could make it.”

You felt Taehyung stiffen beside you, but you paid it no mind.

From what you understood about showings the more people, the more eyes, the better. It was harmless, wasn’t it? Jimin bought multiple copies of your book, and you’d invite him to a gallery showing to please his over hyper girlfriend.

Even, right?

Molly beamed, asking for your number to exchange the details.

You did so, pretending not to notice how both Jimin and Taehyung bore their stares into you.

When finished, you waved goodbye to the couple as they made their way to the dairy section. You and Taehyung then continued your own shopping in a rushed manner- your boyfriend grumbling about having to get back in time for the cameras.

The ride home was a bit more talkative, with Taehyung asking how you knew of Jimin and what made you two friends. You answered the questions rather honestly, just leaving out the parts about how your friendship blossomed into something more.

You weren’t exactly trying to be deceitful. It was just that he was under a lot of stress and paranoia the last few days, you didn’t want to push his poor nerves any further. If he was willing to set up a bunch of cameras to keep some ghost away from you, you didn’t want to push your luck by mentioning that Jimin was your ex boyfriend and longest relationship.

Besides, it wasn’t like Jimin was any kind of threat. You would never entertain the idea of going back to the guy who dumped you. He also now had Molly, so clearly you both moved on.

Taehyung pulled the car into the driveway, asking if you could handle the few bags as he went in to talk to Ralph and sort out the last few steps of installation. You agreed, watching him jog into the home as you gathered all the groceries and took your time to get inside.

You beelined straight to the kitchen with the newly bought food, raising your brows when you saw Taehyung staring at something intently on the counter.

“What is it?”

Taehyung didn’t answer.

You walked up behind him and stood on your tippy toes to spot over his shoulder what he was looking at.

It was a note, in messy and hurried handwriting.

“Sorry but the cameras could not have been installed. It won’t work here. -Ralph.”

–

If there was any man on top of the world tonight- his name was Kim Taehyung.

The Bauhaus gallery was swarmed with countless people, all clamoring to gaze upon the latest Kim collection and ponder the intricate meanings behind each piece. They wore luxury clothes and drank fancy wine that you couldn’t even pronounce, their tax bracket clearly a couple pegs above yours. There was of course some idle chatter, almost every corner of the building being filled with some pretentious snob rambling about the brush strokes, artistic style and commentary your boyfriend was allegedly trying to make with his art.

Such a crowd was not something you were accustomed to.

Thus you clung to Lisa, both idly sipping at wine and watching your boyfriend from afar as he charmingly answered questions.

“You know, he’s going to make thousands of dollars tonight.” Lisa thought out loud. “These rich types will outbid each other like crazy.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. You were happy for him, and knew he deserved it but you would be lying if you said he wasn’t in the doghouse.

“Still mad huh?” Lisa correctly assumed, reading your expression. “What happened after the camera dude disappeared?”

“Taehyung was really upset and called the company to demand his money back. They refunded him entirely, apologized and even sent someone to get the company van. I guess the Ralph dude was an alcoholic and everyone just kinda accepts that he skipped town.” You explained. “I tried to calm him down but he sorta snapped at me about how I never even wanted the cameras so I was probably just loving it all.”

Lisa lowly whistled, “Damn. Well, he probably snapped about the cameras but I promise you it wasn’t just about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“You invited your ex to his showing.” Lisa lectured, as if you were a child who didn’t even understand what you did wrong.

You stuttered, “B-But he doesn’t know Jimin is an ex! I told him he was just an old friend.”

She rolled her eyes, “Y/n of course he would see right through that. There's always going to be chemistry between Jimin and you, he probably picked up on it and is aware you’re not telling the complete truth about what you two were.”

“He’s just overly jealous. He wants to fight our ghost too. At this point, every man is a threat to him.”

At the mention of your ghost, Lisa’s eyes practically sparkled. “Oh I can’t wait to go back to your place! I want to feel the haunted energy for myself.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, “It’s just like any other home, Lisa.”

“That’s because you don’t have a psychic sense to save your life, Y/n.”

You didn’t know whether or not to be offended by that, so you decided to distract yourself by scanning the room for your boyfriend’s invited friends.

Kim Namjoon was an old boss of Taehyung that remained good friends with the artist even after he dumped his job to take up painting full time. Currently, he and his wife Jennifer were talking rather seriously to a thin-lipped curator, most likely about purchasing one of the artworks displayed.

Right across from where you and Lisa stood, Taehyung was conversing with his former coworkers; Jin and Hoseok. They appeared to be laughing about something, their lightheartedness standing out in the overly serious room of people.

If you craned your neck a little to the left, you could spot Yoongi and Jungkook hiding in a corner away from everyone else, almost perfectly mimicking you and your close friend. They both nursed their drinks quietly, occasionally sharing words but mainly just waiting out this event.

You always kind of thought that Lisa and Jungkook would make a good pairing if properly introduced and pushed. So you turned to your friend and was just about to suggest you guys walk over, when she made a face at something behind you.

“Uh oh, here comes the ex.” She mumbled.

You turned around to indeed see Jimin and Molly approaching.

Jimin wore a suit, dress shirt unbuttoned at the top to reveal some of his sun kissed chest. His blonde hair was properly done this time, brushed to the side and back to fully expose his forehead. He raised a hand and waved, rings catching the light and nearly blinding you in the process.

Beside him, Molly looked as pretty as ever in a blue sweetheart dress that complimented her figure. Yet, she looked rather irritated. She attempted to give you a smile in greeting, but it looked more like a grimace.

Jimin spoke first, “Hey, I’m so sorry we’re late. I’m hoping we didn’t miss too much?”

You wanted to be annoyed but without meaning to, a giggle escaped you.

“Things really don’t change.” You told Jimin, a knowing look simmering in your eyes. While dating, you guys were often the couple that showed up late to any event. Most people assumed that it was your doing because you were the girl, when in all actuality it was Jimin.

Jimin shamelessly grinned, “I’ve gotten better, I swear.”

You didn’t believe it for a second and he knew it.

You both shared a laugh, staring at each other fondly like old friends reliving the old times.

It was hard to believe that you were joking with the man you once thought you’d never get over or forgive. Countless nights were spent eating your feelings, hysterically crying and obsessing over all the videos or pictures you couldn’t bring yourself to delete.

But there are some people in life that as soon as they come back, it’s like they never left.

And it was almost as if Jimin never left.

You two continued to gaze into each other, lost in your own comfortable bubble when a sudden throat clearing broke the haze.

“Um, actually the showing is almost over.” Lisa informed, her and Molly visibly looking left out of the nostalgia.

Your ex had the decency to look guilty. “Oh no! I’m so sorry! Maybe we can all just get drinks? There’s a nice bar two blocks down. I can buy a round for everyone?”

“That’s sweet but we have a little after party planned back at my place. I live kind of out of town though, so it’s okay if you can’t make it.”

“No! We can make it! What's the address?” Jimin seemed eager.

You told him, him pulling out his phone to save it into his gps system.

Molly was silent all this time, which was kind of worrying as your first meeting with her led you to believe she was the bubbly type. Now that you mentioned it, it looked like she was avoiding looking at either you or her boyfriend, focusing on a spot on the wall somewhere behind you.

You opened your mouth to maybe ask if she was alright, but quickly shut it when you realized that could be overstepping some boundary.

Fortunately, Lisa seemed to have enough of this entire interaction and grabbed your arm while saying, “Me and Y/n were just going to go to the restroom! Please take a good look around and enjoy her boyfriend’s work! See you guys at the after party!”

Your friend then swiftly dragged you away, barely leaving you enough time to smile apologetically at the couple.

When you both entered the restroom, Lisa simply marched up to the sink and began fixing invisible smudges in her makeup as you shifted awkwardly beside her.

“So…” She started, looking you up and down in the mirror. “Please tell me you know Jimin is still in love with you.”

“W-What?! No way!” You spluttered.

“Y/n it’s so obvious. I actually felt bad for his girlfriend. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.” She rolled her eyes, almost disappointed in your lack of awareness.

“It’s just been forever. It’s hard to not hyperfocus on eachother, we’ve both changed so much. Also, why would the guy who dumped me out of nowhere still be in love with me?”

She released a deep sigh, “He knows he made the shittiest mistake of his life and is now regretting it when seeing you and your talented boyfriend doing so well.”

You chuckled at the thought of someone looking at your relationship and being jealous.

“Listen, just remember tonight is Taehyung’s night and fighting or not, he’s still a wonderful boyfriend overall. And Jimin is your ex who broke your heart. Inviting him to your place after this might’ve been too much. I suggest you keep your distance.”

“Lisa, thanks for the advice but I honestly was just being friendly. He seemed sorry that he missed most of the showing. Besides, I’m going to be too busy hosting to have a deep heart to heart with him or anything.” You explained, a little offended that she thought you were going to play part in some dramatic reconciliation.

A sudden announcement echoed outside the restroom doors, your ears straining to hear a gallery worker asking everyone to gather on the main floor for the artist’s speech and thus the final part of the night.

Saying nothing more, Lisa and you made your exit to join the audience.

– The clock was nearing midnight.

Your usually quiet farmhouse of a home was not at all quiet.

Your boyfriend's friends were merrily talking and drinking, once in a while their masculine laughs would sync up and reverberate through the halls. They all conversed and lounged in the living room, the largest part of the house that could fit all of them comfortably. Yet, you and Lisa stayed in the kitchen, making the drinks and finger foods, as you indulged in harmless girl talk.

“The one with tattoos is so hot, Y/n. Please tell me he’s single!”

“Jungkook? I’m pretty sure he is. Taehyung told me that Namjoon is the only other one in the friend group that’s in a relationship.”

“Okay, so far so good.” She paused to pop a stuffed mushroom in her mouth, humming in thought. “What’s his type though? Like, would I have to make the first move? Does he like a straightforward girl? Because he hasn’t so much as looked at me tonight.”

“I’ve only met Taehyung’s friends once before so I don’t know their types or anything. I do think Jungkook looks a lot manlier than he actually is. He’s very kind but shy so you’ll have to talk to him first.” You explained while opening another bottle of wine for the two of you.

Lisa frowned at the thought, not used to being the one that had to chase.

You poured two glasses, handing her one with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I can introduce you two. It’s kind of a good thing he’s avoiding you like the plague, Tae once said he only acts like that with pretty girls.”

Your friend lit up like the fourth of july.

“Hey babe!” A familiar deep voice called out.

You looked around to see your boyfriend stepping into the kitchen, a buzzed smile on his face and a slightly glazed film over his eyes.

Moments like these made you realize how much of a lightweight your boyfriend was. It only took one or two drinks for him to get tipsy. But it was still his night and he was already home amongst loved ones, so all you could do is smile endearingly at his slightly intoxicated self.

“Yes, handsome?”

His boxy grin grew, “The boys want more beer.”

“Already?! I put out a twelve pack! People need to be able to drive home, ya know!”

He laughed, “Baby, my friends can drink a gallon each and still be able to drive home with their eyes closed if need be.”

“Well I don’t have any more beer up here. Just wine. There might be some more in the basement, though.”

He nodded in thanks, turning his back to presumably go to the basement and retrieve the drinks.

Lisa waited for him to get fully out of earshot before leaning over and dramatically whispering, “How is Jimin and that Molly girl doing?”

You shrugged, “Last time I was in there, Hoseok was making conversation with Jimin and Molly was all over Yoongi.”

“Damn, trouble in paradise?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t seem too bothered and she seemed a little drunk. She might just get overly friendly when she drinks.”

“And you’re still convinced that he’s over you?”

You rolled your eyes but ultimately stayed silent, aware that the couple was acting sorta strange but also not so sure that you were the cause. You took your wine in one hand and a plate of appetizers in the other, motioning for Lisa to grab the rest and follow you.

When you both entered the living room, you were thrilled to spot Jungkook sitting alone on one of the loveseats. You quickly set the food down and pulled Lisa along with you, approaching him with a friendly smile meant to put him at ease. Considering the way his eyes widened at the sight of your friend, you didn’t know how successful you were.

“Hey Jungkook, it’s been a while!” You greeted.

“Y-Yeah it has been. How’s your erm, book going?”

“It’s doing okay, thanks for asking. Have you met my friend, Lisa?”

He briefly scanned your friend, nervously gulping before saying quietly, “…No I haven't.”

“Oh well, Lisa was just saying how much she liked your tattoos.” You nudged her, prompting her to say something.

She just nodded in agreement, suddenly meek.

He blushed, “Thank you.”

“Actually, Lisa, weren't you saying that you were thinking of getting a tattoo?” You pretended to think out loud, as if you weren’t outright playing them. You didn’t wait for her to answer the rhetorical question, “Jungkook, don’t you do tattoos now?”

Now on a topic of interest he was for sure confident in, Jungkook practically jumped in his seat, “Yeah! I do! I’ve only tatted myself and some friends but I hope to work on more people.”

You watched with a smirk as Lisa moved to sit next to Jungkook, her now explaining what she’d like done and Jungkook asking questions about placement, size and color.

You felt sure enough in them to leave them alone, now inhabiting your little corner as you finished your wine while taking in the scene.

Yoongi and Molly stood by the window, and were obviously the most inebriated. He was the type to ramble pointlessly when tipsy, and she giggled at every little thing he said, playfully shoving his shoulder once in a while. You knew for a fact that Yoongi was too deep in his own self-epiphanes to notice her bad flirting, either that or he was just trying to talk to anyone who was willing to listen.

Namjoon and Jennifer were sitting on the couch and talking to Jin, laughing at whatever odd impression he was attempting. Beside them on the loveseat, Hoseok was politely nodding along to small talk from Jimin. Being one of the friendliest and most calming of the group, it made sense that Hoseok was the one trying to make your ex boyfriend feel included.

Content to just watch your guests for a while, you stood by your lonesome and slowly sipped at the remnants of your wine.

Playing host wasn’t exactly your forte, so you were enjoying the little lull while it lasted. Unlike your boyfriend, your social battery tended to max out at the two-hour mark when in group settings.

And as much as you loved the people in your home (with maybe the exception of your ex and his girlfriend), you couldn’t wait for them to get out so you could take a long, hot shower and head to bed.

The stress of the last few days was really tiring you, and you just knew that as soon as the excitement of the showing and sold paintings wore off, Taehyung was going to continue his spat with you about the cameras.

When you and Jimin dated, you two were always on the same page. Fights very rarely happened. And Jimin was such a people pleaser that if literally anything slightly upset you, he would practically fall over himself to make you smile again.

Taehyung was the first boyfriend to genuinely pick a fight with you, being more stubborn than you about matters you didn’t necessarily want to back down from either. Your relationship conflict resolution skills were being tested, and you just didn’t have the patience or experience to keep fighting much longer. You would call a truce or some type of compromise, if it weren’t for the fact that there was no way to really keep both of you happy.

A few minutes passed as you pondered this to yourself.

Seemingly materializing out of nowhere, a mysterious arm wrapped around your waist.

The suddenness of it all caused you to jump and release a very unflattering squeak.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

A deep chuckle rumbled beside you, Taehyung smirking lazily before diving face first into your neck and nuzzling it in some sort of drunken stupor.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” You groaned, trying to forcefully shove his face away from you. “Where’s the beer you went to fetch?”

Your boyfriend expertly dodged your shove and dove back into your neck, mumbling against the skin something about not being able to find more drinks.

The vibration of his lips on such a sensitive spot made you want to squirm, but his halfhearted mumbles took your attention a bit more.

“No beer? I could’ve sworn-”

“Hey Y/n!” Someone interrupted with a call across the room. You looked up to see Lisa trudging over with a determined look on her face and a fogged up look in her eyes, perhaps a bit more tipsy than you remember leaving her. “Aren’t you going to show me where exactly you saw the ghost?”

Your dear friend most likely thought she was being discreet and having a normal conversation at a perfectly appropriate tone. But no, she was actually speaking way above a conversational volume, causing everyone else in the room to halt their conversations and turn to look at you.

“Ghost?” Jin laughed.

“You saw something in this room?” Hoseok inquired with a trembling voice, most likely regretting having come over. Beside him, Jimin quietly shook his head to himself.

“No way, Y/n doesn’t believe in stuff like that.” Your ex confidently informed the group.

At the sound of your past lover’s voice, you felt Taehyung stiffen beside you. The artist untangled himself from you, standing to his full height and facing the guest with an unknown expression.

“We had a little bit of a ghost problem, but it’s taken care of now.” He paused, and you could nearly hear his smirk when he went on to declare, “I got rid of it.”

Yoongi laughed boisterously, having to hold himself up with the wall to prevent falling over. “I’m sorry, but the image of little Tae boxing a little sheet with two holes for eyes is really sending me.”

Half your guests laughed at the thought. The other more believing half still stared at you inquisitively.

An awkward silence.

“Ghosts are real.” Jennifer started, effortlessly drawing all eyes to her. “I used to live in a haunted house when I was a kid.”

She put her drink down and folded her hands across her lap, suddenly immersed in thought and careful about what she was about to share.

“In my childhood home, there was a garden in the backyard. Almost everyday, at sunset, I’d look out the window and see this lady circling the flowers and humming to herself. After ten minutes or so, she would disappear into thin air. I told my parents but they never believed me.”

She paused, either for dramatic effect or to recollect.

“Until one day, my mom saw her too. And when she went out to confront what she thought was an intruder, the lady disappeared before her eyes. My mom then did some digging about the history of the house and it turns out, the previous owner was outside gardening when she had a heart attack and died.”

A pregnant pause hung in the air as everyone silently digested the anecdote.

“That’s fucking terrifying, please tell me your parents moved houses after that.” Hoseok broke the silence first, pleading with watery eyes.

Namjoon’s wife laughed, reaching for her drink once more. “How is it scary? The lady was just checking on her garden in the afterlife. However, I then grew up really interested in supernatural stuff.” She turned to you. “There’s some tell-tale signs that a home has a spirit attached to it. Cold spots, shadow figures, whispers, scary dreams and the biggest of all: always feeling like you're being watched, even if there’s no one else in the room.”

You quietly thought to yourself. Were there any cold spots in the home? No. Any shadow figures? Nope. Whispers and nightmares? Nada.

But…the last one, being watched when no one is there.

If you really focused on your intuition, you faintly felt that even now amongst all these people, you were being watched by something unknown.

Goosebumps raised on the surface of your arms.

Chills ran down your spine and you shivered, the reaction causing Taehyung to grasp you tighter against him in what was supposed to be comfort.

You felt even more cold.

“We haven’t had any of that. Really guys, it’s taken care of.” Your boyfriend told the room, effectively shutting down the paranormal subject.

You assumed Taehyung felt a bit defensive of his ghost expelling skills, either that or he genuinely wanted another topic of discussion.

You then felt a little bad, it was still his night after all and here you were unintentionally ruining it with your little ghost stories. The focus of the room should be on him and his achievements, not everyone's supernatural beliefs and stories.

“Taehyung is right, it’s all resolved. But I’d like to ask all of you to fill up your glasses one last time, and raise them with me, ” While they did that you quickly scanned the room, “Um, except maybe you, Yoongi. Feel free to sit this one out, bud.” You laughed as the drunk man just grumbled at you, defiantly snatching another beer and holding it high while swaying on his feet.

Hopefully he wasn’t the one driving home.

You cleared your throat, “I'd like to propose a toast to our own Taehyung. Everyone in this room knows it was only a matter of time before your artistic genius was recognized by the world, but that doesn’t make us any less proud than we are of you tonight. To the first of many showings! To Taehyung!”

“To Taehyung!” the room loudly parroted back, everyone thrusting their drinks of choice in the air before knocking them back.

The artist beside you laughed and shook his head, “Really, guys it’s no big deal. Just a few paintings that I’m lucky even got sold. But thanks so much for making it. Most of you-” he snapped a side eye where Jimin sat, “have supported me so much, I’m just happy to have such a great group of friends.”

Said friends all smiled and nodded, although a few caught on to Taehyung’s subliminal dig and warily looked over at your ex.

Jimin pursed a tight smile, clearly trying to be nice and not make it obvious that he was the outsider at the party. You caught his eye and shot him a sorry look, but he shook his head in what was clearly meant to say “don’t worry about it.”

Your boyfriend continued, “However! ‘Friends’ don’t really beat ‘love of my life’. So without getting into all the lewd details of how I plan to spend my night celebrating, I’m going to need you all to start clearing out,” Taehyung smirked. “Y/n is a screamer.”

“Ew!” Lisa shouted, beside her Jungkook was suddenly unable to make eye contact with you.

The older men in the room just cackled. You slapped the artist's chest while trying to hide your blood red face.

Taehyung ducked and mouthed at your ear to whisper, “Sorry baby, but you know it’s true. And don’t act like you don’t want them out sooner rather than later.”

You wanted to be mad, but understood he was tipsy and riding on the high of his showing. So instead you played along and harshly whispered to him, “I doubt you can make me scream tonight. It’s not right to be misleading to your friends.”

He tiled your head to make you face him.

Taehyungs’ left brow twitched in vexation, his lips pulling back in a little growl. He looked around to make sure the guests were distracted with finishing their drinks or saying their goodbyes to each other. When he confirmed no eyes were on you two, he secretly placed his hand at the back of your head, running his long fingers through your hair and stopping right at the ends, to quickly form a fist and pull.

