#four months' allowance gone in seconds. just so he could find out where babies come from.

[ieatwormsandtheytasteverygood]

the immortal urge to see if my country has blaze on tumblr, just so i can make more people suffer with the elrond pregnancy post.

[therecordchanger62279]

TAKE TWO (6TH EDITION)

For this 6th edition of Take Two, I decided to pick 10 bands – all of whom are big names with long careers. Alice Cooper is essentially a solo artist now, and has been for decades, but the best records of his career are those he made with the original Alice Cooper Band. Once again, boxed sets are not allowed. Titles must be one or two records, or one or two compact discs. And the idea is the get the absolutely essential stuff with just two titles. With the best artists, it can’t be done, but the challenge is fun. And I find it interesting when a band’s best listen is NOT an anthology or greatest hits album. Here goes:

Aerosmith: 1. Live! Bootleg 2. Young Lust: The Anthology. In spite of a few killer original albums – Toys in the Attic, Rocks, Get Your Wings, Draw the Line, and even Permanent Vacation, I wanted whatever my choices were to cover both the Columbia and Geffen years. So, the first, a sloppy, but satisfying live record that includes a very early side of stuff from a club in Boston that shows why they got signed to a major label was my pick, and for the later years, the two CD Geffen anthology has all the best later hits, rarities, and even a few live tracks of early hits done two decades later. Say what you want about their self-destructive tendencies, but they have a fantastic catalog, so this was a difficult one to do.

Alice Cooper: 1. School’s Out 2. Alice Cooper’s Greatest Hits. This seems just right to me. With the first you get the band’s arguably best studio album start to finish, and with the second you get every one of those incredible singles that lit up AM radio when I was a teenager. And there are four cuts from Billion Dollar Babies, and three from Killer – the other two best studio records. Alice has made some terrific records since he jettisoned the original band, but he never again matched the best of what the band did.

Dire Straits: 1. Dire Straits 2. Making Movies. With this band, I don’t care as much about the hits. I care more about the original LPs because they all have a quality and consistency that means you can drop the tone arm, and just listen to them start to finish. The debut, and the third LP are pretty close to perfect, and someone else could make a case for the second and fourth albums, and I wouldn’t argue. Brothers In Arms is great, too, but when it was out, I heard it every day for months in-store where I worked. The hits collections are fine, and they have a couple of great live records, but I’ll take these two with a big smile.

Doobie Brothers: 1. Takin’ It to The Streets 2. Livin’ On the Fault Line. Well, this one was murder. I don’t own a “hits” record by the Doobies. I have six studio albums beginning with Toulouse Street and ending with ‘Fault Line.’ And I love all six, but choosing between these two and The Captain and Me was almost impossible. In the end I went with these two because they came back-to-back, and they’re records I still play often whereas ‘Captain’ is one I’m overly familiar with to the point where I’m less likely to reach for it – even though it’s every bit as good as this pair. These albums were the transition records from the Tom Johnston-led band, and the Michael McDonald version that followed. Johnston makes brief appearances on these, but for me, these records are almost two separate albums that just as easily could’ve come out as a two-record set. And there is not a single weak cut on either one. So, as much as I’ll miss hearing “South City Midnight Lady” I can live with these.

Steely Dan: 1. Can’t Buy a Thrill 2. Gaucho. If I were King Solomon, I’d have just gone ahead and cut the baby in half. The four CD Citizen Dan box is everything you need, but it’s disqualified for our purposes here. I have the first seven studio records, and the worst one is a four-star gem. No way I can win on this one, so I took the first, and the last (after they split up, and before the reunion) because I think they’re the most consistent start to finish. Aja was my favorite for years until I realized that every time I played it, I only played side one because as good as side two is, it can’t hold a candle to side one. But these two are perfect start to finish (and so is Countdown to Ecstasy, and Pretzel Logic). So, give me these, and a bottle of Advil for the headaches I’ll get when I can’t hear the others. (If I wanted to cheat, I’d take the pair of favorites CDs I burned years ago that included all of my favorite tracks. And even though I didn’t stipulate that I couldn’t do that, it doesn’t seem quite right.)

The Byrds: 1. The Columbia Singles ’65-’67 2. Sweetheart of the Rodeo (Alternate Version). The Byrds are another of those bands with a great catalog, a lot of classic original LPs, and any number of fine compilations to their credit. They’re better in the studio than they were live, and the hits are the first choice because all of the albums have a track or two you want to skip (“Mind Gardens” anyone?). So, my first choice is a fantastic two album collection of those original singles, ‘A’ and ‘B’ sides, and they’re even in mono which is how they sound best. Credit to Sundazed for putting it together. It belongs in every serious collection of Rock. There is nothing on it, however, from Sweetheart of the Rodeo, and since that’s their one real Country record, I went with it for my second choice. I have the original LP, but my choice here is an alternate version of the album I burned myself that puts back all the original versions of the songs from the original sessions that featured Gram Parsons’ lead vocals. Parsons quit the band over their decision to play the racially segregated South Africa, and when he did, Roger McGuinn wiped his lead vocals from several of the album’s tracks, and replaced them with his own just prior to the album’s release. I prefer the original with Parsons’ vocals, and since Columbia has never issued it intact, I lifted all the tracks from the Byrds box set, sequenced it exactly as it was, and made my own. Since Columbia did put the tracks in the box set, I think my substituting my own version is valid. I’d be surprised if the label didn’t try to release my version as a stand-alone, and got push back on it from McGuinn. But I don’t know that for sure. Parsons did the right thing by quitting for the reason he did, and to be honest, the original is better. The Byrds only went in a Country direction because of Parsons, so it was always going to have his signature on it. I think they should reissue it on CD with both versions on the disc, or issue it one of these years as a Record Store Day release.

