#enjoy them trying to figure out their emotions

[yassbishimvintage]

Trick'n (Studio pt 2)

Warnings: Fluff, Smut

A/N: This is for the grown and sexy. Enjoy.

Word Count: 10.1k

Banner by @cafekitsune

Amari sits in her townhouse, her thoughts swirling as she absentmindedly stirs her drink. The past few days feel like a blur of emotions, decisions, and moments that are slowly becoming more complicated. She glances around the room, taking in the familiar surroundings of her space—the soft glow of the lights, the calm of the evening settling in. Yet, her mind keeps drifting back to Brendan and everything that’s unfolded between them.

The gift of the G-Wagon, the lingering moments of closeness, the kiss... it all feels like more than just a casual connection. She never imagined things would move so fast, especially when they had so much unspoken tension hanging between them. She thought she could keep things light, professional even, but now? It’s hard to ignore the pull between them.

She can’t help but smile at the memory of his easy grin when he handed her the key, his confidence and sincerity almost disarming. But with every action, with every gesture, she starts questioning where this all leads. He’s given her so much—more than she expected, more than she’s ready for. A part of her feels overwhelmed, another part feels grateful, and yet another part wonders if this is really what she wants.

Amari stands up and moves to the window, staring out at the quiet street. It’s a calm night, the city lights twinkling in the distance. She takes a deep breath, trying to clear her mind, but her thoughts are stubborn, always returning to Brendan. The way he looks at her, the way his touch feels, it’s undeniable. But does that mean she’s ready for more? Is she ready for the messier, deeper side of what they’re starting to build?

She turns back toward her couch, her eyes falling on the key sitting on the coffee table. It’s a symbol of his intentions—he’s not just giving her a car, he’s giving her something bigger, something more meaningful. It’s easy to feel torn when someone offers you everything, and yet, it feels like there’s so much she hasn’t figured out yet.

Her phone buzzes on the table, pulling her out of her thoughts. It’s a message from him: "Hope you’re good. Just wanted to check in."

Amari sighs, running a hand through her hair. She knows what she wants to say, but there’s a hesitation. What exactly does she want from this? What does she need? She could respond, keep it light, or she could dive deeper into what’s between them. It’s a choice she’s going to have to make sooner or later.

With another deep breath, she picks up her phone and starts typing.

The truth was, she had no idea where things were headed with Brendan. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized one thing: she couldn’t ignore the chemistry between them. She couldn’t pretend that his presence in her life didn’t make everything feel just a little bit more alive. But, she knew it was going to be a balancing act—between who she was, who he was, and the world they both occupied.

She glanced at her phone again. Another message from him popped up: "You still thinking about things? Or can I convince you to join me for dinner?"

She hesitated for a moment before typing back: "I’ll be there. But we need to talk."

She hit send, already knowing the conversation ahead wouldn’t be easy, but it was necessary.

Amari stood outside the door to Brendan’s penthouse, a mix of anticipation and apprehension settling in her chest. She had been thinking about this conversation for hours, replaying her pros and cons list, trying to decide how best to approach the situation. One thing was clear—she wasn’t walking into this blindly. She wasn’t just some fleeting moment in his life. But as much as she wanted to hold her ground, there was a part of her that still yearned for the connection they had.

She took a deep breath and knocked.

The door swung open, revealing Brendan standing shirtless in the doorway, his toned frame illuminated by the soft light of the apartment. He flashed that easy, confident smile that always made her heart skip a beat. In his hands was a plate of food, and the rich aroma of the meal hit her instantly.

“Hey, Mari,” he greeted her, stepping aside to let her in. “Dinner’s ready. Hope you’re hungry.”

Amari stepped inside, the warmth of the room wrapping around her. She noticed the dim lights, the table set with candles, and the relaxed vibe of the space. Despite his casual appearance—shirtless, a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips—there was a certain charm to his laid-back demeanor.

She smiled weakly, but her mind was still on the conversation she needed to have. “You didn’t have to go all out,” she said, trying to keep her tone light, even though her heart was heavy with the weight of their unspoken issues.

He gave her a knowing look, his eyes soft but mischievous. “I didn’t think you’d mind,” he said as he moved to place the plate down on the coffee table. “Come on, let’s eat.”

Amari took a seat, her fingers brushing the edge of the plate before she glanced up at him. “We need to talk about us, Brendan.”

He paused, looking at her with an intensity that told her he was listening. His lips curled slightly, but there was something behind his expression—curiosity, concern, maybe even a hint of apprehension. He sat beside her, the space between them charged with tension. “Alright,” he said, his voice steady. “What’s on your mind?”

Amari took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts before speaking. “I’ve been thinking about everything. About us. About what we’re doing. I can’t pretend like things are just simple, like I’m not getting emotionally involved in something that feels... bigger than I expected.”

Brendan shifted slightly, leaning back as he gave her his full attention. “You’re not wrong. This thing between us—” He trailed off, seemingly weighing his words carefully. “I get it. It’s not just some fling for me either.”

She frowned, her gaze searching his face. “Then why does it feel like we’re both just caught up in something we don’t fully understand? Like you’re living this life that I’m not sure I’m ready for... or even if I can handle.”

Brendan’s expression softened, and he gently took her hand in his, his thumb brushing against her skin. “Mari, I get it. I know what I’m offering isn’t always... stable. My career, my life, it’s a rollercoaster, and I can’t promise that everything’s going to be perfect. But I’m not asking you to be a part of some mess. I just want you in my life. I want you with me. The rest, we can figure out.”

She looked down at their hands, her heart pounding in her chest. His words were sincere, but there was still so much uncertainty. She had questions that she needed answers to. “What happens when things get harder? When your schedule is even more chaotic? When the attention on you gets more intense? What happens when we can’t just turn everything off and pretend like we’re just two people having a good time?”

Brendan paused, the weight of her questions settling in the room. His voice was quieter when he spoke, but it held a sense of honesty that she couldn’t ignore. “I can’t promise that everything will be easy, Mari. But I can promise I won’t just walk away when it gets tough. You and me—we have something real. It might not be the easiest thing, but I want to try. Do you?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she looked into his eyes, searching for the truth behind his words. What they had was undeniable—intense, passionate, and full of potential. But could she trust herself to navigate the complexity of their connection? Could she handle being in his world, knowing that it would never be simple?

Finally, she spoke, her voice soft but firm. “I’m willing to try. But I need to know you’re all in. That this isn’t just some phase, that you’re not going to disappear when things get difficult.”

Brendan nodded, his grip on her hand tightening just slightly. “I’m in, Mari. I’m all in. And I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it.”

The tension between them seemed to ease, the air feeling lighter as they both sat there, surrounded by the quiet hum of the apartment. The future was still uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, Amari felt like she had a clearer sense of where she stood.

With a small, tentative smile, she finally said, “Alright. Let’s figure this out together.”

Brendan smiled back, his relief palpable. “Together.”

As Amari smiled, her gaze met Brendan’s, and for a moment, it felt like time had slowed. His hazel eyes, warm and intense, seemed to search her face, as if he were looking for something—reassurance, perhaps, or confirmation that she truly meant what she had said. She could see the sincerity in his expression, the vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored her own.

The way he looked at her made her feel seen—really seen—in a way that was both comforting and terrifying. It was like he could read her thoughts, understand the conflict in her mind without her saying a word. For a brief moment, the weight of everything they’d talked about seemed to lift, replaced by something softer, something more genuine.

She swallowed the knot in her throat, her heart fluttering as she reached out and gently touched his arm. The warmth of his skin under her fingertips sent a spark through her, grounding her in the present.

“I don’t know where this will go,” she said, her voice quiet but steady. “But I want to try. To see where it takes us.”

Brendan’s smile widened, and he leaned closer, brushing his lips against her forehead in a tender kiss. “That’s all I need to hear, Mari.”

His kiss lingered for a moment longer, and she closed her eyes, allowing herself to bask in the comfort of his touch. In that instant, everything else—the confusion, the uncertainty—seemed to fade away, leaving only the connection they had built together.

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a mix of playfulness and vulnerability. “So, are we going to eat, or are we just going to stare at each other all night?” she teased, trying to lighten the mood, though her heart still raced in her chest.

Brendan chuckled, the sound low and warm, before reaching for the plate of food on the table. “We can stare at each other later,” he said, his voice teasing but affectionate. “Let’s eat first. Then we can figure out the rest.”

Amari smiled, her anxiety eased for the moment, as she settled back into the couch, feeling a sense of peace she hadn’t expected. She was here, with him, ready to take the next step—whatever that might be. And for now, that was enough.

Later, as the evening settled into a quiet rhythm, Amari found herself sprawled out across Brendan’s chest, her head resting comfortably against him. The faint beat of his heart thumped softly under her ear, a reassuring sound that calmed her racing thoughts. The apartment was dimly lit, with only the soft glow from the city lights filtering in through the windows, casting shadows across the room.

Brendan’s arm was draped around her, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on her back, his touch slow and deliberate. It felt like the world outside was fading away, leaving only the two of them in this intimate, peaceful bubble.

She took a deep breath, breathing in the scent of his skin, the faint cologne he wore mixed with the smell of the food they’d shared earlier. The closeness, the softness of his touch, it made her feel both grounded and vulnerable in ways she hadn’t anticipated. She knew they had just begun to scratch the surface of whatever this was, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more than just a fling.

Amari tilted her head to look up at him, catching his gaze. His hazel eyes were soft, almost sleepy, but there was something more—something unspoken between them that seemed to hang in the air.

“You know,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, “I never really thought about what I wanted in all this... I was too focused on the fact that I shouldn’t want it.”

Brendan’s gaze softened, his hand gently running through her hair. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.

Amari hesitated, her fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. “I mean, I spent so much time convincing myself that I should stay away from someone like you... That it would just be a mess. But now… I’m not so sure anymore.”

Brendan’s fingers stilled on her back, but his expression didn’t change. “And now?” he asked, his tone patient, as if waiting for her to find the words.

She looked up at him, her heart hammering in her chest. "Now, I think... I think I might be ready to stop running from it. From us." Her voice trembled slightly, but there was a quiet confidence behind her words. "I’m not saying it’ll be easy. I’m not saying I won’t second-guess myself at times. But maybe it’s time I stopped overthinking it.”

A soft smile tugged at Brendan’s lips as he leaned down, brushing his lips against her forehead. “I’m glad to hear that,” he said quietly. “Because I’m not going anywhere, Mari. I’m here. And I’ll be here when things get complicated, when the world starts pushing against us.”

Amari closed her eyes, his words sinking in, and for the first time in a long while, she felt a sense of certainty. Despite the chaos that life would inevitably throw their way, she knew she wasn’t alone in it anymore. They had something, and it was enough for now.

Brendan’s hand continued to run through her hair, his touch gentle, comforting. “Let’s just take this one step at a time,” he murmured. “We’ve got time, Mari. We’ve got time.”

She nodded against his chest, the warmth of his embrace wrapping around her like a shield. There was still so much they didn’t know, so much uncertainty in the future. But for tonight, as she lay there in his arms, everything felt exactly where it needed to be.

Amari shifted slightly, her movements slow and deliberate as she adjusted herself, now straddling Brendan. The change in position brought them even closer, her knees resting on either side of his hips. She could feel the warmth of his body beneath her, the steady rise and fall of his chest with each breath.

Brendan looked up at her, a mix of surprise and something deeper flickering in his hazel eyes. His hands instinctively moved to rest on her hips, a touch that was both grounding and possessive. There was a quiet tension in the air now, a shift in energy that pulsed between them.

Amari paused, her gaze meeting his, searching for something—confirmation, perhaps, or a sense of clarity. She was still feeling the weight of their conversation, the admission of vulnerability that had passed between them, but there was something undeniable about the chemistry that sparked whenever they were this close.

“You sure about this?” Brendan’s voice was low, almost a whisper, his hands gently brushing against her skin. His eyes held a mixture of curiosity and care, making sure she wasn’t just acting on impulse.

She nodded slowly, the quiet confidence she’d felt earlier now solidifying in her chest. “Yeah,” she whispered back, her voice thick with intent. “I’m sure.”

Without waiting for further confirmation, she leaned down, pressing her lips to his in a kiss that was gentle at first, as if testing the waters. But as they both deepened the kiss, the tension from earlier seemed to dissolve, replaced by a sense of urgency, a shared understanding that neither of them wanted to pull away just yet.

Her hands roamed to his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his skin, and his fingers tightened around her waist, guiding her movements. The energy between them shifted again—this time, it was as though the world outside had disappeared entirely, leaving only the two of them in this charged space.

She pulled back just slightly, her lips brushing against his, a soft exhale escaping her as she whispered, “I don’t want to hold back anymore, B.”

Brendan’s gaze darkened slightly, his breath shaky as he nodded, his hands running up her back, pulling her closer. “Then don’t,” he murmured, his lips capturing hers once more, this time with more intensity, more hunger.

The air between them grew thick with desire, each touch, each kiss, an exploration of unspoken emotions, a bridge between uncertainty and something real—something they both knew they couldn’t ignore.

Brendan’s expression softened at Amari’s words, the weight of her trust settling over him like a heavy, but welcome, responsibility. His hands gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek as he met her gaze. There was no rush in the way he looked at her, just a quiet understanding and respect.

“I don’t take that lightly,” he said softly, his voice low but full of sincerity. “You mean more to me than you realize, Mari. I won’t do anything you don’t want, and I’ll make sure you’re comfortable with every step.”

Amari could feel the warmth of his words, the reassurance in the way he held her. In that moment, she realized that this wasn’t just about the physical. It was about connection, about trust, about the depth of what they were starting to build together.

She nodded, her heart steadying as she smiled down at him. “I know. I’m not afraid with you.”

Brendan smiled back, his hand moving to the small of her back to pull her in closer. “Good,” he whispered, brushing his lips against hers once more, as if sealing the promise they had just made. There was a mutual understanding now—this wasn’t just about the moment, but about the trust they were giving each other, the respect they would continue to show.

They were both learning and growing in this, but for now, all that mattered was the quiet connection they shared, the honesty of the moment, and the warmth of knowing they were both choosing to take this next step together.

As Amari smiled, the soft warmth of the morning light still casting its glow across the room, she shifted, leaning into Brendan’s chest. He stirred slightly at the motion, but didn’t fully wake, his arm instinctively pulling her closer as she nestled herself under him. She felt safe and content, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothing in the quiet morning.

She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling of being wrapped in his arms, the connection they shared growing deeper with each passing day. There was a sense of calm between them, a peaceful reassurance that even though the world outside could be chaotic, here, in this space, they were just two people learning to trust and understand each other.

Brendan shifted slightly, his voice low and groggy as he mumbled, “You good?”

Amari smiled, her fingers lightly tracing the tattoos on his arm as she nodded, her body still relaxed against his. “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice soft. “I’m good. Better than good.”

He hummed in response, tightening his embrace, his lips pressing gently to her forehead in a silent gesture of affection. For a moment, there were no words, just the comfort of shared presence, both of them content to stay like this a little longer, wrapped in each other’s warmth.

It wasn’t just the emotional connection that made her smile—it was the understanding that they were building something real, something that went beyond the surface. And in that moment, with the quiet of the morning surrounding them, she felt more certain than ever that this was exactly where she was meant to be.

Amari watched as Brendan moved around the room, his energy a stark contrast to the stillness of the morning. She smiled softly, her eyes following the way his muscles flexed as he searched through his drawers. There was something about the way he carried himself, effortlessly confident yet grounded, that drew her in even more.

She wrapped the covers around her waist tighter, feeling the warmth of the fabric against her skin as she sat up in bed. Her thoughts lingered on the moments they’d shared last night, and the quiet morning they were now experiencing together. It felt surreal in the best way—like they were in a bubble that no one could touch.

Brendan glanced over his shoulder at her, catching her watching him. His lips curled into a playful grin, and he shrugged casually. “You look comfy there,” he said, his voice teasing but soft.

Amari couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound light and carefree. “I was just enjoying the view,” she replied, her gaze lingering on him, unabashedly appreciating how relaxed he seemed.

He chuckled, his eyes warming as he returned to his search. “I’m looking for my wallet,” he explained, pulling open another drawer.

Amari leaned back against the headboard, feeling a contentedness she hadn’t experienced in a while. She hadn’t expected to wake up like this, not so peaceful, not so sure about what came next. But as Brendan moved around the room, she realized that things didn’t always have to be figured out right away. They could just exist in the moment, and that was enough for now.

When he finally found what he was looking for, he turned back to her, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “You sure you don’t want to get dressed before I take you out for breakfast?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he noticed the way the covers pooled around her.

Amari rolled her eyes playfully. “Only if you’re paying,” she teased, her tone light.

Brendan grinned, his eyes softening. “Of course. Just don’t take too long,” he said, as he began to head for the door. “I’m starving.”

As he left the room, Amari leaned back, still feeling the warmth of his presence lingering in the air. There was something effortlessly comfortable about him, and for the first time in a while, she felt like maybe—just maybe—things were falling into place.

Brendan paused, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he looked at her. His gaze softened as he settled in closer, but there was a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Mushy?” he repeated, his voice low, teasing. “I’m just trying to show you how much I appreciate you, Mari.”

Amari raised an eyebrow, her smile widening as she pushed him playfully off of her. “Uh-huh. Appreciation, huh?” she said, rolling her eyes but still laughing lightly. “You don’t get to just turn it on and off like that, B. I already told you. We’re not doing this whole push-and-pull thing.”

Brendan chuckled, his eyes never leaving hers. He sat back, taking a moment to adjust himself, his playful expression melting into something more genuine. “Alright, alright,” he said, his tone softer. “I hear you. No more trying to be all sweet and cuddly if it’s gonna make you roll your eyes at me.”

She smiled, her arms crossing over her chest, but there was a certain softness in her gaze that wasn’t lost on him. “You’re not bad when you’re not being all dramatic,” she teased, nudging him with her shoulder.

“Hey,” he said, feigning offense. “I’m not dramatic. I’m just—” He cut himself off, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. “—just trying to be here with you. And, yeah, maybe it’s a little different for me. But I can’t help it.”

Amari's expression softened at his words, and for a brief moment, the playful teasing gave way to something deeper. She could see the sincerity in his eyes, the vulnerability that he was letting slip through, even if he wasn’t always great at showing it.

“You don’t have to try so hard, B,” she said quietly, reaching up to touch his face. “You’ve got me already.”

The room fell into a brief silence, the air between them filled with unspoken understanding. There were no walls up now—just the two of them, navigating this complicated thing they were building together. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t easy, but it felt real. And for now, that was enough.

As Amari kissed him, her hands slid to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, a quiet yet powerful shift in the energy between them. The playful teasing melted into something more tender, more grounded, as their lips met with a deeper connection than before.

Brendan responded instinctively, his arms wrapping around her waist as he leaned into the kiss, his chest pressing against hers. There was no rush, no urgency—just the softness of the moment, both of them savoring the intimacy, feeling the warmth of each other's presence.

When they finally broke the kiss, their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the quiet space between them. Amari smiled, her fingers gently tracing his jawline as she met his gaze. "You know, you're not so bad when you're not being all dramatic," she teased softly, her voice laced with affection.

Brendan let out a quiet laugh, his hand brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I guess you’ve got me figured out, huh?" he replied, his tone light but his eyes filled with sincerity.

Amari shrugged, still smiling. "Not fully," she said with a playful gleam in her eye, "but I’m working on it." She leaned in for another soft kiss, this time lingering just a little longer, letting the kiss speak for everything they hadn’t said out loud.

It was moments like this that reminded her—there was something real here, something that didn’t need to be defined right away. She wasn’t sure where things were going, but for now, she was okay with letting them unfold naturally.

“Now I can say the Mid Sized Sedan is my boyfriend.” She says holding back a laugh. He gives her a fake hurt look. 

Amari laughed, a soft sound that bubbled from her chest. "Well, you’ve got all the features—good looks, reliability, and the ability to keep up with me when I need you to." She leaned in, pressing a light kiss to his lips. "Plus, you’re surprisingly comfortable."

Brendan chuckled, his arms tightening around her in a playful yet affectionate gesture. "You’re lucky I like the nickname," he said, his voice teasing but with a warmth that matched the softness in his eyes. "But if you keep calling me that, I might have to start charging you for the ride."

She rolled her eyes, but her smile didn’t fade. "You’re ridiculous," she teased, though there was an undeniable affection in her voice. "But you’re my ridiculous boyfriend, so I guess I’ll let it slide."

Brendan kissed her forehead, his hand gently brushing through her hair as he relaxed back into the bed. "I guess that makes two of us, then," he said quietly, his tone softening as he spoke the words he hadn’t quite expected to say, but found himself feeling anyway.

Amari looked at him, her heart fluttering at the thought of how naturally everything was falling into place. It didn’t matter what nickname he carried or what complications came along with their relationship. In this moment, it was just the two of them, and that was enough.

"Yeah," she murmured, leaning in closer. "It does."

Brendan chuckled softly, pulling her a little closer before letting her go with a playful smile. "Alright, alright. Go get your shower, Mari. I know I’m irresistible, but even I can't compete with a hot shower and some fresh clothes."

Amari rolled her eyes but smiled as she slid out of bed, the warmth of their moment still lingering in the air. "You’re lucky you’ve got that charm," she said, tossing him a teasing glance over her shoulder as she walked toward the bathroom. "Or you’d be getting the cold shoulder right about now."

Brendan laughed, his eyes following her as she disappeared into the bathroom. He stretched back onto the bed, his mind still lingering on their earlier conversation and the shift in their relationship. It felt different now—more real, more grounded. They weren’t just having fun or living in the moment anymore; they were finding something deeper between them.

He shook his head with a smile. "Cold shoulder? Yeah, right."

As the sound of the shower started, Brendan lay back, his thoughts drifting to the future and what it might hold for him and Amari. Whatever happened, he was starting to feel like he was ready for whatever was next.

A few days later she’s missing him. 

Amari sat on her couch, her legs tucked beneath her, absentmindedly scrolling through her phone. The TV was on in the background, playing a show she wasn’t really watching. Brendan was out of town for a shoot, and for the first time in weeks, she had a quiet evening to herself.

But her mind wasn’t quiet.

She couldn’t stop thinking about him. Specifically, about how they hadn’t crossed that line yet. She was surprised. It wasn’t like she didn’t want to—hell, she wanted to. Brendan wasn’t shy about his feelings either. The way he looked at her, touched her, kissed her—it was clear he was just as ready. Yet, somehow, they hadn’t gone there.

Her phone buzzed, breaking her thoughts. It was a text from him.

Brendan: Hey, you miss me yet?

She smiled, biting her bottom lip as she typed back.

Amari: Maybe. Why? You miss me?

The dots appeared, then stopped, then started again. Typical Brendan, always taking his time with the perfect response.

Brendan: Of course I miss you. Who else is going to keep me humble?

She laughed, shaking her head. He always knew how to lighten the mood, even from miles away. Still, her thoughts lingered on their relationship. They’d been dancing around the idea of taking things further, but something—maybe timing, maybe hesitation—always seemed to hold them back.

Why hadn’t they done it yet? Was he waiting for the right moment? Or was he afraid of messing up what they already had?

She sighed, setting her phone on the coffee table. The truth was, she liked what they had now, but she also couldn’t deny that the thought of being with him in every way sent a thrill down her spine. Maybe it was just a matter of time.

Her phone buzzed again.

Brendan: Be honest. You’re thinking about me right now, aren’t you?

Amari smirked, shaking her head as she typed her reply.

Amari: What makes you so sure?

His response came almost immediately.