It was just one short tug, but the power of it made you gasp.

You would be lying if you said it didn’t make you a little wet too.

You had no idea where this came from. He never pulled your hair. Your boyfriend wasn’t rough and was one of those really progressive artists types that viewed any kind of manhandling in the bedroom as sort of sexist. But when you peered up at him, with the doe eyes he said he loved so much, and saw the clouded nature of his gaze, you just knew that inebriated Tae was very different from sober Tae.

Black and white, really.

‘I’m in for quite the night’ you thought to yourself while biting your lip, inwardly smug at how Taehyung transparently honed in on the action.

“Um, hey I think I’ll take my leave first.” You looked up to see Jimin awkwardly shifting in front of you two, a blacked out Molly in his hold.

“Oh god! Is she okay?” You exclaimed, noting the poor girl looked dead.

The dancer chuckled, “Yeah, she just gets really hyper when she's drunk then passes out after a bit. Ironically, sleep is all she needs I guess since she always wakes up good as new. No hangover.”

“Here let me show you out. I can help put her in the car.” You offered, already detangling yourself from Taehyung. He made a small sound of protest and made move to hold you tighter.

You placed a hand on his shoulder and consoled him with a smile, “You wanted people to leave, so we should help everyone get home safe. Can you check on Yoongi and maybe see if Namjoon and Jennifer can take him home?”

He looked conflicted, carefully sizing Jimin up through his peripheral. You wanted to roll your eyes. Although tipsy Taehyung was apparently a sexy beast, he was also an immature toddler who needed to be tricked.

You got on your tippy toes to whisper in his ear, “The quicker we get people out, the quicker you get me all to yourself.”

That seemed to convince him as he reluctantly stomped away in the direction of the couple, shooting one more guarded look at the dancer.

With that you led Jimin to the front door, even helping him put Molly’s heels back on before stepping out into the driveway and walking him to his car.

Silently, he opened the car and laid her in the backseat, tucking her in with his jacket. Then he shut the door, but instead of walking around to the driver spot, he turned to you and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

“So….”

“Look, I’m sorry about Taehyung. I didn’t even tell him you were an ex but he’s just been really possessive and weird lately. It’s not just you.” You informed him, hoping to make him feel better.

Jimin just waved it off with a chuckle, “No, I get it. You’re really gorgeous, kind and talented. I also struggled with jealousy when we were together. Can’t really blame him.”

You hoped your blush wasn’t too prominent as you said, “Yeah, but you were always nice to people regardless of feeling possessive. He was just rude. Again, I’m sorry.”

“Well, you can’t really date someone breathtaking if you’re going to be an insecure prick about it.”

You gaped like a fish at the implication you were still breathtaking in Jimin’s eyes. Words were suddenly hard to come by.

It was silent for a moment, the tension between you two as thick as it can possibly get for two past lovers.

“Y/n…why didn’t you tell him we dated?”

“L-Like I said, he’s already been acting jealous and I didn’t want him to focus on that when it was his night. Besides, It’s not like-”

“I broke up with Molly.”

“…What?”

“It happened on the way to your after party, she was upset that I still held a candle for you. And yeah, I couldn’t drag her along when I never felt half of what I felt for you, for her. I just said it without thinking, terrible timing of course. But that’s pretty on brand for me, I suppose.” He attempted a joke.

You smiled politely, although you had no idea how you should feel.

He continued, “I just thought I should say sorry because the reason she was such a drunk and sloppy mess in your home was because I carelessly dumped her on the way there.”

“It’s um, okay Jimin. She wasn’t the only drunken mess tonight. I hope you two manage to stay friends.” You said, then after a beat added, “And that you find what you’re looking for.”

“Listen, I know you're with Taehyung and happy but, I think there was some kind of misunderstanding about our breakup. I’m not trying to be a homewrecker or anything, but can we get a coffee sometime and just…talk?”

You smiled, finding no harm in the offer. “Sure-”

“No.”

You gasped and whipped around to see Taehyung standing behind you, arms crossed and hell in his eyes as he glowered down at Jimin.

How did he get there without being spotted or heard?

It's like he fabricated out of nowhere.

“I suggest you get in your car, leave and never speak to her again.”

Your ex held his hands up in surrender, “Look man, I wasn’t trying anything-”

“What kind of guy goes to their ex when she’s clearly in a happy and healthy relationship, and tries to drudge up the past in the name of closure? Fuck your closure. You lost her, and now I have her. And trust me, she has better things to do than getting coffee with the guy who broke her heart.”

“Please, Taehyung-”

You were cut off.

His voice was the lowest you’ve ever heard it, eyes pitch black and face blank as he calmly finished, “It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. And if I see you again I’m going to break your kneecaps and skin you alive, you little spineless boy. Run along now. While you still can.”

The threats were so visceral and promising, coupled with a man who looked downright murderous yet somehow calm. As if he had done it before and doing it again would be more so an inconvenience than a whole life-ending ordeal.

In this moment, you didn’t know your own boyfriend and you were terrified with this new persona.

No one moved or spoke, in fear one step or word would make Taehyung good on his promise.

You and Jimin were paralyzed, like two helpless deer in the presence of a blood thirsty wolf, the only hope was to stay still and go unnoticed. You met your ex’s eyes and while he did look afraid, he was focused only on you and your proximity to Taehyung.

Jimin was fearful. Not for himself, but for you.

And while you wanted your ex to run away, you were also scared to be left alone with someone so different from your usual Taehyung.

How could a few drinks and some jealousy cause such a behavior?

“Hey what’s going on here?”

Namjoon and Jennifer were babysitting a toddling Yoongi, the couple was also making way to their vehicle when they spotted the scene. The so-called ‘leader’ of the gang was quick to pick up on Taehyung’s aggressive stance, probably prompting him to get involved.

You felt your body lighten in relief.

Namjoon was always good at calming people down and taking control of situations.

Like a switch was turned on, your boyfriend grinned at the oncomers and nodded over at the dancer. Seemingly happy as a clam he chirped, “Nothing, hyung! Jimin here was just leaving. His poor girlfriend had too much, I think.”

Namjoon didn’t quite believe that, you and Jimin still looked rigid with alarm after all. Nonetheless, he played along for everyone’s sake. “Really? Maybe you should leave now then Jimin, get her in bed as soon as possible. It was nice meeting you.”

Jimin took the hint with grace and wordlessly ducked into his car, not acknowledging anyone else as he mouthed to you “call me”.

He started up the car, then slowly backed out of the driveway, and eventually down the road.

“Dude, are you sure you’re okay? It looked like you wanted to kill him.” Namjoon asked the artist.

Before hearing whatever bullshit was going to spew out of his mouth next, you promptly whipped around and stormed back into the house, making sure to purposefully shoulder-check your boyfriend as hard as you could in the process.

What the fuck was wrong with the bastard?!

Talking as though he was some offender or even a murder, just because your ex wanted to catch up?

You were so dreadfully embarrassed! Jimin must’ve thought you lost your mind after him and went off to date some real weirdos.

If you weren’t already on a lease with the man, this probably would’ve been the part where you blocked him and made it your personal mission to never see him again.

Instead, you busied yourself in the kitchen and washed most of the dirty dishes your guests left behind. You hoped Taehyung was wise enough to leave you alone, if the jerk knew what was good for him.

About 15 minutes had passed, and the kitchen was nearly as spotless as it was before the party had started, thanks to your furious cleaning and scrubbing. The house was now silent, and you were just debating putting all your spices in alphabetical order when you heard a shuffle behind you.

You snapped around and instantly scoffed at the sight.

Taehyung was leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets and fixing a sheepish look at you.

“So…that got a little out of hand.”

You barked a disbelieving laugh. “More like you got out of hand, Taehyung. Threatening people like you’re some felon! Wouldn't be a surprise if there’s a rumor spreading about me dating a serial killer now."

“Y/n, I’m sorry. But please let me make it up to you.”

“Make it up to me? Your actions cannot be undone Taehyung! I cooked and cleaned after your friends and tried to make this night special for you. I just wanted you to have a nice night and be nice, and you flip out over a platonic coffee date? Who do you think I am? A slut who will open her legs to any ex who talks to me?!”

“W-what? No- Of course not! Please don’t think-”

“What the hell am I supposed to think, asshole?! Even if Jimin still had feelings for me, it would take me reciprocating them for anything to happen! You clearly don’t trust me, and if that’s the case, then what are we doing here? Should we just become roommates or something?”

A painful struck his face, watery eyes met yours when he choked out, “Do you even hear yourself? Why would I try to fight your ex if I truly didn’t love you? You’re mine, and I love you so much it’s just…I can act a little crazy sometimes.”

You sighed, turning your back on him to lean on the sink in exhaustion.

“I thought you were different from other guys, Tae. That caveman shit is extremely degrading to not only you, but especially me.”

“I’m sorry…it’s just a primal part of me that I can’t turn off. Give me a chance to make it up to you.”

You shot a look over your shoulder at him, still pissed.

He shot his hands up in the air, as if in defense. “You can still be mad at me all you want.”

“You’re sleeping on the couch for a week.”

“Done.”

“And….And you’re forgetting all about those stupid cameras.”

He quirked a grin, unknown mirth dancing in his eyes. “Sure.”

“At the end of the week, you will personally apologize to Jimin via a phone call or letter.”

His smile dropped, your glare sharpened, “Umm..fine okay. It won’t be sincere though.”

You rolled your eyes, “Doesn’t have to be, it’s the right thing to do so you’ll do it.”

“…anything else?”

“Not for now. I’m going to bed soon so if there’s anything you need from the room, get it now.”

He wordlessly turned around, and you then faintly heard him going up the stairs.

Biting your lip in deep thought, you proceed to wipe off the last of the counters.

Could you forgive him? When he was willing to do all that to appease you?

If you were being honest with yourself, you could feel the irritation already start to melt away a bit. You hadn’t expected such a 180 in his stance, he went from threatening Jimin with murder to begrudgingly agreeing to apologize within only a matter of half an hour or so. You thought you would have to at least give him the silent treatment for a bit before you could even bargain a “sorry” for your ex. Taehyung was usually much more stubborn…

Nonetheless though, you were still upset and embarrassed about the scene.

You hated when men got violent around you, it made you feel so unsafe and small. You thought Taehyung was different, him even poking fun at the meatheads who would pull stuff like that at the local bars you would frequent while dating. So what changed?

Footsteps slowly descended back down the stairs, telling you that Taehyung had returned from your bedroom and it was safe to go up.

You left the kitchen, turned off the lights and passed through the hallway. Briefly you stopped, just short of the stairs, to see your boyfriend grumbling to himself while arranging some blankets on the couch.

A sudden and chilling thought ripped from your lips before you could even quietly ponder it.

“Taehyung…how did you know Jimin was my ex?”

He stopped in his tracks, slowly turning to face you with a blank look.

“Uh, Lisa might have slipped up and told me.”

You relaxed, unknowingly releasing a breath you had been holding. “Hmm, okay. We’ll talk tomorrow then. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight baby.”

“Oh! Let me get some water first, can you check that the doors were locked?” You asked while skipping back towards the kitchen. You hated waking up with a dry mouth and always kept a glass of water on your nightstand, restless bathroom trips be damned.

You didn’t hear any response to your request, but you paid it no mind, assuming Tae probably already double, if not triple, checked the locks being the worrywart that he was.

Right next to the kitchen entrance was the basement door, and it was shut.

Yet, something stopped you in your tracks.

The light under the basement door…it was on?

“Well I don’t have any more beer up here. Just wine. There might be some more in the basement, though.”

It couldn’t be….could it?

Your intuition was hollering at you from within.

A force greater than you pulled you to the door handle.

Against yourself, you opened the door to the basement…

And choked back a horrified scream.

At the bottom of the stairs lay Taehyung.

Unconscious, pale and bleeding horrifically from some head wound that was forming an inky pool under his crumpled form.

It wasn’t your Taehyung that returned upstairs.

So...this has been sitting in my drafts for over a year lol. I do have a dramatic ending in mind and some final scenes but yea, I don't think I could finish this unless people actually wanted it so let me know if this is a plot you kinda liked? I never tried flat-out supernatural horror like this. Anyway, happy October guys! Love you all. Luna :)

[spellboundtales]

Fic rec

here are some MASTERPIECES

🩰hurt/comfort

🧸Fluff

🦋Angst

🌺Smut

Spencer Reid

🩰 🧸what he knows by @luveline || reader is insecure and Spencer comforts her!

🧸 Love Sick by @criminalmindzjunkie || Spencer is jealous that reader has a date! Now he has to find a way to sabotage it

🌺the more loving one by @criminalmindzjunkie || Professor!Spencer catches himself falling for one of his students. i'm so down bad for Professor!Spencer

🧸Holy Ground by @writer-in-theory || Spencer is your neighbor! Reader and him start a conversation with…steaky notes!

🩰🧸You’re my future, past and present by @mismatched-sockss || exes to… what will happen when reader and Spencer will see each other again after years?

🩰🌺🦋A marriage story by @bunnylovesani || PostPrison!Spencer and reader have to deal with the aftermath, trying to save their marriage

🧸this request by @ddejavvu || sunshine!reader purposely telling wrong facts when Spencer is around

🧸i can see you by @januaryembrs || the desk jokey from the floor below has caught spencer's eye...maybe he caught her eyes too

🧸you're too sweet for me (you were like an angel to me and when you know, you know) by @januaryembrs || sunshineRookie!reader and PostPrison!Spencer in kinda 3 parts (literally the holy trinity)...you should def check all her works because this is g o l d

🩰🧸this request by @nereidprinc3ss || reader and spencer are friends and he comfrots her after a bad date with a real jerk... when i tell you that this one is one of my favorite...felt that

🧸this request by @nereidprinc3ss || Spencer helps reader to change her bandages...and things get...funny...

🦋🧸lovely to sit between comfort and chaos (pt2) by @cerisereids || reader meets Spencer when he's on a case in her hometown

🧸the Love Hypotesis (series) by @goldentournesol || reader kisses the first man she sees all because of a lie...turns out that man is also her professor

🧸this request by @reiderwriter || Spencer babying an obvlious reader... the team has enough.

🧸isn't she pretty, dad? by @reiderwriter || dad!Spencer and his son playing matchmaker with his teacher

🌺🩰following rules (+ we can't be friends) by @little-diable || reader is JJ's daughter...what could ever happen between her and Spencer? (spoiler: a lot)

🧸carriage six (+pt2 platform ten) by @avis-writeshq || Spencer can't help but notice the same pretty girl on his train ride to work...what happens when she catches him ogling her?

🧸🌺🩰Emergency room by @violetrainbow412-blog || in the middle of the night reader receives a call from the hospital...turns out reader is spencer's emergency contact...but they broke up over a year ago

Aaron Hotchner

🦋fix it and 🩰fix it together by @miley1442111 || this 2 part fic, in which Aaron and wife!reader fight, because he compares reader to Haley..can they fix their marriage? this is soul shattering guys... (check all her works because when i tell you her writing style is amazing...)

🩰not so subtle by @ssahotchnerr || (not so) secret relationship with Aaron, who desperatly wants to comfort reader after a though case...

🌺how did she? by @little-diable || Hotch and reader meet at a cafe...he looks familiar... (dad'sFriend!Hotch)

Remus Lupin

🧸“I am not very good at flirting, am I?” by @hello-everyfandom || a study date with remus..wait...is it even a date?

Anthony Bridgerton

🧸🌺🦋Take my hand by @rubysunnday || Anthony tries his best as a matchmaker for reader…truth is reader wants only Anthony…

Joel Miller

🧸weakness by @joelsgreys || a lovely afternoon at Bill and Frank's…what could go wrong?? maybe it's time that some feelings come out of the surface...

Din Djarin

🦋🧸touching din by @archieimagines || three times Din shows you that he cares...even bendin his rules a bit to do so

🧸 significant by @softlyspector || Din has called reader Riduur for months…but what does it mean?

[nctstar]

Can I get a smut of Johnny suh using his size and strength kink on a petite female Y/N? Thank you~

heyy! i'm so sorry this is absurdly late :(( but hope you still like it! <3

small

Wasting no time to rid himself of his clothes, he spoke. “This room is fine, right?” Muscles bulging as he fiddled with his shirt, the ridges of his chest drawing in the singlet, you bit your finger almost comically. “Hello? Earth to _?” The brown of his eyes were soft, a sharp contrast to his stature. He smirked, his hair bouncing as he threw his head back slightly. “Like what you see?”

pairing: johnny suh x fem!reader

other members: none

word count: 2.4k

genre: romance, smut

warnings: sexual content so minors please dni!! as per the request the reader is smaller than Johnny but I refrained from describing body parts or her specific size or anything like that, she is just short. if you're sensitive to this kind of talk though maybe don't read <3 mild profanity, lots of kissing, johnny carries reader, manhandling, descriptions of johnny's torso and body throughout, dirty talk about the size of his ding dong schlong, mild degradation (use of slut), ripping clothes bc those muscles do more than lift weights <3, clitoral stimulation/fingering, reader is pretty slutty and dumb during sex (aren't we all), missionary sex, praising (sweet girl, good girl), condom use, talking after sex (post nut clarity fr)

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my (filthy) imagination. I don't know the nct members and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic. 

a/n: i have been in such a writer's slump particularly with smut! like i think i need some time off to write some good fics and some good smut, so i'm sorry anon and to all my lovely readers if this is shit :(

“Now why would he ever say that?” You peeked at your friend pacing around your small room through your hair. Scissors in one hand, your (new) bangs in the other, you winced. “Wait, girl, I made a mistake I think.”

She sighed as you let the strands flutter across your forehead, uneasiness settling in your stomach. “Didn’t you follow what he said?” Brad Mondo’s curtain bangs tutorial continued in the background as you turned your head expectantly from side to side. Your friend held your head in place with open palms, looking at you through the mirror. “It’s actually kinda cute. Makes you look…well…”

“Don’t say small.” She snorted, bringing a hand to her face to unsuccessfully cover her mouth. “I don’t care, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time.”

You pushed yourself off the stool, rolling your eyes as you started undressing. “He didn’t mean it like that.” Your belt clinked as your jeans fell to the carpet, and you started bringing your shirt over your heard. “I’m sure it was his way of complimenting me.” Despite all your efforts, you couldn’t stop the annoyance that cemented your words into place. “I guess.”

“Girl, you need to tell him that it bothers you.”

“It doesn’t bother me.”

“Yeah, and it’s not weird to call some girl you’ve been on two dates with small.”

The doorbell cut through the air, making you both jump. “Shit. It’s like he heard or something.”

“Shit. Wait, just let him in and get him to wait downstairs. Okay?” Sudden panic was settling into your body, making your hands shake. Your friend got the message and hurried downstairs, zipping her skirt up in record time while hobbling downstairs. “Hope I don’t smell like chicken. I hate having shifts on Fridays.”

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you pulled the skirt over the curves of your thighs and butt, watching the way it held onto your body. Stuffing the ends of the top into the skirt, you walked over to pick out a pair of shoes.

“I’m heading out! Johnny’s waiting down here!” Your friend’s voice made your body do the kind of useless flurry that it does whenever you know you’re running out of time, and you drag out the highest heels you own. Small, my ass.

“Hey!” As usual, he softened his frame when he saw you, placing his hands in his pockets and smiling so big so you would forget to feel intimidated by his 6-foot stature, or rock-hard physique. His eyes were like small moons, bursting on his face whenever he smiled. “Hey, nice bangs.” You instinctively went to fiddle with them, silently cursing yourself for messing them up. “Thanks.” Your smile was a little forced, but you were giddy to see him, your body rocking back and forth without your permission, ankles rubbing against each other.

∞

“The pasta was so good,” you couldn’t stop raving, your hips knocking into Johnny as he walked you home, arms linked. “Like seriously, Johnny. So good.”

He laughed, the sound leaving him effortlessly. “I’m so glad you liked it. I remember the pasta here being amazing, but I was worried you would think I’m cheap or not taking you seriously. The place being run down and all.” You shook your head, your bangs shuffling from side to side as you did. “No, of course not. I would rather eat something good on the street than a tiny portion of something small and pretentious at an upscale place.”

He hummed, moonlight hitting his body, softening some angles and sharpening others, hair glowing golden brown as he walked. Your heels clacked against the linoleum of your front porch as you wondered whether your friend was home, but before you could reach for the front door, your knees buckled. You let out a small gasp as you felt Johnny’s arms around your body, pinching into your skin almost uncomfortably. “Oh shit! I’m okay, babe.” You both froze at the sudden nickname, his arms loosening around you as you straightened up. You shakily continued. “U-uhm, sorry, I mean-“

“I think your shoes broke.”                                                                   

Yeah, no shit, you wanted to bite back. But you held your tongue, frustration seeping through your pores as you held onto the rail, Johnny hovering protectively over you as you took the right heel off, now newly broken in two pieces. “Oh my god. These were so expensive! Ugh!”

“It’s okay. Maybe I can buy you another pair. Babe.” He said the last word almost sarcastically, and you glared at him. “Johnny.”

“I’m serious. I’m sorry those broke so easily. I’ll bring a new pair next time?”

“Johnny, wait.”

“You like me, right?” His face crumpled just a tiny bit. Not exaggerated like in the movies or anything, so subtle you would never notice from afar, or if you weren’t close. You warmed at the thought of knowing him so closely, so well, enough to know that something was not right in the lines of his eyebrows.