Pink Floyd: 1. The Dark Side of the Moon 2. The Division Bell. No, I’m still not tired of ‘Dark Side’ after several hundred listens over the past 52 years since it was issued. And though I’ll miss not having its follow-up Wish You Were Here, I still prefer the career-ending final statement The Division Bell, which is as close to a perfect last statement as anyone’s ever had (yeah, I know they added a “P.S.” of sorts with The Endless River, but that was more a coda, and a tribute to the late Richard Wright than it was a final statement). Those are the cream of a very impressive catalog for me, and nothing else was seriously considered.

Blondie: 1. Eat to The Beat 2. The Platinum Collection. The second collects all the singles, and nearly all of the best album cuts on 2 CDs. But my favorite Blondie track, “Shayla” is missing. But it’s part of Eat to The Beat, which I consider their strongest album overall. This one was one of the easier ones to do.

Blue Oyster Cult: 1. Don’t Fear the Reaper: The Best of Blue Oyster Cult 2. On Your Feet or On Your Knees. The first collects all the great radio hits, and several great album cuts, and the second is a 2-record live barnburner that catches the band in their element. I was very tempted to choose the Mobile Fidelity gold disc that pairs Blue Oyster Cult with Tyranny & Mutation, their first two records, but there would’ve been some repetition with the ‘Best of’ set, so, I nixed that idea.

King Crimson: 1. The Young Person’s Guide to King Crimson 2. Discipline. Without the first as an option, this would’ve been almost impossible. But the ‘Young Person’s Guide’ cherry picks the best of the band’s first era – encompassing the ’69 debut record to the classic Red LP from 1974. When the band returned with 1981’s Discipline they were very different, but every bit as great as the first time around. Unfortunately, there’s no similar compilation of the band’s work from this later period, so I went with the best, which was Discipline. The ideal choice would’ve been the Frame by Frame boxed set, but it’s disqualified here. But this pair will do nicely.

That’s all for now. If you’re keeping track, we’ve done 60 artists, a total of 120 titles, both LPs and CDs. And it has yet to reduce me to a quivering mass huddled in a corner whimpering, so I’ll forge ahead with a seventh installment in the near future.

[kusagrasskusa]

Erron Black X Reader - “You’re gonna be a daddy”

Summery: Short little wholesome story where Erron Black comes home from a long bounty, and seeing his woman outside their little home. She looks at him and greets him in a strange way, and whenever he asks about it, he hears something he never expected to here. Read the last paragraph before getting to the story!

TW: Miscarriage

This is something that hits a little closer to home for me. Almost a year ago, I was gonna have a baby sister named Willow. I was at my boyfriend’s house and called my mom for something, but she sounded upset over the phone. When she picked me up later and I asked what it was about, she looked at me and said, “there wasn’t a heartbeat.” She was so depressed for months over it and we eventually discovered she has something called MTHFR, a blood clotting disease that results in pregnancy loss. Oh and just buy the way… My mom is going through a program to help her have one last kid, so the story has a happy ending.

In this story, Y/N has lost her children to this blood cell disease and was thought to never be able to have a family.

—————————————————————————————

The sun was bright and the unearthly birds chirped along with each other as they flew around the heated realm known as Outworld. A cute little deserted farmhouse was stationed quite a bit away from other civilians, but relatively close to the empire which Kotal Kahn resided in. A lovely pond was situated near the farm house and little gardens grew from the pond water. It was surrounded by woods, but a safe part of the forest. A lovely woman would go outside everyday to take care of the animals with her pet Outworlden cat, C/N. It was like a mainecoon and a demon had a baby, but it for the most part had the sweet maincoone personality. The woman had began to wear lovely loose white dresses lately, even in the bright and hot sun. But every single day had been the happiest day in her life ever since two months prior to when this story would take place.

But, she didn’t know this would be the happiest of even the happiest days. At least for now.

“Ooo,” she breathed out, holding onto her back as she sat down on a rock near the pond and garden for a quick break. She breathed in heavily, the morning air refreshing her skin but maybe a little too much so. She gazed over the beautiful own she built with her husband, remembering their dreams of starting a life together the way it felt it should be. Building a lovely little home and marrying there, and although it was just them at the wedding, they would later on find out they would have had another member of the family.

Her eyes gazed over the four tombstones on the other side of the pond. Y/N almost wanted to cry more for each second she looked at them, but those days would finally be behind her. She would always be a mother of those four, buried beneath the ground, and she would soon be a mother of five. Her first baby had died unexpectedly, and when she lost the third one, her husband spoke to his boss about what could possibly be wrong.

He was a blood god, god of war, and god of the sun- and the ruler of her realm. When he first laid on eyes on the girl, he felt pity for her; her gloomed face moving his heart enough to take time out of the day to help her. Each baby had died from high levels of homocysteine levels and eggs not being able to fertilize correctly- and it broke her heart more and more. Even the Kahn was upset for days after the meeting and allowed her husband to stay home for some time.