Brendan: Because I’m thinking about you.

Her heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, she wondered if tonight would be the night they finally had that conversation. Even if he was out of town, it felt like they were closer than ever.

Amari stared at her phone, her thumb hovering over the screen as a smile played on her lips. Her heart was racing, the thought of finally addressing the unspoken topic between them both exciting and terrifying. She wanted to ask the question, but what if it made things weird?

Still, the way Brendan had been so open lately, his texts filled with warmth and teasing affection, gave her the courage she needed.

Amari: Can I ask you something?

She hit send before she could change her mind. The three dots appeared almost immediately.

Brendan: You can ask me anything, Mari. What’s on your mind?

She bit her bottom lip, staring at his words. Taking a deep breath, she typed out her response.

Amari: Why haven’t we, you know… done it yet?

She hit send, then immediately tossed her phone onto the couch as if it might explode. The seconds that passed felt like an eternity, and she almost regretted asking. But then her phone buzzed.

Brendan: You mean why haven’t we had sex yet?

Amari felt her cheeks heat up. Of course, he’d just say it outright.

Amari: Yeah. I guess I was just wondering if there’s a reason. Or if you’re waiting for something.

This time, the dots took longer to appear, and she held her breath, anxiously waiting for his reply.

Brendan: Honestly? I’ve thought about it. A lot. But I didn’t want to rush you. I know what we have is special, and I didn’t want to mess it up by moving too fast.

Her chest tightened at his words. Brendan wasn’t just some guy who was looking for the next thrill—he really cared about her.

Amari: I appreciate that. But you know, I’m not holding back because I don’t want to. I think I’ve just been waiting for the right moment too.

There was a pause before his next message came through.

Brendan: Maybe when I’m back, we stop waiting and just see where the moment takes us.

She smiled, her heart fluttering as she typed her response.

Amari: I’d like that.

For the first time that night, Amari felt at ease. Whatever happened next, she knew they’d handle it together.

Amari leaned back on the couch, her phone still in her hand as another thought hit her. Before anything else, she’d been Brendan’s hairstylist. It was how this whole thing between them had started—the playful banter, the lingering glances, and eventually, the deeper connection.

She smirked as she typed out a text.

Amari: You could use a retwist, by the way. Just saying.

It didn’t take long for his reply.

Brendan: Wow. I’m out of town for two days, and you’re already throwing shade?

She laughed out loud, shaking her head.

Amari: I’m just saying, B. Don’t forget who keeps you looking this good.

The dots appeared and disappeared before his message came through.

Brendan: How could I forget? You’re the one who has me sitting between your legs every other week.

Her cheeks flushed at the double meaning in his words.

Amari: Careful, or I’ll start charging extra.

Brendan: You already charge me in other ways, remember?

She rolled her eyes, her smile growing. He always knew how to keep the conversation light and playful, even when there was an undertone of seriousness.

Amari: Fine, but when you get back, I’m fixing that mess on your head.

Brendan: Deal. Only if it means I get to see you sooner.

Her heart skipped a beat at his response. She placed her phone on the coffee table, her mind drifting again. No matter how their relationship unfolded, she knew one thing for sure—Brendan always had a way of making her feel seen and wanted, whether it was in his texts or the way he looked at her during those moments in the shop.

It made her excited for whatever was coming next.

When Brendan finally got back to the city, Amari wasted no time texting him to come over. True to her word, she had her tools ready and a fresh jar of gel waiting.

He walked into her townhouse, his hazel eyes lighting up the moment he saw her. "You ready to fix this mess?" he asked, gesturing to his hair with a grin.

She smirked, rolling her eyes. "You’re lucky I care, B. Sit down."

Brendan dropped onto the floor between her legs like it was second nature, leaning back slightly as she started sectioning his hair. Her hands worked expertly, parting and twisting with precision. The familiar intimacy of the moment settled between them as they talked about his trip, her latest clients, and everything in between.

“Feels good to be home,” Brendan murmured, his voice soft and content.

She smiled, finishing one twist and moving to the next. “Feels good to have you back. You were starting to look wild out there.”

He chuckled, tilting his head to give her better access. “That wild look got me some compliments, though.”

Amari laughed, playfully tugging at one of the twists she’d just finished. “Yeah, well, those people clearly don’t know quality when they see it. Now hold still.”

The minutes passed in comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional hum of approval from Brendan as she worked. When she was done, she leaned back, admiring her handiwork.

“There. You’re human again,” she teased, brushing stray hair off his shoulders.

Brendan turned slightly, his hazel eyes meeting hers. “You always know how to take care of me, Mari.”

Before she could respond, his hands found her thighs, gently rubbing them as he stayed seated on the floor. His touch was slow and deliberate, his thumbs pressing into her skin in a way that made her breath hitch.

“B…” she started, but her voice trailed off as his hands slid a little higher, his gaze never leaving hers.

“You good?” he asked softly, his tone laced with a quiet intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

She swallowed, nodding. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Good,” he said, leaning forward slightly. His hands stayed on her thighs, his touch both grounding and electrifying as he closed the small distance between them.

Neither of them moved to get up. The moment stretched on, heavy with unspoken words and unrestrained tension, until Amari finally gave in, leaning down to kiss him. Whatever came next, they both knew they were exactly where they wanted to be.

Amari tried to stay composed, but Brendan’s hands were doing things to her she couldn’t ignore. His thumbs rubbed slow, teasing circles into her thighs, and every time his hazel eyes flicked up to meet hers, it sent a jolt of heat through her.

She shifted in her seat, trying to focus on anything else, but the way he stayed on the floor, his strong frame relaxed between her legs, made it impossible to think straight.

"B…" she whispered, her voice shaky.

His gaze didn’t waver. “What’s wrong, Mari?”

She inhaled deeply, trying to steady herself, but it was no use. The warmth of his hands, the way his thumbs crept a little higher each time—it was all too much. "I can’t…"

"You can’t what?" he asked, his tone soft, almost teasing.

She bit her lip, her restraint dissolving with every passing second. “I can’t take it anymore,” she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Brendan’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. “Then don’t,” he said simply, his voice low and inviting.

That was all it took. Amari leaned forward, her hands finding his face as she kissed him with a desperation she couldn’t hold back anymore. He responded instantly, his hands gripping her thighs tighter as he pulled her closer.

She slid off the chair and onto the floor, straddling him as the kiss deepened. Brendan’s hands moved to her waist, anchoring her to him as her fingers tangled in his freshly retwisted hair.

“I knew this would happen,” he murmured against her lips, his voice husky.

“Shut up,” she replied breathlessly, pulling him closer as the last of her self-control slipped away.

The living room disappeared around them as they gave in to the moment, the tension that had been simmering for weeks finally boiling over. Neither of them cared about what came next—right now, all that mattered was each other.

Brendan’s hands slid up her sides, taking her shirt with them. When he lifted it over her head and tossed it aside, he froze for a moment, his hazel eyes taking in the sight of her. She was wearing a black lace bra—the one he’d mentioned was his favorite before.

He ran his fingers along the delicate material, a small, appreciative smile forming on his lips. “You knew I’d like this, didn’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

Amari’s cheeks flushed, but she smirked back at him. “Maybe. Or maybe it was just laundry day.”

He laughed softly, his hands traveling to her back, tracing lazy circles along her skin. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

His lips found her collarbone, pressing soft kisses along the curve of her neck and shoulder as his hands explored the familiar contours of her body. Every touch, every kiss, sent shivers down her spine.

“You’re so damn beautiful, Mari,” he whispered against her skin.

She tipped her head back, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he moved lower, his lips brushing along the edge of the lace. The way he touched her, like she was the only thing in the world that mattered, made her heart race.

“Brendan…” she breathed, her voice trembling with need.

He looked up at her then, his eyes smoldering with a mix of affection and desire. “Tell me what you want,” he said softly, his hands resting on her hips, grounding her.

“You,” she whispered without hesitation, her hands tangling in his hair. “Always you.”

His smile widened as he pulled her closer, sealing her words with a kiss that left no room for doubt.

Brendan smirked, his hands gripping her hips a little tighter as he kissed the sensitive spot on her neck. “You sure about that?” he teased, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers through her.

Amari tilted her head back further, her body arching into him. “Yes,” she said, her voice breathy but firm. “Fuck this foreplay, B. I need you. Now.”

His smirk turned into a grin as he looked up at her, his hazel eyes dark with desire. “Well, if that’s what you want…” he murmured.

Without another word, he stood up, taking her with him as if she weighed nothing. Amari wrapped her legs around his waist, her fingers clutching his shoulders as he carried her effortlessly toward the bedroom.

“Brendan—” she started, but he cut her off with a kiss so deep it stole her breath.

When he reached the bed, he gently laid her down, his body following hers as he hovered over her. “No turning back now,” he said, his voice low and serious, though the corner of his mouth quirked up in a teasing smile.

She reached up, pulling him down to her. “I wasn’t planning to.”

Their bodies moved together, the tension that had been building between them for so long finally snapping as they gave in to everything they’d been holding back. Time seemed to stop as the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them in the heat of the moment. Moans and skin slapping was all that filled the room. 

Amari blinked awake, her body still deliciously sore from the night before. The sunlight streaming through the blinds made her squint as she adjusted to being awake. She shifted slightly, realizing she was sprawled out in her bed, her covers barely clinging to her.

Turning her head, she saw Brendan sitting on the edge of the bed, already dressed in his boxers and one of his favorite hoodies. His broad back was to her as he tapped away on his phone.

"Morning," she murmured, her voice still heavy with sleep.

He glanced back over his shoulder, his hazel eyes softening when they met hers. “Morning, beautiful,” he replied with a small smile.

She stretched lazily, her body still buzzing with the remnants of last night. “What are you doing?”

“Texting my manager,” he said, holding up his phone briefly before turning his attention back to the screen. “She’s asking about studio time later today.”

Amari sighed, propping herself up on one elbow. “You’re already working?”

He chuckled and set his phone down for a moment, turning to face her. “Gotta stay on my grind, Mari. You know how it is.”

She reached out, tugging playfully at the hem of his hoodie. “Yeah, but can’t your grind wait for breakfast in bed? Or… you know, round two?”

Brendan’s grin widened, and he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “As tempting as that is, I gotta handle this first. But don’t worry,” he added, his voice lowering as he kissed her again, this time on the lips. “I’ll make time for you.”

Her heart fluttered at his words, and she smiled against his mouth. “You better.”

He pulled back, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Always.”

As Brendan stood up, preparing to grab his jeans from the nearby chair, Amari reached out, her fingers slipping into the waistband of his boxers. She tugged gently, a sly smile spreading across her face as she leaned back against the pillows.

“Leaving already?” she teased, her voice soft but playful.

He paused, glancing down at her with an amused smirk. “I told you, Mari, I gotta handle this,” he said, though he didn’t make a move to step away from her touch.

She tilted her head, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “You’re really going to leave me here like this? After last night?” Her fingers trailed along the edge of the waistband, sending a shiver up his spine.

Brendan let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

She grinned, tugging at the waistband a little more insistently. “Maybe. But you like it.”

He leaned over her, bracing his hands on either side of her body as he met her gaze. “You’re making it real hard to leave right now.”

“That’s the point,” she said, her voice dropping into a whisper as her fingers toyed with the fabric.

For a moment, he hovered there, torn between his responsibilities and the undeniable pull of her presence. Finally, he let out a resigned sigh and kissed her deeply, his hands sliding to her waist.

“Fine,” he murmured against her lips, “but only for a few more minutes.”

Amari laughed softly, wrapping her arms around his neck as she pulled him closer. “That’s all I need.”

As Brendan finally left with a lingering kiss and a promise to call her later, Amari flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. She let out a long sigh, the faint scent of his cologne still clinging to her sheets.

For a moment, she stayed there, basking in the afterglow of his presence and the memory of the night before. But reality crept back in. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, reminding her of the packed schedule ahead.

With a groan, she dragged herself out of bed, stretching as she made her way to the bathroom. “Alright, Amari,” she muttered to herself, splashing water on her face. “Time to get it together. You’ve got clients waiting.”

After a quick shower, she threw on her go-to stylist outfit—something comfortable yet chic—and tied her braids up into a neat bun. As she gathered her tools and checked her appointment book, her mind kept drifting back to Brendan.

She shook her head, smiling to herself. “Focus, girl,” she whispered. “You’ve got work to do.”

By the time she walked into her salon, the familiar hum of chatter and the smell of hair products snapped her back into her professional zone. Her first client was already waiting, scrolling on her phone.

“Hey, Mari!” the client greeted, looking up. “Ready to work your magic?”

Amari smiled warmly, setting her tools on the counter. “Always,” she replied, pushing thoughts of Brendan to the back of her mind—for now.

During a brief lull between clients, Amari slipped her phone from her pocket. She smiled when she saw it was a text from Brendan.

“Hey, I’ve been thinking about last night… You’re still on my mind.”

Her heart fluttered as she typed a quick reply. “I’m flattered. You’re still on mine too.”

Almost instantly, his response pinged back. “I know you’ve got clients, but when you get a moment, can I see you later?”

Amari bit her lip, considering for a moment. She had a few more appointments, but there was something about him that made her want to say yes without hesitation. She glanced at the clock—she still had some time before her next client arrived.

“I’d like that. Let me wrap up here first, and I’ll text you when I’m free.”

Brendan’s reply came almost immediately. “Looking forward to it. I’ll be waiting.”

Amari smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. As much as she tried to focus on her work, her mind couldn’t help but wander back to Brendan—his smile, the way he made her feel… and what could happen next.

By the time Amari finished her last client of the day, the evening was settling in. She felt a mix of exhaustion and excitement as she quickly tidied up her station and grabbed her bag. A quick glance at her phone revealed a text from Brendan.

“I’m already at the spot, waiting for you. Can’t wait to see you.”

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She typed back quickly. “Be there in 20.”

After a quick change into a simple yet stylish outfit, Amari made her way to the restaurant. It was a cozy, upscale spot known for its quiet ambiance and excellent food, a place Brendan often chose when he wanted to get away from the chaos of his life.

When she walked through the door, her eyes scanned the room until they landed on him sitting at a corner table, looking effortlessly handsome. His hazel eyes locked with hers, and he stood up with a smile, greeting her as she approached.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said, his voice warm and inviting as he kissed her cheek.

“Hey, you,” she replied, feeling a flutter in her stomach. She slipped into the seat across from him.

Brendan’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, and she noticed a quiet admiration in his eyes. “You look stunning, as always.”

“Thanks,” Amari smiled, settling in. “You clean up well yourself.”

He chuckled, glancing at the menu. “I wanted to make tonight special. So, what’s your vibe? Something light, or are you ready for a feast?”

She laughed softly, glancing at the menu as well. “I’m thinking something hearty tonight. I’ve been craving steak all day.”

Brendan grinned, knowing exactly what she was referring to. “I’ll take that as a challenge. You know I’m a steak guy.”

As they talked over dinner, the conversation flowed easily. It was casual yet filled with moments of genuine connection—laughter, teasing, and quiet glances shared between bites of food. Amari found herself relaxing in a way she hadn’t expected, enjoying the simple act of being with him without any pressure.

When the meal was over, they lingered over drinks, talking about everything and nothing. Brendan seemed at ease, and Amari felt the same way. The connection between them felt deeper now, like a shared understanding and unspoken promise.

“So, what’s next?” Amari asked, her voice softening.

Brendan looked at her, his eyes reflecting something more than just the fun of the evening. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want this night to end just yet.”

She smiled, knowing exactly what he meant. “Neither do I.”

With that, the night began to feel like it was just the beginning of something new, something real.

“You still owe me for round two. But I’ll settle for a make out.” she says.

Brendan grinned, clearly amused by her words. "Oh, so now you're keeping score, huh?" he teased, his fingers gently brushing her arm as he pulled her closer. "Guess I’ll just have to make it up to you tonight."

Amari raised an eyebrow, her playful smirk never faltering. "You better, B. I’m not going to let you off easy after this morning’s… 'round one'."

He chuckled, his hand cupping her cheek as he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a slow, deliberate kiss. "I’m up for the challenge," he murmured, his voice low and confident.

Amari couldn't help but smile into the kiss, the tension of the morning finally melting away. It was as if all the teasing, all the playful banter, had led them here—right where they both wanted to be.

"Just remember," she said, pulling back just slightly, her eyes sparkling with mischief, "You promised a long night of making up for it. No backing out now."

Brendan leaned in again, his lips finding hers with a renewed intensity. "No backing out," he murmured against her lips. "I plan to keep every promise I make to you, Mari."

And with that, the night stretched out before them, filled with promises, laughter, and the kind of chemistry they both had been craving.

A few days later she’s standing at his door. She hears Jacquees’ ‘No Questions.’ playing through the door. 

The soft, rhythmic beats of Jacquees' "No Questions" filled the room as Amari and Brendan found themselves nestled together on the couch, the dim lighting of the penthouse casting a warm glow over the space. They were both still feeling the lingering energy of the day—the shoot, the playful chemistry between them, and now, this quiet moment together.

Brendan pulled her closer, his fingers tracing the line of her arm as she leaned into him, her head resting against his shoulder. She could feel the tension of the day melting away, replaced by the soft hum of intimacy.

"You were amazing today," Brendan whispered into her ear, his breath warm against her skin. "The way you just owned that shoot... I couldn’t stop watching you."

Amari smiled, a soft blush creeping across her cheeks. She wasn’t used to this side of Brendan—the way he could be both the intense artist and the caring, attentive man in front of her. But tonight, it was just them, no pressure, no cameras, just the music, and the feeling of being close.

"I love when you say stuff like that," she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she shifted to face him. "Makes me feel like I’m really a part of this, you know?"

He cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing along her jawline. "You’re more than a part of this, Mari. You’re everything."

The song played on, its sensual beat matching the quiet, passionate exchange between them. There was no need for words, just the shared understanding that this moment was theirs. As the music swirled around them, Brendan leaned in and kissed her softly, their lips moving in sync with the rhythm of the song. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the connection they shared.

"No questions," he murmured against her lips, the lyrics of the song perfectly echoing their unspoken bond. "Just you and me."

As Amari settled into his lap, her body relaxed, and she closed her eyes, savoring the peace and comfort of the moment. The sound of Jacquees’ smooth voice blended with the soft rhythm of the music, creating the perfect backdrop for their quiet time together. She could feel Brendan’s warmth radiating through her, the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath her as he stroked her hair with a calm tenderness.

For once, there were no distractions, no demands pulling them in different directions. Just the soft glow of the penthouse lights, the hum of the music, and the feeling of being safe and cherished in his presence.

Brendan watched her, his eyes soft as he traced small circles on her arm, lost in the stillness of the moment. He could tell she was content, and that peace between them was something he never wanted to lose.

"You’re perfect like this," he said quietly, almost to himself, as he continued to play with her hair. "So calm, so beautiful... I just want you to always feel this safe."

Amari smiled faintly, her lips curving as she gazed up at him. “I do. I feel like I can be myself with you. No pressure, just... us.”

Brendan’s heart softened at her words, and he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "That’s all I want, Mari. Just you."

The song played on, and they stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s company, neither needing to say anything more. In that moment, they were everything to each other, and it felt like the world could wait.

Amari rubbed her eyes, groggily sitting up in bed as the sunlight filtered through her curtains. She stretched, then froze when she noticed the delivery outside her door. Curious, she quickly got up and walked over, finding a bouquet of fresh flowers—roses, lilies, and some baby’s breath—arranged beautifully, their vibrant colors almost glowing against the sleek Louis Vuitton box placed next to them.

Her heart skipped a beat as she carefully bent down to pick up the box. It was heavy and well-packaged, sealed with the signature LV logo. She bit her lip, a smile spreading across her face as she wondered what Brendan could have sent her.

She brought the items inside and sat on the couch, the flowers resting on the coffee table beside her. Slowly, she opened the box, revealing a stunning leather bag—an elegant and timeless piece that instantly caught her eye. It was a classic Louis Vuitton Speedy, the rich monogram canvas shining with perfection. Amari’s breath caught in her throat as she ran her fingers over the smooth, luxurious leather handles.

A note was tucked inside the bag, and she unfolded it carefully:

"For my beautiful Mari. I know we’re figuring things out, but I couldn’t help but show you how much you mean to me. I’m thinking of you always. – B"

Her heart warmed as she read the note, the gesture leaving her feeling both cherished and slightly overwhelmed. She had always appreciated his thoughtful side, but this... this was next level. She could feel how much he cared for her in every stitch of that bag, every petal of the flowers.

She smiled to herself, her fingers still tracing the bag’s edge. Her thoughts drifted back to last night, the softness of his words, the comfort of his presence, and how easily everything felt with him.

What are we doing, B? she thought, unsure but excited to see where this connection was leading them. Still, she couldn’t deny how much she loved the attention, the gifts, the thoughtfulness. It felt real, and she felt wanted in a way she hadn’t expected.

As she texted Brendan a quick thank you, she knew she’d have to figure out what all this meant for them, but for now, she could just enjoy the moment and the man who was clearly more than just a passing chapter.

Amari stood behind her chair in the shop, glancing at the clock as she finished organizing her tools and equipment. It was a quiet morning, the usual hum of the shop barely audible as she prepped for her next client. Brendan had left town for a few days, leaving her to handle her work on her own. She wasn’t exactly complaining—she was used to working solo, but there was a lingering thought in her mind.

After the last few days, the gifts, the intimacy, the way things felt when they were together, it was hard not to wonder what the future held for them. Her mind kept drifting to that note he had written, how he’d thought of her even when they weren’t physically together. It made her feel special, but also uncertain about the space between them. She wasn’t used to feeling this vulnerable. With clients constantly in and out, and the music from the speakers keeping her grounded, it was easy to keep busy and push thoughts aside.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out to see a text from Brendan.

“Just wanted to check in on you. How’s the day going? Miss you.”

She smiled softly at the message, her fingers lingering over the keys as she thought about her reply. She missed him too—more than she had expected. She typed back quickly.

“It’s good. Quiet, but that’s a blessing some days. Miss you too. Can’t wait for you to get back.”

She hit send, leaning back in her chair as she waited for her client to arrive. As she stared at the phone, another thought crossed her mind. What was she really looking for in this? She’d always kept things casual, enjoying the attention and the fun. But with Brendan, it was different.

She let out a soft sigh, mentally shaking off the thoughts. For now, she had to focus on the work in front of her. There would be time to figure things out when the time came.

Tags 🏷️

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @avoidthings @nayesworld @haechvn @writingsbytee @grlsbstshot @ovohanna24 @skvrpion @megamindsecretlair @notpradagurl7 @kimuzostar @kenshisluvrgirl @planetblaque @pocketsizedpanther @bimbosnbutterflies2026 @chewingmy3xtragum @easybrezzy @blowmymbackout

[starshideurfics]

A Mother’s Love - part 2

part one

omegaverse, pre-steddie, past mpreg, cw: child death

Marsha Harrington was proud of her work under Dr. Martin Brenner. They were doing cutting-edge research, pushing the boundaries of what the human mind could do, and ensuring the communists didn’t win.

At least, that’s what she told herself as she held a grieving mother whose baby they had stolen.

Then, she told herself she was doing it for the children, protecting them as best she could.

But she couldn’t protect them. Not really.

Two was angry, even as a little boy, and Four followed his example. Five was cold, easily molded by Brenner. Each of them did whatever Papa asked.

Except Seven.

Seven cried often, and he kept to himself. The older boys liked to make him cry. And he was afraid of the girls, like being near them would burn his skin.