You gulped, not knowing how to respond.

“I feel like you kinda hate me.” He crinkled his nose when he said hate, almost sarcastically, but his tone jabbed you straight in the chest. You shook your head. No, of course not, you wanted to say. I like you. I like you so much. But I am small to you. I wonder if you think of me as small. Do YOU like me?

“I just, I don’t like being small.” He frowned, and so did you, the words sounding stupid as soon as they filled the small space between your bodies. “I mean, you called me small the other day. And I know you probably, well, definitely, meant it as a cute thing. Like physically. Like a term of endearment, you know? But, I don’t wanna be seen as small, like more than physically. You know what I mean?” You cringed internally at your words, watching him stare blankly back at you.

“Right.”

“I’m so sorry. I sound like such a jerk. I don’t mean to be hung up over one little word you said.” You bit your lip, tasting the remnants of your lipstick on your tongue. “It’s just what made me feel a little weird. But, I do like you, Johnny.” Your heart raced as you looked up at him. Your body moved without permission for the umpteenth time, and your arms melted around his hips, fingers splaying across the small of his back. Your mind screamed at you, but your body ignored it, burning up from within.

Tentatively, he brought one hand to your chin, skin warm but rough on yours. “I don’t think low of you. I never have. I just think you’re so fucking gorgeous. So perfect the way you are.” The butterflies in your stomach were now dancing, free, leaping over hills and grassy plains. “Sorry for the poor choice of words.”

You smiled, some of the tension leaving you as you let your bodies merge seamlessly, like lanes on an open road, like the sun as it meets the horizon. You kicked off your other shoe, standing on your tiptoes to meet his lips with yours. He tentatively glazed his hands over your sides, making you shiver and moan into his mouth. You brought your fingers to the nape of his neck, savouring the taste. “Mmm, Johnn-“

You yelped when he gripped your thigh, guiding it to press against his hips. “Jump up for me, baby.” You giggled, nodding as you straddled him, his torso gently rebounding back with your weight. As you met his lips once more, dragging your forearms across the top of his shoulders, you heard your front door open and close, the door to the downstairs bedroom fling wide open. As your back hit the bed, your hair splayed out onto the fresh sheets, knees bent, lipstick smeared.

Wasting no time to rid himself of his clothes, he spoke. “This room is fine, right?” Muscles bulging as he fiddled with his shirt, the ridges of his chest drawing in the singlet, you bit your finger almost comically. “Hello? Earth to _?” The brown of his eyes were soft, a sharp contrast to his stature. He smirked, his hair bouncing as he threw his head back slightly. “Like what you see?”

“Uh huh.” All the shame left your body as you drew circles on his body and face with your eyes, letting his thick frame tower over you. “Is this okay?” He breathed into your collarbone, and when you nodded fervently, you felt his lips suck and nip at your neck. Gasping, you gripped onto his neck, letting your ankles hook around the back of his jean-clad legs. “Y-yes. Yes please. Don’t tease, I want y-you so much.”

“Yeah?” He played with the buttons of your top, but you stopped him. “I can’t wait…just rip it off, please. I need you. Right now. Please, just use me. I know you can.” He drew an eyebrow upwards, and you almost felt a slight twinge of embarrassment until you heard the top rip, cold air exposing your lace bra, tits bulging as you arched your chest off the bed. “What a slut. Is this what you wanted all along?” He laughed as you wriggled under him, mouth latching onto the tops of your boobs. He released you only to throw your arms up, pinning your wrists down to the bed to watch your reaction. When you bit your lip in response, bringing your core closer to his, he laughed darkly. “Freak.”

“Yes, just for you, fuck, please.”

“Bet you’re just soaked under this tight little skirt. Want me to rip this off too?” You nodded before he could even finish his sentence, and the sound of your fabric ripping filled the air. “Mmm, just as I suspected.” As he dragged your panties down your thighs, you felt your wetness pool onto the sheets under you. “Please, please, hold me down and fuck me.” You whispered into his ear, letting your plump lips graze against his skin as you massaged the nape of his neck with your fingers. You whimpered when his jean-clad bulge bumped against your clit, the burn in your core growing with every passing second.

He kissed you deeply, pulling away at an agonising pace. “Tell me why, baby.” You whined, trying to gather some friction between your legs with no avail. His arms pinned yours to either side of your head, his legs like heavy weights against yours. “Please, I just, I want your cock i-inside me, w-want it to split me open…” He shook his head. “What makes you think I would do that to you? I’m too big for you, honey.”

You whined. “N-no, please. I don’t care, just, push it in me…” He laughed, kissing you. “Please, I want to feel so full…” He shushed you, sitting up to unbuckle his jeans. “Mmm, yes, yes please…” You were just babbling nonsense, the anticipation too intense to bear. His cock sprung out of his boxers, hitting his stomach, precum spilling out the edges of the tip. You heard him rip open a condom packet, dragging it on his length at lightning speed. He ran his cockhead through the folds of your pussy, making you whimper. “So wet.” He breathed, and you gasped as his tip entered you at an agonisingly slow place. “J-Johnny.” Your brain fought your body, wanting him to continue but feeling apprehensive at the impending stretch. “You’re so big. Fuck.” You snuck a hand down towards your clit, but Johnny grabbed your wrist, leaning over to kiss your chin. “Let me.” As he pressed one finger onto your core, you gasped, back arching, eyes squeezing shut. “O-oh, oh my…”

“You like that?” He started speeding up, your gasps and moans like drugs to his system. When he pulled away, he started pushing his length in, and you let out a deep breath, as if you had been holding it in the entire time. “Fuck.” You drawled, feeling him in every corner of your insides. “Fuck, Johnny. You’re, you’re so big, and s-strong.”

Johnny laughed, and you wondered for a second whether you had ruined the mood. “My cock making you lose your filter, babe?” You blushed, but the constant bump and stretch on your clit had your vision go foggy, your head spinning deliriously. You used your forearms to push away, breathing deeply as if his cock had suffocated you from the inside out. Johnny wrapped his arms around your hips, bringing you flush against his pelvis in one swift movement. “Uh uh, where do you think you’re going?” His snarkiness and the fulness in your lower stomach made your core squeeze excessively. “Ah, shit! Fuck, I think I’m gon-“ You felt it before you could finish your sentence, your climax stealing the words out of your mouth, making your heart thump incessantly against your ribcage.

Johnny cooed at your, his forearms now caging you by your head, peppering light kisses on your face. “You alright, sweet girl?” You nodded, gasping. “Please, please move.” He chuckled, groaning as he pulled back to thrust into you, making you throw your head back and scream. “Fuck, oh my god.” Your body shook with the force of his steady thrusts, his legs pinning your body down to the bed. “Good girl, that’s it.” He groaned, getting sloppier as he reached his climax. “You’re so good for me. So eager for me to pin you down and fuck you. Because I’m so big and strong, right?” You reached for Johnny’s neck, the embarrassment at your previous comments leaving you as you felt your core tighten, coil ready to snap. “Fuck, you just gripped me so tight, fuck. Nasty girl.” You moaned as you came, feeling him release inside the condom with a throaty moan.

Both of you heaving, gasping for air, you pulled Johnny close to your body, kissing his collarbone, his neck, his face. “I do like you, a lot.” Your breath tickled his skin as you spoke, and he stroked your hair gently with one hand, using the other to pull away from you to look into your eyes. “I’m sorry for calling you small. I admit, it’s a little weird.”

“Apology accepted. I think we’ve both called each other things we’re never gonna say again.”

“No, hon, you should always call me big and strong Johnny-“

“Johnny, please. Never mention that again. It was a moment of weakness!” You whined, shielding your face as he laughed, slipping off you to lie next to you on the bed. “Kinda sexy though.” You slapped his arm playfully, laughing as slipped down his forearm to take his hand in yours.

“I’ll think of something better for next time, promise.”

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

candlelight 🕯️

hii it’s me again! congratulations on 1k!! i’ve thinking about this recently (a lot) because im seriously in my miguel ohara kick🥰

but can you do shy & nerdy reader with popular miguel who are dating?? he adores making her flustered and how shy she is.

he makes her ask for his help because he knows how badly she needs him? because she’s just so stressed out about school and stuff? as always if you’re not comfortable writing totally ignore this! this is my first time requesting smut so i don’t know if it’s silly or not! but if you write it i know you’ll do good by it bc ur such an amazing writer😌

-🎀

hiiii, thank you so much!! and thank you for requesting! ahhh, i'm so thrilled you asked for miguel; i was dying to write him and probably will more, especially if people want; i hope you like it! i hope i got enough of the request in here

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x reader word count: 2.2k notes: modern au, established relationship, fluff, smut (i'm going to keep with marking where it gets smutty, though, bc it's like a full fluff fic before any smut, for those who only want the fluff; MDNI!) part of my 1k celebration!

for anyone who doesn’t speak spanish, i don't want translations to be annoying in the middle or for you to have to scroll to the end, so thought putting them here was best: mi amor / amor mío: my love / literally something like love of mine but works more like emphasis cariño: term of endearment kind of like dear, literally affection mami: another term of endearment, more often cheeky or sexier descansa: rest dime: tell me que maravilla: a joke from the movie, literally what a marvel / wonder, kind of like how wonderful or even just amazing hope i didn't miss any others

The phone buzzing beside you startles you almost completely out of your chair. Coffee makes you jumpy. An entire pot in one night makes you… suspect what you’d be like on cocaine. You’d thought you’d put it on silent. No phone till at least one paper is done, you’d told yourself. Finals had you reeling, and you were desperate to make some progress. When you grab your phone, you see a text from Miguel:

You take your headphones off, and sure enough, a moment later hear a knock at the door. You open it to a Miguel in loose sweatpants and hoodie, dark hair messy, gym bag slung over one shoulder. Even these clothes could do nothing to hide the impressive broadness of his shoulders. 

“Hey, baby,” he says through a bright smile. He kisses your cheek and steps into the apartment. “I know you were trying to focus, but I was getting worried.” “Sorry, I had my headphones on; the neighbors were being too loud again, and I really needed to focus.” “No, not the waiting at your door, mi amor. I’m talking about all of… this,” he gestures wildly around the apartment then his gaze lands on you. “Those dishes were there when I was here days ago, and even though I’m pretty sure adding anything to that tower would topple it, you haven’t. When’s the last time you ate?” “I ha—“ you begin to retort, but he cuts you off. “And I mean real food.” You start again but just give up and shrug. “And you.” He steps close to you and frames your face with his hands. You lean into his touch as he caresses your face. “Baby, you know I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, right?” You blush and look down immediately. 

It used to be worse, before you got together. When you were confused about his even noticing you, and instead he’d flirted with you. Even now that he was your boyfriend, it took very little from him to fluster you.

He can’t help but chuckle at your reaction. He always does.

“Don’t you? My gorgeous,” he kisses one warm cheek, “gorgeous,” he kisses the other, “girl,” he gives your nose a concluding peck. 

You nod shyly. “C’mon, cariño. Tell me,” he encourages, his tone still teasing but ever adoring. “I want to hear it." “I know you think I’m pretty,” you whisper. “Pretty? No, amor mío, I think flowers and bright colors are pretty; the ocean or a view of the mountains, too. But you, you are beauty personified.” “Miguel, stop,” you whisper through the smile you can’t help, hiding your face in his chest. He laughs lightly. His hand comes to your hair and scratches lovingly.

“I just wanted to make sure you knew that.” He gives your forehead a kiss. “Before I told you you look terrible, baby.” He starts laughing loudly and holds you closer into his hug when you smack his chest and try to pull away. 

“That’s so mean!” gets muffled into his sweatshirt. “It’s not mean; it’s true. You’re still beautiful, but you need a break.” “I can’t, Miguel. I’m drowning in work still, and you know being sick last week really got me behind, and it feels like no matter how long I sit there, I’m no closer to finishing anything, and you’re right my apartment is falling apart, but every time I do something else I feel guilty for stalling on work, and, and —“

Before you can find another overwhelming thing to list, Miguel is hushing you and stroking your back in his warm embrace.

“Breathe, baby, breathe.” He sways you lightly then pulls back a bit to look into your eyes. His hands are caressing your face again, and his fingers brush lightly under your eyes, where you know there are dark circles, as he whispers, “You haven’t slept.” He sounds sad rather than accusatory. 

“Okay,” he starts softly. “Look, I know how much you have on your plate, and I’m not telling you you’re wrong to be stressed. I get it. But you can’t get it done like this, running on fumes and caffeine. How about this? I’m going to help you relax tonight, you’re going to forget about everything you have to do, you’re going to sleep well, and then tomorrow morning you’ll get back to it all.” “I’m fine, really. You don’t need to worry about me. And I’ll rest after finals.” Just then a car horn blares near your window, making you jump cartoonishly. “Yeah, you seem totally fine,” Miguel deadpans teasingly. “There’s nothing wrong with taking some time, Y/N… And accepting a little a help, okay?”

You nod lightly. “Great,” he gives you a quick peck and moves toward your kitchen, hunting around your barren fridge and cabinets. “Here’s the game plan then. You are going to put on your favorite playlist then go take a warm shower for as long as you like. Your kitchen is as empty as your stomach, so I am going to run down the street to pick up some empanadas then I’ll work on cleaning up this war zone a little bit when I get back.”

“You don’t have to clean.” “Stop fighting me,” he tsks. “Besides you know I don’t mind cleaning. I’m glad I’m not hearing complaints about the food at least,” he laughs. “I love empanadas,” you whisper defeatedly. He cackles. “Who doesn’t?” He kisses you as he moves past you toward the door. “Be back soon. No working! I expect you in the shower when I get back.” You quirk an eyebrow teasingly at him. You were still too shy to say anything teasing, but he’d been working you out of your shell during your time together. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t really like that aspect of being with Miguel. 

His eyebrows mimic yours, and he chuckles lowly. “Don’t give me that look, mami, or you’re not getting me out the door, and you’ll miss out on the empanadas.”

You pull the neck of your shirt up to cover your face, making him laugh. You hear him bound back over to you from the door. He pulls your shirt back down, gives you a short but intense kiss, then heads out. 

Miguel is back before you know it. You are in fact in the shower when you hear him return. You’re already rinsing, but you linger a little longer, enjoying the feeling of the warm water easing the stresses off your tense body. 

When you leave your room to join him again, you’re immediately hit with the delicious smell of food. You see it resting on the counter and find Miguel washing your dishes. 

You come up behind him, wrapping your arms around his firm torso, resting your head on his back. “Hola, cariño,” he coos. “I’m almost done.” You nod into him, humming.

When he finishes up, he turns in your arms, bringing his own large ones around you. He leans down and kisses you softly. “Hungry?” 

You nod enthusiastically, and he chuckles. 

You opt to eat on the sofa, getting comfy. Miguel does most of the talking. Between how tired and how hungry you are, you don’t have the energy or available mouth to talk much. He doesn’t seem to mind, happy to regale you with his silly stories.

When you finish, Miguel cleans up, holding you down and giving you a faux menacing look when you try to get up to help. 

When he comes back, he settles much closer to you than he had been before. You relish his warmth, physical and emotional, and lean into him. 

“Turn around,” he whispers.

“Hm?” “Like this.” He adjusts your body so you’re facing away from him and starts massaging your shoulders. You hadn’t realized just how tense you were until the amazing feeling of its being relieved somewhat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ NSFW beyond this point ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Miguel,” you exhale approvingly, earning a chuckle.

“I like it when you say my name like that.” He leans in and whispers into your ear, his breath tickling the back of your neck deliciously, “Reminds me of other times you end up whining my name.”

It’s shocking how quickly he works you up. You turn to look at him, and when you do, his expression shifts from teasing to intrigued.

“Oh?” he asks. He smirks. “I know that look.” He leans in and kisses your neck sloppily, and you whimper. You’re embarrassed at the sound, but he seems to like it. You feel him smile against the skin under your jaw. “I’m more than happy to give you what you want, but I need to know what that is to give it to you.” His voice is much lower but just as mischievous.

“Miguel,” you complain. “Dime, mi amor.” 

“I —“ Any other words get caught in your throat. Your throat he’s busy sucking on.

“Please, baby. C’mon, I know you can. Tell me what you want.” He runs his teeth along your neck like he knows you like. You often joke he feels like he has fangs when he does. “I want you,” you tell him. 

“Yeah?” “Mhm…”

“I’m yours, mami. How do you want me?”

“I want you to make me feel good.” “Oh, I’ll make you feel good. I’ll make you feel so, so good.” He punctuates his words with kisses, working his way up your neck, your jaw, your mouth. “Tell me how,” he whispers, and you feel his lips grazing yours with each word.

You want to relax, and you know exactly what relaxes you the most. “I want you to eat me out.”

His eyebrows jump in surprise. Such directness was unlike you. Your exhaustion was probably weakening your filter, and the way he was already making you feel certainly wasn’t helping it. You almost get shy about it, but when you see just how dark his eyes have gotten, see his Adam’s apple bob and his bottom lip come between his teeth, you keep yourself from shrinking away. He nods slowly, staring deeply into your eyes, then kisses you hard. “Get naked,” he says gruffly. 

Already starting to do as he says, you weakly whisper, “You too?” He chuckles lightly but obliges quickly. 

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to seeing him like this. He’s so beautiful. His broad chest and toned abs; his caramel skin and dark hair.

You look back at his face and find he’s noticed you staring at his body. He’s so confident, you think he’s going to tease you about it. Instead, with an adoring smile, he tells you, “That’s how I feel when I see you, too.” You lean up and kiss him, pouring all the emotions you can’t articulate in words into it. 

Without disconnecting your lips, his body guides yours back down until you’re completely prone. He keeps kissing you until you’re breathless, lovingly attends to your neck and down your chest. He lingers there, his tongue making you arch your back, pushing your body up into the sensations he’s delivering. He sucks harder at your visceral reaction then hotly finishes his path down, his face now aligned between your thighs.

He looks at you intently and whispers, “Que maravilla.”

He looks up at you, eyes black storms you lose yourself in as his mouth connects with your body. 

From your delightful vantage point, you watch his muscular shoulders contort as he moves to pleasure you. He looks like he’s thoroughly enjoying it, and seeing him so into it gives you confidence. You start subtly moving your hips in rhythm with his motions. His hands tighten where they hold your thighs, and, mortified, you interpret this as his telling you to stay still, so you do. 

Then Miguel shakes his head hard — the vibrations of which shoot shocking pleasure into you — and he pants, “Keep doing that. Show me how you want it.” His strong grip pushes and pulls you in a movement close to what you were just doing. You take over and move faster. He’s nodding now, and the shake of it has your thighs shaking on either side of his head. 

You’re making loud whimpering sounds when you yell, “Mi — ahh — Migueeell.” He doubles his efforts, picking up his pace and pressing hard against you. You come on his face, and he looks feral as he eats you through it. When you’re done, he licks up your entire slit before shuffling his body back over yours. You’re chest to chest, and his hand comes up to stroke your head. “Good?” 

Your cheeks warm, and you nod shyly. He giggles and gives you a peck. “You’re adorable, mi amor.”

Your legs feel delightfully like jelly as you move them, wrapping them around his waist. He hums approvingly and gives one thigh a tight squeeze, pulling it impossibly closer to his body. He begins stroking it as he kisses you lazily. Your hands entwine in his thick hair, stroke his strong back, hold him close.

When he shifts his weight slightly on top of you, you notice his hardness against your body.

“You want me to…” you whisper, thrusting your hips up into his in place of words.

“Uh-uh, maybe in a little bit, baby, but for right now, I just want you to relax.” 

He continues kisses you languidly, enveloping you in his body heat, and as you close your eyes and melt into the sensations, you’re sure you’re going to have no trouble sleeping soundly tonight. 

[2demondogs]

With Chrismas around the corner (not really but basically), i would love an Arthur x GN!reader where Arthur proposes to reader for Chrismas and they obviously say yes because, well, it's Arthur, who wouldn't?

Anon did you read my mind. I was just thinking about proposal fics when you sent this ask because I have yet to stumble on one somehow... I'm sorry this took forever btw T-T

Shoutout to my platonic boyfriend for helping me with ideas because I got writer's block <3

Words: 3k oh my good lord Tags: canon divergence (it's just people leaving the gang a chapter early), Arthur does not have tuberculosis, INSTANT spoilers for character death, cheesy shit

It's been too long, you're realizing, since holidays like Christmas felt like special things. There is a double-edged feel to this one — it is the first since Hosea's death, since leaving the gang — but it is the first, in a very long time, that you've spent in the so-called right way: in a warm house with four solid walls and someone you love, how those fanciful books Mary-Beth used to talk your ear off about always wrote.

The house is warm enough, anyways.

There's work that needs done on the cabin. Some of the wood is rotting out and chipped at the corners, forming into sharp splinters that you've brushed against one too many times, but it is a house. You haven't had this pleasure since before joining the gang.

Sometimes, with how content Arthur seems at baseline, you wonder if he's had this pleasure since early childhood. On quieter evenings, ones less reserved for happiness than this one, there has been clipped discussion about how Arthur has never had domesticity like this. Silently, it was an admission of how good it is to share this freshness with you.