But, that was a year ago and her husband was off to complete a difficult bounty. Erron had been gone for about 3 months now, and the night before he left had been the night she would conceive her next child. She didn’t know she was pregnant until 2 months ago, and she had been seeing Kotal Kahn every single day for him to use his abilities on her and rejuvenate her. She wanted to badly to have her child- and her baby had lasted longer than any other. This one was going to survive.

C/N meowed as it chased after a bird that soared through the skies. “C/N!” The lady called out for her animal, “you’re gonna step on the flowers!” She huffed as the cat tripped over a watermelon vine- but this was an Outworld watermelon vine, so it was like tripping over a stubborn tree root.

“That cat’s gon’ get us killed one day,” a voice called out from behind her. She whipped her head around, her eyes widening at the sound of that familiar voice.

“Erron!” She called out, standing up and running into her husband’s arms, who chuckled while squeezing her under his loving grip.

“Hey there, baby doll,” he greeted, suppressing just how happy he really was to see her. Those long trips were always painful to go on, but the upside is that he gets more happy to see his girl’s beautiful face. “Y/N, baby, don’t cry,” he chuckled as he released her, grabbing her chin so she looked up at him. Tears flooded down her face more than usual, making her giggle as well.

“Haha, I told myself I wouldn’t cry this time,” she sniffled, brushing her hair out of her face. She instinctually put her hand on her stomach as the adrenaline died down which made her remember that her back was hurting. “Mmm,” she grunting as she backed up into the rock again, sitting down. Her husband followed her and sat down with her, wrapping his larger arm around her.

“Are you okay, suga’ plum?” He asked, glancing over at where she laid her hand. 3 months was still too early for a noticeable bump, but she was heavier than what she used to be if only by a little bit. Y/N sniffled, more tears pouring out as she looked at him.

“You’re gonna be a daddy,” she cried out, wrapping her arms around her husband. “This time, you’ll be holding your son in your arms happily! This one’s gonna make it!” Erron’s eyes widened as he blinked out in shock.

“I’m,” he started, chuckling, “I’m gonna be a daddy?” Y/N laughed, wiping more tears of joy while Erron wanted to hold his in.

“Yes! I already have his room made a-and-“ she stuttered while her breathe hitched. “I’ve been seeing Kotal everyday so he could rejuvenate and tell me what was going on with our boy. He’s as healthy as can be!”

That night, dinner was extra special. Along with whenever they went to bed later that night- they slept in each other’s arms that night, cuddling in their sleep. Little do they know in a few months, they wouldn’t be able to sleep that close together if they could sleep at all. Let’s just say S/N is gonna have his daddy’s fighting spirit.

Especially in his sleep when he kicks and punches his baby limps at those stupid monsters in what most kid’s would call a nightmare. To him, those nightmares are battlegrounds where nothing can escape his wrath.

[messers-moony]

My Everything | S.B

Paring: Sirius Black X Wife!Reader

Summary: When five marauders goes to two within the instance of a day. Two children are left without fathers and a wife is left without a husband.

Request: Sirius Black x Wife!reader reuniting and she's Remus sister

A/N: My first Harry Potter request. I got so excited to see this in my inbox and I hope it isn’t the last :)

Perhaps it was the feeling of betrayal she felt when he was finally gone. The fact that everything he’d ever said was a lie. She couldn’t help but think maybe his vows were a lie too. The five Marauders were now two. Only two left. How did this even happen? 

The unbreakable group of five. James Potter, the so-called leader of them all. The mom friend who always made sure everyone was okay and cared for. Sirius Black, the second in command. The mischievous, charismatic troublemaker who was always in detention. Peter Pettigrew, the outcast of them all. The shy and naive boy who gave them all a sense of logic. Remus Lupin, the intelligent and solace of them all. The only boy smart enough not to get caught. Y/n Lupin, the creative and sneaky one. The only one who could sneak and out of the Potions cabinet without Slughorn noticing. 

Now it was just the Lupin twins who, as Sirius called them, the “Linking Lupins.” It was hard in the beginning. First-year was difficult. All they had was each other. Lyall hadn’t really been accepting in the first place, but Hope was always blissfully unaware of her son's problem. All she knew was that he had to go away once a month. Lyall cursed himself out every night that Remus went away, cursing himself for letting this happen to his son. 

The cries of his baby girl begging for her brother. The wails of Y/n pleading for Remus not to go away. Not wanting to let go of him, hearing Remus from inside the room in the basement begging to be let out. Sobbing, crying for his mum or his dad to let him out, praying that the wolf doesn’t take over. Whimpering at how much it hurts the way his bones dislocate and relocate back together in a new way. 

So yeah, first year was challenging. But Dumbledore had a safe place for him to go every evening of the full moon, and Y/n would be there when he woke up every time. Remus relished in the way her hands felt in his. They were so soft compared to his calloused ones. So gentle compared to his often rough movements. Small compared to big. She was everything he wasn’t, and he was happy about that. 

James Potter was the first to talk to them with his flamboyant nature. His eyes were the lightest of browns with spotted glittering green. His smile was perfect and straight. How could someone’s smile be that way at the ripe age of eleven? Despite his aura screaming, “I’m the popular kid, and you’re the loser,” he was actually quite nice. 

Upon looking at James, the Lupin twins both thought of trouble. They remembered the popular kids from their muggle school before this one, how they used to belittle Remus for his scars and how Y/n used to push them away. So, forgive them for being a little cautious around him. It didn’t help that James’ counterpart was the opposite of them both. 