He was always distressed during Brenner’s tests, so distressed that they never got good data. Brenner tried ignoring him, a “cooling off period” he called it, to see if Seven could calm down and regulate enough for testing. It didn’t work.

“He’s washing out,” Brenner said one day after a failed attempt to get Seven to guess at the pictures on the cards in Brenner’s hands. “Schedule him for tomorrow.”

One child had washed out before. Four had been a twin. 004A and 004B, but A never stood out, let B push him around. He’d hit his head, had a cranial hematoma. There was surgery, but he recovered… below Brenner’s standard. He washed out at six-years-old.

“Washed out.”

He was cremated.

And 004B became 004.

Marsha volunteered to handle 007’s procedure. She changed out the vials, gave him a mild sedative, and covered him with a sheet. A janitor helped her sneak him out a backdoor.

She brought him home, told her husband she’d leave him if he didn’t agree to adopt the boy. Richard simply smiled and nodded.

Marsha had had cancer in her early-20s, lost both ovaries in the course of her treatment. She’d gone to therapy, made her peace with it. Found a husband who didn’t care that she couldn’t have children, who liked being able to knot her without worrying about babies.

Richard did not care for babies. But Seven was already almost 5-years-old. Richard could handle that.

He was also a lawyer, so getting papers filed to adopt the boy were simple. They named him Steven, figuring it was close enough that if he remembered anything his brain could make sense of it.

Steven David Harrington.

Marsha and Richard were quiet about Steve, treating him like he’d always been around. They moved to Hawkins, closer to the lab, hiding Steve in plain sight. And Marsha kept her job.

If they ran, someone might ask questions, but Marsha wanted to save time on her commute. Who could question that?

Out of the lab, Steve calmed down. He enjoyed his routines, liked going to the park, liked swimming in their new pool with Mommy. For the first time, Marsha saw him laugh out loud, and she hoped the worst was behind them.

Then he started school.

The other children overwhelmed him, and his teacher called home 45 minutes after drop-off because Steve could not stop crying.

Marsha went to pick him up, promised they would work on emotional regulation and try again next Monday.

“Steve, can you tell me what’s wrong?” she asked on the way home.

“Hurts,” he said, sniffling and rubbing his chest. “Hurts inside. Everyone is scared and loud and it hurts.”

“Oh, my poor, sensitive boy!” Marsha pulled into the driveway, pulled Steve out of the backseat, and held him close. “Let’s see if we can figure out how to make it quieter for you, Stevie.”

When Steve went back for the second week of Kindergarten he still kept to himself, but he could manage the half day surrounded by his peers. By the end of the week, he had even made friends.

He got better control, grew up happy and healthy, and most importantly, safe.

Marsha continued to work for Brenner until one day, after nearly 20 years, she was reassigned as a specialist at the VA. Brenner said their funding was cut. That the program was finished.

Steve was almost 13 by then. Marsha was fairly certain he didn’t remember any of it. And he didn’t cry much. Not anymore. But when he came home to his mother crying in the kitchen, his eyes filled with tears. “It’s okay, Mom,” he said, throwing his arms around her.

“I know, Honey. I know.”

🫂🫂🫂

Wayne leaves Steve dozing in his nest around 4:10, and goes to try calling the Harrington’s. Marsha picks up on the third ring, voice light and breathy. Wayne tries to be as cordial as possible, introducing himself and mentioning that he’s seen her at the VA when he goes in for his physical.

“But let’s get down to brass tacks, I’ve got your son, Steve, here, in my nest, sleeping through his presentation heat. My nephew’s a freshman, he found him, and you know how teens are, he brought him to the first safe omega he could think of—”

“Thank you!” she cuts him off, sounding a little hysterical. “Thank you, Wayne! I thought I had more time before it hit him. It’s been so long since I’ve worked with pups—with teens…” she trails off, suddenly quiet. “I should have been paying more attention.”

Wayne waits a long moment, then he asks, “D’you wanna come pick him up? Or should I…”

“Yes! What’s your address?”

Wayne’s ready to give directions, but he says Forest Hills and the lot number, and she thanks him again as she hangs up her end of the call. Shrugging, Wayne hangs up his own receiver, and gets a glass of orange juice from the fridge.

Steve’s still sleeping peacefully, his face tucked into the side of the nest, fingers curled in the blankets.

Wayne crosses over to him, strokes his hair and murmurs, “Hey, Kid. Your Mom is on her way over.” He feels Steve’s forehead, still burning with his heat. He holds up the orange juice. “Need to get some sugar into you, make up for everything your body’s burning through.” He helps Steve sit up, holds the glass for him as he drinks it all.

Finished, Steve turns to hide his face against Wayne’s shoulder and whines.

“I know, Kid. This is a rough one. The first of many.”

“Can I lay back down?”

“Sure, get comfy. I’ll bring your mother back as soon as she gets here.” Wayne watches Steve sink back down to the same spot, realizes then where Steve’s nose is, and holds back a keening cry of his own.

Benny deserves to know.

But Benny wants his pup safe before anything.

Marsha must have broken a few traffic laws with how quickly she arrives, and Wayne opens the door for her before she can knock. “Thank you!” she says again, following Wayne back to his nest and running over to Steve. She rubs his back, softly says, “Stevie, I’m here. It’s okay.”

Steve lifts his head, eyes unfocused as he turns to look at her. “Hi, Mom.”

“Are you ready to go home? We’ll get a nest started on your bed and you can sleep.”

“It’s nice here,” Steve mumbles, “Smells nice. Safe.”

She sniffs theatrically. “You’re right, it does.” Then she sniffs Steve’s hair. “But don’t you want a nest that smells like you?”

Steve shakes his head, fist clenching the white undershirt, pulling it to his nose.

Marsha strokes Steves hair, bends down to sniff quietly at the shirt, and goes stock still. As she recovers, she kisses Steve’s hair and gets back to her feet. Her eyes are watery, lips pursed as she approaches Wayne to ask, “You know Ben Hammond?”

“He’s my best friend. Don’t you know he lives in town?”

She shakes her head. “I try not to be involved, for-” She cuts herself off, pauses. “You know, don’t you.” It isn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“Call him. Now.”

🫂🫂🫂

“Benny’s Burgers, how can I help you?” Benny drawls into the receiver, expecting a to-go order.

Instead, it’s Wayne. “Benny, you need to come over right now.”

“Wayne, no. Dinner rush is about to start, I’ve already got a few early birds, a couple te-”

“Benjamin Hammond, this is serious!”

That wasn’t Wayne, the voice too high-pitched. Feminine and familiar.

“Marsha?”

“Hi, honey. God, I owe you a million apologies. More even.”

“You do.”

“But Wayne said you know, and he needs you.”

Benny’s heart races. “Wayne needs me? Marsha, what the hell is going on? Is Br-”

“Wayne is fine. He needs you.” Marsha is being careful, keeping him from saying too much over the phone. “Please, can you come to Wayne’s? Now?”

“Yeah, just gotta close up.”

“I’m so sorry, Benny.”

“Save it for later, Marsha.” He hangs up, hurries the customers who have already been served. Orders everyone else out with a barked, “Emergency closure. Come back tomorrow.”

Benny hops into his pickup, drives to Wayne’s, confused for a moment by the BMW parked next to Wayne’s truck. But his brain catches back up, and he parks right beside it.

As soon as he’s through the door he can smell it: Peaches, light and sweet. He shouldn’t be able to, with the strength of Wayne’s cinnamon mixed with cigarette smoke, but he does. Peaches mixed with the fading milky scent of a pup.

Wayne and Marsha are in the kitchen, both staring at him.

“I’m so sorry, Benny,” Marsha says again. “What we did to you was unforgivable. What we did to the pups was worse. But I got Steve out. I kept him safe.” Her voice is shaky, but her eyes stay dry, never looking away.

“I wanted to name him David,” Benny says in little more than a whisper.

“I know. His middle name is David, but Steven was easier for him to adapt to.”

“Adapt?”

“Brenner gave them numbers.”

That doesn’t surprise Benny; Brenner was always so clinical. Methodical. But it clearly shocks Wayne. “Numbers. Y’all didn’t even give them names?”

“His name was Seven.”

Marsha glances at Wayne, sees the disgust there. “Brenner thought it would make it easier for us to see them as subjects than as children. But they were always children to me. And Steve was sensitive, stubborn and scared. I got him out, and Brenner thinks he’s dead. As long as he doesn’t call any attention to himself he should be safe.”

“Talking to me will call attention to him, won’t it?” Benny asks, heart and mind racing. For a moment he considers grabbing Steve and running god knows where, but he can’t do that to his pup.

“Not that much. Brenner shuttered the program. I don’t work for him anymore. I’m just a nurse at the VA. And all your files are secured and confidential. No one should be watching you.” Marsha takes two steps, crosses the tiny kitchen, and tentatively reaches for Benny’s shoulder. “And he needs you. His heart still knows you.”

“I think my heart would know him anywhere. No matter what.” Tears stream from his eyes, and Benny nods down the hallway towards Wayne’s room. “I have loved him every day—every minute—of his life, and if you let me in, I’m not leaving. Ever.”

“I know. We’ll figure it out. Keep him safe. Together.”

Marsha takes his hand in both of hers, squeezes once, and lets go. “He’s sleeping, but I think he’ll feel better if you’re nearby.”

Benny panics, suddenly struck with all his worst fears. “He’s not hurt, is he?”

“No more than any other omega on the day they present,” Wayne answers gently.

“Oh.” Right, the peach scent. Benny’s grandmother smelled like peaches. He misses her. She taught him how to bake.

“He found your scent token in my nest right away,” Wayne adds.

“Oh,” Benny says again, his legs beginning to shake. “Oh.”

Marsha guides him back to the nest. To his pup.

Steve is asleep, a plain, white shirt clutched in his fist, held by his nose. The exposed skin of his back is covered in a sheen of sweat, and his cheeks are pink. Too warm all over from his presentation.

Slowly, Benny sinks down to sit at the center of the nest, and he carefully places a hand on top of Steve’s, aims his wrist towards his boy’s nose.

Steve purrs and nuzzles towards it, and Benny purrs in response. His hand moves to grasp Benny’s forearm and he mumbles, “Good, safe.”

“Yeah, Baby, you’re safe.”

🫂🫂🫂

Steve wakes around 9 that night, his cramps intense. He lets out a whine that sounds pitiful, even to his heat-addled mind. “Mama?” he asks softly, even though he hasn’t called his mother that since he started grade school. “Mama?”

“It’s okay, Steve. It’s okay,” she soothes back, petting his cheek.

Her powdery scent fills his nose, mildly floral, and he whines again. His belly cramps harder, an ache that radiates through his pelvis. He turns, seeking out the comforting scents of Wayne’s nest, only to press his nose into the palm of a callused hand.

Steve breathes in deeply. Apples and warmth.

He whines again, wordless and high pitched, both hands reaching, grasping. Steve feels safe, feels loved. Desperately. Overwhelmingly.

He reaches for it with his heart, touches that love with his own, and cries out. A love so big it hurts.

His fingers catch on soft cotton, body-warm because it’s being worn. He clenches his fists, whines as he pulls himself closer.

Steve’s not sure if he imagines it when he hears his mother say, “See, he needs you,” so gentle. When he hears a shaky gasp in response.

Then big arms lift him up, holding him like a pup, cradled against a strong chest. A warm hand guides his head down, positions his nose so he’s hit with the most intense burst of apples and love. Of sweetness and safety.

He snuffles closer, wants only this. Feels himself relax.

He does not understand yet, but he knows. His feelings have always been too big, but here they can be. He can let them be big, because here they are only love. Only joy.

Steve drifts to sleep in his mama’s arms for the first time, and for that moment, all is right with the world.

[raintemper]

More of them,, but they’re robot cats this time lol… I’ll draw Moon and Pebbles soon, and some others maybe

I’ll do anything but actually draw them as Iterators apparently

Don't look too close, Ive never drawn such mech heavy designs until now...I don't know what I'm doing. I got a little more confident with NSH but I was absolutely just going blind with Suns. It took me 2 days to figure out how I wanted to start with Suns...

Some background info dump of them for this? Au??? Idk yet lol, under the line if interested

Erhm. Set in a post apocalyptic world, much like how Rain World actually is. Alternative timeline where iterators don't exist?? Failed??? The ancients have not yet ascended?? Maybe??? Idk the details are still blurry to me also 😞. They are in a high security lab facility ground type setting. (Perhaps just an excuse for me to draw apocalyptic higher tech designs????) It is cold outside, some failed iterator structures still produce rain, and occasionally the air may become toxic.

Suns is an offensive/surveillance model meant for fighting and protecting as one can probably tell with his tail blades. It folds back in an attempt to make it less dangerous and also functions as a way to swiftly cut into something if needed. They are the only one of them (excluding Pebbles for special reasons) to be equipped with a mouth hiding sharp teeth and/or lasers for even more attack prowess. They are also still huge. Sorry I run with the huge Suns agenda. He is a tower. Easily wrestles most lizards. I still like the idea of fluffy Suns, so he still has it as a robot cat. Some insulation for the colder outside temperatures, he's outside a lot. Suns is not built to be friendly. Mostly acts and behaves as an unassuming robot early on.

Moon and Suns were the first properly functional/successful projects. They were edited and reconstructed a lot from beginning to now. Maybe they were both originally purposed as therapeutic companions.

The overseers are little drones that fly around. They still project things and are still sometimes unhelpful with directions, follow at your own discretion. The lizards and predators mostly ignore them as well. They do recognize the different drones with time. They've learned to recognize NSH's drones, which sometimes might contain some edible collected material, so they do occasionally try to eat those. And most of the smaller predators try to leave the area if they see Suns' drones.

NSH is closer to a pet model. He is made for reconnaissance and scouting. He is still tiny because I like him tiny, he's adorable. NSH has three pairs of legs for rough terrain traversal, and is a fast little guy. He helps in collecting samples and materials from the outside, marking maps, as well as finding viable safe spots/shelters. He has no mouth but has a component in his chest where he can collect small samples, as well as storage units in his drones to store excess. He has small vials of decontaminate fluid to clean any samples he collects, they have to be refilled occasionally. Also, as mentioned in the art, he can open his neck and chest area and just swallow bigger samples. He can even keep them alive inside him if he wants to. Otherwise, they're killed and turned into power for him to use. Sometimes he finds lizards with cool patterns and tries to swallow them to show Suns, who oftentimes will kill it afterwards.

He was the experimental project for emotive programming alongside Unparalleled Innocence/UI, hence his fully functioning screen as a face. As opposed to Suns, who functions more as a security camera. I think NSH and UI are both similar in the more playful/chaotic personalities, so I decided for them to be created around the same time and put into the same testing. Overtime, UI did not respond very well and was repurposed (She's not gone). Emotive sentience was programmed into NSH first and then tested on Moon. It was generally successful in both cases. NSH really enjoys messing around and can even imitate his fellow iterators faces. It works really well temporarily scaring predators using Suns' color markings lol.

Because NSH and Suns are both outside often, they have solar panel components in their design for extra power. The two of them are very close because of their shared experiences. NSH likes the outside more, Suns has little opinions of it. They worry about NSH because he's so small and curious and occasionally brings back dangerous things.

Suns is a little bit of an outcast here because of his difference in role. He is mostly left to roam and function on his own/not approached as he carries his role. The others are research focused and Suns is more obviously purposed for battle, so there is a little bit of a divide. Not to mention, he technically does not have the programming for emotions that Moon and NSH have. Suns does learn on his own though :D, some of it is learned from NSH too

I will leave it here for now. I will probably talk more about Moon and Pebbles for their own post. And the others as well. I'm still thinking about their designs though.

Erhm hopefully this makes sense somewhat and was at least a fun read.

[mattsfavouritewhore]

Just Go part 4... The End - Chris Sturniolo

a/n: welcome to the end pookies!! enjoy

just go part 2 part 3

you felt like a stranger in your own skin as you pushed through the crowded party. The thumping bass of the music vibrated through your bones, but it couldn’t drown out the thudding of your heart. you had come here to escape, to forget, but now the weight of what happened earlier felt suffocating. Chris likes Harper. Not you.

Why did you even come? pushing past a couple of people laughing by the kitchen. But as you walked deeper into the house, your eyes naturally found Chris. He was standing in a small circle with some friends, but Harper—of course—was right there, leaning into him as if they were already in their own world.

The sight twisted something in your chest. It wasn’t just jealousy anymore—it was something sharper, like betrayal. seeing it now, in person, felt like salt in an open wound.

Before you could look away, Chris caught their eye. The flicker of recognition passed between you guys, and in that instant, everything seemed to stop. He excused himself from Harper and started making his way toward you. your pulse quickened, a mixture of fury and something else—something that felt uncomfortably like longing.

No. you couldn’t do this. Not tonight. Not after everything.

When Chris reached them, he was breathing a little heavier than usual, clearly flustered. “Hey,” he said, running a hand through his hair, his voice hesitant. “You made it.”

You crossed their arms tightly, feeling a rush of emotions you couldn’t process all at once. you forced a tight smile. “Yeah, I thought I’d come for the free drinks and the real entertainment.”

Chris winced at the sarcasm. “I know things have been weird... but I didn’t think it was this bad.” His gaze flickered toward Harper, who was watching them from across the room.

Chris’s expression faltered, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I wasn’t trying to hide anything from you, Y/N. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Is that what you tell yourself?” you asked, unable to keep the edge from your voice. “You think you can just sweep everything under the rug, pretend like I don’t have feelings? Because here’s the truth, Chris: I’m not the one who needs to be protected here.”

Chris stepped forward, his voice dropping. “Y/N, I never meant to hurt you. You have to believe me. You’ve always been...” He stopped, looking lost for words.

“Always been what?” you challenged, your voice growing colder. “Your second choice? Your fall-back plan? Is that it?”

Chris’s face softened with regret, his eyes desperate. “No, you’re not that to me. I care about you. But...”

“But?” you repeated, cutting him off. “But what? You care about me, but you’ve been chasing Harper this entire time, Chris. How long were you planning on stringing me along? Because, news flash, I’m not waiting for you to figure it out anymore.”

Chris opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Harper suddenly appeared at his side, her voice dripping with sweetness, but with a dangerous edge. “What’s going on here, you two? Did you need a little private chat?”

you turned to face her, your pulse quickening. Harper’s eyes gleamed with a strange satisfaction as she looked between you and Chris. She wasn’t even pretending to hide the power she had over him. “I think Chris has been very clear about his feelings, haven’t you, babe?”

Chris’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t answer. Instead, his eyes flickered briefly to you, almost like he was looking for approval, but he said nothing.

your heart felt like it was breaking, but you refused to let it show. Instead, you looked right at Harper, cutting through the tension. “You two are really something, aren’t you?” you said, your voice like ice. “You’ve been playing this game for months, pretending you care about me when all along you were just setting me up as some... rebound.”

Harper shrugged, unfazed. “Rebound? Maybe. But if the shoe fits…” She tossed her hair back with a smug smirk. “To be fair, I didn’t think he was going to fall for you. But he did. I guess it was fun while it lasted.”

you stared at Harper, anger and hurt crashing through you, but something deep inside clicked. you were done being the victim of this twisted little game. you turned to Chris, your eyes narrowing. “I’m done with both of you,” you said flatly.

But just as you turned to leave, something unexpected happened. Chris grabbed your wrist, his grip firm but gentle. “Wait,” he said urgently. “Y/N, please listen.”

you spun around, eyes blazing. “No. I’m done listening. I’m done with the lies, done with being a fucking second choice.” you yanked their wrist out of his grasp.

But Chris didn’t let go. He pulled you in, his hands on your shoulders, his eyes locking with yours in a way you'd never seen before. “Y/N, don’t walk away. I fucked up,” he said, his voice low but earnest. “I’ve been a coward, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kept you in the dark. But it was never about Harper. It was always you. You just... you have to trust me on this.”

you felt a mix of disbelief and something else—a rush of longing you had tried to suppress for so long. The anger was still there, but it was tangled up with something raw. Something real.

“Prove it,” you whispered, barely able to hear their own voice over the pounding music. “Prove that you want me. Because right now, I’m not sure you even know who the hell I am.”

Chris took a step back, eyes wide, then nodded. “I can prove it. I will. Just give me a chance.”

you stared at him for a long moment, your breath catching in your throat. you could feel Harper’s eyes burning into them from across the room, but for the first time that night, you didn’t care.

“Fine,” you said finally, their voice low. “You’ve got one chance to make this right, Chris. Don’t screw it up.”

Chris’s face broke into a genuine, relieved smile. And for the first time, it wasn’t forced. “I won’t,” he promised, his voice filled with determination.

He drags you to the yard, away from all the people, away from the music and the alcohol..

it was just the two of you.

“I was a mess, Y/N. I was so scared to face the truth that I just let things happen. I didn’t know how to break things off with Harper, and I thought… I thought I could handle everything, but I can’t. I didn’t want to lose you, but I knew I was losing myself by trying to keep you around while still being hung up on her. I messed up, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m willing to prove to you that I can be the person you deserve.”

You listened as he explained himself, still not understanding why he chose harper over you, why he did what he did if this is how he truly felt.

“I don’t expect you to trust me right away, but I need you to know that I’m here for the long haul. I don’t want to play games anymore. No more secrets. I’m not perfect, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this right. But I need you to tell me what you need. I can’t fix things unless you let me know what you need from me.”

He tucks a strand of her hair, kissing her cheek before getting up and walking away. you watch him leave, being left alone with your thoughts.. would he ever tell you why he did what he did? should you forgive him? it all came crashing into your thoughts.

A few days go past, you hadnt heard from chris until one night he messages you..

Chris:

“I know you’ve been dying to see that documentary about that photographer you love. I got us tickets for tomorrow night. no pressure. But I want to spend some time with you, the right way. If you’re up for it, I’m here.”

You smile at your phone, quickly responding "sure"

Chris continued to spoil you, not really going into detail abt harper and why he randomly switched up from you to harper back to you but he made it clear that harper was no longer an issue.

you decided to give Chris another chance, but on your terms. you're not rushing into anything—you've learnt to trust yourself first, and now, you need to trust Chris with a more open heart. Chris’s consistent actions, honesty, and vulnerability make all the difference. Slowly, you lets down your guard. you find yourself laughing again in each other’s company, planning things together, and feeling like you can be your true selves with him—no games, no secrets.

you guys take your time. There’s no immediate rush to label things, but trust and communication gradually grow back, until one day, Chris holds your hand and says, “I’m not going anywhere. I want this with you, for real. You’re it.”

you, with a soft smile, reply, “I believe you.”

a/n: this is pretty rushed bc i geniunely had zero of an idea on how to finish the series.

tags: @riggysworld @watercolorskyy @courta13

[msmk11]

okay so hear me out for an angst idea. remus x muggle reader. they’re dating and so in love and she doesn’t know he’s a wizard or werewolf yet. all of the sudden he shuts her out (cause he’s scared to tell them) and she’s stressing thinking he’s done w her and go from there where you please 😘

(also feel free to make gender neutral i just used she pronouns bc that’s what i use lol)

Magic Tricks

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

WC: 2k

CW: Angst; hurt/comfort; Remus doesn’t know how to communicate

A/n: thank you for the request lovely! I definitely tried to make it angsty, but I didn’t wanna prolong it cuz I know Remus would be trying to remedy the problem ASAP!! I hope you enjoy

The first day or so of silence you give him an out, figuring something is going on. But when he still doesn’t reach out after four days, a pit of dread begins to fill your stomach. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened to you. Not with Remus, obviously, but with other boyfriends. Disinterest was always the first step, and then silence, and then the inevitable “it’s not you, it’s me.” You just don’t understand what you could’ve done wrong. Things with Remus, at least you thought, were going well. Great, even. You were certain he was going to be the one you would marry. But now? Now you’re not so sure.