During a ride into town, he'd admitted that he had never picked up painting because it was the sort of thing only steady folks got to enjoy. You'd gotten him a set of oil paints when no one was looking — he's worth much more than a few measly dollars, but that means little if you haven't got them to begin with. Some habits die hard; he was happy you remembered what he'd said only a few hours before.

Come the new year, Arthur plans to find work that will pay. New things are a luxury neither of you care much to indulge in, but the repairs will take lumber and maybe a few extra hands. Ones with more expertise, at least, because Arthur's houses usually have not had foundations.

You could simply move now that time has passed, yes. You could find somewhere much farther away, maybe even New York, and pack yourselves in alongside the other sardines bustling about a city, undetectable in uniformity. Shave beards, got jobs, change clothes, cut hair and color it, too, if paranoia strikes— but keeping low to the ground has worked itself out so far, and there is no more of that deathlike stagnation in the air of this place.

Sentimentally, you think this Christmas will seal off whatever makes this cabin yours. Shadows linger, there's been a few odd creaks that've spooked the horses, and maybe it's going to shit a lot quicker than either of you want to admit, but it's your shit-house and the shared stubbornness between you has always brought you nothing but closer to one another.

Arthur is tired of running, and so are you. Last week, he talked about writing to Mary-Beth and Simon, maybe checking if Kieran — the utterance of the man's proper name was a confirmation of the last of that stockholmlike regret having worked out of his system — had broken and followed his little girlfriend. It wasn't said with malice, just some amusement.

"Why do you think he would?" You'd asked.

"Dutch only saves people who don't ask for it," he'd said, and that wistful look in his eyes vanished before you could ask what it meant.

Maybe it's the hard work that makes it feel like a real, true holiday. Pearson and Grimshaw stopped working everyone harder in the winter over the years, once the familial glamour faded with each new addition to the gang. It was no longer a tight-knit group, but a posse, more or less, of runaways and strays all against a big, evil thing like the rest of the world, or whatever it was that Dutch grew to fear.

Since November, Arthur has been saving the best catches to be salted and stored for Christmas dinner. Each addition is cleaner skinned and cut than the last, and the newfound worst of them ended up being ate upon his return from hunting. You've both been saving back herbs since summer, dried and ready to be crumbled into the heated up pot come time for a real feast. Cornbread was made by hand for the first time since you settled down here, drizzled with honey from the general store a ways out.

The latter was Arthur's only specific request for a fancy dinner. If you hadn't gotten him a single gift save for making it, he'd still be happy as a clam.

He's been putting that goddamned honey on everything. You're glad he seems to be enjoying things again, not as tightstrung as he was before you'd made off with him. That's how it feels, anyways, after the long and struggling conversations that were had before the decision was made. Family or life? It's a hard question for someone who has such little concept of either.

Now, the grey hair in his beard is catching the light from the fireplace where he's sat himself on a chair before it. They'd sprouted through the sun-bleached blond atop his head has been looking lighter and lighter in recent months, grey finally catching up to the discoloration and giving him some malcolored sort of tabby look. It's a good one on him, as much as he complains about looking old as dirt and that it's all formed by stress.

For all the lacking color, it adds a ruddy warmth to his face. Daydreams of growing old together find you when you focus on it, or on his wheezing laugh that's gotten worse with the cold weather. Despite the woolen vest he's been sporting, his fingers are as chilled as yours whenever they've brushed. Idly, you wonder if he's gotten whatever Hosea grew into, then remember they were never by blood.

Arthur hadn't wanted you to get him any gifts. When you asked if he would get you something, he'd flushed and changed his mind, apparently already having done it.

Whatever it is, it's good-sized, wrapped in one of the dustcloths you'd gotten him alongside the paints. He's been spending more time painting, lately, tucked in the treeline and looking over the cabin or deeper into the woods, studying something plein air the way those professionals do. He'd propped it against the wall this morning, and once you've settled on the floor before the fireplace — too cold outside not to crowd close to it — after dinner, he looks between you and the cloth like he isn't sure what to do.

"D'you wanna do the honors?" He asks, and grins although the twitch of his eye tells you he's covering timidity with faux cockiness.

"You go ahead," you say, half because he's closer. Tormenting him in small ways must be part of any good gift.

The painting is an image you recognize. A photo that one of the girls took for you months before things went down the hole, using the camera Arthur was loaned by some feller in town who wanted photos taken for a book. He never returned it, and it more or less became something he tucked beneath his cot and let the elements beat around. You can't remember, now, who it was or where he went to get it developed.

The little inkling of pride you felt knowing he kept putting off getting the negatives developed — not enough money, not enough time — yet was gone the next morning to have yours developed returns, now.

It's a much nicer rendition of it, your clothes not dirty and his arm around your waist, the other holding his hat to his chest. It's clear he preferred to give your portrait more detail, his own lagging somewhere behind in clarity and looking closer to the photo. You suppose it's easier to look at someone besides himself, but there's a clearer enjoyment in the lines of you, more care taken in the color mixes.

Ignoring the dense joy of the implications of that, of how obvious it is, proves difficult. Your cheeks twinge some from the wide smile before you realize you're even reacting.

"You'll be a big name someday," you say, and he may as well shrink in on himself beneath the praise, although he's heard it plenty of times before.

"Naw," he waves a hand. "Quit that."

"Really, Arthur." Scooting closer, laying your hands over his knee. He's moving his jaw when your eyes meet his, lays a hand over one of yours, heavy and warm. "It's beautiful. I love it."

"Good," he says. His jaw clicks. "I— uh, I love you."

The hunting knife you got for him seems small, though relatively equal. Arthur looks as pleased as ever studying it, half-mumbling appraisals of yeah, nice and sharp, sturdy to himself that likely would've stayed inside his head, if it weren't for wanting to show you he liked it.

A bone handle, which he feels over with his fingers before noticing it's engraved, fits easy in his palm. You were afraid you push your luck with maintaining its quality too far adding the tiny, vague bear shape next to the deeper cut of his name. Already impressive was the fact that you hadn't ruined it with the letters, being one of your first expeditions into anything of the sort.

"I would've gotten you one of those folding knives," you explain. "But they don't hold up as well, and I know you have one."

The army knife was Hosea's.

"Needed me a new huntin' knife," Arthur says. You know, because he's complained about his current one being close to snapping with all the skinning he does anymore. He squints at the handle, turns it over in the light from the fire. "Did you engrave the handle?"

"Yessir."

He smiles. "It's real nice," he says, pats his palm with the blade softly. It makes a dull noise, sturdy metal on skin. "Why a bear?"

"They remind me of you," you admit. Really, you'd spent a long time considering what else to add, because only his name seemed so plain; although he wouldn't be opposed to flowers or vines, they are a little more intricate than a simplified bear head. "Big and strong. Hairy, too. I'd like to hug one."

He snorts a laugh, but it seems thin. His eyes are fond enough on you that it couldn't be any rejection of your words, and so you brush it off. "You wanna hug a bear?" He asks.

"In a perfect world," you amend. "Don't they look warm?"

"You'd better stick to me," he says, smooths a palm over the thigh of his jeans. The nicest pair he owns, he promised you, because he feels ridiculous in slacks and seems to think you care what he wears.

Beyond thinking everything looks well on him, at least. You often find yourself concerned with that thought.

"I got you somethin' else," Arthur starts, running a finger over the bunched inseam at his own knee. "Well, uh— it's f'both of us, really."

Isn't that intriguing, you think, but your silent, undivided attention seems to make him outright nervous, so you say: "Oh?"

Some conflict happens over his face as he pulls his vest collar away and reaches into the inner pocket, takes out a stack of thin papers that he glances over before apparently relenting to something. Confusion finds you, until he takes a deep breath and holds them towards you.

"Read these," is all he says, and he sounds like it's almost painful.

He's written much, much more than that. Your stomach turns, once or twice, realizing they are pages from his journal. Uncertain why, until the first entries which are skittering on affectionate fade into ones much more flowery. They are all about you, days you'd spent together or times you hadn't, the things you've given him over the years and the things he wished he could've given you.

Each page makes your chest feel tight with a panicked joy, as if his hands were not fiddling with the new knife to occupy — distract? — himself but clenching hard at your heart.

One, near the beginning, says he thought of pickin' a pretty lil' flower, God bless it, I feel ridiculous; on the back of the next is pressed a variegated tulip, crumbling with age but holding firm to whatever adhesive glues it to the paper. Again, that creeping smile, like thyme. Another entry is entirely about your hair, because it had brushed his arm. Only a few sentences made up that page, below the cursive a choppy sketch of your horse.

Certainly, Arthur stays busy in his head. You've always known as much, but never figured any of it was about you. Not like this, anyways, though the dates spread from the week before Blackwater and you can only wonder what laid in that journal he lost before.

"Oh, Arthur," you start, looking up from a third-way through, feeling giddy but not wanting him to watch you so intently while you finish them. No wonder he was shy. It's his heart. "You're so sweet."

"Finish readin' 'em," Arthur says, doesn't meet your eyes at first. When he does, they're gentle. "They get sweeter, y'know, better finish 'em. 'Cause of that."

He is nervous. Hardly moving, besides the tongue running over his teeth beneath his lips, and the rambling every time he opens his mouth. You don't mind, never have. He's endearing like this.

Outings you'd went on infrequently, the dates of his favorites underlined, you're noticing, based on the tone of his words in them; his worries and fears about courting you, and some of what you mean to him though, with its succinctness, you have a feeling he wouldn't dare put all of his genuine love to findable paper; things he likes about you, and one page where he admits that he cannot keep himself from documenting you in every other entry, which tells you this small collection is hardly everything. The previous entries turn over in your mind again, and you are struck on a random page for a moment as their meanings take hold, realizing they were especially sliced from his journal to show you.

The entries leading to the last are what set your mind and pulse ablaze. From the first appearance of the word marriage, you swallowed your idea of what may be coming — Arthur's breathing changing beside you doesn't help any, and it certainly does not help that he leans down once you've reached the last page, plucking it from your hands. Before he does, you notice quite a few crossed out lines, scribbles as if he were frustrated with not being able to find the right words.

"Think I've got the balls on me to read this one aloud, at the very least," he says, voice laced with a chuckle. Breath comes uneasy, but you collect yourself enough to gather the pages back into a neat, ordered stack in your lap. "Unless you'd rather spare me," he adds, nudges your knee with the toe of his shoe.

"No." Your voice sounds strange, even to you. "Do me the honors."

Arthur bites his cheek, nods and lets it fall as he smiles. Still, his hand finds the back of his neck, the page held between two fingers that remain surprisingly steady. The knife lingers in his hand beneath it, and isn't it just like him to propose holding a weapon.

Propose. It takes its first toll on you, rolls over your back in shards of tingling.

"December twenty-fifth, eighteen ninety-nine," he starts, eyes flicking to your face every other word until the intensity of your gaze must make him too anxious. "It's a nice little life, livin' with the one I love," — rubbing his mouth, sighing some — "Jesus, I always gotta be sappy." You laugh, though it comes out more forceful than you intended, and relax some until he continues. "The thought of another day where anythin' could happen 'n' we ain't bound is somethin' I hate."

Arthur pauses, stands up and places the journal entry on his chair. You take his hands when he holds them out to where you sit, grunting when he hauls you off the ground with more force than you expected, feet shuffling into place to stick all-too-close to his. His hands are burning, skin feverish when you grab his wrists, as if you'd ever want to stop him as he eases onto a knee before you.

And his eyes throw you off balance, too, catching the light just enough that you can tell they are stinging. So are your own, now that you think about it, but intelligent thoughts go out the window once you sense him about to speak.

"I wanna be 'til death do us part," Arthur confesses, fumbles to catch both of your hands in his in an awkward, squeezing hug of a hold.

The way your bones catch on one another, well— it's not a sensation you'll forget, like the first time he kissed you and you felt it still a week later, warm pressure on your mouth if you got too lost in the memory. He looks as good, looks so nice, and you know your fingers would be shaking if he weren't crowding them together, steady.

When he says your name, the blood is rushing through your ears too loud to hear it clearly; you almost want to ask him to do it again. "Will you marry me?"

Nodding, face slack before it spreads in a grin. "Yes," you say. "Of course I will."

His is hidden by how he lets go of your hands, catching them before they fall in stupid, limp joy back to your sides. He lays kisses along the knuckles, all three rows of them. It's so awfully saccharine and yet you could never tell him to quit being sweet— not now, not as he stumbles to his feet after you pull him up and shake off his hold to grab his face, tugging him into a kiss.

Arms come around your waist, squeeze tight enough to hurt, or to hold in place. Arthur runs a hand over your back, breaks the kiss to slide a hand into your hair and press your face to his chest, caging you in his arms. He smells warm, like good cologne, and you know he's been planning this.

[mynicosensesaretingling]

hi, I saw your latest Nico fic and I finally have the courage to request cuz I guess your requests are open

can you write something in the 2016 prize giving ceremony setting? some cute moments were him and reader are talking and giggling and its caught by the cameras, and when giving his speech after receiving his trophy he mentions some cute moments of him and reader racing related, and for the end can you write smth abt that one pic were his taking a photo of his trophy while in the car and reader is beside him? some moments between them interrupted by their chauffeur?

love your writing and thank you, there's no Nico Rosberg writers out there 💔

A Celebration of Hearts

Nico Rosberg x fem!reader

note: thank you so much for your request, I really enjoyed coming up with a story for this one!! (I just assumed this was for a fem!reader , but if I am wrong please tell me and I’ll adjust the pronouns!! ) And it’s my absolute pleasure to serve content for all my fellow Nico enthusiasts <3 i hope you enjoy the story , all the love to ya!

——

The 2016 Prize Giving Ceremony was an evening of glamour and celebration. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement as the faces of the motorsport world gathered to honour the year's champions. Among the attendees was (Y/N), a relatively new journalist who had struck up an unexpected and endearing friendship with Nico Rosberg over the past season. Nico, having just announced his retirement days earlier, was the man of the hour, ready to collect his well-deserved World Champion trophy.

As the ceremony progressed, (Y/N) found herself seated at a table near the front, with a clear view of the stage. Given the circumstances, the evening was already a memorable one, but it became even more special when Nico walked over during a break.

"Hey," Nico greeted her, a warm smile lighting up his face as he came to a halt beside her chair.

"Hey yourself, Mr. World Champion," (Y/N) replied with a grin, craning her neck to look up at the blonde. "How does it feel to be on top of the world?"

Nico chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Surreal. But seeing a friendly face makes it a bit more real."

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "Oh, so now I'm just a friendly face? Last time I checked, I was the journalist who nearly outsmarted the World Champion at the Hungarian Grand Prix."

Nico laughed, shaking his head, before looking down at her again. "You really did give me a run for my money. I think you missed your calling as a strategist."

"Maybe," she replied, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Or maybe I'm just good at keeping you on your toes."

"Mission accomplished," Nico said with a grin, casually plopping down on the sear next to her. "I never knew where you'd pop up next."

"That was the fun part," (Y/N) admitted, a mischievous glint in her eye, as she turned her body to fully face Nico. "Like that time in Brazil when we got caught in the downpour. I don't think I've ever seen you run so fast."

"Hey, I had to protect my hair," Nico retorted, running a hand through his perfectly styled locks. "But I do remember us squeezing under that tiny umbrella. I think I ended up more wet than dry."

(Y/N) laughed, nodding. "We both did. But it was worth it for the conversation we had. I think that's when I realized you're not just a champion on the track."

Nico's smile softened, a touch of warmth in his gaze. "Thanks, (Y/N). That means a lot coming from you."

The pair talked and giggled, sharing light-hearted banter and recalling moments from the season. At one point, Nico leaned in to whisper an amusing anecdote about a mix-up at the Japanese Grand Prix, causing (Y/N) to burst into laughter. Unbeknownst to them, cameras were capturing these candid moments, broadcasting their genuine connection to the world.

As the evening wore on, the time came for Nico to take the stage and accept his trophy. He rose from his seat, giving (Y/N) a quick, reassuring squeeze on her shoulder before making his way to the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Nico began, holding the trophy aloft. "This season has been a dream come true for me. It's been a year of hard work, dedication, and unforgettable moments."

He paused, his gaze finding (Y/N) in the audience, and smiled. "I want to share a few personal moments that made this year so special. There was a time at the Hungarian Grand Prix when (Y/N) here – yes, our very own journalist – and I had a little race of our own. She was determined to get an exclusive interview, and I was equally determined to avoid it until after qualifying. It turned into a hilarious game of cat and mouse, and I have to admit, she nearly outsmarted me."

The audience chuckled, and (Y/N) felt her cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and pride.

Nico continued, "And then there was the time at the Brazilian Grand Prix when we got caught in a sudden downpour. We ended up huddled under a tiny umbrella, talking about everything from racing strategies to our favourite movies. To me, those are the moments that make this sport so incredible – the unexpected friendships and shared experiences."

With a final nod to the audience, Nico concluded his speech and made his way back to his seat, where (Y/N) greeted him with a beaming smile, a blush still decorating her cheeks.

"You did great up there," she whispered, nudging him playfully.

"Thanks," Nico replied, leaning closer. "I was just trying to impress a certain journalist.”

"Oh, really?" (Y/N) teased, raising an eyebrow. "And here I thought you were just being modest."

Nico leaned towards her, attentive eyes sparkling with mischief. "Modesty isn't really my style, you know that."

(Y/N) chuckled, shaking her head in amusement. "No kidding. But I think you pulled it off tonight."

As the ceremony concluded, they made their way out of the grand hall, the evening's excitement still buzzing around them. The cool night air was refreshing as they stepped outside, Nico's hand lightly resting on the small of her back as they navigated through the crowd of people.

"So, what did you think of the speech?" Nico asked, glancing at her with a curious smile.

"It was perfect," (Y/N) replied sincerely. "Heartfelt, honest, and with just the right amount of charm."

Nico's grin widened. "I'm glad you think so. I was worried I might have gone a bit overboard."

"No, you were just right," she assured him, her eyes twinkling. "And trust me, I would tell you if you were too much."

"That's what I like about you," Nico said, his tone softening. "You always keep me grounded."

Blushing yet again, (Y/N) redirected her gaze onto the dimly lit sidewalk in front of them.

Continuing their walk in comfortable silence, it didn’t take long until they reached Nico's car, a sleek black Mercedes, waiting for them by the curb. As they slid into the back seat, (Y/N) felt a flutter of nerves and excitement. The atmosphere was charged with a newfound intensity, their playful banter giving way to something deeper, something she had felt, but never acknowledged before.

"So, what's next for the great Nico Rosberg?" (Y/N) asked, her tone laced with teasing sarcasm, as she settled into the plush leather seat beside the blonde.

Nico pondered for a moment, lips forming a slight pout and his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. "Well, after this whirlwind of a year, I think I deserve a break. Maybe some time off to travel, spend time with family, and... see where life takes me."

(Y/N) nodded, a gentle smile on her lips as she found herself touched by his openness. "That sounds wonderful. You definitely deserve it."

Nico turned to her, his gaze unexpectedly intense. "And what about you? Any big plans now that you've conquered the world of motorsport journalism?"

A soft huff escaped her lips. "Conquered is a bit of an overstatement. But I do have a few exciting projects lined up. Maybe even a book someday, who knows."

"I'd read it," Nico said earnestly. "You've got a way with words, (Y/N)."

A comfortable silence settled over them once again, as the car glided through the city streets. Nico reached for his phone, raising it to capture a photo of himself with his trophy perched on his lap. (Y/N) decided to lean in, her head close to his, both of them smiling for the impromptu selfie.

"Perfect," Nico said, lowering his phone. Twinkling eyes still focused onto the picture. "I want to remember every detail of tonight."

As they settled into the ride, their conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and shared memories.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" Nico asked, a playful glint in his eye. "You were so nervous."

"I was not!" (Y/N) protested, laughing. "Okay, maybe a little. You were Nico Rosberg, after all."

"And you still are," she added, her tone turning sincere. "But now I know you're also the guy who runs from rain and takes goofy pictures with his trophy."

Nico chuckled, nudging her shoulder. "Guilty as charged. And you’re the journalist who somehow manages to make every moment memorable. Even though I am still not sure how you managed to sneak into my life like that."

Their chauffeur cleared his throat, and Nico glanced at him in the rearview mirror, then back at (Y/N). "Sorry, we were lost in our own world for a moment."

"Understandable," the driver replied with a knowing smile. "It's nice to see you so happy, Mr. Rosberg."

Nico's eyes met (Y/N)'s, a mischievous glint returning. "Well, I've got good company to thank for that."

(Y/N) felt her blush deepen, but she couldn't help but smile back. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Nico."

"Is that so?" he murmured, leaning a bit closer. "Maybe I should try it more often."

"You might just get away with it," she replied, their faces inches apart.

Nico's gaze flicked to her lips before he pulled back slightly, the tension between them palpable. "You know," he said casually, "I never did properly thank you for all those interviews and articles."

"Oh?" (Y/N) tilted her head, curious. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

"How about dinner? Tomorrow night," Nico suggested, his voice low and inviting. "Just the two of us. No cameras, no interviews. Just... us."

(Y/N) felt her heart race at the invitation. "I'd like that," she replied, her voice soft.

"Great," Nico said, his smile widening. "It's a date."

As the car pulled up to her hotel, Nico helped her out, their hands lingering together a moment longer than necessary. (Y/N) felt a mix of anticipation and reluctance to end the evening.