Sirius Black, lanky and confident. This boy had no boundaries and absolutely no limits. If he wanted it, he was going to get it. His eyes were the purest iron, and his smile was white like quartz. Hair black as coal and personality as gregarious as the color wheel. His style was toned back, but his character could’ve put the color wheel to shame with how bright he was. Sirius Black could’ve been the antonym to Remus and Y/n Lupin. 

During second year they found another boy who was being beaten by Slytherins for his scarlet and golden robes. He was stocky, and it seems that he was pretty timid. His blond hair was disheveled, and his blue eyes full of fright. Y/n had stepped in front of him just like she had Remus from the bullies back in muggle school. Her wand was held tight in her grip as she stared at them. 

“What are you gonna do, Loony Lupin?” One of them snarled. 

“Aguamenti.” 

The Slytherins were now covered in water. Damp like they had all taken a shower with their clothes on. Their black robes turned a shade darker. The evergreen accents turned olive, and the silver turned into grey. The main Slytherin boy gritted his teeth, and his icy eyes stared into Y/n’s e/c ones. 

“You’ll pay for that.”

Y/n pocketed her wand in her robes, smiling sweetly, “I’m sure I will. Now, run along before I do something worse.”

They didn’t want to obey, but they also didn’t want to stay in that situation. The Slytherins scurried off like dogs following their owner's command. Y/n fixed her hair with her hand and turned around. She was offering her soft hand to the boy who was frozen, shocked, staring at her. Hesitantly he gripped her hand, allowing her to pull him up. She was only slightly shorter than him. 

“Y/n Lupin.” She introduced, “You are?”

“Pe- Peter Pettigrew.”

Y/n bowed playfully, “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Peter.” 

“Pleasure.” Peter muttered shyly as her group of friends approached. 

Remus swung an arm around her shoulders, “You’re bloody brilliant, you know?”

“Our star.” Sirius swooned jokingly as Y/n punched his shoulder, causing him to pout, “Who’s this?” James queried, looking at Peter, who cowered under the hazel-eyed gaze. 

“Boys,” Y/n smiled brightly, “This is our new member of the Marauders. Peter Pettigrew.”

Peter fiddled with his hands anxiously, “New- New member?”

“Mhm!” Y/n hummed, “You’re our new addition.”

James smiled, “Any friend of Y/n’s is a friend of ours. Welcome, Peter.”

From then it went from four to five. Peter never really stopped thanking them for letting him in. For the first time, Peter felt at home, and it was thanks to Y/n. He realized how kind she was, how creative she was. It was so strange. The group was so different, like extraordinarily diverse, yet they worked together so well. Y/n and Remus seemed to be the brains of things. James and Sirius seemed to be the trouble makers. Peter just did his own thing but always contributed. 

In fifth year Remus started to worry. Everyone was so secretive. They stopped hanging around as much, even his sister. It hurt. It really hurt to see them seeking around on the map that he and Y/n created together for the most part. It wasn’t until during the winter break did Y/n finally realize what they were doing affected them. 

Remus barely cried. Or at least that’s what people made it out to seem. Remus actually cried a decent amount. He was snuggled up in his room. His blanket encasing him, and his arms held around his pillow tightly, gripping it as if it’d leave him like he felt everyone else was. His heart felt broken. Y/n was outside his door, hearing his soft cries, and gently knocked on the door. 

“Rem. Can I come in, please?”

He didn’t say anything, so she just let herself in. The door closed behind her with a click, and she saw her tall brother curled up into the tightest ball with silver streams on his cheeks. Y/n sat in front of him and rubbed the side of his arm. Remus’ eyes continue to release water like a dam that had been broken. He couldn’t swallow it no matter how hard he tried. 

“What’s wrong, Rem?”

Remus didn’t say anything. He just dug his head deeper into the pillow he was holding. Y/n’s hand made its way to his sandy-colored hair. She was scratching at the scalp and smoothing his hair away from his face keeping the strands from getting wet. Her hand hesitantly reached his cheek and wiped away the tears that kept falling. 

She sighed, “Remus, please.”

“You’re- you’re gon’ leave me, aren’ you.” Remus choked. 

“Leave you?” Y/n questioned softly, afraid if she raised her voice any more, it’d make things worse, “I wouldn’t leave you if I was given a chance, Remmy.”

He sniffled, “You- you haven’ been a- around.”

“I know.” Y/n soothed, caressing his cheek, “But there’s an explanation for it. James, Sirius, Peter, and I have been distant. We know that. But there’s a reason for it. You’ll find out soon.”

Remus’ eyes met his sister's warm e/c ones, “Please don’t leave me.”

“Never.” 

He smiled gently. The corners of his lips barely curled, but she knew it was there. Remus had fallen asleep with his sister's hand in his hair. When she was sure he was sleeping, Y/n left the bedroom, allowing him to sleep peacefully. Then she wrote a letter to James where she knew Sirius was staying too. 

One more week, Y/n thought. One more week of this Mandrake leaf in their mouths until they could be done with this. 

It took another month before it was ready. Before they were ready. They were in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom when they started. James started first. When he turned into a stag, they all began laughing. James turned back, pouting. Sirius turned second into a huge black dog. Y/n smiled and petted his head. 

“Very fitting, Sirius.”