Instead of spending Friday night depressed and alone, you tag along after work to the company’s happy hour. You hope it’ll get your mind off your suddenly distant boyfriend and even help you loosen up.

You’re sitting at a table chatting with some girls from your department about one of their annoying neighbors when the restaurant door opens again and a chilly breeze blows through. You tighten your jacket as you look up at the brisk intrusion and falter There, getting seated by the hostess, is Remus. With another girl. 10,000 emotions are swirling through you, but the worst by far is shock.

Your shoulder is shaken, “hey, you okay?”

Your throat constricts in your chest and you’re not sure you can respond to your concerned coworker, “hmm?”

“You don’t look so good” another says.

“I- I’m sorry I just, I just saw my boyfriend, over there, and he’s with another girl.”

A plethora of protests and groans of disgust emit from your friends but you tune them all out. You’re hurt and confused, and before you know it, your legs have carried you over to where Remus and this redhead girl are sitting.

“Remus?”

You hate how hoarse your voice comes out, and your stomach twists in embarrassment.

The brunette’s head snaps up, eyes meeting yours and widening, “dove?”

Your eyes flit between the happy pair and you scoff, “funny seeing you here, sweetheart. I see now why I haven’t heard from you in days.”

The redhead chokes on her drink, cheeks turning a dark shade of crimson, “oh no! That’s not! We’re not!”

You glare at her and look back at Remus, arms crossed, “what the fuck, Remus? If you weren’t interested in me anymore you could’ve just said it. Instead, you’re going behind my back with other girls. That’s low.”

You turn around and begin to storm off, angry tears building in your eyes.

A warm, familiar hand grabs your wrist, stopping you, “dove, wait, no! It’s not what it looks like. I swear! Please give me a chance to explain. This is Lily! You remember her, right? I’ve talked about her before. She’s my friend from school.”

You stare at the love of your life disbelievingly, “seems like she’s more than just your friend.”

Remus shakes his head desperately, “no that’s not it. Please, let me talk. Just-“ his eyes flit around the room anxiously, aware of the many people watching the scene unfold, “can we go somewhere private to talk.”

“Now you wanna talk?” And damn it, a few tears start rolling down your cheeks, “Remus I haven’t heard from you in a week, and then I catch you with another girl. You have to know how it seems. Even if nothing happened, it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve ignored me, and made me feel worthless. I- I can’t be with someone who ghosts whenever they feel like it!”

“Baby, my love, please,” he pleads, his hands trembling.

“Remus, I’m done. I can’t,” you pull out of his grasp and stalk back over to your table, grabbing your purse and leaving in a hurry of embarrassed tears.

You’ve been bawling your eyes out on the couch for the last few hours, wallowing in your own self-pity. You can’t believe it. You and Remus are really over. The love of your life is gone. You’re not sure you can ever recover. Your phone has been buzzing like crazy- likely Remus- but you choose to ignore it. You can’t talk to him right now, not after everything that happened tonight.

A knock on the door interrupts your thoughts and you stand, wrapping a blanket around you and wiping the remnants of tears from your stained cheeks. When you open it you’re surprised, but not, to see Remus.

“What are you doing here?”

“Dove. I came here to see you…. to explain….everything. I didn’t get the chance at the bar, and you wouldn’t answer my texts or calls. So I’m standing here now, before you, to just give me one chance to make things right. Please, sweetheart, I’m begging you.”

You concentrate on him, eyes scanning his form. His brunette hair is tousled and messy, his clothes are disheveled, and he looks unbelievably tired and stressed. Even though you’re angry and upset, you love him still, and your heart tells you to fight for any possible chance there might be to save this relationship.

“Fine, come in.”

You turn around and stalk into the living room. Remus’ heavy footsteps fall into step behind you and he shuts the door, sealing off the cold night. You take up home on your gray couch again, finding comfort in it amongst the most uncomfortable situation of your life.

He looks at you awkwardly and ruffles his hair, “can I sit?”

You scootch over to give him room even though your body craves to be closer.

“So, what great excuse do you have for tonight? For ignoring me?”

Remus coughs and turns a shade paler, “uhm, right, okay. Uh- I,” he curses quietly, “sorry. I. Okay I’m just gonna say it. I’ve been ignoring you because I’m- I’m a wizard. And I was scared to tell you because I thought you’d run away and think I’m crazy and I love you so much and. Yeah.”

Disbelief. That’s the only emotion you feel. You scoff loudly and glare at him, “are you fucking kidding me, Remus? A wizard. That’s your excuse? And what great one do you have for Lily, huh? Let me guess, she’s a vampire.”

“Well no she’s a witch actually and-“

Remus freezes, realizing that doesn’t really matter because you aren’t being serious.

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes again and you stand up, wiping them away frustratedly, “Do you think I’m stupid, Lupin? Do you really discount my intelligence and dignity so much that you think you can use a bullshit excuse like that? I thought you’d at least grant me a mature conversation, but your behavior this past week should’ve warned me that wouldn’t be the case.”

“No, beautiful! I’m not lying, I would never, ever treat you so unkindly I- Well I know I’ve been unkind this week, but just let me show you.”

He fumbles in his dark brown coat and pulls out a long brown stick.

“Let me guess, that’s your wand. And where’s the broom?”

“I can’t afford one,” Remus says with a blush.

You only roll your eyes, “right then, let’s see you do a spell if you really are a wizard.”

He clears his throat nervously and nods. He flicks his ‘wand’ and a bouquet of red roses appears in his hand.

Your eyes widen and you’re impressed, but still not convinced. A flower- appearing-trick is an act you’re sure any skilled magician can pull off with some practice.

Remus extends them to you- “an apology. For being a right prick.”

A smile wavers on your face but you push it down and don’t accept his gift, “is that supposed to convince me, Remus? Any magician could do that.”

His hopeful gaze falters and he bites his lip, “right. Okay- okay hold on uh….Please don’t freak out.”

Remus stands up and moves to the middle of the room, and it’s not lost on you that you really feel like you’re attending a children’s magic show. He holds his hand with the wand to his head and taps twice and right before your eyes Remus slowly disappears into thin air.

Your heart quickens in your chest and you curl into the couch, “Remus! What the fuck?”

“Dove! I told you not to freak out.”

Something touches your arm and you scream, flinching away.

“Sorry, sorry, my love. It’s just me. I’m right in front of you.”

You tremble as your eyes dart around the room, brain not comprehending how you can hear but not see him.

“Baby, reach out slowly.”

You shake your head.

“Please,” he asks in a strained whisper.

With shaky hands you reluctantly reach out until your hands hit something. You flinch slightly, but when something warm wraps around your wrkdr you relax. Even when invisible you’d recognize that touch- the gentle, calloused skin of Remus’ hands.

“H-how? I- you- magic….”

Slowly Remus appears back in view and sits down, tentatively taking both of your hands into his. He almost sighs audibly when you don’t fight his touch.

“I’m happy to answer any questions you want, dove. Just, I want to know… do you still want me? Can you forgive me for lying and ignoring you? Do you think I’m a freak?”

You’re certainly dazed, but you’re awakened from your trance at those final words…. do you think I’m a freak?

Are you overwhelmed? Yes. Are you freaked out? Absolutely? Do you still not totally belive magic is real? For sure. Are you still mad at Remus? Yeah, maybe a little.

But do you think he’s a freak?

“Baby,” you sigh, eyes softening and hand moving to cup his face, “of course not. We… we certainly have a lot to talk about… both magical and communication based… but that doesn’t mean I love you any less. I’d love you less if you cheated or were a terrible person, or lied for a bad reason. But for being different than me… for being you, I could never, ever hate you. I don’t think you’re a freak baby. I love you, for all that you are. And I wish you would’ve trusted in me a little more.”

“I was just so scared to lose you,” he confesses hoarsely, his tired eyes dimming with sadness, “but I see I did that more by hiding than just telling you the truth.”

You hum and nod, running your thumb over his bony cheeks…

“Rem?”

He hums, brown eyes looking at you so softly you melt.

“I obviously have lots of other questions but first… Lily… you’re really not-“

“No! No! Dove, never. I love Lily, but she really is just a friend. She was actually lecturing me on the way to the pub tonight about how I was gonna mess things up with you if I didn’t get my act together.”

“Think I need to meet her formally…” you murmur amusedly, “we’d get along well…”

Remus chuckles fondly and carefully wraps you into his embrace.

You go nearly boneless.

“I really am sorry, my love,” he murmurs into your hair.

You inhale the scent of his sweater and the lingering smell of old books on his collar and sigh, “no more apologies, baby. Just promise me you’ll never do that again.”

Remus kisses your forehead gently, “never. But on that note, I should probably confess that I’m also a-“

[ilikelookingatthings]

gravity falls bonus parallels

anyone else think about how Stan might have been drawn to dipper a bit cuz he reminded him of little ford....and while we get that ford saw alot of himself in dipper (what with both being slightly overthinking paranoid nerds who like ddnd and weird supernatural stuff and gaving a birth mark that sets them apart a bit(though fkrds was more noticeable with his hands)...and the ford projected his dynamic with stan between dipper and mabel so didn't see mabel as reliable enough to try to teach as often to.

But I keep thinking......what if ford actually was seeing STAN in dipper as well?

We know despite his denial he felt a void since he didn't fight his dad on kicking Stan out that he tried to distract himself with college and vengeance to prove he didnt need that other school and his friend fiddleford and anomalies which he couldn't quite fill and that bill had taken advantage off ford's need for a deep connection and close companion because deep down ford DID miss his best friend/bro Stan.

So....while I get Ford's desire for a companion who gets it and being drawn to the similarities dipper had with himself......but I wonder if he was also drawn to dipper cuz he was subconsciously trying to fill the Stan shaped hole by his side with another little boy who didn't have glasses because the mental image of stan he has doesn't have glasses.

A subtle reminder that who he really wants is stan even if ge's to stubborn to see it.

And while there is the obvious parallel with how ford was given a big opptunity that fit his interests that would separate him from Stan that Stan felt worried about abs accidentally messed up cuz he didn't want to lose fore a d how dipper was offered the apprentiship and mabel torn between not wanting dipper yo resent if he missed a opportunity he would enjoy but also very much not wanting to be left behind by dipper which resulted in her messing up with blenden blanden ect ect.

And how dipper chooses hjs dynamic with Mabel over staying in gravity falls and growing with Mabel and forgivness and understanding to contrast how ford hadn't fully accepted it was accident and how sorry stan was and had let that ruined oppottunity/project separate ford from stan and stay stuck on that one point.

But lowkey from another angle and a squint dipper has parallels with stan and mabel has similarities to Ford.

Because emotions can be weird....like....stan accidentally messed up the project abd was kicked out by the dad and ford didn't fight for stan to stay so at fjrst glance you can only see Stan being the one feeling abandoned.....from from firds persoectuve stan messed up hjs project despite knowing how important it was to ford...didn't try to tell him about it before hand...so ford seed it a a betrayal or stan abandoning him first cuz they can't really go against the dad.

Like....I wonder if ford had felt hurt or abandoned by stan first and like stan chose to leave him or made it so with his actions like Mabel felt at the authority figure ford bringing up leaving mabel to dipper.

And how it makes a parallel to how due to feeling alone despite being told they'd be fine without their twin.....they were taken advantage of by someone they thought they could trust in bill/blenden blanden bill.

Where both ford and mabel kind of tried to distract themselves with their interests....Ford with his interest in studies or anomalies for example.....Mabel with Mabel land....both trying to distract themselves from things going to shit outside their bubble like how ford had been in denial about bill til more affects on fiddleford were revealed....and trying to fil that void with a cooler 'better' replacement for their twin....like dipper fresh and how bill echoes askects if sfan while being smart and flattering and always able to get into ford's head.

Where both Mabel and Ford struggled for a while to listen to dipper and stan....how the bubble gets popped but Mabel and Ford both felt bad once they finally accepted how bad Bill's plans were and their hand in making that possible even if both were tricked.

But like stan....dipper didn't guve up on Mabel and chose her just as stan never gave up on ford....

Like dipper having that talk with Mabel in the court scene is chef kiss....but I weirdly felt a echo of how dipper got through to mabel in how ford reacted to stan doubling down in his actions with the final switcharoo in how it proves how much stan cares and how any niggling thoughts that stsn hurt him on purpose out if jealous or not caring enough to not be careless was fully put to rest(even if it wasn't just for ford...Stan did that to protect the twins and everyone but still).

Mabel in trying to lie to herself and her feelings that dipper fresh could be a real replacement even thoigh you KNOW that to her dipper couldn't really be replaced like hoe ford lied to himself he didn't need Stan abd living through distractions in his weird bubble.

And both ford and mabel have dated multiple fantasy creatures and a sort of semi evil friend/ex in fiddleford and Gideon who created sort of cults and semi reformed a little to give the other a piece that could help that spread the amount of people involved.

That their brothers of dipper and stan had to help them out with. Both dipper and stan were the ones who gave mabel and ford a little extra push(NO PORTAL PUN INTENDED FOR STAN BTW) get get away from the aweful ex.

I mean yet ford was obsessed with taking bill down pre falling in portal ect but dude was still protecting the journal from being burned by stan even if it would be safer to destroy than to hide it which showed he hadn't quite left the bubble of how he told himsekf he'd be fine without stan abd would be famous and scomplished and prove everyone wrong ect.

And dippers weres a hat with a icon and so does stan.....and ford and mabel both wear sweaters....I mean the obvious similarities are still Dipper and Ford with Mabel and Stan....but it's really interesting if you tried to read things the opposite way abd search for parallels the twins share with the other twin.

Just....wanted to mention some of the stan dipper parallels and ford mabel parallels.

Any extra thoughts you guts want to add just write in a reblog or a note.

Any other parallels you guys noticed?

[kyleyyb]

When Cupid Me shoots Kyle with an arrow and appears unaffected, Cartman realizes the arrows can't give someone feelings they already have for someone. Cartman is reeling from finding out Kyle has a crush on him, and while he feels the same way, he still feels discouraged and doesn't know what to do with this information.

Prom season is coming up, maybe now was the time to make his move.

---

Eric had a long and turbulent journey coming to terms with his feelings for Kyle and he had become resigned to the role he played. Now, Cupid Me had thrown a wrench in the fragile dynamic built between Kyle and Eric.

But, nothing seemed to change in Kyle’s demeanor. Kyle should be practically throwing himself at Eric. This made no sense.

“Hmm…” Cupid Me hummed and simply shrugged. “I guess my arrows can’t give feelings that someone already has!”

[silverwhittlingknife]

So you're a go to source for all things Dick&Tim bros and you tend to write primarily from Dick's POV. So, odd question, but if you were to summarize their relationship from his POV in FIVE panels which panels would you pick? Keeping in mind that one specific aspect of their relationship that you love needs to be clearly represented by each panel (loyalty, trust etc). I hope this is a fun challenge and not an annoying question so if you don't want to answer that's cool! Have a wonderful day!

No more talk. The same thoughts run through two minds... (SotB 29) / You're my equal. My closest ally. (RR 1) / I can't stop thinking how much I rely on him. (GoG 3)

25 Feelings Dick Has About Tim

This was such a kind ask & a cool challenge which I totally failed; here are TWENTY-five panels of Dick's POV on Tim sdfdsfds Look, I got carried away! Marcia and Cindy! The boys!!

OKAY SO BEFORE I GET TO THE PANELS A FEW NOTES:

WARNING THAT THERE ARE SOME NEGATIVE EMOTIONS IN HERE because I love conflict but but but you gotta remember those are not the final word!! They are complicated people and sometimes they get mad at each other BUT ultimately their relationship is so hugely important in both their lives & they love each other and rely on each other so much -!!! <3

Also I have CONCLUDING THOUGHTS at the end about what Dick's POV leaves out (mostly: a lot of Dick defending & protecting & supporting Tim, which Dick does instinctively but isn't very self-aware about most of the time)

I have loosely organized my list into 5^5 format (5 categories with 5 examples each!), so if you want to skip to a relevant one, here are the categories!!

Below the cut:

I hate him and find him infuriating (#1-5)

On second thought, he's endearing & fun (#6-10)

Grief is complicated & he's all tangled up in mine (#11-15)

I love him & think highly of him (#16-20)

I rely on him & though it's hard for me, I trust him (#21-25)

I hate him and find him infuriating (#1 - 5)

1) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze me and Bruce, but he doesn’t know me at all, he should get lost (New Titans 61)

2) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze Bruce but he doesn’t know Bruce at all, he should get lost (Gotham Knights 26)

3) He is so nosy about stuff that is MY business (Robin 0)

4) He sounds like an insincere suck-up half the time... but okay, fine, if you push him he's got a sense of humor about it (New Titans 65)

5) I'm sure he's a better vigilante than me. It's my fault for being a failure, but I resent him anyway. (Nightwing 9 - Dick's having a nightmare)

On second thought, he's kinda endearing (#6-10)

6) He worries too much and gets anxious so easily, but it makes him fun to tease (Robin 67)

7) I'm not that competitive - okay, so maybe I'm a little competitive, I gotta make sure he doesn't get a swelled head (Prodigal)

8) I'm supposed to be his favorite! It is not cool for him to be fanboying over my not-girlfriend's not-boyfriend!! (Birds of Prey 19)

9) We have fun together. I can kick back and relax when it's just the two of us. Plus I get to boss him around a bit. (Prodigal)

10) He’s always trying to reassure me, and I guess it's a little comforting, but also he doesn’t really get it. Or me. He makes excuses that he shouldn't, because he doesn't understand that I suck. (Nightwing 64)

Grief is complicated and he's all tangled up in mine (#11 - 15)

11) He reminds me of everything I try not to think about. Sometimes the memories are so strong it hurts to look at him. (Batman 441)

12) WHY IS HE BEING IMPOSSIBLE ALL OF A SUDDEN??? THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING (Nightwing 139)

13) We're the same. He says all the things I don't let myself think about. It's like arguing with myself. (Nightwing 139)

14) He thinks he gets to tell me what to do but he doesn’t, fuck him (Battle for the Cowl)

15) Life sucks, so what. I sucked it up so he should too (RR 1)

I love him and think highly of him (#16 - 20)

16) He’s the closest thing to a brother I’ll ever have.  If someone hurts him I will hurt them harder. (Nightwing 6)

17) I can't handle the idea of losing him. (Nightwing 97)

17) He’s so good and I’m not. I'm afraid I’m bad for him. (Nightwing 110)

18) He’s better than me, and it’s kind of a relief because I know no matter what he’ll be okay. (Gates of Gotham 3)

19) In my head he’s the responsible one.  (Gotham Knights 10)

I rely on him, and though it's hard for me, I trust him (#20-25)

20) I know I have to trust him but I'm afraid he'll make the wrong choices and get hurt (Nightwing 139)

21) I'm sure I know what he should do because I see myself in him - not that I can take my own advice, but he should (Blackest Night 3)

22) I trust him.  When I’m losing my grip on things, he pulls me back. (Gotham Knights 10)

23) I want him to trust me (Red Robin 12)

24) He can tell when I'm lying. Sometimes he sees my weaknesses better than I wish he did. (Detective Comics 874)

25) He’s always there when I need him. (Teen Titans / Outsiders Secret Files)

Final rambling thoughts:

TIM: Uhh, okay, so I'm just skimming this list - do you really trust me? you're not just saying that? - but anyway, I'm confused because you left some stuff out? Like some stuff that's kinda important? DICK: No? I think I got everything? TIM (starts counting on his fingers): The time I was having a bad day but then I called you. The time I got captured by Two-Face but then you saved me. The time I fell off a train but then you saved me. The time I fell off a building but then you saved me. The time I fell off a different building - DICK: I feel like you're trying to make some kind of point but I'm not sure what it could be.

SO THE THING IS, I put 25 panels in here and not a single one has Dick catching Tim when he’s falling!!! But I think that's a central motif of their relationship from Tim’s POV, not Dick’s. I love Dick, but in some ways I think he is spectacularly un-self-aware.

And I think he especially has a lot of blind spots about Tim. He kinda intermittently gets that Tim admires him, and he enjoys it in a playful I-get-to-boss-you-around way. But Dick tends to consistently underestimate all of his own good qualities & skills, and he meets Tim at a point in his life when he's especially down on himself & his abilities. And so he's unable to see his own influence on Tim, & therefore unable to fully understand a lot of Tim's priorities and loyalties and motivations, because you can't actually understand Tim without understanding Dick's impact on him. There's a fascinating moment in Bruce Wayne: Murderer when Dick's completely blindsided & upset to discover that Tim doesn't entirely trust Bruce, even though this has been a definitive fact of Tim's whole thing ever since he showed up with his Batman needs Robin theory, and Barbara has to actively remind Dick of the obvious-to-everyone-except-Dick fact that a lot of Tim's loyalty is to Dick, and Tim loves Bruce but feels free to be more wary of him. (And to give Bruce credit: this is not something he ever begrudges.) But anyway Babs points this out, and Dick manages to sorta process it for about five seconds, but he cannot actually accept it into his worldview so instead he discards it at the speed of light and goes off and has an argument with Tim instead sdfsfdsf

All of Dick's virtues - Dick's kindness at the circus and Dick's determination to fight through grief and Dick's rigid sense of morals and Dick's vigilante skills and every time Dick has ever backed Tim up or listened to him or protected him or saved him from something or just been casually kind to a stranger in Tim's presence etc etc etc - all these things loom really large in Tim's mental story of Who Dick Is, and What Dick And Tim's Relationship Is. Tim meets Dick before he meets Bruce, trusts Dick more than Bruce, aspires to be Robin instead of Batman. And so in Tim's default version of the story, Dick is the super-special and admirable hero and Tim is... nobody in particular, a tagalong outsider who's barely managing to be a hero, not part of Dick and Bruce's family and not part of their story, who, if he's VERY LUCKY and tries REALLY HARD, might be able to fight his way to proving himself and offering something to Dick that Dick will value, if Dick doesn't get fed up with him first.

But that's not Dick's version of the story!!!

Dick's version of the story is almost the exact opposite, a story where Dick's an outcast failure black sheep who's screwing up everything he tries, and meanwhile Tim is The Sudden New Perfect Robin Who's Better Than Me And Probably Bruce Loves Him More And Probably They Gossip About What A Loser I Am, mixed with a complicated edge of Tim Thinks He's So Smart But He Doesn't Know Me/Us At All. Dick gets much more attached to Tim over time, and Tim gets unnervingly better at the know-it-all psychoanalysis so then Dick gets to have complicated feelings about him being right instead of just annoyance at him for being wrong, plus Dick's relationship with Bruce improves a lot, so Tim stops feeling so threatening. But Dick never fundamentally changes his basic theory of their relationship in which Tim is highly impressive and capable, and Dick is not so much.

And so asking Dick about Tim is kinda like if you asked George Bailey to tell you about Harry Bailey in It's A Wonderful Life; like, you'll be there for five hours while he tells you how great Harry is, and how accomplished Harry is, and how he doesn't really get how or why Harry does the things he does, and maybe George does feel a little resentful or jealous sometimes, but that pales in comparison to all his admiration and trust for Harry who he loves so much, who's better than him in so many ways, and he's not gonna openly gripe but secretly he can't help but feel sometimes like he's such a failure in comparison to Harry, a perfect person who emerged fully formed from Zeus's head with all the virtues and also all the accomplishments, etc. etc. etc. --

-- and he will not actually remember the part where he changed and saved Harry's whole entire life unless you literally send him to an alternate timeline in order to force him to remember it. <3

[megumi-fm]

.