"Thank you for everything tonight," she said, her voice sincere. "I had an incredible time."

Nico's smile was warm and genuine. "The pleasure was all mine. I'm really looking forward to our dinner tomorrow."

(Y/N) nodded, feeling a flutter of excitement. "Me too. I’ll see you then, Nico."

He held her gaze for a moment, his eyes reflecting the same anticipation she felt. "Goodnight, (Y/N). Sleep well."

With a final squeeze of her hand, Nico watched as she entered the hotel, her silhouette disappearing through the revolving doors. He leaned back against the car, exhaling deeply. This night had been more than he ever expected.

[imaginespazzi]

Part 3: Shades of Grey

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

That's the thing about illicit affairs (they lie and they lie and they lie)

(In which a masochistic writer makes things difficult for herself and makes things even messier than they were before)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, a little bit of Hurt/Comfort and Fluff as always

Words: 7.2K (nice and short as always)

TW: Explicit Sexual Content (MINORS DNI), Swearing, Cheating

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 I feel like I'm doing a pretty good job of sticking to my deadlines, who woulda thunk it? Fun fact, I'm at ~ 50 google-doc pages with this fic and despite my constant "trying to write less" rants, I'm actually lowkey proud of that. Anyways, there's a pretty clear hint (I am not a subtle person) as to why what happens at the end happens and if you pick up on it, I promise it'll save you from losing your minds till I write part 4. Also a couple of logistical details about the Cayman Islands are probably off but it's what worked so it's what I did, just pretend lol. Per usual, I did edit, there's probably still typos any way, feel free to point them out. And as always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see in the future. Happy reading and have a wonderful rest of your week lovelies!

August 2021

The fight was inevitable but neither of them can tell you what really lit the flame. One second they had been fine (well as fine as two girls who knew tonight was their last night in a while could be), the next they were hurling bullets at each other. There’s a subconscious part of Azzi’s brain that tells her to grab Paige and duck for cover, to preserve whatever little bit of friendship they can. But her whole body vibrates with anger as Paige’s words crash around her like a tsunami, drowning out the good angel on her shoulder that’s pleading with her to stop. 

“It’s a good thing really. You and your non-existent nerves would have never survived playing for UConn,” Paige sneers, and that mean smirk on her face just doesn’t quite fit right, “I don’t know what I was thinking with that honestly. You’re not built like that.”

Azzi flinches, eyes blazing, “some of us want to be more than just another good UConn player.”

“That’s what all the people not good enough to play for UConn say,” Paige retorts bitterly and Azzi doesn’t think she knows this girl standing in front of her, one whose words are aimed to make her cry instead of laugh. 

“Not good enough and yet you still wanted me on your team.”

“Nah you know what, my bad, I didn’t realise you’d fucking stab me in the back like that, ” Paige hisses, “you’re a fake as fuck friend and you’d probably make a shit teammate.”

Azzi’s never had a heart attack. She doesn’t even fully think she knows what a heart attack really is. But she’s certain this pain in her chest can’t possibly be anything less than one. It starts at her heart and then spreads to her lungs and then floods through her body, until she can’t move, she can’t breathe. 

“You don’t mean that,” she whispers. 

Paige hesitates, as if suddenly aware of the fragility of the moment, her voice considerably softer when she speaks but she doesn’t take it back, “ real friends choose each other.”

“Oh my god,” Azzi laughs, it’s the worst thing she could do in the moment and Paige’s eyes flash with anger, “you’re so fucking full of yourself.”

“Watch your fucking mouth-”

“Don’t you even dare. You say all that shit to me and now you can’t hear some of it back? Contrary to what you might think Paige, my whole life doesn’t revolve around you. My decision for where to spend the next four fucking years, does not revolve around you,” Azzi’s voice rises with each word. 

Fighting is cathartic in a way. They’ve spent almost a year delicately tip-toeing around the subject, growing further and further apart and yet still holding on for dear life. And Azzi doesn’t want to let go, but everything feels burning hot, and her hands are starting to blister. 

“Oh you’ve made that very clear,” Paige bites back, “you’ve made it very clear just how little I mean to you.”

“Because I chose a different school? That’s all it took Paige, seriously? That’s all it took for you to call our friendship fake?”

“No what it took Azzi was you being a fucking liar.”

“I didn’t lie about anything.”

Paige scoffs, her voice taking on a pitchy mocking tone, “ ‘I’d love to play with you Paige’, ‘being on the same team would be nice P’,  all of that fucking bullshit when you didn’t mean any of it.”

“Oh we’re playing that game,” Azzi seethes, “how about ‘Az I’d support you no matter what’ huh? Where did all of that go?”

“Maybe if you didn’t make stupid decisions then.”

“No, actually choosing not to play with you might have been my smartest decision yet,” as soon as the words are out, there’s a part of Azzi that wishes she could wrench them back in. 

“Right,” Paige’s voice is eerily quiet now, “well I hope that works out well for you then. Go to UCLA Azzi, have a great fucking life and stay the fuck away from mine.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Azzi takes a cautious step towards the blonde and almost immediately, Paige steps backwards, her expression suddenly blank. The change to indifference is somehow worse than the previous malice, “Paige-”

“Fuck this, I’m going home,” Paige says resolutely, her fingers fidgeting with themselves as she reaches for her phone and wallet. 

“We need to talk this out, we need to try and fix this,” Azzi all but pleads, trying to position herself in front of the persistent older girl who’s trying to make her way to the door. 

“I don’t know if I want to fucking fix this,” Paige yells, shaking away Azzi’s hand on her shoulder, “I don’t know if it’s worth it,” her voice breaks as she says the next words, “I don’t even think  I wanna be friends.”

When Azzi’s 14, Paige Bueckers dribbles through a USA basketball camp court straight into her life and teaches her all about how one person can come into your life and carve out a permanent shelf. When Azzi’s 16, Paige’s casual smiles and not-so-insignificant touches teach her all about the complicated space in-between just friends and something more. When Azzi’s 18, Paige says those words, ones that sound a lot like giving up, and teaches Azzi that sometimes in life, even the people you thought would never make you feel this way, are the ones who'll break you the most. And that’s the day Azzi makes a promise to herself that she’ll never give someone that part of herself again, unaware that when she’s 20, Paige will teach her that some promises are meant to be broken. 

***

July 2023

Azzi doesn’t know what god she pissed off to get herself into this position, stuck in a booth with Zoe on one side and Paige on the other. Her girlfriend’s left hand is placed firmly on her thigh and Azzi has to fight the vehement urge to shake it away because Zoe’s normally soft, sweet touch feels itchy and heavy. But the way Paige’s biceps are pressed against hers might be even worse. Every time the blonde moves a little, the sliding of her smooth skin against Azzi’s arms, sends a jolt of electricity through her veins. And Azzi doesn’t know when she became that girl, the girl who already has someone to hold her but is desperately craving somebody else’s touch. 

When people’s girlfriends surprise them with an unexpected visit, the appropriate reaction is to be overwhelmed with happiness. Except since she’d met her, Azzi’s summers have always belonged to Paige. With them having lived in separate states most of their lives, it was the one time they got to be with each other for an extended period of time. It was an unspoken rule really, one that they had subconsciously still followed the year before when Azzi had shown up at Paige’s door, even if they’d only gotten the last couple of weeks of the season; summer was theirs. So, when Zoe had shown up that afternoon with a bright smile and shining eyes, all Azzi had been able to register was a sense of loss as Paige pulled her hand out of Azzi’s. 

Introductions had been somewhat awkward. Her parents knew of Zoe, but hadn’t met her yet. They were nice of course, her dad pulling the shorter girl into one of his bear hugs and her mom giving her a warm smile. Jon and José were more awkward, nodding their greetings but making no move to actually welcome her. Paige had managed to muster up a smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and shake the other girl’s outstretched hand. And then there was Drew, whose normally goofy smile seemed to have disappeared. 

“Who are you?” the young boy had asked quizzically, his eyebrows crinkling together. 

“Oh umm, I’m uh- Azzi’s girlfriend,” Zoe had replied, the last word causing Paige to involuntarily flinch. 

Drew had looked over to Azzi then, his eyes wide and accusing, “you can’t be Azzi’s girlfriend.”

“Is that so?” Zoe hummed, clearly not taking him seriously. 

“It is,” Drew had said petulantly, ignoring Paige’s warning squeeze, “she’s Paige’s.”

The silence after had been deafening, as Azzi tried to stop herself from choking on air. Eventually Paige had regained her senses first, apologising for her younger brother’s lack of filter (“he says stupid things all the time”) and then Azzi’s dad had swooped in before things could possibly get any more awkward, proposing that they all go out to dinner. And that’s how Azzi has ended up here, shuffled in a booth, opposite her parents, with Paige on one side and Zoe on the other. Life really and truly isn’t on her side these days. 

“So girls, what are y’all pizza orders?” Tim asks jovially. Azzi’s brothers and Drew, desperate to go enjoy the sun (and avoid Zoe), had already told them their orders before zooming to the park right outside the restaurant. 

“Oh uh- Az you wanna share a Margherita pizza?”

“Azzi and I’ll just have our usual.”

It’s as if the world wants Azzi to suffer as both Zoe and Paige immediately look at her expectantly. The girl in question keeps her eyes focused on the menu in front of her, unsure how to best handle this predicament by doing anything other than maybe just running out of the restaurant. 

“What’s your usual?” Zoe asks, her voice all curiosity and no ill-intent. 

“Grilled chicken and bacon with spinach and onions.”

“But Azzi doesn’t like onions, she says they make-”

“They make her breath smell I know,” there’s a hard edge to Paige’s voice, “but she-”

“She can’t pick them off. She can’t pick anything off of her pizza because it takes-”

“It takes the cheese off, I know that too. That’s not what I was going to say. She doesn’t eat them because she thinks they make her breath smell but she does like them. It’s just-,” Paige’s eyes flare with mischief, “she only eats them around people who are close to her. Guess you’re not quite there yet.”

Since Azzi had mustered up the courage to finally tell Paige about Zoe, right before summer break started, Paige had been nothing but respectful, supportive even. Until tonight apparently and Azzi doesn’t even know to react to the fact that her best friend has started a pissing contest over fucking onions. 

“Right,” Zoe bites her lips, her ever-present smile slipping slightly as she slowly pries the menu out of Azzi’s hands and looks at her with hopefully eyes, “but we’ll get the Margherita tonight babe?”

“I-” and Azzi really should say yes, side with Zoe like the good girlfriend she is, except, well, all she can think about is that Paige hasn’t smiled since the California girl had arrived in D.C., “I think um- I’ll stick to my usual Zo, I’m sorry.”

She’s a terrible girlfriend, because immediately Zoe’s smile fades, and Azzi barely notices it, too busy watching Paige’s grin light up her face. Her baby blue eyes sparkle as if she’s won some important battle and it’s not even dark yet, but Azzi swears it feels like the stars have come out. 

“Okay,” Tim says slowly, looking between the three younger girls, as he waives over the waitress, “if that’s decided then.”

The issue with Paige being pretty, is that nobody’s really immune to it, including the cheerful waitress that practically skips over to serve them. Her eyes glaze over a little bit as they roam across the blonde’s face and then to her arms before drifting down to her torso. Paige’s tank top doesn’t leave much to the imagination, exposing both her muscled biceps and toned torso and Azzi doesn’t need an x-ray to know the widely appropriate thoughts going through the waitress’s head. The feral roar of mine takes birth in her stomach and the quieting whisper of she’s not does little to subdue it. 

“I’m Libby,” the waitress says, tongue darting across her lips, eyes solely focused on Paige, “and I’ll be your server today.”

Libby collects orders dutifully, polite and agreeable, but doesn’t once fully look away from the blonde, practically drooling once she finally gets to her, “and what can I get for you to drink babe?” 

Azzi’s not sure whether it’s the sultry tone or the nickname that gets Paige’s attention, but all of a sudden her best friend is staring up at the waitress with her own flirty smile. She likes to think she’s not a particularly violent person, but Azzi thinks she might end up in jail for homicide tonight. 

“Well babe,” Paige winks, Azzi wants to die, “what would you recommend?”

Libby smirks, clearly feeling triumphant as she leans on the table, one hand reaching out to brush Paige’s forearm, “sex on the beach.”

Several things happen at once. Tim chokes on a breadstick. Katie immediately thumps him on the back. Zoe lets out a laugh. Azzi’s nails break the skin of her palm, drawing blood as she fists both of hands. And then-

“She has a girlfriend,” it’s a blatantly untrue but all Azzi can think about is stopping this  random girl from eye-fucking her Paige. It does the trick, Libby’s eyes go comically wide, as she steps back from the table, from Paige. 

“She does?” Tim asks. Next to him, Katie, shoots her daughter a knowing look that veers on the edge of disappointment. 

Azzi stutters under the heat of Paige’s glare, the blonde clearly unamused by her lie, “I uh- I mean um- it’s not official but um yeah,” she doesn’t even sound convincing to herself, “I’m uh- I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

She practically shoves Paige out of the booth so she can climb out of it herself, adrenaline pumping through her veins. Her heart hammers in her chest and she tries to block out the sound of Paige’s being questioned by her dad, as she rushes into the restroom. 

There’s no amount of water she could splash on her face to make this heat go away, but she tries anyway, unsure of when the tap water starts to blend in with the tears streaming down her face. The unsettling anger of how dare she flirt with another girl beating in her heart is replaced by the guilt of i’m not allowed to feel this way thrashing around her rib cage. It hurts all the same, as Azzi clutches her chest, trying to even out her breathing.

She doesn’t hear the door open or close until, “What the fuck was that?”

“Get out,” Azzi whispers, closing her eyes and leaning her head on the mirror, “just give me a second okay?”

“Oh no, no, no, you owe me a huge fucking explanation right now,” Paige hisses, “what the fuck was that bullshit? I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“It was a joke-” before Azzi can even finish the sentence, there’s a hand on her biceps, forcing her to turn around. When she opens her eyes, Paige’s face is far too close to her own and when she tries to move back, she’s trapped with the cool edge of the sink. It’s too much, the proximity, the tension, the lingering touch of Paige’s fingers curled around her arm. 

“Stop lying,” Paige bites out. 

“It just slipped out babe,” and fuck, Azzi absolutely hadn’t meant to add that last part, hadn’t meant to make it so obvious what exactly had triggered her little outburst. Realisation flashes across Paige’s face, as she takes a step back, letting go of Azzi, and the distance should be freeing, but instead it just makes her feel lost.  

“That’s what this is about?” the blonde asks in disbelief. 

“Yes- no- I don’t know, okay,” Azzi’s voice is high-pitched, “I’m sorry okay. I’ll tell the waitress it was a joke,” she lets out a humourless laugh, “I didn’t mean to fucking cockblock you.”

“Cockblock me? Dude I wasn’t trying to fuck the waitress what the fuck?”

“Could’ve fooled me babe,” Azzi sneers. 

Something menacing flashes in Paige’s eyes, “stop calling me that.”

“What? You don’t like me calling you babe. You didn’t seem to have a problem when it was her.” 

“Oh my fucking god Azzi,” Paige throws her hands up, “you don’t get to do this. Not when your girlfriend is sitting right there.”

The reminder of Zoe is like being splashed with cold water and Azzi feels everything inside of her freeze. She grips the edge of the sink, trying to find some semblance of balance as Paige continues to glare at her. 

“For the past few hours, I have had to hear your girlfriend call you every fucking nickname in the book. I have had to watch her kiss you and move your hair back and grip your fucking knee under the table,” with every sentence, Paige inches closer and closer, until she’s accentuating every word by pushing her index finger into Azzi’s chest, “and you can’t even fucking deal with me calling some other girl babe?”

“Paige,” Azzi whispers when Paige’s voice breaks on the last word. Their faces are so close, she can feel the other girl’s uneven breathing all over her skin. And it takes everything in her to not cave in and reach a hand out to caress away the tear that's threatening to fall from the blonde’s tearline. 

“It’s been hell Azzi,” Paige spits out, “so you don’t get to be upset if I want to fuck someone-”

Something snaps and before Paige can complete the offending sentence, before she can imprint an image that will forever haunt Azzi’s mind, Azzi silences all the warning bells of why she really shouldn’t, and pulls her best friend into a searing kiss. Immediately, Paige’s hands come to rest against Azzi’s hips, pressing her firmly against the edge of the sink. It’s as if they’re trying to meld their bodies together, both of them gripping each other as close as possible. Outside, it’s a summer evening of clear blue skies, but here in this random restaurant restroom, lightning strikes.

Paige bites at Azzi’s bottom lip and then traces her tongue over the bruise she’s created, smirking when it elicits a gasp from the younger girl. Lips still firmly moving against Azzi’s, her hands work expertly on the buttons of Azzi’s tight shorts. The sensation of everything Paige is all-consuming and Azzi feels like she’s drunk on the taste of her best friend’s skin, as she moves away from Paige’s lips, to pepper kisses on her neck, before moving down to suck a mark into her collarbone. Mine, mine, mine. 

“Fuck Az,” Paige moans when Azzi’s teeth grate against her skin and it’s the brunette’s turn to smirk. But her cockiness is short-lived when Paige’s fingers finally find their way into her now unbuttoned shorts. They press down on her clit through her underwear, making her whine. 

A cry of “Paige,” escapes her lips when the blonde slides Azzi’s panties to the side, her middle and index finger beginning to rub circles around the younger girl’s clit in a tantalisingly slow rhythm. 

“So wet, so fucking wet for me,” Paige’s voice is wrecked with want, as she brings her free hand to cup Azzi’s jaw, forcing her best friend to look her in the eyes. It scares Azzi, the sheer amount of emotion she can see swirling in the blonde’s eyes. There’s lust and then there’s something else, another l-word that she can’t bring herself to acknowledge, knowing it’ll ruin her, ruin them. 

“Please,” Azzi whispers against Paige’s mouth, as the older girl’s fingers slip from her clit to tease against her soaking entrance, dipping into her folds but not giving her what she wants. 

“If you want something baby,” Paige traces Azzi’s lips with her thumb, “you have to ask for it.”

Azzi's hands moved away from where they had been firmly gripping Paige’s waist, to wrap around her neck. She bites softly against Paige’s left earlobe, eliciting a low groan, before bringing her lips as close to the blonde’s ears as she can, “I want you to fuck me.”

It’s all it takes, Paige finally gives Azzi what her body’s so desperately craving, for far longer than she’s willing to admit, pumping two fingers into her pussy, while her thumb stimulates her clit. And fuck, Paige knows exactly what she’s doing, fingers curling in the exact right spots and Azzi feels like she’s floating or flying or falling, maybe all of the above. 

“Please, please, please,” Azzi babbles incoherently, burying her face in the crevice of Paige’s neck, tears beginning to blur her vision. Because, it’s too much, the ecstasy, the fact that it’s Paige behind the ecstasy, the fact that this is better than her wildest fantasies. 

“Doing so good for me baby,” Paige praises, fingers starting to move faster, “taking my fingers so fucking well Az, think you can handle one more?”

Azzi whines in response. Paige pushes in a third finger, both of them letting out identical sighs of pleasure. She’s slow for a second, giving Azzi time to adjust but-

“Fuck, Paige, faster, please,” the younger girls moans, grinding fervently, desperately,  against Paige’s fingers, trying to create more fiction. 

“Anything for you Az,” Paige whispers, and even in the high of the moment, Azzi knows those words are about more than sex, “whatever you want.”

As Paige’s fingers begin to move at a rapid pace, curling around her g-spot, over and over and over, Azzi can feel that familiar pressure building in her stomach. Her fingers claw at Paige’s neck in warning, too worked up for words. Paige nudge’s Azzi’s face out of her neck, free hand cupping the younger girl's jaw. 

“Come apart for me baby,” she whispers before pressing their lips together. 

Azzi’s hips stutter as her orgasm rolls all over her, pussy clenching around Paige’s fingers, as she moans into the older girl's mouth. Spent, her body goes limp, her best friend’s  firm grip pressing her against the edge of the sink, the only thing anchoring her and keeping her uprights. Paige slowly pulls her fingers out of Azzi’s pants and the loss of contact feels wrong. It’s instinct really, as Azzi reaches for Paige’s hand and brings it up to her mouth, sucking each of the older girl’s fingers clean one by one, and it’s worth it for the way Paige looks wrecked. 

“Az-” she begins softly, eyes filled with questions but before Azzi can even think about any answers- 

“Azzi,” reality crashes and burns around the two girls as Zoe’s voice calls out for her girlfriend. The sound of footsteps gets closer and closer. Panic takes the place of pleasure as Paige and Azzi jump apart from each other and the realisation of their surroundings hits both of them at the same time. Sweat sheens against Paige’s collarbone and Azzi’s lips are bruised, her eyes still glazy. Their identical dishevelled demeanour gives away far too much. Just as the restroom door creaks open a little, Azzi dives into one of the stalls. 

“Oh, hey Paige,” guilt pools in Azzi’s stomach at the sound of Zoe’s innocent voice, as she presses her ear against the stall door,  “is Azzi in here? She’s been gone for like 20 minutes.”

“She- she was,” Paige stutters, and Azzi hates herself even more for putting her best friend in this position, “I-uh I think she um- she wanted some fresh air.”

“Ah okay, I’ll go try and find her,” Zoe pauses, “are you okay? You look a little flustered.”