Sirius turned back, letting Peter turn next. He was so tiny that Sirius almost stepped on him. James and Y/n sniggered at their rat friend. Next was Y/n, who turned into a graceful cat. Her fur was black, and her eyes were a striking e/c. James smirked and nudged Sirius. 

“Matching animagus’, eh?”

Sirius scowled, “Cats and dogs don’t match.”

Y/n turned back, “Don’t they?”

“Ready for this full moon?” James asked them all. 

“‘Course!”

“Yep!”

“Can’t wait.”

That full moon was better than them all. Remus had people to join him. There was something that he noticed, though. Every time he’d get close to the cat, the dog would growl and stand in front of her. It was like the dog was protecting what was his. Y/n noticed it too. Every time Remus got close, Sirius stood in front of her, keeping him at a safe distance. 

It wasn’t until a quiet night in the Marauders dorm did Remus finally bring it up, “Sirius.”

“Remus.”

“How long?”

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows, “How long what?”

“You know,” Remus moved his hand in a circular motion for him to continue, “How long have you liked my sister?”

“Woah, Remus.” Sirius stated in shock, “That’s quite the accusation.”

Remus tilted his head, “Is it?”

“Yeah. It is.” Sirius replied, “Y/n is my friend. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“So, you not sleeping with any girls for the past year is just a coincidence?” Remus questioned knowingly, “You staring at her during class and parties is just on accident?”

Sirius’ cheeks went pink, “And it’s definitely a coincidence that you always hug her first after every Quidditch match.”

“Okay, fine, fine.” Sirius confessed, “I like Y/n. I have for a while.”

“So why haven’t you asked her out?”

“Excuse me?”

Remus shrugged, “Why haven’t you asked her out yet? You know she enjoys going to Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks.”

“Mate, have you forgotten we’re talking about your sister?” Sirius asked, “Like your twin sister?”

“I know.” Remus replied, “She likes you too, you know.”

Sirius’ eyes were practically bulging out of his skull. How in the name of Merlin was Remus so calm about this? He said it so casually as if they were talking about the weather. Sirius expected Remus to get angry or throw a book at him. 

“Are you- Are you giving me permission to date your sister?”

“As long as you don’t hurt her, sure.”

Sirius hesitated before asking his next question, “Can you help me do it?”

Remus smirked, “Casanova of Hogwarts can’t ask out Y/n?”

“Please, Remus.” Sirius begged, “I really like her, and I don’t want to fuck this up.”

Remus snorted, “You always fuck things up.”

“That’s why I need you!” 

Remus just smirked triumphantly. 

“Pleaaaseeeeeee.”

“Alright, fine.” Remus relented, “Just be cool about it, yeah? Take her to Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks. She’d enjoy that a lot. Maybe take her to Tomes and Scrolls.”

“You’re a lifesaver!” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Remus rolled his eyes, “Now shut up. ‘M tired.”

The following day Sirius and Y/n did go to Hogsmeade together. She was amazed when they went into Honeydukes together. She picked out some of her favorite sweets and some for Remus since the full moon was a week away. When she went to pay for it, Sirius pushed her hand away, paying for it himself. Y/n wouldn’t stop thanking him. 

Next, they went to Tomes and Scrolls. On any ordinary occasion, Sirius would’ve hated this. Truth be told, he wasn’t really a reader or a book person in general. But for her, he’d do absolutely anything. Y/n picked out some new books and began raving to Sirius about one in particular. So again, Sirius paid for them and told her to find a table in the Three Broomsticks. 

Sirius went to the area where the book she was raving about was found. He grabbed one for himself, planning to read and annotate it for her. Maybe he’d give it to her as a birthday gift or just a random gift. Nonetheless, he knew she’d love it, and Sirius would fall off a cliff if she asked him to. 

Inside he found her sitting with a hot chocolate and a butterbeer for himself. Sirius slid into the booth smiling at her. They talked about everything and anything. Sirius even went as far as to tell her some stuff about his family the other guys didn’t know about. He went on about how he envied Remus and her relationship wanting the same thing with Regulus. 

Sirius told her how he wanted his future to look. How many tattoos he wanted. Where he wanted to live. How many children he wanted. So on and so forth. He was so open and so honest it surprised her. Generally, if someone asked Sirius what he wanted his future to look at, he’d just shrug. Now he was spilling everything to her. 

It didn’t take long after that for them to become official. Remus smiled when she announced it. He was happy for her. Remus could see how happy Sirius made her, and for that, he was grateful that someone could take care of her in his absence. Y/n only wanted that for him too. One day she’d have a family, and Remus wouldn’t be her main priority. That scared her because, for all seventeen years of her life, it was just her and Remus. 

After graduating from Hogwarts, they got married. It wasn’t anything huge, especially with Voldemort on the rise, but it happened. James was Sirius’ best man, and Marlene was Y/n’s maid of honor. Remus walked Y/n down the aisle and gently kissed her cheek before letting her go. Seeing Sirius and Y/n get married made James overjoyed to marry Lily, but that would happen all in due time. 

So what was it that made her feel this way? Was it the betrayal? Was it the dishonesty? Was it the disloyalty? What was it in truth? The moment Sirius was locked away in Azkaban, everything changed. When Remus heard about it, she was his first stop. Inside he saw her with a baby on her lap. Their baby boy, just a year old. He was born only months before Harry. 

Little Perseus Sirius Black. Y/n’s pride and joy. He was everything to her. Remus had walked into the house seeing his broken sister holding her child close to her as he cried. Remus walked in and gently took the child from her arms, allowing her to lean on his shoulder as he held Perseus. The little boy smiled at the familiar face of his uncle. 