[sillimancer]

thinkin about new years resolutions

[inkskinned]

what is with men being mad any time a woman raises her voice where did that even come from. someone posted a video of a small electrical explosion, and the top comment was of course the woman screams. the second comment is women try not to scream challenge, level impossible. i had to go back and watch the video again. there is, somewhat fainty, a little gasp emitted off-camera, more of a yelp than a scream. it is mostly lost in the crack of the explosion. afterwards, you hear her voice, shaken, say, are you okay?

i am helping one of my friends train her voice pitch lower, because she wants to be taken seriously at work. she and i do each other's nails and talk about gender roles; and how - due to our appearance - neither of us have ever been able to be "hysterical" in public. we both appear young and sweet and feminine. she is cisgender, and cannot use her natural voice in her profession because people keep saying she appears to be "vapid". we both try to figure out if our purposeful voice lowering is technically sexist. is it promoting something when you are a victim to it?

a storm almost sends a pole through a car window. in the dashcam, you can hear the woman passenger say her partner's name twice, crying out in alarm. she sounds terrified. in the comments, she is lambasted for her lack of calm. how is that even fucking helping?

in high school, i taught myself to have a lower voice. i had been recorded when i was genuinely (and righteously) upset; and i hated how my voice sounded on the phone speakers when it was played back. i was defending my mom, and my voice cracked with emotion. it meant i was no longer winning the argument: i was just shrieking about it.

girls meet each other after a long summer and let out a little joyful scream. this usually stops around 12-14, because people will not tolerate this display of affection (as it has the effect of being passingly annoying). something about the fact that little girls can't ever even be annoying. we are trained to examine each part of our lives (even joy) for anything that could make us upsetting and disgusting. they act like teenage girls are breaking into houses and shrieking you awake at 3 in the morning. speaking as a public school educator: trust me, it's not that bad, you can just roll your eyes and move on. it does not compare to the ways boys end up being annoying: slurs in graffiti, purposefully mocking your body, following you after you said no. you know, just boy things.

there's another video of a man who is not allowed to yell in the house, so he snaps his fingers when he's excited about soccer. the comments are full of angry men, talking about how their brother is unfairly caged. let him express himself and this is terrible to do to someone. eventually the couple has to address it in a second video: they are married with a newborn baby. he was trying not to wake the infant up. there is no comment on the fact women are not allowed to yell indoors. or the fact that it could have been really alarming or triggering for his wife. sometimes i wonder if straight men even like women, if they even enjoy being in relationships with them.

for the longest time, i hated roller coasters because it always felt inappropriate and uncomfortable for me to scream. one of my friends called me on it, said it was unusual i'm so unwilling. i had to go to my therapist about it. i don't like to scream because i was not raised in a safe situation, and raising my voice would have brought unsafe attention towards me. even when i am supposed to scream, it feels shameful, guilty. i was not treated kindly, so i lack a basic form of self-protection. this is not a natural response. it is not good that in a situation of high adrenaline - i shut up about it.

something very bad is happening, i think. in between all the beauty standards and the stuff i've already discussed - this one feels new and cruel in a way i can't quite express. yes, it's scary and silencing. but there's something about how direct it is - that so many men agree with the sentiment that women should never yell, even in an emergency - it feels different.

is the word shriek gendered automatically? how about shrill or screech? in self defense class, one of the first things they tell you is to yell, as loud and as shrilly as you can. they say it will feel rude. most women will not do this. you need to practice overcoming the social pressure and just scream.

most women do not cry out, even when it's bad. we do not report it. we walk faster. we do not make a scene. what would be the point of doing anything else? no matter what we do, we don't get taken seriously. it is a joke to them. an instagram caption punchline. we have to present ourselves as silent, beautiful, captivating - "valuable."

a woman is outside watching her kids when someone throws a firecracker at them. she screams and runs towards her children. in the comments, grown men flock together in the thousands: god. women are so annoying.

[whispers-whump]

Some writing advice

that I like to use when I write. None of this is meant to be taken as hard and fast rules, they’re just things I like to do/keep in mind when I’m writing and I thought maybe other people would enjoy! <3

Never say what you mean

This is an offshoot of the very common “show don’t tell” advice, which I think can be confusing in application and unhelpful for scenes where telling is actually the right move. Instead, I keep the advice to never say exactly what I mean in stories.

By using a combination of showing and telling to hint at what you really mean, you force your reader to think and figure it out on their own, which makes for a more satisfying reading experience.

You might show a character getting angry and defensive in response to genuine care and concern. You could tell the audience that the character doesn’t see/talk to their parents often. But never outright give the real meaning that the character feels unlovable because of their strained relationship with their parents and as a result they don’t know how to react to being cared for.

Your readers are smart, you don’t need to spoon feed them.

Be sparse with the important things

You know how in a lot of movies there’s that tense scene where a character is hiding from something/someone and you can only just see this person/thing chasing them through a crack in the door? You get a very small glimpse of whatever’s after the character, sometimes only shadows being visible.

Do that in your writing. Obscure the important things in scenes by overdescribing the unimportant and underdescribing the important.

You might describe the smell of a space, the type of wood the floor is made of, the sound of work boots moving slowly across the room, a flashlight in the character’s hand. And there’s a dead body, laying in a pool of blood in the far corner of the room, red soaking into the rug. Then move on, what kind of rug is it? What is the color, patterns, and type of fabric of the rug?

Don’t linger on the details of the body, give your reader’s imagination some room to work while they digest the mundane you give them.

Dialogue is there to tell your story too

There’s a lot of advice out there about how to make dialogue more realistic, which is absolutely great: read aloud to yourself, put breaks where you feel yourself take a breath, reword if you’re stuttering over your written dialogue. But sometimes, in trying to make dialogue sound more realistic, a little bit of its function is lost.

Dialogue is more than just what your characters say, dialogue should serve a purpose. It’s a part of storytelling, and it can even be a bridging part of your narration.

If you have a scene with a lot of internal conflict that is very narration-heavy, breaking it up with some spoken dialogue can be a way to give some variety to those paragraphs without moving onto a new idea yet; people talk to themselves out loud all of the time.

Dialogue is also about what your characters don’t say. This can mean the character literally doesn’t say anything, they give half-truths, give an expected answer rather than the truth (“I’m fine”), omit important information, or outright lie.

Play with syntax and sentence structure

You’ve heard this advice before probably. Short, choppy sentences and a little onomatopoeia work great for fast-paced action scenes, and longer sentences with more description help slow your pacing back down.

That’s solid advice, but what else can you play with? Syntax and sentence structure are more than just the length of a sentence.

Think about things like: repetition of words or ideas, sentence fragments, stream of consciousness writing, breaking syntax conventions, and the like. Done well, breaking some of those rules we were taught about language can be a more compelling way to deliver an emotion, theme, or idea that words just can’t convey.

Would love to hear any other tips and tricks other people like to use, so feel free to share!!!

[jensthwa]

show & tell pt. 2 (SMG x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

After the… masterclass you gave Mingi the night before, you’re left anxious on what the future holds for you both. But there’s a pool party you promised you would attend and there’s not really time for you to figure your feelings out before your best friend shows up at your door to drive you to it. So maybe today is not the day to figure your feelings out, right? It’s just a pool party anyways, so nothing out of the ordinary is going to happen… right?

PAIRING: best friend!mingi x afab reader.

GENRE: childhood best friends (idiots) to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 11k.

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) anxiety attack, attempt !!! at comedy, wooyoung being a little shit part two ft jongho, a new oc being the voice of reason, reader is clueless and in denial i fear, jealousy, miscommunication, fighting so this part is just a tiny bit angsty :(, confessions, teasing, face sitting, hand job, car sex (don't do it in public people, it can get you arrested), pet names (love and baby), a plot line at the end none of you guys are going to get until my new wip drops but it's worth the wait!

NOTES: hey everyone! thank you so much for patiently waiting for this second and last part to drop. i think that, after this one, if you guys want to request any drabbles or if i come up with some scenarios for this couple i will post them but for now nothing is on the works. what is on the works is a wip that's part of the same universe as this one, so pay attention to the new characters i mention if you want any clues! this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: july 28th 2024.

TAGLIST (sorry if i forgot anyone, pls let me know!): @vannerriin / @mingtinysworld / @purple-bell / @bakepotatoman / @nxy3h / @taehyungmami / @nxcxllxsevens / @breadpuddingboys / @hotteokkay

masterlist.

When you wake the next morning, the consequences of restless sleep show up in your face as a reminder of what happened the night before. 

It's not that you regret it, it's more the fact that you feel so unapologetic about messing with the perfect dynamic you have with Mingi that caused you to toss and turn so much. 

Last night, after putting your duvet back on and then crashing into the mattress feeling all tingly and giddy, you asked yourself a thousand questions. 

The main one being: What the fuck did you do? 

The words kept repeating over and over in your head, your voice of reason (or your anxiety) screaming at you to get your phone and make it right before everything becomes a complicated, unresolvable mess. 

You had a brief moment of panic and heavy breathing, your chest tight with unspoken emotion and your eyes filled with tears. 

It was too much, so you forced yourself up and paced around for what felt like hours trying to get your feet back on the ground. Nothing was working, so you sat down at your desk and rested your forehead against it. 

When you didn't feel the usual coolness of the wood, a comfort sensation for when your studies got the best out of you for the day, and instead felt a pen almost stab you in the eye, you -very confused- leaned back. 

Mingi’s notebook and the pen he didn't put back on the pencil case seemed to stare back at you lovingly instead of mocking you for losing control over your own emotions. 

A sense of peace washed over you when you flipped the pages and landed on the instructions he wrote down. Memories of the amazing years you have had by his side started crossing your mind, like recomforting flashes that allowed your heartbeat to go back to normal: 

The first day you saw Mingi, chasing behind a worn out soccer ball and then kicking it so hard it landed on your lawn. 

The first time you two hugged, when your dad scolded you for having bad grades until you cried in front of him. 

The way he held your hand before heading inside to take the college admission exam, last year of highschool. 

His kind eyes. His reassuring smile. The way he made you feel just a few hours back. 

There's no getting rid of me either, love.

We'll figure it out. 

Letting a few contained tears run down your cheeks, you nodded to yourself as if he was there in the room with you. 

Yeah, you'll figure it out.  

And then proceeded to, very much, not figure shit out for the rest of the night. You could still feel his hands everywhere and hear his voice against your ear whispering how much he knows you and pays attention to you. 

You are fucked. 

It's all you can think about when you get ready for the day. It's all you can think about when you help your dad with lunch and when you let your parents know at the table that you are going out that same afternoon. 

“Mingi is driving you, right?” 

“Yeah…” you whisper in response, eyes focused on one specific spot at the table and mind a million years away from the conversation. 

“Good. He's such a good kid, Y/N, I'm glad he knows how to take care of you.” 

Choking on air when your brain finally catches up to her words, you look back up at your mother in shock “W-what?” 

“Yeah honey, what? Y/N can take care of herself,” your father chips in, unaware of your red cheeks or the honest expression of panic you're giving both of them “She's a big girl that carries around that, uh… What was it?— Ah, that pepper spray I gave her, right?” 

“R-right.” 

He lets out a satisfied see? at your answer, gives you a tiny smile and gets up from the table to take his finished plate over to the sink. 

Your mom stays behind, giving you a look you can't quite read before her usual calm expression washes it away. Only then, you can take a proper, very needed, calming breath. 

“I need to get ready. Thank you for the food.” 

“You made it, dear.” 

“I mean! For taking care of the, uh, plates,” you clumsily correct yourself right away, getting up from the table as well “Love you. Bye!” 

You don't miss the confused giggle on your way to your room and when you're behind closed doors, you finally take into consideration that you might be, in fact, overreacting.

Not much, you think, but just enough to give your feelings away. And it's truly a shame, because you were planning on concealing and bottle everything up until it, inevitably, blows up in your face. 

Maybe not the smartest option. 

If you bang your head against the wall with enough force maybe, just maybe it’ll help—

Someone's texting you. 

> gi: heeeeey > gi: just woke up lol > gi: had the best sleep ever tho > gi: how are you, love? 

Okay. So normal texting it is. Maybe your initial plan of just pretending nothing happened is, coincidentally, Mingi’s plan as well. 

So you type in it's literally almost one, ya lazy and let your thumb hover over the send button, eyebrows creased at a sudden realization. 

The casual texting annoys you. 

Sure, Mingi is used to keeping everything casual between him and the people he sleeps with, but you're not just anyone! You didn't sleep together, either! 

Oh, maybe that's why. 

But it ticks you off either way. 

Is he not feeling the same way you do? Did it mean something different for him than it did to you? What did it even mean to you in the first place?

Why, after all the panic you felt the night before, did you have any sort of expectation for today? 

It doesn't make any sense. 

You hit send. 

> gi: aaaaand?  > gi: god forbid a man gets a good night's rest after being thrown off a bed. 

Scoffing, your eyes roll before you can even control it and, to your demise, the giddiness returns. You respond with did you get hurt? awww and raise a hand to your blushed cheek before sending the message.

> gi: yeah wtf  > gi: my butt is all bruised.  > gi: kiss it better? 

Oh. 

Not casual texting. At. All. 

Or maybe it is? 

Ugh.

Blanking on everything Mingi has ever texted you before, you decide it's best to entertain yourself by getting all pretty to sit around the house party tonight and do nothing else instead of torturing your confused brain any longer. 

Using the help of an emoji to flip him off and, hopefully, gather yourself together enough to get ready, you shoot him another text rushing him to do the same because you don't want to be late. 

And he usually takes forever to get ready anyways.

Showering with very cold water, taking a good thirty minutes to decide whether to wear something comfy and fitting or sexy and fitting for the party do the job when it comes to taking your mind off him for, at least, the time being. 

Yunho was insistent the day before in that you didn't need to bring a bathing suit if you didn't want to, but you pack one anyways because you can sense Wooyoung's and Jongho’s intentions even if the youngest couldn't make it to your impromptu gathering yesterday. 

They know you hate when they get away with annoying you and throwing you into the nearest body of water -in this case, Yunho’s pool- in front of many people you don't know (therefore, you are not going to able to go insane mode on them) seems like the perfect opportunity to get away with it.

The last time they did it you weren't really able to scold them properly either, so they laughed and pointed at you until you threatened to kick their asses in a very dishonest but playful way. 

Mingi, of course, did nothing but laugh along with everyone else and then kiss your forehead as an apology later that day. 

That was last summer and since then both perpetrators have treated you to meals and buttered you up enough for you to forgive (as if you didn't do that the morning that followed the incident) but you never forget. 

Maybe you should. It would make the sight of Mingi parking outside your house easier, you think.

You're sure he's parking outside just to give your dad, who comes out to greet him with a hug, some peace of mind. He's very protective of you and he trusts Mingi even if he gives him a hard time everytime he sleeps over or takes you somewhere.  

Like now, you have a very clear view through your window of the sermon he's giving your best friend. You don't hear it but he's moving his hands in the air way too much for it not to be a clear step by step on what to do if you run into any trouble on the way to Yunho's. 

Mingi likes step by step and he's good at following instructions, so you don't think it's going to be an issue. 

God damnit, Y/N, get it together. 

Sighing, you pick up your bag, check your outfit once in front of the mirror, and rush downstairs and out of the door. 

“You do know how to change a tire, son?” 

Mingi is standing in front of your dad with his hands behind his back and a tight smile. 

“Yes sir, my dad taught me and then at the school they made sure I didn't forget about it.” 

“And make sure to—” 

“Could you let the guy breathe, dad?” 

They both turn to, your dad wears a mocking smile and you see Mingi’s tight one breaks into a genuine one a second later. A grateful one, even. 

He looks really good. Which is insane, considering that to you he looked like Chewbacca just yesterday morning. 

Crazy what a good orgasm can do to a person. Or maybe it's the first time you ever let yourself see him in this light. Either way, he's wearing light wash jeans and a fitted t-shirt that clings to him just right and it's going to drive you insane, you can just feel it. 

“I was just making sure that he—” 

“Knows what to do,” you nod “He knows what he's doing, dad. Stop giving him a hard time,” you give your dad a quick kiss on the cheek and then rush to the passenger seat, giving Mingi a glance so he can get in the car as well. 

“Alright. Love you, take care!” 

“Love you too, Mr. L/N!” Mingi says, getting into his seat and giving your dad the opportunity to see when he fastens his seatbelt. He doesn't say anything else, even though he didn't tell Mingi specifically that he loved him and instead gives you both a nod of approval. 

When Mingi finally drives off your street and into the main one, you sigh in relief. 

“He's neeever going to trust me, huh?” 

“He trusts you,” you say right away, cheek resting against the seat so you can take a proper look at him “I'm his only daughter and you're a man after all. Cut him some slack.” 

“He never cuts me some slack!” he fights back but you just laugh and he can't help but join you “You look really good, by the way. A dress? Are you trying to impress someone?” The tone he uses sparks the remaining tension from the night before, like zero time has passed since he kissed you goodnight by your front door. 

When you got into the car with Mingi, you didn't consider that you two would be alone for, at least, forty minutes before getting to your destination. Your mind skipped the fact that he has this new ability to fluster you by just existing near you and you curse it for not letting you prepare well enough for the way he's looking at you right now. 

“Obviously,” you answer in a whisper, clearing your throat a second later “Wooyoung needs to be distracted so he doesn't tackle me into the pool the second we get there. Don't know if it's gonna work on Jongho, though.” 

Mingi clicks his tongue, baring his teeth and pretending to really think about it “I don't think so, love. You'll have to bribe him into considering dropping their whole summer schtick for you.” 

“You can help me with that.” 

“Can I now?” 

“Yeah. You can just… lock him up in a room and my dress can do the rest of the work.” 

Your best friend laughs and then takes a hand off the steering wheel to roll the hem of your dress in between his thumb and index. His knuckles brush against your thigh and you almost -almost- make a noise at the sensation. 

“It's not the dress, love… It's who's wearing it.” 

A bit of silence passes within the both of you. 

“Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.” 

Laughter fills the car and drowns out the honking on the other side of the street and you wonder why you were worried in the first place. 

Nothing has changed. 

Aside from the intention laced with the flirting, it feels the same way it ever did and you couldn't be more glad because now that you know Mingi doesn't hate you (like you thought for a brief moment last night) or wants to hard launch a relationship that doesn't exist to your friends the second he gets them all together in the same room, you can enjoy the car ride and the evening that's about to follow it.

So you flirt with him freely, listen and sing along to songs that just feel like summer summarized in three minutes of exquisite writing and roll your window down once Mingi takes a turn into a hill, trees replacing the buildings you're so used to seeing. 

Your friend is rich rich. His family makes good money and his parents go on lots of business trips. That being said, it's the first time you actually attend one of his parties, and so when you get to Yunho’s house and ring the doorbell, you’re caught by surprise because you can already hear the loud music playing in the backyard and the blend of new and familiar voices through the thick door. 

You expect him to open the door for you but Seonghwa’s smile is the first thing you see before you and Mingi both have the opportunity to step in. 

“You made it!” 

“It's pretty hard to miss this house, Hwa.” 

Your older friend side-hugs you and stays by your side while Mingi takes it upon himself to put your bags for the day in the pile of other bags next to the door “How are you doing today?” 

You're about to answer but when you look at him, you see him staring at Mingi, so you do too. He's staring at Hwa with a little smile “I'm doing good. I blocked her and everything and I can confidently say that…” he turns to you “My ego’s not bruised anymore.” 

If Seonghwa catches the spark between you and you best friend, he decides to ignore it “That's goo—” 

“Mingi!” 

What the hell is she doing here? 

Not, not that bitch from yesterday but this girl who Mingi meets with sometimes. You don't really know her, you just know she's gorgeous and that her name starts with an h, maybe? 

She's a fashion major and it shows in the way she's dressed up today. Truly, an enjoyable company whenever she's around at frat parties, a saving grace when you're tired of surrounding yourself with only men. 

Right now? She's your worst nightmare. 

Wrapping her arms around Mingi’s neck and getting on her tippy toes to kiss his cheek, she smiles like she knows she's getting laid tonight and your best friend does nothing to pull her away. 

She doesn't even say hi to you before dragging him to the backyard! You and Seonghwa follow them and when she takes Mingi’s arm and pulls him over to -you assume- introduce him to her friends, you almost stomp your feet like a little kid. 

Trying to get rid of the annoyed frown on your face, you turn to Hwa with a teasing smile and your eyebrows raised. 

“Well fuck me, am I right?” 

“I might!” Arms wrap around your waist and you feel Woo’s chin resting on your shoulder immediately after “That's a very nice dress, Y/N.” 

If Mingi was next to you, like you want him to be, you would give him a I told you so glance. Instead, you just look at Seonghwa with absolute horror before he snickers and goes away. 

“Right? And it looks horrible when it's drenched in nasty chlorine water.” 

“You can't possibly know that.” 

“I know a lot of things and— No! Woo, please don't,” you beg when he lifts you off the ground for a second. Behind you, you hear laughs and, even though you can't see them, you know it's San and Jongho “I just got here and I haven't even changed yet, please.” 

He turns you around and hugs you properly this time before letting you go. You take the opportunity to punch him in the arm and then go over to San and Jongho to do the same. 

“We'll let you get your swimsuit on this time.” 

“You're so considerate, Jong. Seriously, they're going to give you the Nobel prize if you don't stop.” He mocks you, repeating what you just said in a higher pitched voice and you laugh as you sit next to Wooyoung’s ex-girlfriend, Gyuri. 

San also has a girl sitting beside him with his arm around her, but you don't really know her so you just wave at her. They're all in their bathing suits already “See how he tried to flirt with me to try to get me with my guard down? He's a monster.” 

“And in front of me, too? The nerve on this guy.” Gyuri, of course, backs you up immediately and you want to return her smile, but you can see Mingi from the corner of your eye and it's distracting. 

“Oh, they're ganging up on me already,” Wooyoung whines, sitting down in front of you both and handing you a drink “It's like my worst nightmare.” 

“He's enjoying it, don't let him convince you otherwise,” San says, getting up from his seat and taking his girl with him “Especially coming from you.” He points at Gyuri and you laugh. 

“We're just friends now!” 

“That's what you told me like three years ago before—” 

Wooyoung gets up to chase after him and San lets go of the girl's hand to try to get away from him. 

Turns out, you're not the one Woo tackles into the pool. This time, him and San crash down on the water hard and a few droplets of water wet your feet. Gyuri laughs and everyone else does too when they realize what's happening. 

Jongho gets up and joins them in the water soon after to try and help (kinda, not really) San escape the wrath of his best friend. 

You almost miss it, because you take the opportunity to look at your best friend and, when you do, he's already looking at you. 

Breath catches on your throat and the lump that forms afterwards has a name and a reason: Mingi is looking at you with so much longing it physically hurts. 

He looks like wants to drop everything and come and confuse your fragile mind even more, just like he did the night before. 

Then why the fuck is he there with whatever her name is and her friends and not sitting right next to you? 

You look away, grasping your drink for emotional support and convincing yourself you're starting to see things that are not actually there. 

“Why the fuck are y'all fighting this time?!” Yunho comes from inside the house and it's the first time you see him today “No choking! No running! It's literally in the rules!” 

“Wooyoung please let go of my boyfriend!” 

Ah. So she is San’s girlfriend. Still, you turn to Gyuri to ask. 