“Me? Oh yeah, I’m fine,” Paige assures in a high-pitched voice, “just uh miss my girlfriend you know.”

Azzi flinches at the lie. She’d made such a fucking mess today. The lying, the cheating, all of it was so out of character and all of a sudden, she feels dirty. Tears brim in her eyes as she begins to process the gravity of what she’d done. And perhaps the worst part of it, is that she can’t find it in herself to fully regret it. If she could turn back time, she doesn’t know if she’d do anything different. Because when it comes to Paige, Azzi’s fine living in shades of grey. 

“Yeah, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” Zoe says slowly. 

There’s a pause and Azzi knows the words neither did I are floating in Paige's mind before she answers, “yeah, it’s uh- it’s new.”

“That’s good. I’m happy for you,” the sincerity in Zoe’s words hit like stones, rupturing whatever built up image of i am a good person Azzi had ever had of herself

“Thank you,” Paige replies quietly. 

“It just-,” Zoe draws in a breath, “Azzi she- she worries about you a lot you know. Even before- you know- when you guys weren’t- you know? Like I think she thinks about you a lot,” there’s an unmistakable wistfulness in Zoe’s voice, “ like- if you’re doing okay and all that. And I don’t- I don’t even know you but I know she wants you to be happy- and- and I want whatever Azzi wants- so- so if you’re happy- that’s good.”

“That’s- that’s really sweet of you,” Paige sounds as guilty as Azzi feels.

There’s quiet for a minute until, “do you think I make her happy? Does she- does she talk about me?”

Zoe’s voice is laced in insecurity and hopefulness and Azzi wishes she’d never brought this girl into her mess in the first place. The sun-kissed Californian had been a classmate who had accidentally stumbled upon Azzi mid-breakdown on a random Thursday. One second she was hesitant, the next she was spilling her woes to a stranger, tired of holding it in. And from then on Zoe had been on a mission to just be there. She’d never hidden her intention, always clear that she wanted more than friendship and Azzi, despite knowing that her heart didn’t really have space for anyone else, had let her loneliness be her guide and given in to the urge to just let someone hold her. But the truth is that while every other second spent with Zoe was filled with mentions of Paige’s name, every moment spent with Paige was never about anything else other than her. 

“She- she does, she seems happy,” Paige can’t bring herself to say the with you. The blonde sounds defeated, as if the admission that Azzi could possibly be happy with someone else has taken everything out of her. 

“Good, it means a lot,” Zoe’s voice is lighter now, like there’s a smile hidden in it, “especially from you. Thank you. I’ll uh- I’ll go see if I can find her.”

Azzi waits for the sound of footsteps shuffling and then the sound of the door clicking behind Zoe, before prying herself out of the stall. Paige is hunched over the sink, face buried in her hands. And the words my fault, my fault, my fault imprint themselves all over Azzi’s heart. 

“Your girlfriend’s looking for you,” Paige says, not bothering to look up. 

“Paige I-”

“Just go Azzi, we’ll just” Paige scoffs, “we’ll just play pretend again,” the walls are up again and Paige is unreachable in her castle built from the ashes of the purity in their friendship that they’d just sacrified for a fucking quickie in a barely-lit restroom. And maybe Azzi should say something, maybe she should stay and see if she can fight her way into Paige’s castle. But Azzi’s no knight in shining armour, not Paige’s, not Zoe’s, not anybody else’s because knights don’t cheat and they don’t lie and they don’t break people’s hearts. So she listens to what her best friend says, she walks out, and she pretends she doesn’t hear the sob that’s let out behind her. 

***

November 2023

UCLA is up on UConn, it should be a pretty momentous occasion and it is. Azzi’s had one of the best games of her career to get her team mere seconds away from getting their first win over the powerhouse. For UConn, so has Paige, except there’s nothing but frustration gleaming in the blonde’s face. The game had been bad for UConn, the cracks created by injuries on full display. And the competitor in Azzi was more than happy to take advantage of that. But the part of her that was Paige’s best friend was stuck on how tired Paige looked. Someone fucking help her, Azzi had thought throughout the game, she literally just came back from injury. 

The outcome of the game is clear and Azzi’s already on the bench getting rest, cheering for her own team of course, but keeping a subtle eye on what’s happening with Paige. Azzi’s eyes follow Paige as she’s finally subbed out. The older girl walks to the end of her own bench, hands coming to rest on her thighs as she hangs her head, face scrunched up in irritation. Paige does that thing where it's like she’s trying to bite of all the skin on her lips and Azzi has the familiar urge to march over and make her stop, preferably by kissing her, not that that’s a thought she’s allowed to have. 

It’s ironic really, the 2,943 miles that had once been the reason they’d fallen apart, is the only thing holding them together. Being out of each other’s reach makes it easier to ignore what had happened over the summer, makes it easier to not give into that same vice all over again. And it makes sense, Azzi thinks, because since she’s met her, whenever Paige had just been a blurry goofy face on her screen, they’d been good at the just friends thing. The moment they could touch though, that’s when lines got blurry. As much as Azzi’s not sure how she survived a year without Paige, she’s even less sure about how she’d survived that one year where they’d practically lived in each other’s skins. 

Things in the handshake line are somewhat icy with both teams being overprotective of their star players. Muhl’s eyes are full of disdain once she reaches Azzi and Arnold barely shakes her hand, only doing as much as she has to, to keep up appearance. Azzi’s teammates aren’t any better, Angelica smiles at everyone until she reaches Paige, and Kiki rolls her eyes at the point guard. But it doesn’t matter what anybody else does, not when Paige practically falls into Azzi’s arms, her tense body finally beginning to relax a little. 

“You did good,” Azzi whispers into the blonde’s hair, tightening her hold on the other girl as she soothingly strokes her back.

Paige scoffs, burying her face further into Azzi’s neck, “you did good, I did what I had to.”

They break apart reluctantly, the shutter of cameras ruining the intimacy of the moment. Their hands hold on a touch longer but the minute they finally slip away from each other, the familiar feeling of i’m tired of missing you that seems to always be lingering within Azzi, prickles against her heart. 

*** 

UConn and UCLA don’t have a rivalry but if you were sat at the hotel restaurant in the Cayman Islands on a lovely November evening, you wouldn’t know that. There’s multiple women’s basketball teams present at the restaurant and everyone’s mingling with each other but the Bruins and Huskies seem determined to avoid each other at all costs. At one point, Angelica and Muhl, of course it would be them, accidentally bump into each other and Azzi holds her breath at the icy glare shared between them. She’s not sure how she and Paige ended up with something akin to the women’s basketball version of the Montagues and the Capulets, but it seems fitting with the way her life’s been going, that it would eventually start to take the shape of a tragedy.

It’s around 10pm when Azzi notices Paige moving in the direction of the door, towards the beach. Azzi hesitates for a moment, knowing her need to go after the blonde isn't just one born out of a best friend’s concern, but it’s Paige. It doesn’t matter if there’s inevitable destruction on the other side, it’s Paige and when it’s Paige, Azzi will follow. 

Paige’s silhouette on the beach, glowing underneath the moonlight, with waves crashing onto the shore beyond her, is straight out of a dream. Azzi’s not an artist by any means, but she thinks if she were, this moment would be her muse. The sea wind causes Paige’s hair to flutter with it. Her eyes are closed in concentration, knees pressed against her heaving chest as she takes in deep breaths of salty air. Azzi traipses across the sand, sandals in hand, before falling to the ground next to the other girl. A whisper of a smile is the only acknowledgement Paige offers her as they let a comfortable silence glide over them. 

“It would be nice to live here,” Paige says after a moment, “it’s peaceful.”

“Except when it storms,” Azzi surmises. 

“It’s not peaceful anywhere when it storms,” Paige counters matter-of-factly, “can you just let me have my moment?

“Right, right, continue.”

“Well now I don’t want to.”

Azzi laughs. Paige grins. It’s so easy. It’s so fucking scary. 

“Why’d you leave the restaurant?” Azzi asks cautiously. 

“Fresh air.”

“And?”

Paige sighs, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, “it’s gonna be a long season.”

“It always feels like that at the beginning.”

“I know- it’s just- after last year- I just thought it would be different. We’d show the world this time. Be like the other UConn teams of the past. Maybe I just wanted something easier.”

“No you didn’t,” Azzi nudges Paige’s shoulder, “you’ve never wanted easy in your goddamn life Paige. If it’s not a challenge, then it’s not for you. Because you’re God’s strongest soldier, and He’ll give you  his hardest battles, right?”

“Right, but sometimes I just don’t feel so strong.”

“Remember what I said in LA? It’s okay to feel that way P. It’s okay to feel however you feel. Let yourself breathe sometimes, it’s good for you. Fall down, let things go, just- remember to get back up and hold on again. It’ll get better, I promise.”

“You always say the right things,” Paige says quietly, and then even quieter, she whispers under her breath, “you make it so hard Az.”

Azzi’s not fully sure what that means. She’s not sure she wants to. Instead she tangles her and Paige’s fingers together, ignoring the way it feels a little too right,  and lets them fall back into a peaceful quiet.

“So,” Paige begins again, after a couple of minutes, “Zoe didn’t make the trip here?”

I’m holding your hand and you’re thinking about my girlfriend. Maybe you’re a better person than me. 

“She can’t just leave all her schoolwork and follow me wherever,” Azzi says, trying to keep the defensiveness out of her voice. It’s true except the part where Zoe had asked if she wanted her there and Azzi hadn’t been able to give her the enthusiastic yes she wanted, starting an unspoken argument that quashed any chance of a nice romantic island getaway for the two of them. 

“She did for the Elite 8 last-” Paige bites her tongue. 

“How did you-,” Azzi’s brain feels dizzy with confusion, “how could you know that? You left- after the Sweet 16, you- how did you know Zoe was there?”

“I didn’t leave,” Paige keeps her eyes adamantly on the ocean, “the team wanted to stay longer,” that’s a lie, Azzi knows her too well, “and so I stayed and you know me, I love watching hoops so I uh- I watched your game.”

“You were there,” Azzi whispers more to herself than Paige at this point. She’d been so sure she was just hallucinating, her heart trying to trick itself into seeing what it wanted to see, “why didn’t you tell me you were there? Why didn’t you come see me after the game?”

“I did- fuck Azzi- I did-”

“Where? I would’ve seen- I didn’t see-” 

“I saw you,” Paige cuts through Azzi’s frantic questioning, her voice heavy with unspoken emotions as she continues to refuse to look at the younger girl, “you and Zoe. Together.”

“Paige-”

“After the game, you were looking for someone in the stands and I- I thought maybe you were looking for your parents but then I saw you- with her- outside the locker room and- it hit me that- that you were looking for her,” Paige spits the last word out as it feels like lava on her tongue. 

In the grand scheme of things, maybe Azzi should let Paige keep this misconception, maybe it would make things simpler if she let Paige believe in the idea that there was someone else Azzi sought out when she was struggling. But- 

“I thought I saw you,” Azzi breathes out, “I should have been looking for Zoe but-” she has to draw in a breath when Paige whips around, piercing blue eyes that feel like they can see straight into Azzi’s soul, “Paige, I was looking for you-”

The last bit of sound is stolen away from Azzi as Paige’s lips crash onto hers. And it’s so different from summer and that wretched bathroom. Something softer, more gentle, but still desperate and passionate. Time slows down, as Azzi pulls Paige into her lap, hands caressing her waist, mouths still moving against each other with perfect rhythm. They only pull away when air becomes a necessity, resting their forehead against each other, as they breathe in sync. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Azzi whispers, moving a strand of hair out the blonde’s face. 

The way Paige blushes is everything, “stop.”

“You are,” Azzi insists, pressing a kiss against the corner against the edge of her lips, “you’re perfect P.”

If she goes blind tomorrow, in the next second even, Azzi thinks that would be okay. As long as this, Paige with her soft Azzi smile, looking at her with that sparkle in her eyes, face illuminated by the shine of the stars, is the last thing Azzi sees. 

Slowly Paige climbs off of her, stretching out a hand to pull Azzi up. 

“You don’t have a roommate right?,” she asks with a soft smirk that transforms into a shy grin when Azzi nods. And this isn’t a version of Paige that Azzi's ever met before, so different from her cocky loud best friend, but she’d like to learn her all the same. 

The hotel staff probably think they’re a little drunk as they giggle their way to Azzi’s hotel room. Azzi barely manages to get the door open, before Paige’s lips are all over her again, drifting everywhere from her lips to her neck to her collarbone. 

“Off, off, off,” Paige urges, hands pulling away Azzi’s shirt and she can’t help but giggle at the older girl’s impatience. She keeps her eyes firmly on Paige as she unhooks her bra, smirking as her best friend’s eyes glaze over. Paige moves to touch her, and Azzi moves back immediately. 

“Nuh huh. I show you mine, you show me yours.”

“You’re so fucking annoying,” Paige groans but does as she’s told, discarding her shirt and Azzi’s smirk widens. She moves towards Paige, slowly tracing her tongue down the older girl’s neck. 

“Am I?” Azzi whispers, as she backs her best friend onto the bed. Paige’s eyes follow her every movement as Azzi slowly slides down Paige’s pants, and then her underwear. She runs a finger down Paige’s soaked folds, causing the other girl’s body to shiver, “so wet already, for someone so annoying?”

“Fuck y-” Paige cuts herself off with a groan, when Azzi’s fingers find her sensitive clit.

Settling herself in between the older girl's legs, Azzi grazes her teeth against Paige’s left thigh, satisfied when it makes the other girl’s breath hitch,  “if I’m so annoying maybe I should go?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Paige warns breathlessly, head propped up against Azzi’s pillows. 

“That’s what I thought,” Azzi smirks, as she peppers kisses up Paige’s thighs, her right thumb lazily flickering against Paige’s clit. 

“You’re such a fucking tease,” Paige lets out a frustrated whine, “just fuck me already.”

Azzi bites down hard against Paige’s thigh, wanting to leave a mark in the one place no one would ever see it, before looking up at Paige, “whatever you want.”

Paige’s entire body writhes as Azzi fucks her tongue into Paige’s pussy, building pace with every thrust. One hand fists around the sheets, as the other moves to grab at Azzi’s head, trying to guide her in deeper. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck shit Azzi please,” Paige curses, eyes rolling into her skull, “just like that fuck.”

She’s so close, words becoming incoherent noises, thighs beginning to shake, when Azzi pulls her tongue off.

“What the fuck-” Paige almost yells but it turns into a groan when Azzi replaces her tongue with two fingers instead, “shit- FUCK.”

Azzi attaches her now-free lips to Paige’s clit and she can tell it’s too much. Paige’s back arches off the bed as her eyes go hazy. And then Azzi’s above her, fingers still rapidly pumping into Paige, as she places a delicate kiss against her lips. 

“Let go baby, I’ve got you,” Azzi whispers into Paige’s ear as the blonde closes her eyes, letting her orgasm wash all over her, “I’ve got you.”

Paige is still for a second, as Azzi slips her fingers out, continuing to press lazy open-mouthed kisses against her best friend’s neck. She squeals when she feels herself being flipped over, back hitting the mattress. 

“What was it you said?” Paige asks cheekily, as starts to unbutton Azzi’s jeans, “I showed you mine, now you have to show me yours.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, a laugh escaping her throat. Trust them to be dorks even in a moment like this. And then Paige attaches her lips to Azzi’s clit and the giggles turn into loud desperate moans. When she slips her fingers in, it’s clear Paige remembers exactly how to push Azzi over the edge. 

“So fucking perfect,” Paige whispers from between her legs, eyes looking up at a blissed-out Azzi with awe, “you’re so fucking perfect.”

“That’s you,” Azzi manages to get out in between bated breaths, before her own orgasm hits her, and Paige’s name waterfalls out of her lips like a prayer. 

There’s no more words after that, only shared looks and soft grins as they make their way into the en-suite bathroom, lazily washing each other between stolen kisses. They fall asleep, wrapped in each other's arms with matching content smiles. 

***

Azzi wakes up alone the next morning. There’s no scribbled note, or even a text. In fact there’s really no proof that Paige was ever there to begin with, except for the ghost of Paige’s touch written all over Azzi’s skin. For a second, Azzi sits in bed and stares out her window. There's a thunderstorm brewing outside (it's not peaceful anywhere when it storms). She watches the raindrops slide down one by one and decides that, that’s the only water that’ll fall today because she won’t shed a single tear and she won’t cry and she most definitely won’t sob. 

She replies to Zoe’s i miss you text with a me too she doesn’t mean.

And then she gets up and goes on with her day. 

[swamp-adder]

Like many fans I've always had issues with Holmes' retirement in canon... not just the separation from Watson but the fact that he always loved detective work so much and it's just hard for me to think of a non-depressing reason why he decided to retire so early in life, move away from everything he loves and focus all his time on some random new hobby that we've never heard about before. I mean even though he's a solitary guy I just have a hard time believing Holmes would actually want to move out to the middle of nowhere where he can't easily go and see concerts whenever he wants.

I know some fic writers try to make sense of it by positing that he had a transformative experience during the Hiatus where he learned how to relax and find true happiness and emotional fulfillment by living a peaceful life appreciating nature instead of doing morbid stuff like obsessing over murders and risking his life all the time, but I dunno... it's not exactly that I find this unbelievable and more that the idea of Sherlock Holmes as a zen nature lover who couldn't be truly happy until he quit being a detective just doesn't appeal to me very much lol.

So how about this alternative theory:

Holmes is sick of being famous and having people hassle him all the time for interviews/autographs/etc (THAT part I can definitely believe). Around 1903 he gets fed up and decides to leave Baker St and secretly move to another location in London, possibly even under the thin façade of an assumed name to keep the neighbors from asking too many questions. (Maybe Mrs. Hudson also retired from landladying around this time and that was part of the impetus for him to leave.) For a while he'll go back to being primarily a "consulting" detective, taking cases from a few Scotland Yard inspectors or government officials who can be trusted with his new address. He had previously banned Watson from publishing any more stories about him, precisely to avoid growing his fame even further; but now he says, "You can publish more stories, but only on the condition that you tell them I'm retired and not living in London anymore." Then Watson is like "How should I say you're spending your retirement?" and Holmes is like "IDK, keeping bees?" as like a random joke. Either that or Watson made up all the "peaceful life of a country beekeeper" stuff to twit Holmes because it's the complete opposite of what he actually enjoys.

Of course eventually people will start piecing together the truth, so Watson writes "The Lion's Mane" to further push the story (and/or as another joke, making it deliberately ridiculous to see if people will still buy it).

Eventually, sometime after the war, Holmes does retire for real; but he stays in London (maybe at still a third address, to shake off the people who managed to track him down last time). He spends his days doing chemical work and writing his book on detection and going out to concerts every night. Watson may or may not live with him, but in any case he's also still in London and they see each other all the time. The end.

[acapelladitty]

Hey Ditty, I have been having thoughts about Query and Echo either taking turns with or simultaneously dicking down the Riddler. If you could write about it I'd be so happy

Also you're an amazing writer and ily

Flattery will get you EVERYWHERE on this blog 👀💦😈

rock and a hard place

Summary: Query and Echo take some time to show Edward just how good their joint partnership can be.

(warnings for: dom/sub dynamics, mff threesome, strap ons, oral sex (f receiving), teasing, drug mention, anal fingering, anal sex (m receiving), praise kink)

Fic Masterlist ☆ Link To AO3

Their veins all thrumming with a delightful mixture of scotch and coke, Query and Echo stared down at their boss as he knelt at their feet with his face pointed towards submissively the ground.

"I don't know, Echo. Do you think he deserves our attention?" Query asked, her blonde hair pushed behind her ears as she balanced her head on Echo's shoulder.

"Oh, I'm sure Edward knows how to be a good boy for us. He always does."

Pulling her foot from the floor, Echo used it to push Edward's chin up and force him to look at the pair of them as his naked frame shivered at the light touch.

"Will you be good for us?" She asked and recieved an immediate nod, pained arousal having robbed Edward of his words as he played the familiar game. "Then go be a good little genius and bring us over our toys." She paused. "Both of them."

Scrambling to his feet, Edward moved with enthusiasm as he shamelessly delved into the lowest drawer of their dresser and pulled free the matching straps - both hosting a matching green dildo which jutted proudly from the material and sat at about six inches long. In an instant, he was back, presenting both straps to the women as they took them with a smile.

"Good boy." Query offered, dropping her strap to the bed as she helped Echo tighten the straps which held her own to her lithe frame. "Maybe if you do as we say, we'll both use them on you at the same time."

Edward dropped his head at the demand, his slack lips wrapping around the smooth end of the dildo as he accepted it into his mouth like a prayer. His tongue set to work rapidly, rolling across the hard plastic as he worked it as he would a real cock.

Spreading her thighs as she sat on the edge of the bed, Echo beckoned Edward forward with a firm finger and grinned at how quickly he moved to kneel before her. She wrapped her hand in his firey hair, messing up his coiffed hairstyle as she gently petted at him like a dog. "Now, suck."

"Nice and wet, Eddie, cause I'm going to fuck you with it while Query decides what she wants to do with the rest of you."

Thrusting into his mouth slightly, Echo sighed as Edward choked on the unexpected inches - his mouth pulling free as he shot her an irritated look which made her smirk.