“Rem!” 

Remus smiled softly, “Hey, Perseus.”

It took a long time for Y/n to collect herself. Remus had taken a spot in the house since he couldn’t find a place by himself. Y/n worked at the ministry most days, and Remus would take care of her little troublemaker. As Perseus grew, he looked more and more like his mother. The same e/c eyes and h/c hair. The only thing that made him look like a Black was his defined body and facial structure. 

The sharp jawline, the defined nose, the straight cheekbones, the semi-hollow cheeks, and the pointed chin. His features were that of the Noble House of Black, yet he could’ve made his way to look like a Lupin even more. For a while, Y/n worked a lot. She was trying to keep her family afloat. But it wasn’t until Remus said he got a job offer at Hogwarts did she have to stop. Working for her felt like nothing. Every day she was worried about Perseus going to school. Especially with Sirius being out of Azkaban. 

The night that Remus saw Peter Pettigrew on the map, he knew something was wrong and sent Y/n and owl for her to come to Hogwarts. Without hesitation, she did. On the night of that full moon, she was also down in the Shrieking Shack, holding Harry close to her, not wanting him to get hurt. When everything got resolved, she cried. 

Y/n went home that night rethinking everything. A week later, Remus and Perseus returned home. She couldn’t remember holding Percy that tight ever. Y/n was just thankful that he was safe and he was home. That night that Y/n and Remus told Percy what really happened, why his father was never really in the picture. 

A year later is when Perseus finally met his father - well, that he can remember. He was fifteen now, going into his fifth year at Hogwarts when Y/n and Remus took him to Grimmauld Place 12. It felt foreign, and it felt evil. Needless to say, Percy didn’t like the place. Inside, Sirius was waiting for them along with many others. 

When the door opened and shut gently, he knew it was her. For the first time in over twelve years, he’d be allowed with his wife again. The woman he loved and the woman he felt the most solace with. He’d also see the boy that he used to know grown up into a young adult. The young gentleman Sirius always wanted. 

Perseus stood in front of her, Y/n’s hands on his shoulders. Sirius almost chuckled at it. Percy was protecting her even if she didn’t know it herself. He stood in front of her for a reason, to make sure she’d be safe. Sirius stood in front of them, swallowing harshly. 

“Remus, Y/n.” He choked on the last name.

“Good evening Sirius.” Remus greeted politely, “How have you been?”

Sirius shuffled, “I’ve been better.”

Remus hugged him, whispering in his ear, “Don’t fuck this up.”

“Hey, Siri.” Y/n smiled with tears in her eyes, “Hey, love.”

Gently she walked in front of Percy and hugged him tightly. Sirius’ arms went around her waist, and his nose dug into her hair. The scent of her perfume and shampoo calming his nerves slightly. Y/n dug her head into his neck and placed her arms around him. They pulled away and smiled. Gently he kissed her forehead. 

“I’m sorry for believing that you would ever,” She looked down, “You know.”

Sirius picked her chin back up gently, “You have nothing to be sorry for, love.”

Y/n kissed his lips softly. His lips were far from how she remembered. They were no longer soft and tasted of smoke. Instead, they were chapped and tasted of firewhiskey. Perhaps some things never change. Their lips melded together perfectly, just as they did so many years ago. They pulled apart, smiling brightly. She pulled from his embrace to stand by his side. 

“Sirius, this is-“

“Perseus, I know.” 

Perseus smiled nervously; they had the same smile, the same straight smile, “Hi.”

“Hi.”

It was silent for a while as Perseus shuffled, “Are you- are you staying this time?”

“I’d like to.” Sirius replied, “I’m not quite sure the extent of my living abilities, but I’ll be here.”

“I’m- I'm in Slytherin.”

“Okay.”

Perseus looked incredulously, “Okay? That’s all you have to say?” 

“There’s nothing wrong with being in Slytherin.” Sirius stated, “Your heart is in the right place.”

“How would you know?” Percy snapped, “You’ve been gone for most of my life. You don’t know anything about me.”

Sirius quirked an eyebrow, “So you standing in front of your Mather was just a happy accident? You weren’t planning on protecting her. Shall something go wrong?”

Percy looked at the ground, “Someone had to make sure she was safe while you were gone.” 

“That’s not fair.” 

“Life isn’t fair!” Percy yelled, “You left us. You don’t realize how badly you hurt her while you were gone.”

Remus walked back into the corridor to see Y/n frozen staring at her son. Sirius was standing in an argumentative stance. Percy’s eyes were filling with tears of frustration as he stared at the man who abandoned him from the start. 

“You left me. You left mum. You left Remus.” Percy cried, “How did you expect this to go, huh?”

Sirius didn’t say anything, “Did you expect me to be happy?! Did you expect me to hug you and fall into your arms?!” Percy shouted, “Because I’m not. I’m not happy, and I’m not going to fall into your arms and hug you like a naive little boy. My mum deserves better than this bullshit.”

“Enough!” Remus snapped, and Percy froze, “Your father is risking his life to be here right now. To meet you. I get it. I wouldn’t be happy either if my father did what Sirius did. But with things, the way they are right now is holding a grudge really that important?”

“N- No, sir.”

“Percy.” Y/n called, and he stared at her with watery eyes as she approached him, “I get it. You’re angry, you’re upset, but he’s still your father. He wants to be here now.”