“Who is sh—” 

“San’s new girlfriend, Kyungmi. We don't give a fuck about her or San right now, we're mad at them,” you want to ask who we is, because Wooyoung seems like he's just playing, but she interrupts you again “What the fuck is going on with you and Mingi?” 

Huh?! 

You make a quick mental review of your plan. Conceal? Clearly it didn't work. Bury your emotions deep so no one notices? You probably can't recover from the way you smile just dropped. 

The only thing left on the list is pretend that you're insane, but you're not sure it'll work either. So you turn it on her: “Nothing much. He played Espresso like three times on a row on the way here and I almost kill him, but—” 

“You can't bullshit me, Y/N.” 

Great, that didn't work either. 

“I saw that. Seonghwa did too but he got up before I could convince him to ambush you,” she dramatically sighs, chugging the rest of her drink down “So, what is going on?” 

“Nothing,” that much is true “he's literally with a girl right now.” 

“And she will never mean as much to him as you do. Next.” 

“Gyuri… I really don't know what you want me to say.” 

Squinting her eyes at you suspiciously, Gyuri takes her time before answering and you fidget in your seat a little. Wooyoung liked her for a reason, she's feisty and goes straight to the point and it's something you usually admire but right now it's not the time for her to do this. 

“I just thought maybe it finally happened…” She whispers and shrugs the entire conversation off before getting up “Let's head inside. They're going to start grilling meat at any second and I also don't want to be near Wooyoung when he gets out of there.” She points at him and you laugh. 

Jongho has him in a chokehold and Yunho is trying to separate them while San desperately swims towards his girl that's still waiting for him near the edge of the pool. 

“Sure thing.” 

You pretend you don't feel Mingi's eyes on you as you move. 

This is not unusual. Whenever you all go to parties, hosted by someone inside of the friend group or not, you end up separating from Mingi. 

He does his thing. He's outgoing and he likes dancing while you enjoy conversation and drinking away at the rest of the party, occasionally making out with someone and calling it a night when your social battery runs out. 

So you hang out with Gyuri in the kitchen until the sun starts going down and when the last ray of it disappears you decide it's time to swim a bit before you're too tipsy for it to be safe. 

Grabbing your bag and greeting some new people you don't know at the door, you head up to the bathroom you are told by the host himself it's upstairs. 

When you're tying up the strands of your swimsuit, the door slams open and you jump and cover yourself up with your hands because you're not able to finish the job, so the strands fall down and the only thing holding the top part of the fabric it's you. 

“What the fuck, Mingi?” 

Turning around, you're only able to look at him through the mirror. 

“Lock the door next time! What if it was somebody else?” 

“People usually knock!” 

“I didn't mean to scare you, it's the door’s fault,” he makes a fool of himself trying to prove it “See? I— let me help you with that,” he closes the door again and, this time, he locks it before taking a short step and grabbing the strands of your top “It's the second time this week I scare you like that, huh? I’m sorry, love.” He ties the strands together with a secure knot and his apology finally allows your tense muscles to relax. 

You remind yourself that there's no valid reason for you to be mad at him. You'll figure it out, he said it himself, and maybe today is not the day to do so. 

But he's not stepping away once he's finished, he's not even saying anything else before his hands grab your waist and his chest collides to your back. 

Looking at him through the mirror again, you silently ask him with your eyes what he thinks he's doing. He ignores you, bending down so the tip of his nose can trace the skin on the side of your neck. 

“I missed you,” his voice sounds like honey when he says it and you, once again, curse the ability he has to make you crumble “and you disappeared like an hour ago.” 

You let out a sigh. 

“I was in the kitchen, Mingi, not missing and we were in the same space for at least twenty minutes before that and like… forty minutes in a car, together.” You remind him and he frowns “Besides, you were with Ha… Haneul?” 

“Hanni,” he corrects and you huff out a whatever “and she was introducing me to some of her friends that are in the same major as me, just a year over.” 

“Cool.” 

He pecks your shoulder. You do your best to not melt completely into him and fix your hair in the mirror. 

“Y/N…” he starts and you hum in acknowledgement “I missed you.” 

It pisses you off for some reason. The mature thing to do is to let him know but the words that leave you are petty and laced with annoyance. 

“I’m sure you did, buddy.” 

He grins against your skin and you turn around to face him, eyebrow raising. 

“What's so amusing?” 

At your tone, he seems taken aback but his smile stays curving his lips upwards.

“I'm just really happy to have this moment with you,” he says, matter of factly, and you press your hands against his chest to regain some personal space. He doesn't budge an inch “What's going on?” 

He's such a guy sometimes. 

“You're here, kissing my neck, while a gorgeous girl who I'm sure is waiting for you downstairs is probably bragging to her friends about how she's going home with you tonight and—” 

“Y/N, I'm literally taking you home.” 

“I can easily take a car back— Mingi, seriously,” taking a deep breath, you stare at him with all the honesty you can gather “I don't want to do whatever this is if afterwards you're going downstairs to dance and flirt with Haneul or whatever her name is.” 

He looks like he wants to correct you on it again, so you level him with a daring glance. 

He keeps his mouth shut. 

“And I also don't want you to hurt her feelings if you tell her you can't leave with her tonight, so—” 

“I don't give a shit about her feelings, love.” 

“Mingi, don't say that!” 

“I don't! I wasn't flirting with her at all, either! Listen, it's…” he stops to chuckle for a few seconds “I mean, it's adorable that you're jealous but there's no reason for you to—” 

“Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.” 

It's the second time today you have said those exact words to him. The first time, you also felt your heart bang with such force against your rib cage but for a completely different reason. 

“I'm not one of the girls you fuck on the side when you're horny or bored out of your mind. Don't fucking treat me like one.” You warn and suddenly the image of you telling him that teaching him yesterday could mess you both up crosses your mind.  

“I'm not, Y/N! I'm just saying that you look adorable when you're—” 

“Jealous? Why would I be jealous when we are not together, Mingi? I'm literally looking out for the girl!” 

“You don't even know her name, love.” 

“That's not the fucking point!” 

He finally takes a step away from you, closing his eyes and taking a calming breath, surely.

Now you're pissed off because he saw right through you and your words. 

That disgusting weight on your chest you felt back by the pool while you kept staring at him from the corner of your eye? Jealousy. 

Now that he brought it up, it makes sense. 

You hate it. 

You always hated being put in a position where you felt the need to compare yourself to others. Always hated how easy it is for anger to run through your blood and infiltrate every waking thought until it clouds your judgment. 

Because you shouldn't be angry. He just said he didn't care about her feelings. 

And yet, all you can think about is that he spent an hour with her instead of you. 

When he turns to you, there's a storm in his eyes and you just don't want to hear it tonight. 

“Save it, keep it, sleep on it and we'll talk tomorrow,” picking your dress from the spot on the floor it's been sitting all this time, you put the fabric on, take your bag and then unlock the door “I’m going home.” 

You don't give him the opportunity to say anything else before getting out of the bathroom but you do hear a groan when you're rushing downstairs. 

Yeosang and Yunho are just leaving the kitchen when you trip on the last step and the host jogs the few steps to you after laughing. 

“There you are, Y/N. Listen, there's some meat already grilled back there but we're—” 

“I'm actually going home, Yun,” you cut him short “I'm not feeling that well. My plan was to swim a little before leaving but I don't think I can do it.” 

“Did something happen or…?” 

What happened is coming downstairs as he asks. 

“Nope. Nothing, I just think I'm catching a cold or something. Thank you so much for inviting me though!” You hug your friend quickly, kissing his cheek before pulling away. 

“Always…” Yunho is very observant but, as you always do, he doesn't press you with questions about what's going on “He's taking you home?” Pointing behind you, you don't have to turn around to get what he means. 

“Ye—” 

“No. He's having a great time here, I don't want to get in the way,” you shrug “I'll just get an uber or something. Don't worry.” 

Yunho frowns slightly, eyes moving from your face to over your shoulder. 

Immature. Petty. Rude. 

You're sure that's the way you’re coming off right now. But feeling anger bubbling behind the smile you give Yunho, you think it's better they make their assumptions instead of actually seeing you upset. 

You move to hug Yeosang as well and he murmurs his farewell. When you turn around, Mingi is no longer there and you don’t spare a look towards the floor to ceiling glass windows that separate the living area from the backyard because you're sure he's sitting right beside that girl again. 

As he should be. 

You bolt for the door, giving your friends a tiny smile before going down the few steps and into the hill. It's already dark and you're sure no uber driver it's going up this hill for the tip you're able to offer them, so you figure your best shot is to go down and try to find a cab on the main street. 

The light from your phone illuminates your scowl as you walk. Past the bushes and the trees and the lines of parallel parked cars where Mingi’s Lexus is. 

You don't notice him there until he opens the backdoor to block your step. 

“Get in the car, I'm taking you home.” 

Closing the door he just opened to stop you, you shake your head. 

“I told you I'm getting a ride and—”

“I don't give a fuck. Get in the car.” And then he's opening his door and closing it so fast it gives you no room for debating. 

He's angry. Shit. 

You can't even see him through the tinted window to assess how much damage you have done, so you look down the hill one more time and wonder if making the run for it is worth it. 

When your phone lights up with a notification from Gyuri asking you if everything's okay and to make it home safe, you take it as a sign to round the car and get into the passenger side with an annoyed huff. 

The engine comes to life. You're not looking at him but at the trees until the leaves start showing the building lights in-between them and soon you're on the main road. 

You can't even ask him to turn the radio on. Stubborn, you refuse to let the anger inside of you dissipate in fear of shame taking over. It's better being angry than being ashamed, at least in this exact moment because you can practically feel Mingi's anger through the silent treatment. 

But you need to say something. The silence is suffocating and the street is surprisingly empty so you can't distract yourself with anything. 

“You shouldn't have bothered.” 

“I am bothered. You bothered me.” 

Clenching your jaw, you turn to him in disbelief “I told you to stay at the goddamn party so we can fix this tomorrow but I bothered you?”

“Did I stutter or something?” 

“No, you're just not making any fucking sense!” 

“Yeah, fuck this,” you see him look around, biting the inside of his cheek like he's holding his words in “We're fixing this right now.” 

The car makes a harsh turn and you have to grab the door for support. 

“Mingi!” He's not listening to you anymore. His hard gaze stays on the road, it feels like forever before he pulls into a somewhat empty parking lot and when the vehicle stops you go to open the door and get the fuck away from him before you two kill eachother inside this car. 

That's an exaggeration but with the way he turns off the car and unbuckles his seatbelt, you know your pride doesn't stand a chance. 

The summer breeze briefly hits your face before his hand is on yours, closing the door and preventing you from, once again, escaping the situation. 

Frustrated, you let out a loud groan “What the fuck is your problem?!” 

“I don't know, Y/N! But I'll tell you what your problem is, alright?” he chuckles. It's a humorless sound, his face painted in something you've never seen before “Your problem is that you assume you know what everyone else is feeling and you assume you're right. But intuition can only get you so far, love, so I need you to take your head out of your ass and think logically for a second.” 

Flabbergasted, you think you murmur something in your defense but he cuts you short. 

“No! You didn't let me get a word out back there so now you're going to shut up and listen,” he pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes “You assume you're smarter than everyone else but you're actually so dumb. Dumb, you're acting very dumb and reckless, Y/N! That back there?” he points out of the window to nothing but you know what he means “Leaving— Scratch that. Leaving me and not giving me a chance to say anything back? Trying to go down that hill alone and in the dark? Stupid.” 

Staring back at him with watery eyes, you don't even know what to say back except a whispered excuse me?

“And usually I would beat up anyone who even dares to call you that but I guess all these years I've been wrong about you. Because if you were smart, you would've realized that Hanni means nothing to me and I mean nothing to her. There's nothing, she loves appearances and that's it.” 

You knew that already, but you're not giving your stance up. 

What even is your stance? Ah, right, he treated you like an envious no one back there and not like his best friend.  

“Yeah, I can tell you mean nothing to her from the whiny tone and the hug and the dragging you to meet her friends, Mingi.” Scoffing at the memory, your lips press into a thin line. 

“Well, she's a friendly girl!” 

“She didn't even say hi to me!” 

“So she doesn't like you, Y/N! Who cares!” you sure don't but, again, you just stare at him in disbelief and his open arms, palms to the sky “Do you care? Because I don't! And guess what? I doesn't fucking matter if she likes you or not or if she wants me or not because I like you!” 

What? 

“W-what?” 

“I like you! And I'll choose you over her and everyone else again and again and again until you notice but fuck it's so tiring. You're so fixated on why I let her drag me to her friends that you completely ignored me the rest of the time we were there and maybe if you looked at me more than once you would've realized that I was staring back at you the whole afternoon!” 

You let out an annoyed chuckle “So you were, Mingi.” 

“I was! I was trying to get you to look at me and notice how bad I wanted you to come over, rescue me from that boring ass conversation, grab my hand and claim your place right beside me because—” he pauses, resting a hand on the steering wheel and looking at you like he can't believe he has to spell this out for you “Because I want nothing more than for her and everyone to know I’m yours! I'm sure everyone already fucking knows too, except you. So yeah, sometimes, you're pretty fucking dumb for such a smart woman, Y/N.” 

Words escape you. They escape your mind, your reason and your pride shrinks until it disappears behind all the love you feel for Mingi. 

So that's what you are feeling. That's what you felt yesterday night when the tiredness couldn't drown out your thoughts of him and all he meant to you. 

Love, love, love. In all its forms, in all its possible scenarios. Your heart burns for it and you used to think that your hopeless romantic desires began and died with the movies you tend to see and the books you tend to read, that it was impossible to feel this way for anyone but there he is, chest heaving in the yellow interior light, waiting for you to say something back. 

“And I realize that before yesterday I showed no interest in you but believe me when I say that I—” 

Shakily, you interrupt him with whispered words, heart soaring and hands reaching out to cup his beautiful face “Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.” 

When you kiss him, you make sure to pour out everything you couldn't say a minute ago into it. 

When he kisses you back with the same feeling, it crosses your mind that he already forgave you. 

And when he grabs your waist and drags you over the break handle and the transmission to collide his chest against yours and drag his tongue along the seam of your bottom lip, you think that, for the first time ever, you have to tell him he's right. 

You are stupid. Stupid for not realizing it sooner, stupid for confusing his longing stares for something platonic, stupid for thinking you could wait until tomorrow to tell him he has the right to see and be with anyone he wants to because this is it. 

This. The way your entire body comes alive when he sighs into your mouth and groans at the way your knee opens up his legs to make room for you on his side of the car and partially on his lap. The way his thumbs run through your cheeks and dry the tears you didn't even feel falling down. The way your heart jumps frantically and the way its beats could get confused by his because you're so close. 

Suddenly and unexpectedly, you can't recall a time Mingi didn't make you feel this exact same way. It's overwhelming, it expands through you like a fire and it knocks the remaining air out of your lungs enough for you to pull away and rest your forehead against his, shaky breaths tangling together and fingers grasping the neck of his shirt in an attempt to ground yourself. 

You sniffle, incapable of not feeling emotional over his confession and your realization “I'm sorry, Mingi. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for treating you that way I was… I behaved like…” 

“An ass.” He nods and you look at him with the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. 

“Yeah,” you nod as well “I was an ass. A jealous ass.” 

“I know, love.” He whispers, eyes moving on your face before his lips are on yours again, briefly, sweetly, even if you don't feel like you deserve it “You tend to forget that I know you, hm? That I've seen you jealous before? You were an ass back then, too.” 

“Okay! Okay, stop calling me an ass, I get it.” 

“I'm sorry for waiting for you to do something when you didn't even… I guess you didn't know, right? The way I feel about you?” 

“I know now,” you whisper back, nudging your nose against his and then putting some distance so you can see him better “I feel the same way, by the way. We're shit at communicating, apparently, so I'll just tell you now that—” 

His lips are on yours again and he's giggling against them and shaking his head when he pulls away. Brown eyes search for yours and you're not sure what he's looking in them but he seems to find it, his muscles relaxing against the leather of his seat seconds later. 

So you kiss him again. And again and again until your back starts hurting and the steering wheel is pressed uncomfortably against it, forcing you to shift on his hold. 

“Let me… Wait.” He lets you go to pull his seat back and then closes his legs, forcing your knee to fall on his other side so you can fully straddle his lap “That's better. Now come here.” And then he’s grabbing the back of your neck and stealing your breath away again with another kiss.

The tension shifts right then. When he can fully feel you pressing up against him and when a noise escapes you once his hands drop and give your bare legs the attention you didn't even know you were craving. 

You thought a second ago that the sweet kisses would stop once you were both sated with the sweet aftermath of all the yelling and confessing but now you don't want it to stop. 

There's a lot to catch up on, a lot of missed time you need to make up for. 

You still want to make him feel good. The sparks from yesterday come alive again and soon you're yanking the strands of dark hair with your fingers and letting your mouth explore the skin of his neck. When you sink your teeth into his skin, he lets out the same noise he did the night before and you smile against the mark you just made. 

His lips find your shoulder and he breathes hard into it once your hips start moving at their own accord, slowly yet firmly, the pad of his fingers digging hard on your thighs until you break away from his neck to focus on his face again. 

“This goddamn dress, love.” 

Humming, you caress his red cheek with your lips “What about it?” 

“Been thinking about it all day…” 

“It worked, by the way.” 

“Woo?” 

“Mhm. Distracted him so he didn't throw me in the pool right away.” 

“And Jongho?” 

“Probably plotting against me right now.” 

He laughs softly into your skin “Probably.” 

Chuckling as well, you stop your movements and take in how he looks. Gone, a little too fucked up from just making out, lips swollen and eyes clouded with something you're getting too familiar with, too quick. 

“Worked on you, too.” 

He smiles and shrugs, letting his head drop into the headrest “You look good in everything, love. It doesn't really matter what you wear.” 

“Oh?” 

A firm hand trails up your body, slowly, from you leg to your hip, your waist to the side of your breasts and your until it cops your face with affection you never imagined you would experience. 

“I have always thought you are the most beautiful girl to ever exist.” 

This is it. 

Leaning into his touch, your lips connect to the palm of the hand holding you before you lean forward again. 

“I love you, Mingi.” 

He doesn't seem surprised by your confession and you're glad he knows. It doesn't really matter if it's too soon, if you even mean it in a romantic way or not, the love you have for him transcends all labels. 

“I love you too, Y/N.”

And his does too. 

You kiss him until it hurts. 

He kisses you until you're gasping and your body is pleading for more. 

The both of you kiss each other until you're sure nothing else will replace the taste of one another, that it will linger forever even if your paths stop crossing at any point in time. 

It feels like you're trapped somewhere where the clock doesn't tick at all, where you can take your time exploring him with your mouth and your hands. 

And then it doesn't. 

The fabric of the dress starts bothering you, his tight shirt is suddenly not tight enough and the hardness steadily growing and pressing into your core is screaming for attention you can't give him with all these clothes on the way. 

He feels it too, fingers tracing the hem of your dress for the second time today and then they're under it, pulling at the fabric up until it bunches on your waist. 

You're still wearing the swimsuit he helped you put on earlier but it does little to conceal how affected you are. Looking down, you're not even ashamed of it when he follows your eyes and lets his linger on the patch of wetness darkening the color of the bottoms. 

Still, he moves his hands upwards again and soon you're struggling to get the dress off, considering you're almost bumping the roof of the car when you straighten your spine to do so. 

“Wanna know what crossed my mind when I saw you in the bathroom?” 

When it's finally off, he immediately goes for it: His index tracing your collarbone and slowly descending, his short nail dragging against your skin before the rest of his fingers join, right in between your breasts, where there's fabric holding together the top of the swimsuit. 

He could easily tug on it if he wanted to. Instead, he ignores it and presses the heel of his hand against it, forcing you to lean back and almost bump into the steering wheel again. 

Unable to speak and panting, you only nod as a reply to his question. 

“How easy it would be to get on my knees and eat you out. I thought: What if I just…” Using his other hand to mess with the knots that keep the left bottom part of the swimsuit together, he demonstrates what he means without actually doing it, his eyes following the motions “Undo these, get on my knees and make her come all over my face?” 

“Fuck, Mingi…” 

“You would like that, wouldn't you?” He smirks without actually looking at you, the hand on your sternum traveling down against your skin before joining the other one, teasing the knots on the right. 

“Y-yes.” 

Maybe he can see it on your face, the sudden nervousness at the scene he painted before you, because he grabs one of your hands and brings them to his lips before drawing you close again “Please tell me your idiot ex-boyfriend ate you out when you were together.” 

Blush darkening, you make a face that gives the answer away. 

He groans “He's worse than I thought, fuck. Come here.” And without any warning, the back of his seat goes down until it touches the backseat with it.

Bracing yourself against his chest, because you went down with him as well, you huff out a surprised laugh “Go where?” 

“Up here. Let me teach you something tonight.” 

“Mingi…” 

“First, you need to make sure your hands are clean—” 

“Stop,” laughing, you interrupt his bad attempt at teasing you with the same words you used on him yesterday “There's no real support for me if we do this, where do I even—” 

“Knees here,” he motions the backseat and you could actually do it, but you would have to sit on his face instead of hovering like you imagine it would be more comfortable for him “hands here” he points to the grab handle and the headrest of the passenger seat and then straightens his spine a little, bringing his face closer to you so he can whisper right into your worn out lips “Turn the light off, I'll do the rest.” 

He looks like he's going to kiss you but then he falls back onto the seat with an excited smile curving his lips. 

What a tease. 

So of course you turn off the light and prop yourself up into the position he wants to. It's challenging, the car is not that small but it feels like it is and you very much would rather do this on a bed, spare his back and yours in the process, but excitement also runs through your body and your brain stops making up excuses for why should deny yourself of the pleasure of Mingi using his mouth to make you see stars the second his fingers undo the knots and peel the bottom half of your swimsuit off your body with ease. 

Lips trailing up your inner thighs and hands on each side of them, holding you in a secure position, Mingi doesn't tease you much before attaching his mouth to your heat and your subconsciousness flies out the window when his tongue flicks your clit. 

You look down at him and the sight of him enjoying himself has you beaming, the warmth spreads through you and the zeroes on your pussy. You don't even try to quiet down your moans, completely forgetting that you're in a public parking lot that can fill up at any second. 

But paying no mind to it either, Mingi also moans encouragingly into your wet folds when your hips move a little, chasing that high. 

He shifts his focus to your entrance, his tongue working itself into you and when you move your hips again at the feeling, his nose bumps into your clit in a way that has you grasping the headrest for support, right hand slipping down and resting on the window while your mouth hangs open and your eyes shut close. 

“Mingi… Baby, fuck, I'll—” he adds his thumb into his ministrations, pressing it against your clit the way he did yesterday and it only takes a few side to side movements for you to come undone on his mouth. 

And again, the intensity of your orgasm takes you by surprise. It's obviously not as intense as yesterday's but it still got you trembling so you want to curse him out for being that good at what he does. 

He eases you into it, slowing his mouth and you only register that it leaves you completely when your thighs are being kissed tenderly. 

Breathless, you look down at him and catch his smile before his teeth are sinking into your skin and forcing you to hiss out a laugh “Good?” 

“Yeah,” you smile, climbing down from your position and hovering over his lap in an attempt to not ruin his jeans. It's very obvious he enjoyed it too, his crotch holding the evidence tight and probably painfully against the fabric there “Really, really good.” 

You want to get on your knees and return the favor, make him squirm in pleasure, but the space is not working in your favor. So even though your thighs are hurting and sweat is dripping down your neck, you start working on the button and zipper of his jeans before he sits up.

He wants to say something, but your tongue is touching his and tasting yourself on it before he gets the chance. Clumsily, a little too far gone for your liking as well, you are able to get through the layers of clothes and let your hand hang over his dick “Are you gonna make me beg for it today?” 