"If you get to fuck him," Query interrupted, "then I want to put that smart fucking mouth of his to good use."

Tapping Echo on the shoulder, she inclined her to move but not before stealing a filthy kiss as Echo stood to her full height.

"Thanks, baby."

Taking Echo's position as Edward remained on all fours between her thighs, Query tapped his cheek with her pointer finger as she spoke.

"Boss or not, you're going to eat me like I was your last meal in this shithole of a city. If you're good enough then maybe I'll even ask Echo to let you come. But if you're being a little bitch about it and moaning about things like needing to breathe then I'll tell her to be mean."

"Understood." Edward huffed, his smug voice breathy with need, but his expression was quick to twist into an open wince as Echo thrust two of her lube-coated fingers into his unprepared ass.

"Manners, boss." Echo demanded, twisting her fingers within his hole as she brought her free hand down on his ass in a solid strike. "Try again."

"Understood, Mistress."

The title was given with a smile, Edward's incorrigible brattiness always quick to make itself know, and Query met him with a smile of her own as her hand wound its way into his red hair.

"Now, eat."

Pulling him forward the few inches that separated him from her cunt, Query sighed as he immediately set to work on pleasing her. Already damp from their set-up, Edward was quick to lap at the arousal which coated her hole as she shuddered at his enthusiasm. His fine nose ground itself against her clit as he delved between her folds, tongue and lips making easy work of her cunt.

Shuddering, Query petted his head. "Good boy, Eddie. Echo, give him some more for trying his best." She purred.

Inserting a third finger into Edward's flexing ass got the desired result as he audibly moaned at the added stretch. His pale back arching as he pushed back greedily into Echo's fingers, Edward's cock bobbed heavily against his stomach with every slight thrust.

"Now," gripping Edward's hair as she widened her legs even further, Query pushed her blonde hair over her shoulder with her other hand, "you're going to keep eating me out like a champ and Echo is going to fuck you until that big brain of yours is mush. Then maybe we'll swap. Or maybe we'll let you fuck one of us. Or maybe we'll both spread you wide and see how much of us you can fit at the same time."

Edward groaned, the sound vibrating delightfully against Query's cunt as Echo pressed the flared head of her strap inside his ass, her fingers having opened him enough to allow for a smooth entry. His back arched high, a follow-up noise somewhere between delight and discomfort slipping free of his slackened lips as she slowly pushed herself forward - allowing him to feel every unyielding inch of the strap until the base pressed flush against his ass.

"Fuck, Echo." Edward hissed out, his mouth glistening in the low light of the room as he licked at his lips. "It's too big."

"No it isn't, you big bitch." Trailing her sharp nails down his back, Echo admired the red lines which immediately welted across his skin. "You've taken bigger with less prep so I want to see you pushing back to take everything I have."

Falling deeper into his role with a muted whimper, Edward could only nod and accept that his girls were going to use him in the way they knew he needed.

[esoteric-joke]

Interview with Brooklyn_Babylon

(#Interview3)

Welcome to the next interview of the Dear Writer Project. This Sunday I’m here with Gina (twopoppies here on Tumblr). Thank you so much for participating and supporting my project. It was a pleasure to interview you.

Gina about her writing process, her inspirations and what she finds most challenging about writing:

What does your writing process look like?

Oh, you're going to call me out right from the get-go, huh? LOL! My writing process is that I am a complete pantser. I hate outlining and I'm not good at it (probably why I hate it). I generally get inspired by something visual and then build a story around that. The difficulty is that often, there's a concept, but there's no real story to tell. Or, I can't quite flesh it out enough to make it worth writing. But when something connects, I go bother India (indiaalphawhiskey on Tumblr) who is my beta/BFF/cheerleader and we'll talk through the story idea.

She's super helpful in terms of pushing me to think it through enough that I can write a very basic outline of what needs to happen to get from A to B. Then, I wing it. LOL!

What does writing mean to you?

From the time I was a kid, I've always been involved in doing something artistic--from fine art, to costume design, to writing, etc. I've just always needed some way to express myself, creatively. It took me a long time to get comfortable writing fiction because there are a few people in my family who are highly respected authors, and I felt I needed something of my own to sink my teeth into. But now that I've started, I realize how much I do love it (even when I hate it), and how much it allows me to dig deep into my own thoughts and emotions and be more self-aware. Beyond that, I think I'm at my most comfortable when I feel I'm helpful/supportive/nurturing. I used to write non-fiction that gave me that outlet. It's interesting that I can see those aspects in my fiction writing, as well.

Do you know before you start writing if an idea is going to become a oneshot or a longer fic?

I can generally tell if there's enough of a story to make it a chaptered fic. Sometimes the chapters just separate naturally.

Like, in An Invincible Summer, the story unfolded so that each chapter was a different month. But I had a basic idea of how I wanted the story to progress over that time period. I think, for the most part, I let the story dictate how it's going to flow.

You don’t write (or publish) as regularly as some other writers in the fandom. Why is that and would you like to write/publish more in the future?

Part of the reason is that I have a really busy life outside of the fandom (and writing). I also don't like to write just to fill up space. And I don't want to publish anything I don't think is the best I'm capable of at that moment.

On top of that, I'm just not one of those people who has a million stories in my head. I'm very visually stimulated and there are long periods of time where I just don't feel inspired. I also second-guess myself a lot and often end up shelving my WIPs. And... even when I'm inspired, I tend to write slowly. I like to take time to make sure I'm really saying what I want to say in the best way I can. I want to grow and challenge myself with each story I publish. I just don't see a point in doing it without that sort of intention.

On which of your stories did you write the longest?

I think An Invincible Summer probably took the longest. But it was also one of the easiest for me to write because the story just wrote itself in some ways. I had a much clearer picture from the start of how things were going to unfold. At the same time, there were moments that just happened as I wrote that ended up shifting the story from what I'd originally planned.

I recently went back and re-wrote that fic, adding another 10K to flesh it out better. I'm so much happier with it (even though I loved it before), but I haven't published the updated version on AO3. Not sure whether I will.

Which of your stories came together the fastest?

The first one (Whoever, However). But it's also only 9K. Harry dropped that Beauty Papers spread and my brain exploded. The story was all there. I think Hike Up Your Skirt was probably the next quickest (again, it's not terribly long), but that one I originally wrote for the Anonymous Unicorns collection so there was a lot of freedom in getting to write anything I wanted without fear of judgment. If I could only harness that, I'd be able to bang them out!

What fic of yours was the hardest to write?

I think Literally Making Love.

It was an unusual premise, in that it's about a robot and a human falling in love, but I really struggled with whether I should make it "more" than a love story. It felt like it deserved to be "more", or that it should have more about how AI changes the world and a conversation about loneliness and the way the world contributes to that. So I kept feeling like I wasn't going down the right path with what I was writing, but India reminded me that there's just as much value in a lighthearted story as there is in "serious" writing. We all know the joy of sinking into a comfort fic, or kicking our feet at something really sweet and happy. So I let Literally Making Love be what it wanted to be and I was ultimately super proud of it. And, in the end, I think I did a good job of dealing with the ethical issues, even though I didn't make that the center of the fic.

What inspires you most while writing?

Visuals to begin with. I tend to get inspired by photos or a piece of art. Sometimes song lyrics. But visuals keep me going so I make moodboards for myself and I find quotes or pictures on Tumblr that feel like they belong to the story. I think all of my fics have a link to an inspiration tag on my blog.

And then talking through things with India.

It's so helpful to have someone who gets what you're shooting for and who has the same sense of what makes for good writing. So I'll brainstorm with her when I'm stuck or give her sections to see if it's reading the way I want it to... It keeps me going.

I don't know how writers do it all by themselves. There are times when I've read something so many times that I can't even tell if it's any good. And I do the same for her... helping her get through her writing challenges or brainstorming her projects also makes me a better writer.

In the notes of Literally Making Love you mentioned a 9 month long writers block. What helped you out of it?

Truly it was just that piece of fan art I linked in the note at the start. I'd never seen that artist's work before and this drawing of Louis building an unfinished Harry ended up on my dash and I said, "Well, I'd read the hell out of that." Sadly, no one else was going to write it for me, so I had to do it myself.

While talking about this, I pointed out that I searched a few tags of this particular trope after I finished reading Literally Making Love and couldn’t find more than a handful of fics, which I was surprised by.

Gina thinks people are put off by the idea even if there are so many ways to handle it that could make for a beautiful story.

What do you find most challenging about writing?

I was about to say finding a title, but then I realized that I only had trouble with that in two of the five I wrote.

Hmm. Honestly, I think the most difficult thing for me to write are arguments/fights.

I tend to be really passive-aggressive when I argue, and that doesn't make for very good reading. So I really have to work at crafting a back-and-forth that feels natural but also packs enough of a punch for the scene to work. In An Invincible Summer, the argument scene was pretty pivotal, and one of my betas at the time made me re-write it three times before she signed off on it.

Is there anything you can tell me about future projects you’re planning?

I'm working on another historical fic at the moment. It's slow burn and longer than anything I've written before. So that's a challenge. It's set in the 1880s between the Belle Epoch debauchery and decadence of Paris, and Victorian London's rigid social structure and moral conservatism. Basically, Harry is a French ballet dancer turned sex worker/courtesan. Louis is a British aristocrat whose father has sent him off to Paris to get "the gay" out of his system before he has to marry. There are some twists and turns, and I'm having a lot of fun trying to keep things sexy and exciting for a modern reader while still being true to the time period.

I still don't have a title, and I'm still working on a brief description to sum it up. But... I'm about 60K in and I'm having fun.

When I told Gina that that sounds like you’d have to but lot of research into it, she said:

So much research! But I actually love that part. I get really into the nitty gritty and look up everything. For example, did you know the ice cream cone wasn't invented until 1896 (although not patented until 1903)? LOL! I had to change a scene I was writing because all of a sudden, I thought, "Did they have ice cream then? How did they keep it cold? How did they eat it?" I honestly hate reading something when little details are wrong. It totally pulls me out of a story.

For the next part of the interview, I asked Gina a few questions about her works in particular.

Gina about her favourite scene she wrote, her experience with writing before writing fanfics and being inspired by her own family’s history:

What work of yours is your personal favourite?

Hm. I think Literally Making Love is my favorite because it's the most unique concept, and I'm really proud of some of the writing in that one.

Hike Up Your Skirt is, I think, my most popular one. But that's not surprising because it's complete filth.

Do you have a favourite scene that you wrote?

There's a scene in Literally Making Love when they're walking the dog through the woods, and they're talking about the concept of being lonely, and Harry realizes he's the only one in the world who can understand anything he's experienced. I just really loved how that scene came together. To me it's very visual, and it's got that kind of poetic, dreamy feeling to it that I love to find in fics (and am forever trying to emulate, but I think that might be the only time I've succeeded so far).

I told Gina that this was a scene that definitely made me think about the concept of being all alone with an experience. Here’s what she said about that:

I like moments in a story that make you stop and think about more than just the story you're reading. I think these days, we can much more easily connect with others who can understand most of our experiences very deeply. Although, I imagine if you were the only highly advanced AI robot in the world, you might have some experiences no one else has had to grapple with.

Is there a work of yours that was planned to go completely different than it came out in the end?

There are definitely moments within the stories that I never planned on, and they changed some aspects of how the story ultimately came together.

For example, in An Invincible Summer, the idea for Harry to hold on to memories by getting a camera popped out of nowhere.

In Literally Making Love, the scene of Louis painting Harry's tattoos over his scars came in a dream and that meant I added the aspect of Harry's body dysmorphia. So, little things for sure.

Whoever, However was your first fic you published. Did you write in any form before that?

I did.

I wrote non-fiction for a bunch of magazines and online outlets. I've also ghostwritten three books.

Beyond that, no. Just lengthy blog posts about two gay boybanders.

What were your inspirations for gathered on wings?

There was a photo of Louis in some sort of haphazardly layered jackets and standing in front of these graffitied walls, and it had this caption, saying that he looked like a PhD candidate at the Sorbonne. That was how the idea started.

I had wanted to write a teacher/student fic without the creepy aspect of grooming and inappropriate conduct, and somehow my comment led to Harry having been his intern and them meeting again years later.

Then, the research on all the modern art and the high-end art world informed the rest of the story.

You didn’t go much into detail how successful Harry’s art got after ‘Comrade’ recommended his art for an exhibition at the Marlborough Gallery. Was that the push Harry’s work needed to get the attention it deserved?

It was.

He'd been relying on sugar daddies to pay his way and to give him the connections to patrons. But Comrade vouching for him opened the doors to him being able to do it independently. It's that feeling of, "If I could just get my foot in the door, I could show them what I can do."

That was his foot in the door.

Gathered on wings was my first attempt at writing a chaptered fic, and there was a huge learning curve. There are parts of it I really like and parts I sometimes want to go back and re-write.

Do you think Louis’ identity in gathered on wings always stayed hidden even after they got engaged (and eventually married)?

I like to imagine that as Harry became more widely known, people became interested in his partner. And Louis would then decide to reveal his identity with a new installation that they collaborated on.

Staying hidden when your partner is famous is probably a hard thing to do.

I think so. Especially if you're in the same field. In a way, it mirrors the idea of the two of them coming out at some point.

You said in the notes for An Invincible Summer that it’s inspired by your grandfather’s life. Was that your only inspiration for the story?

It's what set the scene. Other than that, I knew I wanted to write about writing and seeing yourself in a book or feeling understood by someone you never met but who's somehow written about you and your life. The concept of feeling really "seen" is something that shows up again and again for me.

You didn’t go into any detail about Harry’s relationship with his adoptive parents after he left at the end of An Invincible Summer, even though his mother tried to support him as much as she could when he had to leave. Do you think they held contact after Harry was forced to leave or if he/they even went back as a part of H & L’s adventures?

I think Harry managed to stay in touch with his mother secretly and to eventually reunite with his sisters.

When I rewrote the story, I changed the middle sister to a brother to show another way that Harry was treated differently. So I imagine Big Jim and the little brother digging their heels in and acting like he never existed. But Harry and Louis eventually had a beautiful and extensive found family.

The end of Hike Up your Skirt (And Show Your World To Me) is pretty much open. How do you think their relationship progressed and do you think they have a chance of having a normal (as in no power imbalance or manipulation) relationship?

Mmm. I actually started writing a second part from Harry's POV where you see that Harry is also playing a game to get Louis to fall for him. I see their relationship becoming a 24/7 Dom/Sub life. I think they're both way too kinky and maybe a little too depraved to have a "normal" relationship.

Are any of your original characters inspired by people you know in your day-to-day life?

No, actually. LOL! Very simple answer. They're all just figments of my imagination.

A lot of other writers in the fandom have difficulties or are just a little uncomfortable with writing smut. That doesn’t seem to be the case for you. Why’s that?

HAHAHAHA! No, I think it’s actually the easiest part for me to write. I’m not sure why. I don’t have a lot of hang ups around sex, so maybe that helps. And I love the idea of character development through intimate scenes.

How did you come up with the idea for your fic rec masterpost here on Tumblr and how did all of that start?

I think it just started because someone asked if I could recommend some fics in a particular category (If I remember correctly, it might have been dystopian fics). And I had too much time on my hands, so I decided to make a header and write little blurbs about why I liked each one I was suggesting.

Somehow that turned into a deluge of people asking for different things and, for whatever reason, I had the time at that moment. So I made rec after rec.

At some point it was annoying that people kept asking for the same things, so I just made an alphabetical masterpost.

Is there a specific trope or genre you’d like to read more of?

Oh, that's a good question. It's so much easier to tell you what I don't like.

Honestly, to me, it's really more about the writing than about the trope or genre. But I do really like a good enemies-to-lovers fic, and if you can write a new twist on a fake relationship, I'm all in.

Do you somehow track the fics you’ve read? And if you do, can you give me a rough number of how many you’ve read?

So, I only bookmark fics I've really loved. Obviously some I love more than others, but I currently have 655 fics bookmarked.

I've been reading in this fandom for 11 years. Some I won't have read all the way through, but counting those, I'm sure I've literally read thousands.

I've gone through periods where I've just got a lot more free time at one point or another. And when I entered the fandom in 2013 there were literally so many terrific fics I didn't know where to start.

And every time you turned around there was another. It was very addicting.

Are you reading anything right now? If not, what was the last thing you’ve read?

I have a hard time reading when I'm actively writing, so nothing really recent.

The last fic I read that I really liked was Danger I Can't Hide by CelticSky. It's actually a WWII fic but set on the airbase where H is a pilot and Louis is a mechanic. It's just so well written and so well researched. Highly recommend.

For the next part of the interview, Gina answered some personal questions about her experiences in the fandom.

Since when are you in the fandom and what made you become a fan?

Since November 2013.

I took my daughter (who was 6 at the time) to see This Is Us. Did a little research to make sure this boy band was appropriate for her and then fell in love with them. We ended up seeing the movie three times, then bought it and watched it at home. She was a Niall girl.

She was my concert buddy for a while. One Direction at the Rose Bowl in 2014 was her first concert.

The weirdest comment you got?

Oh, I get some doozies on Tumblr.

I think one of my favorites was from years ago when I used to do a lot of NSFW fan art. I got an anonymous message from someone claiming to be Harry's lawyer and they were demanding I delete all of my fan art of Harry. HAHAHAHA! Like an attorney would send an anon. Or even ask for something like that. I still laugh when I think about that one.

Harry or Louis?

It's very hard to choose because they're both amazing. I'm a Harry girl from way back. But I obviously love and support Louis, too.

Harry just really inspires me in so many ways. And his music is more my speed.

Your favourite Harry era and your favourite Louis era?

Oh, that's hard. I think Harry's recent era (Harry's House) might be my favorite because he seemed so happy and so self-assured and confident in who he is as a person. He looked fantastic too. Other eras are special to me because of what was going on with the fandom at the time, or because I liked the way he dressed or whatever, but in terms of just enjoying him, I'd have to say this last tour.

Louis is a little more difficult for me because I've had a really hard time with his image over this last tour and his doubling down on babygate. I'm very happy he says he's really happy and proud of his album/tour, but if I had to pick my favorite I feel like he looked the healthiest and most at ease during MITAM promo. Oh, he looked great during his Walls promo, too.

Your favourite movie with H?

My Policeman. It was a bit uneven, but he really blew me away in some of his scenes. He understood that character inside and out.

Your favourite writer(s) in the fandom?

I actually have so many that I like, although many aren’t in our fandom anymore.

It might be easier to link you to a Favorite Authors rec I made a while ago.

What are your absolute favourite fics in the fandom?

I’m going to make it easy on myself again and link you to a Favourite Fics rec.

Is there a fic that is not necessarily your favourite but still always kind of stuck in your head ?

There are fics that aren’t necessarily the most groundbreaking or complex, but something about them makes me keep coming back to re-read. Don't kill me, but... My Favorite Re-Reads.

I wanted to give you a favorite out of that list, but as I scrolled I was like, oh wait, that one! No, that one! So... sorry, you get them all.

What makes you want to stop reading something?

Hm. So many things, honestly.

Writing where people try too hard to be poetic, continuous spelling and grammar mistakes, miscommunication as the only tension, no tension at all, characterizations that make no sense to me, fics that go on and on and on with no attempt at editing, kid fics, etc. I really have very few squicks, but bad writing is hard for me to ignore (I know "bad" is subjective, so I hope no one takes offense at that... just because I don't like it doesn't mean others don't love it).

Your favourite song at the moment?

Chappell Roan is stuck in my head lately. So, I'll say Casual (although Pink Pony Club is a bop).

Your favourite season?

Fall. Absolutely. SO fucking sick of summer.

The most unusual thing that inspired you?

LOL! I'd have to say the Vintage "Sleaze" novel that inspired Hike Up Your Skirt. It was called "Horizontal Secretary".

Who would you most like to read an interview from?

Well, I'm obviously going to say India because I think she's a great writer. But she's also so well-spoken and interesting.

I'd love to read an interview with CelticSky because I loved Danger I Can't Hide so much and I don't know them since they're on Twitter!

Lastly I asked Gina to give every work of hers a colour. Here’s the outcome of that:

Whoever, However -- yellow

Whoever, However is yellow, because when I think about it, I picture the warm, yellow shade of the wood paneling of the room they filmed in.

gathered on wings -- blue

I’m not sure why gathered on wings is blue in my head. Maybe it’s just because that’s the main color of the mood board I made.

An Invincible Summer -- green

An Invincible Summer is green because the rural Georgia setting became one of the characters of the fic. When I think about it, I see the sprawling farm, the rampant kudzu, blueberry fields, lunch under the oak trees… it just feels green to me.

Literally Making Love -- red

Literally Making Love is red because so much of the story is about what it means to be human and even though Harry’s heart isn’t “real” at some point he says to Louis, “Sometimes I feel like you made my heart too small because it doesn’t hold everything I feel for you. I feel it overflowing everywhere.” Or, maybe it’s because it has “Love” in the title. LOL!

Hike Up Your Skirt (And Show Your World To Me) -- purple

I don’t know. The first thought that came to me was purple because I pictured Harry’s character with love bite bruises.

A huge thank you to Gina again. Thank you for being so open and honest while answering my questions. I had the best time talking to you and was so invested in every work of yours.