“B- But he-“

“I know, my love. He’s going to try and make up for it. You don’t have to trust him right away. You don’t have to say ‘I love you’ right away. He isn’t expecting that.” Y/n wiped the tears from his cheeks, “All he’s expecting is his son. The little boy that he last saw.”

Percy looked down, “I know you aren’t that little boy, and I wish you still were. The little boy that used to make me smile and laugh. The little boy that used to cause mischief around the house driving Remus mad.” 

Sirius smiled, “You’re older now, and that will take some getting used to. I know you don’t remember, but Sirius used to be the only one who could get you to stop crying. He used to hold you all night, sleep with you in the rocking chair.”

“Sirius used to babble nonsense to you while I was at work. He used to take you to the park. Make you laugh by turning into a dog.” Percy sniffled, “Back then, Sirius was your everything, baby.”

Percy hugged his mom tight, “I- I’m scared.”

It was only loud enough for her to hear, “Why, baby?”

“What if- what if he leaves again?”

“He’s not going to.” Y/n moved the hair from his face, “Sirius wouldn’t leave us unless he had to.”

Percy knew what that meant. Sirius wouldn’t leave unless he got killed or died. Percy looked at Sirius’ eyes which were filled with tears from recalling the moments of his past. Y/n smiled reassuringly before Percy allowed himself to hug his father. He was wrapping his arms around his stomach, nuzzling his nose into his chest. 

When they pulled apart, Sirius smiled, “You’re my everything, kiddo.”

[highdramas]

the world’s a little blurry | b.b.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: none

word count: 2107

summary: bucky is home, and he is yours

note: this is a one shot for now, but i definitely have more ideas for these two <3 this’ll be heavily inspired by tfatws so this is a spoiler warning for anything mentioned! also this is my first time writing bucky so pleaseeeeee give me some mercy lol

enjoy! <3

it’s nearly three in the morning, and you’re lucky if you stay up past midnight, so bucky makes a point to be quiet as he tiptoes into the apartment. after a mission gone awry in the apartment building where you had been neighbors, you’ve been staying with the superhero. something about not losing you and you’re safest here. bucky’s not stupid— caring about someone is a gamble, and it had become clear to his enemies who exactly it was that he cared about.

living with you came lots of things that bucky was not expecting. first off, you’re very cluttered. you call it controlled chaos, he calls it a mess. he’s fascinated by the state of your night stand, mostly. a dying plant and one loose airpod, two half empty water bottles, an empty starbucks cup.

second off, you have a cat. her name is katherine, but you call her kitty, occasionally kiki. and while bucky had been determined not to get attached, after awhile, it was difficult not to. she rubbed up on his legs, cuddled in his lap on the couch, slept on his chest in the middle of the night. she’s fucking adorable, and not even the winter soldier can deny that.

third off… you. you as a whole. he’s sure that it would’ve been a shock living with anyone, but the care that you give him… he’s not used to having someone making sure he’s eating. he’s not used to someone checking up on him throughout the day. he’s not used to having someone to come home to.

it’s nice.

it feels safe.

and he’ll kill anyone who tries to take this peace away from him.

bucky groans as he shucks his jacket off, feeling exactly where his muscles ache. he tries to keep his volume minimal. finally, he opens the door to the bedroom. the bedroom that you share.

this was the biggest adjustment of all.

he’d barely slept in a bed at all before you came along. too soft, too comfortable. he told you as much that first night, and what you had said shocked him.

“well, i’ll just sleep on the floor with you.”

no, oh, just get in bed. no, c’mon, it’s nice. none of those things. just understanding.

but it was more than understanding. it was meeting him exactly where he was.

that was three months ago, and you had kept your word. if you weren’t sleeping on the floor with him, you were on the couch with your hand tangling down, brushing along his hair, his shoulder. every time he felt you bucky swore that he could cry.

it was two months ago that he suggested you both sleep in the bed. and while it wasn’t every night, and some nights he padded out to the living room with a blanket and pillow… it was progress.

and he would wake up to find that you had joined him on the floor.

the nightmares weren’t gone. he’s not sure if they ever would be. but they were growing few and farer between, and the ones he did have were growing more manageable.

things were getting better.

of course, they were not perfect. and he knew that you didn’t expect them to be. he has therapy once a week, sometimes twice during the particularly hard weeks. he’s grown close with sam and his family. and… you.

his girl.

as the door creaks open, he almost chuckles at the sight of you. you’re laying horizontally across the bed, taking up both your side and bucky’s. katherine is curled in at your chest, her nose nearly touching yours. your mouth is open and he can see that there’s a bit of drool in the corner of your mouth, and that does make him laugh. it stirs you and he freezes.

bucky watches as you slowly wake, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and then rubbing the drool from your mouth. “ew,” you mumble, still half asleep, and bucky leans in the doorway wearing a smirk.