“You don't have to, love.” 

“Beg?” you ask with a smile that he reciprocates “Or touch you?” your free hand brushes the hair out of his face, sliding down until you're propping his chin up with it, thumb tracing his bottom lip softly “Because I want to touch you. I want to make you feel so, so good, baby. Please.” 

He kisses the pad of your thumb and then takes it into his mouth, tongue caressing the tip of it until you're panting again and then nods. 

That's all the permission you need before taking him with your hand and pulling him out of his boxers. Taking your hand out briefly, you gather up saliva and spit right into it. 

Mingi lets out a noise at that. Interesting. 

Starting slow, you focus on his expression. Testing the waters, taking note of what he likes because, unlike him, you probably pushed to the corner of your mind every sexual conversation you two had before yesterday. You take a second to look down at it, the size is no surprise but your mouth waters at the image of you taking him into the heat of it. 

Maybe another time. For now, you focus on making him feel good with the little you can offer him in the enclosed space of his car. 

He mouths at your neck, choked up sobs vibrate through the skin on your collarbone and your top gets moved to the side so he can mark the side of your boobs as he pleases. It sets the fire inside of you alive again, your folds getting wetter when he rolls his tongue around your nipple and then throws his head back when you twist your hand in a motion he seems to really enjoy.

“Just like that, love.” 

To your delight, he's not quiet. He's loud, he's grabby, taking the opportunity to hold onto your ass and press down on the skin when you tease his slit and gather his precum on your fingers so you can spread it around his cock and your hand can slide easier. 

Movements get sloppy once he's close, he's no longer paying attention to you and you welcome it as a great sign, his hips bucking into your hand and he moves you forward until you're sitting on his lap again. 

The only thing preventing your pussy and his dick from touching is your hand. 

You glance at him and he looks back, probably the same idea popping up into his mind so you nod once.

The car moves as you two move around, to the back seat, the spine of his seat up and the entire thing moving forward to make space for him next to you, over you, on top of you once he kicks his jeans and boxers off to the floor. 

You reach out to him in a silent plea and he bends down to kiss you soft and moist and hot and breathy, sensually, with sweet sounds escaping both of you when you reach under his shirt and lift it up until he gets what you want. Discarding it with the rest of his clothes, your top follows it and the contentment you feel when his naked chest touches yours is unmeasurable. 

There's no real room to move around and there's not really any patience left within both of you, so when he apologizes when he moves his hips where he shouldn't and his tip brushes your entrance, you pull back from his bruising mouth. 

“Condom. Now.” 

He obliges right away, searching on his jeans for a minute or so and when he comes back he's smirking like he can't believe you “When I told you we needed to raincheck I didn't mean it to be like this. Bossy.” 

Even if you're punching him on his chest and giggling at his breathy words, you take the teasing with pride “You started it, Mingi!” 

Putting the condom on skilled and fast, he's soon resting his forehead against yours and kissing you softly again “I wanted you on my bed…” his lips trail down and the giggles die on your throat as he's kissing it, a moan escaping you “On your back or knees or riding me…” he continues in a whisper going down and down and down, giving your nipples attention before going back up and taking your mouth in his again “Making a mess on my cock…” 

He takes the opportunity to enter you slowly and you gasp at the stretch, wet enough so it doesn't hurt you but you're unfamiliar with him, with his size splitting you open deliciously. 

“F-fuck, Y/N.” Mingi leans back to watch you take him in and you whine again. Tilting your head back, you let him work himself in and you moan loudly when he almost bottoms out “Look at you…” 

You don't. You can't. He's pressing his thumb on your clit again to ease you through the stretch and it makes the heat pool in your belly like you didn't come in his mouth a few minutes ago. 

Slowly but surely it gets easier for him to rock his hips into you, mouth parting in pleasure when you remind yourself to look at him. His abdomen tenses when you run your nails against the skin there, softly, until you're detouring them into his back and sinking them in just enough to have him whining at the feeling. 

“Baby… Harder.” 

“Yeah?” 

Hips bucking up to meet his at a particularly hard trust, you reach up to him so he can rest his body weight on yours. Close like this, with the pace picking up, the knot on your lower half tightens and threatens to break. 

“You take me so well, love. Fuck, always knew you would,” you know he can feel your walls tightening around him at the praise, because he smiles and kisses you once before continuing “My pretty, pretty girl… Taking my cock so well…” he punctuates his words with the roll of his hips and you cry out, holding his face in between your hands, his eyes never leaving yours. 

In this position, his lower abdomen bumps into your clit and it's soon tipping you over the edge. 

“So good, so good, oh— Oh, God.” You're mumbling incoherently while Mingi keeps whispering sweet nothings and then the tension on your belly breaks. It takes three seconds of your walls pulsating around him for him to groan loudly into your mouth and come undone as well. 

The only thing you can hear is breathing, all you can feel is breathing. His against your chin, yours blowing on his hair when you rest your cheek on his temple. 

It takes a second to gather yourself again and when you do, you tilt your head back to give him a chaste kiss that he returns. 

“That was so good, baby.” You tell him and he smiles, nodding in agreement “I am sticking to the fucking seat though.” 

Mingi snorts and just like that the energy shifts back to the usual you. Only this time, you come back to it knowing that no one’s ever going to have you the way he does. 

He slips out of you, doing his thing with the condom and you sit up, looking through the windows and becoming aware of your surroundings for the first time since you got there. 

There's a car parked far away from you that's empty and the rest of the cars that were near it have left. You wonder how long this all took, because you lost track of time the second he told you he likes you. 

Chest still heaving and boxers now on, Mingi rests his back on the door and takes your hand in his “Is it dumb of me to assume you're my girlfriend now, love?” 

“Is it dumb that I assumed that's what I was when you said you like me?” 

“No,” he answers right away “not dumb at all.” 

Smiling, you nod “Then I'm your girlfriend, Mingi.” 

He beams at that and then he's crowding you again “Say it again.” 

“I'm your girlfriend.” you repeat, enunciating each word and giggling when he nuzzles his nose into the crimson on your cheek “I’m yours, baby.” 

Resting his forehead against yours, he hums in contempt “Good, because I've always been yours too.” 

“There's no way! You two... together? Guys… See, that would be me if I didn't see it coming but I'm smarter and cooler than everyone here so I did.” 

Wooyoung's over the top reaction has Mingi throwing his head back in a silent laugh and you staring at the black haired guy, unamused and a little offended. 

It's two days later and, as usual, you're at Wooyoung's and San’s apartment hanging out. 

After putting your clothes back on and going for some well deserved food, Mingi took you home, kissed you goodnight and showed up the next day after class to break the news to your parents. 

Your mom almost cried. Your dad too, but for a completely different reason. 

In the end, they both agreed they saw it coming and when you told Mingi’s parents, they said the same thing and invited yours to have celebratory dinner without you. 

What happened in Mingi’s room after was worth missing dinner anyways. 

Mingi and you decided to break the news when most of the group showed up for movie night and you were nervous to see their reactions. 

But everyone seems unaffected by it. 

“I knew you guys liked each other the second I met you. Ask Gyuri, she agrees with me.” 

“Sadly, I do.” Wooyoung's ex looks at you from her spot by the door, where she's getting her shoes on. 

She winks at you and you fake a gasp, falling into your boyfriend's lap with an annoyed huff. 

“And no one told us?!” 

“Sorry, Y/N. We didn't want to get in the way.” Hwa is apologetic and Yeosang nods alongside Hongjoong but you gape at them like they betrayed your trust. 

“To be fair we didn't know till’ last week, love.” 

“She didn't know.” Gyuri corrects him and now you turn to her to give her the betrayed look “You were pining over it for six months already.” 

“I say it was more like nine but…” Hwa shrugs and sips his cup, giving the man holding you close a knowing smile. 

Oh, they definitely talked about it, huh? 

“Nine months and no one cared to fill me in, huh?” 

“I’m sure Mingi did—” 

“Wooyoung!” 

“Well I didn't notice.” Yunho interferes with a shrug and gives you a recomforting smile that doesn't work at all. 

San laughs “That's because you're a puppy that can't even tell when someone likes you.” 

“Am not!” 

Everyone, including you and Mingi, make a noise in agreement with San.  

“You're one to talk, though, leave the puppy alone.” Gyuri tells her ex's best friend and Wooyoung laughs at him when his smile drops. 

There's some story there you don't know. 

“Guys… Does someone like me right now? Be honest.” 

Yeosang is about to tell him something but Jongho interrupts. 

“Enough with the love talk! Can we start the movie?” But he's pressing play already, so the answer doesn't really matter. 

Gyuri laughs once and Wooyoung makes his way over to her to give her a hug that she enjoys for one second tops before pushing him away. 

“Enjoy everyone! I'm so happy for you two, by the way, not that these neanderthals would tell you to your face but I'm sure they're too.” 

“Thank you, Gyuri.” Mingi murmurs from behind you and you mouth a thank you as well before she leaves for the night. 

Something about her best friend having a boy crisis. 

You don't miss the way San’s eyes follow her until she leaves or the way he looks at Woo, something clearly worrying him. 

His best friend ignores him, though, so you confirm that might just be a little pissed off at him after all. 

“Tell her to text you what happens.” San asks Woo once she leaves and he rolls his eyes. 

“Mhm. I’ll tell her to stop calling us neanderthals too.” 

You smile “Well, she's right.” 

“Nuh-uh!” 

Jongho has to stop the movie and you see him sulk while everyone else is arguing. Some of them, like Hwa and Yeo, are siding with you and Gyuri. And the rest of them, like your boyfriend, are telling them off. 

When you turn to face him, his argument dies mid-sentence because he stops to smile at you. He takes your face in his hand and kisses you for the first time ever in front of everyone else. The group stops the argument to tease you both and you laugh into his mouth. 

A cushion is thrown at you and Jongho gets up to separate your faces before sitting beside you with a pout on his lips. 

“Can we watch the goddamn movie?!” 

You're the happiest you've ever been.

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2024.

[sutorus]

BAD IDEA RIGHT? BEST FRIEND'S DAD!TOJI for KINKTOBER 2023!

DESCRIPTION: you and megumi are old friends, but a recent development (called growing up) has made you aware of just how hot his dad, toji fushiguro, really is. you sit on your desire for years until one night, you get an idea. 

PAIRING: best friend’s dad!fushiguro toji x reader

WC: 5.1k whoops!

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORDS DNI. fem reader, afab reader, age gap! power dynamics, slight daddy kink, degradation, spit (like a lot it's a Thing here), oral (m! receiving), unprotected relations, slapping, gaping, size difference/size kink, creampie, toji is Nasty and a pretty bad dude lol 

A/N: this is nasty and very descriptive i’m so sorry i really sinned here. anyway enjoy!

you and megumi have been friends since school. after all, it was inevitable that a friendship would form between the only two kids whose parents consistently forgot to pick them up after class. 

nods of acknowledgment quickly developed into trading pokémon cards, sharing samanco waffles, cheating off each other during tests. 

it was the most meaningful relationship you had in your life, the one other person who really got you and the situation you were in, and before you knew it, you two were being admitted to the same college, like you’d talked about all those years ago. 

in the meantime, megumi’s dad had… mellowed out. from what you knew. 

sure, he was still gone for weeks at a time, neglectful, irresponsible and womanizing, but one final falling out with their family seemed to have lifted a big weight off his shoulders, and he became more present in megumi’s life, less resentful. you knew he wasn’t a good guy, but you also knew he was trying, in his own way. 

besides that, you also couldn’t help noticing other things about the man. you first started paying attention when you were in high school, always hanging out at megumi’s place to play video games or study. 

toji would come home sometimes, smelling of smoke and sake, tonguing the scar on the side of his lip. plopping down on their shaggy sofa, legs spread wide, thick thighs straining the fabric of his pants. you would give megumi some excuse about getting something from the kitchen and just watch toji, lazily browsing channels with one hand inside his sweats. 

it wasn’t a big deal. but it never quite went away, your infatuation growing with your desperation the more the man hung around. you did everything you could to get his attention. 

you wore the frilliest, shortest skirts, left dirty dishes on the sink, showed up too late at night drunk and stumbling “looking for megumi”, acting out so you could try to get some reaction out of toji. but he never seemed to give you a second thought, annoyance being the closest thing to an emotion on his face every time your eyes met. 

but you were no quitter. you knew one day you would get what you deserved. maybe not today, but… eventually.

you approach the fushiguro household’s front door, fishing out the extra key megumi had given you from your backpack pocket. you two had a study session today but he’d texted you telling you he’d be late and to just let yourself in, so that’s what you do. 

with a sigh, you set down your laptop on their coffee table and sit down on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. before you can finish getting comfortable, a tall, broad figure is looming over your face and you almost jump out of your skin. 

“what the f—oh my god,” you laugh in embarrassment. “you scared me, fushiguro-san.”

he doesn’t react, his eyes boring into yours. “me? you’re the one breaking into my house.”

you roll your eyes, pulling your legs up below your body. “megumi gave me a key. we’re supposed to study today, do you know where—“

“he’s with that itadori kid. don’t think he’s coming back tonight,” toji moves to sit down on the loveseat, turning the tv on. the old, boxy thing crackles to life, a boat race playing on the screen. toji adjusts his body in attention. “so you can fuck off back home.”

“um,” you start, but nothing else comes out of your mouth. you let your eyes wander all over his lax form, and you can faintly make out his abs below the raggedy shirt he’s wearing. it makes your stomach turn. 

without taking his eyes off the screen, he addresses you again. “you know where the door is.”

an idea starts to form in your head. a really, really bad, tempting idea.

you discreetly take off your sweatshirt, leaving you in just your undershirt, no bra. you hope toji can scent the whiff of perfume you exude when you move, scooting closer to the edge of the sofa. 

“nah, i think i’ll just study here. my parents are home today and they’re too… y’know.”

“not my fuckin’ problem,” he picks at his teeth, spreading his legs wider. your desperation is growing with each second he spends not looking at you. 

you lift up your bag, something clinking inside. it's a bold move, but it's now or never.

“i brought booze. we could just share some and then i’ll go.”

that at least gets a reaction. the man snorts, finally glancing over at you from the corner of his eyes. you instinctively push your chest out, feeling eager. 

“is that what you do with my son under my roof? get shitfaced in the house that i pay for?”

“well i paid for the vodka so i don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you make a point to pull out the bottle from your bag, swinging it around. 

toji’s expression hardens, his jaw clenching. you know he doesn’t like to be challenged, absolutely hates smart mouths. you should be in for a treat. 

“who the hell do you think you’re talking to, kid?” he stands up and snatches the bottle from you, turning it around in his — big, veiny, deliciously calloused — hand and laughing. “vanilla flavored? fuck, you really are a kid.” he says it like the realization excites him. 

you can feel your face flush.

“are you gonna turn down free alcohol, toji?” it’s risky, dropping the honorific. you know he doesn’t like it, can see it in his face, but he doesn’t say anything. 

instead, he unscrews the top with ease and takes a swig, grimacing at the taste. you watch as his throat works, adam’s apple bobbing.

his arms are huge, you can’t imagine he was ever shaped like megumi is nowadays, slender and frail. toji is tall and broad and big, with a permanent 5 o’clock shadow on his defined features. 

he grabs two whiskey glasses and sets them down on the coffee table — no coasters —, pouring some vodka in both of them. it was most definitely not your idea to do straight shots tonight with megumi, but you will not go through the humiliation of asking for a soda to mix it with. 

you’re desperate to have toji view you as the adult you are, no longer megumi’s awkward middle school best friend. you know you’ve grown up well; all you need is for toji to see it too. 

you drink in silence for a bit, the only noises coming from toji being his disappointed grunts as the boats he bet on fall behind. you type away at your laptop, not really being able to focus with the heat rising within you. 

he refills both your cups a couple more times, but makes no effort to talk.

you slowly but surely start to get antsy, your determination wavering and giving way to a funny feeling one can only experience by drinking with their best friend’s dad who they’ve wanted to fuck for like, ever. 

so you bite the bullet and with the liquid courage flowing in your veins, you strike up conversation. 

“y’know, toji, i’ve always wanted to ask,” his head lolls on his shoulder to look at you lazily and disinterested. “what happened to megumi’s mom? he doesn’t talk about it.”

“yeah, well. me either,” toji replies. you take a deep breath. 

“you’re gone a lot. megumi is alone a lot.”

toji scoffs.

“thought that was what you were here for, hmm? megumi’s done well for himself,” he finally, probably for the first time in your life, gives you a proper look over, his eyes traveling all over your frame, tucked into the armrest of the couch. “scored himself a nice little bitch.”

you let out a strangled noise. you’re fighting laughter when you exclaim, “i’m sorry?! you think megumi and i have a—like, a thing?”

toji just shrugs, stretching one leg out in front of him. “i figured. why else would you loiter around my house so much?”

oh, if he only knew. 

“no, no. it’s never been like that. megumi’s not really my type.” toji hums inquisitively, and you take that as a sign to continue. “i’m into more… mature guys.”

toji eyes you knowingly, but seemingly amused. 

“that right?” you nod. “fuckin’ kid like you even know what to do with a man?”

you raise an eyebrow. you’re a sophomore in college, well into your twenties. he can’t be serious. “surely you know i’m not a kid anymore. surely you d—“

“surely my ass,” he exclaims and oh, he’s a little terrifying like this. toji downs however much was left in his cup and turns to you, pointing with the hand holding his glass. “you’re a full of shit, foul mouthed, rude brat. get the fuck out of my house, you’re pissing me off.”

you’re used to toji’s outbursts, not because you know him well but because every time you see him, seldom as it is, he always loses his temper, sooner or later. 

“i think,” you take another sip, feeling loose. “your old ass wouldn’t be able to handle sex. like, actual sex, not those rich hags you who just lay there for you and give you money in the end. if you had to put in any real work i bet your heart would give out you slimey pi—“

you can’t finish your sentence because you can’t breathe, suddenly. your eyes widen, chest spasming as your oxygen gets cut off mid-sentence. toji has one of his huge palms covering your nose and mouth.

you look up at him with watery eyes but he’s not looking back, he’s chugging vodka straight from the bottle again.

he puffs his cheeks and moves his hand to cup your jaw, smirking around a mouthful of alcohol. 

you catch your breath quickly, the hand that was clawing at his falling limply on your lap. toji holds your face, his grip unforgiving as he leans over you. his form is so, so much bigger than yours, towering over you completely, and all you can do is look up at him with a blank expression. 

his thumb pries your mouth open with ease, the digit hooking behind your bottom teeth as toji’s face gets closer and closer. on instinct, you close your eyes. 

soon, hot, stinging liquid is pouring steadily into your mouth. toji swishes the rest of the vodka between his cheeks — on purpose, you’re sure — before spitting it directly on your tongue.

it’s disgusting, everything about it makes your stomach churn, but it also makes you squeeze your legs together, chest rising and falling rapidly as you swallow without having to be told to. 

“ya talk too fuckin’ much, brat,” he grumbles. ironically, you’re at a loss for words. “someone needs put you in your place already.”

“you,” your voice cracks and nearly fails you, but you’re determined. it surprises him, that you’d have something to say. that you’re still game. you can see it in his face, in the way his hands come off of you. “i want you to.”

toji’s expression is hard and unchanging. his fingers go back to your face, two of them slipping inside your lax lips.

your breath stutters as you inhale, instinctively sucking the digits and working your tongue around them.

toji grabs his cock through his pants pointedly.

“fuckin’ slut… that what you want?” you nod. he takes a step forward, knees hitting the couch. “is that why you walk around my house looking like a fucking whore?”

a whine dies in your throat at the sweet, sweet recognition.

he noticed.

he noticed and it bothered him and you really couldn’t bring yourself to care that he was your best friend’s father right now because he was tenting his sweatpants and your mouth was watering at the sight. 

“please…” you paw at his waistband, pulling on the drawstrings. toji laughs at your desperation, voice growing gruff. 

he buries a hand in your hair, fingers closing around your locks tightly and making your eyes sting with tears. slowly, he pushes your face into his crotch, so close that you can feel it pulsing, can feel every ridge, can feel that he’s not wearing any underwear.

god, you can smell him, and it makes your head spin, your mouth huffing out hot breaths and wetting the front of his pants. 

you hook your fingers in the back of his sweats and pull until they’re down tight around his thighs. you have to maneuver the fabric over the head of his erection, earning a hiss from the man towering over you.

his dick springs up, slapping you in the face and leaving a smear of pre across the bridge of your nose. you think toji snorts at that but you can’t be sure. you’re too mesmerized.

he’s so, so big, the skin darker and flushed, tight, heavy balls and the head, angry red, peeking out from the foreskin.

your throat goes dry at the thought of it inside of you, inside any of your holes, because you know it’ll destroy you forever. and you want it. 

toji doesn’t have the appeal that most men his age do to most girls your age. he doesn’t make you feel safe, he doesn’t offer financial support, he doesn’t care about your well-being, he doesn’t have his shit together. and to make matters worse to you, he’s your best friend’s dad, who your best friend doesn’t even like that much, whose presence has been totally indifferent to megumi for most of his life. 

it makes you burn in shame to know you’re about to have a man 25 years your senior in your mouth.

you readjust your position on the couch so that you’re sitting on your knees, angling your face with his cock. it’s curved, pointing up, and you wonder how much of it he’s gonna wanna stuff down your throat. judging by the pure evil glinting in his eyes, it’s gonna be as much as possible. 

you take a deep breath, steadying a hand around his length. it’s concerning that you can just barely close your fingers around him, but you put that thought aside to focus on pulling the skin down gently so you can wrap your lips around the tip. 

toji sighs in relief, his grip in your hair tightening.

you begin to work your head up and down, licking the underside of his cock to gather up saliva. 

“thaaat’s it, what a good little bitch. got a sweet little mouth on ya,” he whispers, hips thrusting slightly to work his cock further into your mouth. “yer gonna take all of it? or are ya all talk?”

you whine, gripping the base and sliding further down his length. he’s already hitting the back of your throat, making your eyes water and your stomach seize. you pick up the pace, twisting your wrist rhythmically as you suck him. 

“don’t swallow,” he threatens, forcing his cock deeper into you, the head sliding into the opening of your throat. “lemme see how messy this slutty face can get.”

you choke audibly, eyes smarting with tears, makeup smudging. you look up at him with furrowed brows in a silent plea of mercy. 

toji’s having none of it.

he puts one foot down on the sofa, next to your legs, giving himself the leverage to start fully fucking your face now. he wraps both hands around your throat and thrusts his hips violently into your mouth, his thumbs pressing down to feel his length in your throat. 

“ahh, fuck,” he throws his head back, reveling in your desperate gurgles. you feel like a fucking ragdoll, like a fleshlight, unable to control the noises you make or how much dick you take. “takin’ me so well. who taught you to squeeze your throat like that, huh? so fuckin’ slutty.” 

you sob around his cock, nose buried in his pubes. he’s impossibly hard, impossibly wet as thick strings of spit and pre hang from your lips, dripping down to his balls, falling to the floor.

toji keeps fucking your throat relentlessly, granting you mere seconds between thrusts to inhale a desperate breath that immediately starts to burn in your lungs. 

he’s a fucking sight though, above you. chin tucked into his chest, veins bulging and biceps flexed, nostrils flared as he watches you devour him. 

he pulls out suddenly, leaving you choking for air. tears stream down your face, spit bubbling out of your nostril. you look all wrong, like you’d been put back together by someone after being utterly demolished.