[oonajaeadira]

For the Love of Fic Joel Miller

It's been a time in my world. Busyness and writer's block has been troubling. I think a lot of it stems from just feeling behind in general, so I thought I might launch into a catch-up campaign for myself ... in reading fic.

And I had a lot of this fella to catch up on.

So hold onto your butts, my friends, because herein lies the fics I loved in my several weeks of just. reading. Joel. <3

Spinner by @insomniamamma Joel has such a caretaker streak in him that being observant and taking to a neuro-divergent reader rings so true. I love a huddling-for-warmth tale--I do so enjoy a good cuddle with a gruff broad man.

The Reason for the Season by @prolix-yuy Now here's a fun idiots-to-lovers take where one of the yearners is our Joel. When Ellie has questions about old traditions, he takes her to the other idiot--a school teacher with a warm smile and some yearns of her own. Aka you. I very much enjoyed this tale of finding the many varied and true meanings for the Holiday in all its forms.

Please Mister Please by @grogusmum Hazel imagines Joel as a kindred lovely soul, one that has a song of his own that brings sorrow, just like yours does you. But is seems he has a better song in mind....

Carpe Diem by @boliv-jenta I love that fic writers want nothing ore in the world than to tell Joel he's going to get taken care of and doesn't have a choice in the matter. I'm so glad this one afforded him the chance to actually speak and grab the moment...even with a little help from a friendly weed...

Year of Small Joys: A Quiet Night In by @keldabe-kriff I'm in love with this little slice of post-apocalypse life. It gives me hope that even if the world falls apart, there will still be the chance to find the quiet somewhere, and with someone...

Simple Pleasures by @julesonrecord Listen. i don't care if the info trail goes cold or not. If it means getting off with Joel--even this cranky, somber version of him--I already consider my self lucky.

Able by @ladamedusoif I have no doubt that a cane would come in handy during an apocalypse, and for many reasons. It's fun to watch Joel realize it too, and to walk the reader through one of the things he knows--a full-blown panic attack. Disabled reader represent!

Snooze by @tightjeansjavi Short. Sweet. Quiet. A soft drabble of everything I want--now that Joel is safe and sinking into a domestic life, he loves him some naps. And with naps comes warmth and lazy days, and a big ol' bear of a man to cuddle with.

Mine by @secretelephanttattoo I really really love this beautifully written meditation on Joel and Tess' relationship; how they share intimacy and how they won't. It's heartbreaking and beautiful and so very real.

When His Eyes Open by @undercoverpena A beautiful train of thought from Joel as he opens his eyes to find you awake next to him, thankful for what you represent in his life. It's so soft and wonderful. It's a drabble, but I could read a whole multi-chapter fic of this.

.

BY @something-tofightfor

Birthday Kiss #7: Joel Miller If I was stuck at the end of the world, I'd be thankful to have a Joel Miller to find me in the early hours, knowing exactly where I'd be and exactly what day it was, just to sing me a Happy Birthday.

Smutsgiving Feast 2023: Turkey - Joel Miller It's Thanksgiving in Jackson and Joel's been helping you get settled in after a traumatic past. Everything you need is here--family, an invitation, Joel carving a perfect turkey with his sleeves all rolled up...and perhaps there's more going on upstairs later....

Snow and Mistletoe (series) Rachael loves Christmas and I always look forward to her holiday fics since the coziness always comes through so strong in them. This series is no exception by far. A no-outbreak fic where you own a music store and Ellie's your niece and Sarah's her best friend and the two girls pull a parent trap on you and Joel in the very best way. It all unfolds against a backdrop of different holiday gatherings--social, work, family--and all of them sweet and beautiful and enticing in their own way. The season may be over, but this zinged me back in time a couple of months and I'm not mad about it. In fact, I'm thankful for it.

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BY @missredherring

Wrong Until You Make it Right A yearning Joel is always good in my book, but the earnest way he years after his plus-sized coworker here is so very juicy and sweet. I love to see him watch a lady do what she does best.

J.M. + "Tell me what you like" I think if I was stuck at the end of the world and asked Joel Miller to read to me because I had no glasses and he said yes, I might die of happiness on the spot.

Warming Up Joel deserves a good teasing, which is a little of what he gets for sleeping in while you go outside to shovel and then return to his furry, heated body to warm up. and, of course, maybe get a little recreational. After all, nothing warms up cold hands like all the bits and pieces of a Joel Miller.

A Flower in February I really love this story. Rachel does a good job of placing you firmly in the QZ with all of its bleakness, giving you one spot of color--a crocus in the snow. After a spot of bad luck with some bad people, Joel's there to set things right--well, as right as it can be. And I'll take it, because in the world of TLOU, it's everything.

.

BY @ezrasbirdie

Observations This is so so sweet. Neuro-D reader is so observant about not being accepted or invited to be part of groups, it breaks my heart. But Joel sees her. Worries about her. Likes her. And he's getting better at pasta.

Sticky This one left me a mess. Maybe not as messy as the toy reader gives him to play with while she's gone or while she's on the phone, but I may have had to wipe the drool off my chin...

Crystal Now this one was made for me. Here we have a witchy reader and Joel has a lot of thoughts about her. Surprise though, because none of them are negative. They're curious and wondrous and endearing. He's bewildered by the hanging herbs and the rocks and oils, but they make her happy and that's all he asks. Sweet man.

Sparks Fly Two words: eating ass. That's what falls out of reader's mouth under the influence and perhaps that's a good slip because there's gonna be plenty going in her mouth--and Joel's--later on. And it's gonna be hot like fire.

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BY @blueeyesatnight

There's a Word for It As Blue says in her notes, this is where she lives. As in, it's what she does best. This here is a no nonsense meditation on Joel and Tess and how they met and how they functioned. There may or may not have been a word for what they had...it was many words. And they're all here in order, comprising this fic.

Trimmed This fic hit something deep in me, the way it uses memory is really lovely and really feels steeped in canon. The little things we share with someone, not worth mentioning to anyone else, hard to put into words how meaningful it is to you personally or maybe you don't know until they're gone...or until a familiarity with someone else triggers it...

Trouble This is a masterclass in examining Ellie and Joel after they return to Jackson. It weaves in and out of their shared POVs, examining their feelings about who they've become, how they justify Joel's actions and words, who they are to each other, how far they can trust one another, and maybe how tainted that love is. But it's still love all the same. It's amazing and packs a really good punch.

Honest Mistake A short and sweet trope reversal where Joel makes an honest mistake and instead of retrieving Tommy from a situation, kidnaps a boss instead. I love the way the brothers' relationship comes out in the dialogue.

Trying This fic broke my heart a couple of times. Blue imagines the Joel of beforetimes and then bridges the gap to Tess. The man just keeps at it, over and over....because its' what he knows. It makes his arrangement with Tess and actual heaven and I thank her for it.

I Like My Girls A Little Bit Older - (Over the Hill pair) And I like that Joel likes it. He certainly has a type and the reader in this fic has a real sassy, no-nonsense attitude that can meet Joel's in a pretty good dance. And that last sentence may be a spoiler for this story...maybe...

I Know Just What You're Saying - (Over the Hill pair) I love that when Joel is having trouble understanding a teenage girl, he has the foresight to go talk to someone what WAS one once. And that he cares enough to ask for the biiggest favor...and that the reader has no choice but to give it to him.

I Thought I Could Be Someone - (Over the Hill pair) There are so many forms of grief and some of them come out of nowhere from sources you never even knew. Blue does beautiful job in finding that moment here, all wrapped up in an unexpected softness from Joel. This is my favorite of the series yet.

Just Like Heaven - (Over the Hill pair) This brought me back to being a teenager, that "does he like me or want to keep me at arm's length" feeling, that "should I kiss him or is he gonna kiss me" feeling. Of course I get the ending I'm hoping for though! Blue is not gonna leave us hanging when it comes to Joel Miller.

That Summer Seemed to Last Forever - (Over the Hill pair) I still don't forgive Blue for this one. How dare she make me love so bittersweet? That's not to say it isn't beautiful and artfully done. Grab yer hankies, all.

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BY @morallyinept

O' Christmas Tree by @morallyinept This is a precious, delicate story, one in which Joel loves so deeply and hurts so much that the thought of losing you--a real possibility since you've been very ill. But he'd do pretty much anything to see you smile, even if it means facing down a day int he cold to bringyou something to warm your heart.

Northern Lights Imagine camping with Joel. Sharing a sleeping bag. Under the aurora. Hand stuff in the wild has never been so sweet and hot.

Saviour Harsh and heartbreaking and real, this Joel is almost beyond help and I love the way Jett so beautifully details the many little deaths of a survivor. Angst to spare here, but true to character all the way.

Adoration Imagine you are married to no-outbreak, breast-man Joel. Happy. Loved. With a lump. I'm so awed by this fic, that Jett takes a very common nightmare and examines it, never sugar-coating, never denying the difficulties. It's a hard process and maybe I cried. But then there's Joel and his beautiful, steady consistency. I've never been more in love.

Home I can't imagine the love of my life just disappearing one day...but Jett can. Don't worry though, there's a happy ending waiting for you.

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BY @maggiemayhemnj

Happy Tuesday There's no need for Valentine's Day if there's a Happy Tuesday. I love this take on a couple who know how sappy they are for each other but make a joke of subverting the sap. A no-outbreak Joel who's still 20 years on, 20 years in love, and 20 years loving it. Which is exactly how long I'll be loving these two.

A mini Happy Tuesday interlude (Spring prompt: Bees) - (Happy Tuesday pair) Maggie's damn good with a drabble, but even better with a good ending line. I smile every time.

He Sees You - (Happy Tuesday pair) If this is what goes through Joel's head as he watches you assess yourself in the mirror, then that man is in L O V E love.

Breakfast Is Served - (Happy Tuesday pair) I would do anything to be able to cook well, if only to be able to make biscuits for Joel Miller so we can sit at the table with messy bed head and use breakfast as Sunday foreplay.

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[sailoryooons]

Hali's Fic Superlatives

Welcome to my fic superlatives, where I hand out absolutely unasked-for awards to some of my favorite characters and stories from fics that I read this year. I was going to wait until the end of the year to do these, as I still have plenty of time to read, but honestly, if I don't do them now I'm going to forget that I planned to do them at all!

Please do not take these too seriously - I did not read a ton this year but I always tried to review what I did read! My goal next year is to try and read even more and give myself time to find new writers instead of just reading what I happen to see on my dash.

This list by no means was limited to what was written this year - some of these fics were written previously but I either read them this year or re-read them for joy and I felt like they went well on this list!

CONGRATS TO THE WINNERS OF THESE UNASKED-FOR AWARDS! YOU GET MY LOVE AND ADORATION SORRY THATS IT!

☾ Angsiest Fic: Aphelion by @eoieopda ☾ Funniest Fic: The Package Thief by @blog-name-idk ☾ Fave Supernatural Fic: Bump in the Night by @colormepurplex2 ☾ Fave Fantasy Fic: The Mark of Yun-Ki  by @ladyartemesia ☾ Fave Crack Fic: Cosmic Collision by @gimmethatagustd ☾ Fave Romance Fic: Amalthea by @daechwitatamic ☾ Fave World Building: Until Death by @kpopfanfictrash ☾ Fave Holiday/Special Occasion: I Wanna Hold Your Hand by @minisugakoobies ☾ Fave Horror or Thriller: Simply Meant to Be by @caelesjjk ☾ Fave Comfort Fic: Real Magic by @here2bbtstrash ☾ Fave Soulmates Fic: 5 Times You Don’t Believe In Soulmates by Min Yoongi Does by @vyduan ☾ Fave Polyamorous: Flowers of Fate by @/colormepurplex2  ☾ Fave A/B/O: One Day At A Time by @theharrowing ☾ Fave Mafia: Collateral by @/theharrowing  ☾ Fave Namjoon Fic: Love At First Bite by @raplinesmoon ☾ Fave Seokjin Fic: Amalthea by @/daechwitatamic  ☾ Fave Yoongi Fic: Three Tangerines by @kithtaehyung ☾ Face Hoseok Fic: Please by @anotherbtswriter ☾ Fave Jimin Fic: Don’t Go Insane by @/gimmethatagustd ☾ Fave Taehyung Fic: Of Ruin by @/daechwitatamic  ☾ Fave Jungkook Fic: Crybaby by @/here2bbtstrash  ☾ Couple Most Likely To Get Married: Darksided couple as written by @/eoiepda ☾ Best Dressed Character: Keena from Blackthorn by @sweetestofchaos ☾ Best Threesome: She, by Proxy by @ugh-yoongi ☾ Most Likely to Succeed: Yoongi from Best Served Cold by @/anotherbtswriter - trust me this man has GOALS lmao ☾ Best Best Friends: Yoongi and Jin from Ugh, Fuck by @/kithtaehyung sodgjdofgi does this count as friendship soifjsofij ☾ Most Likely to Survive the Zombie Apocalypse: Taehyung from Collateral by @/theharrowing  ☾ Most Likely to Kill Each Other: Repeat Offense couple as written by @/gimmethatagustd

☾ Favorite Read of the Year: Of Ruin by @/daechwitatamic

While all of the chapters for Of Ruin are not yet posted, I’ve had the pleasure of being able to beta read this chapter ahead of the general public and it is absolutely the fic of the year for me. It is a robust story full of romance, action, intrigue, beautiful storytelling, and world-building, and it touches every single one of these categories above. It is a knockout. 

Thank you to all the amazing authors who wrote these works and had the bravery to put them into the world. If anything is tagged wrong, please do not hesitate to correct me!

[takaraphoenix]

Four months into my Teen Wolf renaissance and I am kind of fascinated by the way my interaction with it changed and shaped with this current rewatch of the show, the shift in priorities.

I used to monoship in this fandom. There was Sterek and nothing else.

Now I'm juggling multiple ships and my first ever poly-ships for this fandom. Which is a delight, because I'm a polyamorous person first and a writer second so to actually have poly-ships in this fandom sparks a whole lot of joy for me. So does generally having multiple ships, because I've always been a multishipper.

It's interesting though, that with these multiple ships, it has become very clear to me what's my actual most important dynamic for this fandom. Because it doesn't matter what the Stiles ship is, it doesn't even matter who the pack Alpha is and what pack we're talking about, I need Boyd and Erica to be alive and to be in Stiles' pack. These three mean the fucking world to me, they're the core. The pack around them may change, the romantic ship for Stiles may change, but those two are alive and together and beautiful and Stiles' pack.

Other things, I am much more flexible on. There are characters I don't particularly care whether they're portrayed as good friends or bad friends, but if a fic goes outta their way to keep Boyd and Erica alive just to have them be bad to Stiles, I am out of that story faster than you can look.

Jackson is slightly more negotiable. He's still very important to me and I prefer him to be in the pack, but there is also something appealing to him being in London and him and Stiles building a long-distance friendship after the Nogitsune, that phone calls and texts might make it easier for Stiles to talk about what happened, that the Nogitsune trauma and the kanima trauma bonds them. I prefer them to be pack, but they don't have to be, as long as they are still friends. If I have to see Jackson post season 2 sticking around and being pack, just to then be a bully to Stiles, I am also out.

Like. I do fully understand that all three have, you know, more or less antagonistic pasts toward Stiles. I also understand fics that just turn everyone aside from [romantic partner] against Stiles for max angst. It's just that these three? These three hurt me to read as bad friends.

The more I write and read for the fandom, the more important does Alpha Peter become to me too. Even outside of romantic Steter, it just... feels wrong to me when he's a beta even more wrong when he's Scott's beta ngl. There is so much healing, redemption and hope in the idea of Peter as an Alpha who gets to rebuild the Hale Pack and keep his family's legacy alive.

Used to be Derek for me, but the more I think about it, the... unhappier he seems as an Alpha in canon and the fonder I grow of the idea of him getting to be a Right Hand. Of him getting a second chance with a Hale Pack but without the burden of having to try and be the Alpha. (I do still love writing and reading Alpha Derek though, especially when it's Sterek. But if I had to pick a favorite Hale Pack dynamic, it'd have to be Alpha Peter and Right Hand Derek.)

Now, out of this list, Peter was the only real surprise. Even back in 2014, when I first got into this fandom, I preferred my Berica alive and as friends with Stiles and I liked my Stackson brOTP.

But genuinely the biggest surprise to me is how much I latched onto Spark Stiles, because this was something I used to actively avoid. I used to think of that as nonsense. I mean, come on, that was one episode and canon moved on from that, how did you grow that attached to it.

Somehow, this rewatch, I just feel very indignant about the fact that they really gave Stiles magic for one episode and then did jackshit with it. What the hell. After ten years, I finally understand why the fandom couldn't let go of that.

Comfortingly enough did my favorite thing not change in the past ten years though. Give me Pack Mom Stiles or give me death. That's still the best damn thing this fandom ever did, in my opinion, and whatever the ship or the pack or who the Alpha is, Stiles is Pack Mom.

But it is interesting to see how my own interaction with the story and the characters has changed over the past decade and on this third to fifth watch (depending on what season we're talking about. I've seen the first two seasons more often than the rest).

[novella-november]

Not to harsh your joy regarding your personal project, (which does sound awesome!) the fact that you keep answering the "can I do fanfic?" questions with "technically yes, but have you considered not doing that?" does not actually *feel* very fanfic friendly. (Especially for anyone who enjoys fanfic as a hobby and isn't also an ofic writer. For example, I personally write almost exclusively character studies that are an explicit reaction to canon; there is no real way to write that sort of thing except as fanfic.)

Which is just a long-winded way of requesting that you maybe consider less of a caveat with the FAQ if you make one, please.

oh that was definitely not my intention, thanks for the ask! I think it was mostly just because I got that same question a few times in a row from various anons within the same time span (including some that were not published publicly), it just happened that I was thinking of my own project(s, plural now) in the last day when I answered those two, for those who want an extra creative challenge.

There's a reason my own original thing has been in my head for the last ten years without me actually writing it while I've written and posted tons of fanfiction, and even now some of my original works are going to be based on Arsene Lupin, so they'd technically be considered fanfiction since they're based on and use an established work for the characters and settings --

--writing completely original fic *is* harder, and that's exactly why I'm *suggesting* (not requiring!) that people consider taking 1 out of short story 4 challenges to look at their work in a new light.

90% of what I read and (until I actually start and finish my original works) 100% of what I've written in my life is fanfic. I have nothing against fanfic, otherwise I woudn't even be interested in creative writing.

But its also not a diss to say "Would you consider looking at your [fanfic] writing from a new angle and try to figure out different ways of going about it?"

Honestly, being able to even consider this option *as a fun extra challenge* is meant to help improve your writing and creative skills; it's not meant as a cheap shot at people who choose to write fanfiction because I my self write and read tons of it,

it's me saying "if you want even more practice at creative writing during these monthly challenges, try branching out a little bit from your comfort zone, you may be pleasantly surprised."

People who write and read fanfiction already have tons of creative experience, and if people like me and many other fanfic writers who one day dream of being published authors, want to broaden our horizons and seek new experiences, one of the easiest exercises is to take something we're planning on writing or already wrote, and see what we would change to make it brand new and standalone--

-- something that not only helps you come up with new ideas, but also will help when it comes time to *edit*, which can be, depending on the length and complexity of your story, can be a complicated process:

whether that means having to delete scenes entirely,

changing what a character says,

altering an aspect of the worldbuilding to fix plot holes

, re-writing your character so they're not overpowered because it was ruining the stakes and tension,

changing the POV of chapters because it was ruining the flow of the story,

etc etc etc.

I love fan fiction.

I love reading it and I love writing it, and for many people who take on monthly writing challenges, it is a way to test ourselves and gear ourselves up and prove to ourselves that not only can we write x amount of words, but it proves to ourselves that we are *capable of creating*, and for many creatives, that ultimately leads to crafting our own unique stories;

if you're already taking place in a monthly writing challenge, why not push the bounds a little bit *if you're so inclined* and test the waters? Especially when you're surrounded by a community who is cheering you on, every step of the way?

Every Nanowrimo I ever won was fanfiction. Heck, even not during November I once did 40k words in two weeks for a fic.

I always stalled out when I tried to write original works;

it is much easier to start small with a single short story than it is to try to write an entirely original novel, and my encouraging people to try baby steps by *experimenting* with one short story out of four in a month is not meant to be a diss against fanfiction,

but an *encouragement to those like me* who were so eager to write original works but floundered when I tried to jump into the deep end and felt disheartened.

Many fanfic authors aspire to write original fics, and thats who that challenge is for, for the people who want to write original works but are too afraid to fully commit; I'll still be writing and posting fanfiction even if I become a published author, even If I just have to come up with a few new pen-names to post them under.

There's absolutely no judgement on anyone who wants to write fanfiction for these challenges, my "caveat" as you say, is only there as encouragement to those like me who are afraid to take the first step, or uncertain of how to even *begin* that first step, not any kind of condemnation.

TL;DR:

I did not mean for my responses on the "can I write fanfiction" to come off as rude or looking down on fanfiction, its meant to be an encouragment to all the people like me who love fanfic and started out writing fanfiction, and dream of writing original works to take the first step, with a community of like-minded people all taking the same challenge.

Like every other challenge aspect of these events, taking a fanfic idea and turning it into an original short story is completely optional and meant as inspiration, just like following prompts for events is not mandatory, and even completing the 30k word goal is not mandatory; the goal for this month is to create, get in the habit of creating, and having fun with it!