“open your mouth,” toji orders. you obey and he grabs his cock, slapping the head against your tongue a few times. he slides his length in and out for a bit before he starts jerking himself off. “suck my balls.” 

you take that moment to swallow down the saliva that had pooled between your teeth, tucking away the wet strands of hair that frame your face.

toji’s lifting his cock towards his belly, fisting the head and flicking his wrist. he looks at you expectantly, and you understand it’s time to prove yourself once again. 

you place a gente thumb right below his shaft, where his sack hangs. your tongue dips in between his balls, shyly at first, just slightly tracing the shape of them before you pop one into your mouth. 

toji groans, the hand on his cock gaining speed. you squeeze your thighs together; you’re so wet that it makes you uncomfortable. you lean forward on your knees, steadying yourself with your palms planted firmly on his thighs. 

you’re sucking his balls earnestly now , one then the other, then both at the same time, angling your head up and working your tongue up and down the wrinkled skin.

toji’s loving it, maybe more than the blowjob, and it makes you feel like a toy all over again, in an even more humiliating way because now you’re not even allowed to touch his cock, he’s just getting to use your mouth anywhere he wants. 

it’s so fucking hot that it makes you dizzy. you hollow your cheeks, giving his nutsack a good suck before gingerly lifting his balls. you sneak a glance up at toji, hoping to catch him by surprise when your tongue dips even lower, approaching some pretty controversial territory. 

it works. his breath catches in his throat and his knee kicks out instinctively.

he grabs your hair immediately, pulling you away from him. 

“fuck,” you look up at him smirking, lips smeared with saliva and snort. but you don’t even care how debauched you look right now, as long as you can keep the upper hand. “you’re a nasty little bitch, aren’t ya?”

he leans down to kiss you deeply, messily, inhaling loudly through his nose. toji finishes stepping out of his sweatpants and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing what you’d been imagining for so many years. 

you run your hands over his chest, his abs, down his hips, his v-line. he’s so fucking hot, got bulging muscles you didn’t even know existed in the human body, and scars you can’t even fathom the origin of. 

he stares at you, looking bored. “get up.”

you do, legs shaking and prickling with pins and needles. now you can fully feel the scope of your arousal, how your panties stick to your core uncomfortably, how the wet tops of your thighs rub together. 

toji sits down on the sofa and you waste no time getting on his lap, clawing at his chest and leaning in for another kiss. he’s unforgiving even like this, so much bigger than you, his hand on the back of your neck and his mouth on yours. 

“arms up,” and when you comply, he’s pulling your tank top off. “good girl.”

you shiver, instinctively wrapping an arm around yourself. toji tsks at that, easily taking both your wrists in one hand and pinning them behind your back. he grabs your tit with the other, popping as much of it as he can in his mouth. 

you groan, fighting against his grip to get your hands on his hair, his shoulders, anywhere. toji relentlessly sucks on your nipple, nibbling and circling it with his tongue.

when he pulls off, he lands a swift slap across your boob, ripping a groan from you. 

“such a good fuckin’ slut, look at that body.”

he slaps your ass, this time, tugging your shorts over your butt. you help him get it off of you and then, finally, you’re straddling toji’s cock, no layers in between you two, just your dripping core on him. 

you think, belatedly, condom, but then toji is pulling you in for another kiss and for all you know megumi could come home any minute and you wouldn’t want to waste time like that. or so you tell yourself. 

his hands guide your hips to grind over him, soft mewls coming out of you and being buried into the crook of his neck. 

“pretty little girl, gonna ride me? hmm? gonna ride this old man’s cock?” you whine, nodding.

you press your front against his so you can lift your ass up and guide the tip into your entrance. you don’t expect to be able to take it all, but at least like this you can control the pace and how much of it is going into you, the only thing keeping you from panicking at the sheer size of him. 

the head of toji’s cock doesn’t slip inside so much as it pops inside, the ridge locking just past your opening.

it’s too big, and even though you’re soaking wet, it’s still a stretch. you both groan in unison and you realize, this is it. this is your fantasy, you’re fucking toji fushiguro, megumi’s dad, your best friend’s dad. 

your legs tremble as you hold yourself up, too soon to sink down more on his cock. toji’s playing with your nipples but you have a sneaking suspicion his patience isn’t going to last much longer. 

you give it a valiant effort to take more in and it feels like being ripped in two. you clench your jaw, a bead of sweat rolling down your temple. 

“fuuuuck, so fuckin’ tight,” toji spreads your ass cheeks with both hands, rubbing the thin skin where you two are connected. he thrusts up, feeding your poor pussy more of his cock, and you let out a scream. “take it, c’mon.”

“unghh—can’t, toji, hang on—“

“‘course ya can,” he fucks up into you again and you sob, nails raking down his chest. he hisses and slaps your ass in punishment. you realize you might really cry.

“i can’t, it’s too big, too much—“

“shhh,” in an uncharacteristic display of affection, toji kisses the furrow between your brows, snaking a thumb between you two to rub your clit. 

you throw your head back, body torn between seeking more pleasure and running from the pain. you can hear how wet you are as toji fucks in and out of you, your plush walls hugging him so well, weeping around him. 

he speeds up and you bury your face in his chest, moaning wantonly into his skin. toji lets out staccato grunts, working his cock further into you with each thrust. 

“any scrubs your age givin’ it to you like this?” he breathes out, grabbing your ass hard and moving it up and down his length for you. you whine, drooling on him. “yeah, that’s right. fuck, take it, that’s a good girl.”

“ahh, toji—“

“that’s not my name, whore,” he fists your hair and drags your head back until your eyes meet. “try again.”

“fushiguro-san—“ that earns you a hard slap on your ass. you yelp — wrong answer. 

“toji-sama—“ another slap, and this time he grips the reddening flesh viciously. you whine, squirming in his grip. 

“little braindead cumslut,” he wipes a tear with his thumb. “who’s fucking this tight pussy right now? huh? tell me who's ruining this slutty cunt.”

“d—daddy?” 

toji smiles, humming, his grip on you softening as he leans in for a kiss. “that’s right, sweetheart. show daddy how much you want it.”

it’s amusing to toji, you know it. he just wants to humiliate you because he’s aware of how badly you’ve wanted this. but it does something to you, it’s serious to you, it’s so fucking depraved and sexy to you. 

he lifts you up with ease and lays you back down on the couch. you feel so empty suddenly that it makes you want to cry, like toji has already carved a home inside of you for his cock that no one else will ever be able to fill. 

he wastes no time getting on top of you, hooking a hand under your leg and lifting it up onto his shoulder. your eyes widen immediately, a protest dying in your tongue. this position… his cock… it’s, god, it’s gonna be—

toji plunges in in one violent, perfunctory thrust. you let out a scream, your heel kicking toji square in the back as your body rises up from the couch. he’s all the way inside now. 

you can feel him bruising your cervix, his balls, wet with a mixture of the two of you, slapping against your ass, his hip bones drilling into you. 

“you’re so deep,” you look at him with panic in your eyes, chest gone cold at the overwhelming pleasure. “you’re so deep.”

toji laughs, pulling out to spit on his cock. he grabs your ankle and sets it on his shoulder. “yeah, baby, daddy’s all the way inside now. feels good, doesn’t it?” 

“fuck. oh fuck,” you let out shaky breaths, allowing toji to lay more of his weight on top of you. your knee is by your head now and somehow in this position his cock seems to hit even deeper, to curve up exactly in the right spots that have you struggling to breathe. “you’re gonna break me.” 

“takin’ me so well. just a natural slut aren’t ya,” he’s fucking you so fast now, wet, slapping sounds resounding across the whole house. 

there’s a thick creamy ring at the base of his cock, frothy and bubbly with how much you’ve been gushing for him. toji presses a thumb against your clit and rubs tight little circles, making you squeeze against him like a vice. 

he grunts, speeding up his movements.

“so sensitive, this cute little pussy. you a virgin?” he slaps it a few times, your wetness sticking to his fingers with every pat. “gonna cum soon, whore?”

you whine, nodding. you wrap both arms around toji’s neck and pull him closer, open mouth awaiting expectantly.

toji grins, spitting onto your tongue before leaning in to suck it. 

“toj—daddy,” you moan against his mouth, “daddy, i’m close.”

you don’t recognize your own voice. it’s slutty, desperate, pitchy, juvenile. it's too far gone.

toji works your clit over and over again, fucking you harder than you’ve ever been fucked. he splays a hand over your stomach, kneading the place where his cock is nestled inside of you and hitting a spot that makes you lose control of your body and words. 

“ah, ah, ah, oh god toji fuck daddy make me cum, please please can i cum—“

“oh, fuck,” his thrusts start to become erratic and you know he’s close too. you clench around him, one leg wrapping around his hips to make sure he stays inside until you're done. “cum on daddy’s cock, come on. make a mess, little girl.”

you throw your head back, burying it into the pillows as your entire body thrashes with your orgasm. you clamp around him so hard that you can't even tell where he ends and you begin. 

toji takes no mercy on you, his messy cock plunging in and out of you fast. 

“gonna fill up this pretty pussy, yeah?” you shake your head desperately, one hand punching his chest. he can’t finish inside of you, right? but why do you want it so bad? “no no no, don’t fuss now baby. you want daddy’s cum inside you, don’t you? wanna give megumi a baby brother? fuck yeah i know you do fuckin' take it whore fuuuuck, fuck i'm coming—”

he thrusts once, twice, three more times, knocking all air out of your lungs and the most ridiculous moans out of your mouth before he’s spilling into you, locking your legs like a fucking pretzel and biting down your neck. 

you can feel it pulsing, spurting inside of you. you can feel both your heartbeats in your abused cunt, both of your juices combined and oozing out of you. 

once you catch your breath, toji pulls out of you languidly, with a yawn. you two made a fucking mess, a sticky puddle on the couch right below your ass. 

toji eyes it disinterestedly, much like how he’s eyeing you right now. your sweaty, messy, fucked out self, nearly melting on the fushiguro household’s sofa. 

“ah. are ya on the pill or what?” he asks, like he just now remembered. after a few seconds you nod, a little incredulous. “heh. good.”

you slowly sit up, reaching for your sweatshirt to at least cover yourself up. you sneak a hand down to your cunt, fingers sliding through the mess there to dip inside you. 

fuck, you’re gaping. toji well and truly ruined your pussy. it makes you panic a little bit, but it also makes pride swell within your chest, knowing you took it, all of it. 

toji finally addresses you. 

“i’m gonna go take a shower,” he looks behind his shoulder, sighing. he points at you. “we left the fuckin’ tv on. if this shit racks up my bills you’re gonna have to pay me back.”

you guffaw. “me? pay you how?”

he smirks. 

“got one more hole i haven’t wrecked yet, dont’cha?” he flicks your forehead. you just sit there, incredulous, trembling legs, halfway to horny again. from the bathroom, toji calls out, “let yourself out. oh, and leave the vodka.”

A/N: lmfao! i got nothin to say in my defense. reblogs r very much appreciated

[emacrow]

The reborned Kronos and her overprotective baby that the Justice league haven't figured out how to calm down.

Especially when the angry head of the Cultists who were around the sacrifice alter in a circle started shouting at one on the left, which caused the lil baby clinging to Kronos newly form female body to stiffen up and wailed, causing the large glowing spike of ice to emerged and quickly freezes every single one of the cultists.

Martian man has confirmed that Kronos is going through a Major psychic backlash to even move or even speak, point that just taking a peak in her mind, gave Martian man a near concussion from the emotional sensitivity overload and several hundreds of whispering self reflecting thoughts cluttering her consciousness.

The Justice League and the Dark Justice are trying to figure out how to get close to Kronos and her screaming bloody murder child without going through what the cultists went through, especially when the Frozen ice was still spreading slowly widening.

Shazam is going through the worst-case headaches as several voices were screaming, yelling at him to destroy the Mad Time God while Two sounded like they eating popcorn and enjoying the drama. Constantine was about to suggest something until a unknown voice that sounded hoarses spoke.

"...Danny..."

That when the Flash rather quickly saw Kronos's hands twitch. Motioning the other heroes as they all began to watch and wait as Kronos slowly bringing the baby closer to her chest.

"..World is covered by our trails, Scars we cover up with paint.... I would rather see this world through the eyes of a child, , Darker times will come and go..... Times you need to see her smile and mothers' hands are warm.... When a human strokes your skin,That is when you let them in, I would rather feel alive with a childlike soul, with a childlike soul.." Kronos whispered softly to the wailing baby that was slowly calming down. Superman can hear the lullaby even if he couldn't understand what she was saying to the child.

"...it's been a long while I'd entertained the living." Kronos said in a rich soothing voice as she had slowly open her eyes revealing a mesmerizing deep purple color with what seem to be a tiny thousands of clock gears ticking surrounding her pupil, turning to justice league

Part 1 << >> Part 3

[pellucid-constellations]

Of Oblivious Minds (3)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Azriel's POV (it's a warning here), angst

a/n: I am blown away by all of you and your support!! I really love writing for this fandom omg. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy ♡ Let me know what you think!! I'll get the next update up soon!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

~~

Azriel was losing his ever-loving mind. 

A few weeks ago, everything was fine. Not optimal, but fine. 

He knew his mate, and that was more than could be said for most of Prythian. But even more than that, he could love her from afar. He could make small remarks and catch the smiles they would elicit. He could send his shadows after her on her walks home, protecting her even though she had the entire Inner Circle looking out for her wellbeing. He could buy the ridiculously expensive pastries she loved and stock the kitchens with them, listening for the small gasps she let out each time she found them.

He could talk to you, listen to you, love you in his small ways, even if it wasn’t the ways in which he longed for. 

Because it wasn’t the right time yet. You hadn’t felt the bond for yourself. 

So, yes—admittedly, Azriel had not been in the most optimal position with you. But it was leaps and bounds better than the purgatory you were subjecting him to now. 

He mulled over his current reality as he sat opposite to you at the dining table. He had had to snag the seat from Mor, ripping the chair from her hand in an uncharacteristic show of aggression, and you hadn’t so much as looked up from your plate. He would’ve rather fought for the seats beside you, but Rhys and Cassian had been sitting before he even entered the room. So now he fought for your eyes and was too far away to offer any lingering, accidental touches. 

Not that you would reciprocate either. 

You were avoiding him, and Azriel was at his wit's end trying to decipher why. 

His shadows had relayed dismal reports, only whispering the words sad and alone and contemplative into his ears each morning. He could have guessed as much, if the display of emotions he had tried to comfort you through all those days ago told him anything. 

But Gods, did they really tell him nothing, because you hadn’t spoken to him since. 

“—that is certainly something to consider. Y/n, would you be open to the job?” 

“Hm?” you hummed, and Azriel watched as your eyes flickered over to Rhys in one abrupt movement. “Sorry, what?” 

Rhys raised a brow lined with humor, and Azriel realized he hadn’t been listening to the conversation either. “Helion has extended an invitation to the Night Court—for diplomatic relations and all. It’s mostly a weekend stay for show, but he has quite an extensive library. Feyre and I went last time so it would only be fair if—” 

“Yes,” you nodded, the most emotion Azriel had seen on your face in days blooming into a joyous array. “Of course, I would love to go. Are you kidding?” 

Rhys chuckled. “I figured. Helion has been quite eager to get you to come as well. Seemed like the perfect time.” 

Azriel didn’t miss the way the High Lord’s eyes shone with something other than mirth as he looked closer at the scholar… as he inspected your facade the same way Azriel had been for the past week. 

“When can I leave?” 

Something in Azriel scratched to a halt. “She’s to go alone?” 

Feyre offered the spymaster a soft smile from the other side of the table. “If she wishes. Helion’s invitation was open-ended.” 

“Take the vacation, I say,” Mor piped in, wine glass raised in a solitary toast. 

“Or… you could take me,” Cassian grinned beside you, jostling you in a playful grip. 

You sent a scoff his way. “Aren’t you banned?” 

“No, actually. I’m banned from Summer Court, which is completely unrelated.” 

A short laugh trickled from your lips. It wasn’t a full one, not like the ones Azriel was so used to—the ones he basked in—but it was a laugh, nonetheless.

He felt the way his eyes seemed to follow the crescendo of it, his blinks in time with the sweet sound. 

He committed it to memory. 

“Right, well let’s keep you away from neighboring courts as much as possible so we can avoid a repeat of that, okay?” 

Something like a grin fought at the side of Azriel’s mouth at your quip. 

Cassian prattled on. Something about unjust rules or ridiculous high lords—Azriel wasn’t paying attention. He was too caught up in you and the way you were so close to meeting his gaze. 

“Perhaps she shouldn’t go alone,” Azriel spoke up, interrupting his brother’s spiel. You still didn’t look at him, instead turning to catch Rhys’s response. 

“Azriel, I can assure you this is a safe visit,” Rhys offered. He knew. Everyone seemed to know but you. “It’s hardly even business. It’s more of a vacation. I’ve been shoving century-old relics in her face for the past few months. She deserves time to herself, don’t you think?” 

His High Lord was speaking in code. A terrible, frustrating code that really meant, “give her some distance.” 

Azriel had had enough of distance. 

He nodded his head all the same. 

And then, despite all odds, you looked at him. 

You looked at him and it was as if the air had been knocked from his lungs. As if he had been wrung out and stretched thin and every bone in his body forced him to sit up straighter. You were looking at him and Azriel couldn’t conceptualize the way the spectrum in his chest moved so quickly from utter relief to the brink of desolation. 

Because you looked at him as if you were broken. A sad—such a sad—smile graced your face, one he had never had the displeasure of seeing before, and he wanted to wipe it away. He wanted to kiss it from your face with soft touches and reassuring whispers and that was startling for Azriel because he usually kept his overwhelming urge to kiss you at bay. 

“I’ll bring you back a souvenir,” is all you said. Such simple words to accompany an expression that sent him reeling. 

“Thank you,” he replied, with the most sincerity he could muster. 

And then he held your gaze as it became downcast. He craned his neck to catch every last second of your eyes as they turned back down to the table.

It was hours later that Azriel found himself in the townhouse, boots creating an indent in the office carpet. Rhys sat just feet away from him, leaning back against the desk, waiting for the Shadowsinger to erupt. 

“I would like for you to position your spies further into Autumn. I know you have a few that have integrated into the court, but I need more intel on Eris and his plans.” 

“Of course.” 

“You can take out any currently residing in Day. Just for the next week or so. With y/n going, she can report any happenings.” 

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw jumped. “Would that be wise?” 

Rhys stared back at his brother, expression giving nothing away. “Why wouldn’t it be? Do you not trust y/n’s word?” 

Azriel’s wings were taut against his back. In truth, he hadn’t felt relaxed in days. With you leaving, that tension would surely pull him into thin compliance. 

“Obviously I trust her word, Rhysand.” 

“Rhysand? What have I done to earn your grievance?” the High Lord asked, crossing his arms over his chest, still the perfect picture of calm. 

Azriel was a juxtaposition before him as he clenched his hands and replied, “You already know.” 

“Do I know? I’m not sure you’ve been clear or honest with anyone. Y/n especially.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Rhys bent at the elbow and rubbed a restless hand across his jaw. Azriel ignored the movement in favor of holding eye contact with the High Lord. Azriel was being stubborn, he knew that, but there was no other way to be. 

He needed to be consistent and reliable. He needed to be a pillar for his family to lean on, and you were part of that. He wasn’t going to take that away from you—to be selfish and call upon a mating bond you hadn't even been made aware of yet. 

He wasn’t going to squander your friendship in the hopes of something more. 

There was a chance, no matter how much the prospect pained him to consider, that you wouldn’t want the bond. You had never hinted at wanting more with the spymaster, so there was no telling how you might react to the cauldron blessing you with a union. You could reject it, and with it would go your friendship. 

Just the thought sent ice through Azriel’s veins. 

Truth be told, he had never shown you many signs either. When the bond snapped months ago, it had taken time for Azriel to come to terms with the truth. He had ruminated on it amidst many sleepless nights, watched you from a new perspective over many dinners, and contemplated the path that had led him to you. 

And then he had regretted. Cauldron had he regretted. 

The feeling still lingered, a reminder of each woman he had taken to his bed before you. All of the fae that had meant nothing, and even the ones that had boarded on something, he wished he could do away with.

Because you had been privy to them all. He knew you had witnessed a few late-night trysts, and even worse, that you had watched him pine after Mor for a century. It all seemed so frivolous now; it all paled in comparison to you. 

And the absolute worst part of it all is that he knew. 

He knew how easy it would be to fall in love with you from the start, so he pretended not to notice. 

He threw himself into impractical longing and meaningless lovers and he pretended that it didn’t hurt to look at you. 

The bond had only cemented his foolishness. 

He hardly had a chance with you by the time it snapped. 

“Late night then, Az?” 

You had teased him over breakfast just days before the bond had snapped for him, a small smile on your face as you lounged at the table early in the morning. At the time, Azriel had bit the inside of his cheek and reeled in his snarkiness. He had avoided your gaze, avoided the robe that barely covered your nightgown, and made himself toast in silence. He had already coaxed the blonde fae out of his bed, and he hadn’t needed a reminder of the woman he had been imagining all throughout the night. 

Because that had been something else he opted to ignore—that he pictured you, imagined you, at all times. 

It snapped three days later. He had been accompanying you through Velaris. “Shopping for fun,” you had said, “and I hate to go alone.”

The only thing Azriel had taken home that day was a gaping hole in his chest and the knowledge that lying to himself had brought him nothing but pain. 

The months following were different. 

Everything was different. 

But for you, he had come to the grim realization, nothing was different at all. He was still Azriel, your friend Azriel, who was secretive and private and cared from afar. You still pictured him as a man who chose his lovers based on convenience and quick practicality even though he hadn’t so much as looked at another woman since your emotions began flowing through his chest. 

Gods, your emotions. They were so positive, so addicting, he could sit back and live his days through you until the end of time. You had so much unrestricted joy coursing through you—so much curiosity and delight. Part of Azriel dreaded the day you did recognize the bond; it would dim the connection to you.

That day in the library had been the first time the bond had chafed against his lungs. He had felt the earthquake beneath his feet and thought nothing of it, but then your fear punctured his being and he had run so fast his wings ached. 

And then you started having nightmares, ones he couldn’t fix, and Azriel began to feel like he was losing you. Like the bond was withering and eroding within him and you along with it. 

“How long, Azriel?” Rhys’s voice cut through the air with a harshness. 

The shadowsinger breathed through his nose, jaw tight. 

“Tell me. Tell me how long you’re going to keep this up for.” 

“You don’t understand, Rhys,” came Azriel’s low reply. “None of you do.” 

The High Lord scoffed. “Right, because I had it so easy with Feyre. Az, mates are complicated—” 

“Don’t,” Azriel breathed. A dangerous shakiness accompanied the word.

“Explain it to me. Help me to understand how—” 

“There was nothing for you to lose!” The rise of the shadowsinger’s voice sent Rhys into silence. “There was nothing! You hadn’t known Feyre for three centuries—hadn’t known what it was like to see her cry over worthless males or laugh until she was doubled over. You didn’t have time to memorize the sound of her voice or understand how it felt to lose that small piece of her. Because she won’t even talk to me anymore and—” 

Azriel cut himself off, moving for the first time since he entered office. He paced, the motion of his feet doing little to dispel the tension from the air or from his body. Azriel tugged a hand through his hair, his shadows following the aggressive pull and weaving through the strands. 

“How long?” Rhys asked again, but this time, Azriel knew that he was asking a different question. One that even he himself had avoided answering. 

The shadowsinger paused. His next words were tainted and his voice cracked. 

“I think forever.”

Part 4