“go back to sleep, doll.”

you hum and stretch, and so does katherine, giving a wide yawn. “you’re home.”

home.

had he ever had a home before? 

he did once, as a child. a time that feels so distant, so separate from the life that he leads now. sometimes, it’s hard to even picture the faces of his family members.

he had this apartment, but it never felt like home. not until you waltzed into it with your clutter and your laughter and your vibrancy. not until you cooked dinner hip to hip, not until you listened to music that he had never heard of, not until you watched some movie that was your favorite.

you’re home.

bucky smiles and he nods, sitting on the edge of the bed, pushing your hair back. “i’m home,” he says quietly. “i’m sorry i’m so late.”

you shake your head, your hand taking his. he still wears the gloves. you raise your eyebrows at him. “can i?”

he nods. you make quick work of removing each of his gloves, tossing them across the room, which makes bucky smile. he knows he’ll be picking those up in the morning. you press a kiss to his palm, the one that is flesh and bone. and then you take the other and do the same. “missed you, buck.”

something in his heart constricts as he watches you-- washed in moonlight that comes in through the window, sleepy smile on your face, eyes fixed on him. he knows that look, and he knows what it means. he doesn’t know if he deserves it, but he tries. he’ll always try for you.

“i wasn’t even gone twenty four hours,” the smirk is evident in his tone even if you can’t see it, but you scoff and roll your eyes. “i think you’re needy.”

“needy!” you repeat and laugh, falling back onto the pillow. kitty stirs and looks up at bucky, letting out a loud meow. “she’s the needy one. look at her.”

“both of you.” he scratches kitty’s head and then kisses the top of yours before he stands again. “i’m gonna shower.”

sleep is escaping you and you push yourself up onto your palms. “can i join you?”

he chews on the inside of his cheek and shrugs his shoulders innocently. “better pick up the pace then, soldier.”

with a laugh, you kick the sheets off of you. “yes sir.”

he rolls his eyes and you both shuffle into the bathroom. now, in the light, you’re able to get a good look at him. and your jaw drops slightly at what you see. “bucky,” you say and he already knows what’s coming. you touch the side of his face where a bruise is blossoming. “how the hell does this even happen?”

“part of the gig.”

you groan and he smiles and he does so because he loves you. he loves your mess and he loves your doting, he loves your cat and he loves coming home to see that you’ve taken up the entire bed. “you’re an old man. one of these days you’re gonna have to retire.”

“got unfinished business first.”

you know of his past. of course you do. although, you’re a firm believer that it’s not his past, rather than a past that was decided for him against his will. you’ve made a point of making your stance in that clear. you have heard stories of what bucky has done, but you have tutted and shaken your head. “what hydra did.”

these are the things that bucky tells himself, but it is different to hear it from someone else. someone who is not steve, or sam, or another avenger who has also committed morally grey acts. because, yes, they are all good and trustworthy and worth listening to-- but you. you are his girl. you are his girl who laughs at his jokes and teases him and never once babies him for what happened to him, but you’re also the girl who has woken him from nightmares, who has tended to his wounds, who has been held back from a fight just to defend his honor. you have seen him in his entirety, and you have never balked.

“alright, well--” it’s not lost on you how his eyes trail down your body as you undress, turning on the water and checking the temperature. “as soon of this business of yours is finished…”

“i know.”

the two of you share a look and he gives a crooked grin. “you look nice.”

“there’s dried drool on my face.”

“yeah, i know.”

it’s been nearly a year since you met james buchanan barnes and yet he still gets you to blush. he practically lights up at the sight of the color on your cheeks. “are you--”

“shut up and get in the shower,” you retort, pulling back the curtain and stepping into the steaming water.

“yes, ma’am.” you hear the shuffling of his clothes falling to the floor and then he is behind you, hands going up and down your arms. you let out a sigh and tilt your head back, peering up at him. water trails down his nose, dripping off and onto your forehead.

you don’t tell bucky, but you do worry. you worry every second that he’s gone on a mission. you know that you don’t have to say it, that he knows. and you trust that he will come home to you. bucky turns you and he holds your face in his hands and he presses his lips to yours and you know that he feels the same way.

i’ll always come back is spelled out in the way that he kissed you, the way that he holds the back of your head. we have forever is heaved from your lungs as he sucks the air from you.

when you part, you smile at his lips-- slightly swollen, pinker than normal. you rub your thumb along the bottom one and he catches your hand. he presses it on his chest, right where his heart hides beneath skin and bone. “you don’t have to do all of this to make up for what they did to you,” you say over the sound of water. “you’re allowed to have a normal life, if you want it.”

“i know.” he pushes a piece of wet hair from your face. “i just don’t--” he shakes his head and you know this all too well-- he doesn’t quite know what to say, he starts closing up and off and away, the high walls that guard his heart and mind beginning to take shape. “i feel like if i don’t… what was it all for?”

delicate hands move across his torso. you lather up a loofah and begin washing away blood and grime. “bucky,” you say and he looks at you, steely blue eyes staring right into yours. “you make people happy. you have people who love you, who care for you. you don’t owe the world reparations.”

he winces as you go over a particular bruise and you slow your movements, make them featherlight. “all i know is,” you begin. “whatever it is you want, whatever it is that fulfills your life… make sure it’s for you.”

a smile curls on his face and he stills your hands. “thank you.” he takes the loofah from you. “let me get you.”

“but i’m not done--”

“please. let me.”

you surrender and he begins to wash you, and your forehead falls to his shoulder, calm washing over your body. you could’ve been standing there for minutes or hours, you’re unsure. he pushes your hair back and at some point you realize that he is washing your hair, and you press gently open mouthed kisses against his chest and you hear his breath catch and you fall in love with him all over again.

“let me get yours--” you mumble around a yawn and you watch as he smirks down at you. “really, let me.”

bucky shakes his head and he turns the water off. “tomorrow,” he says.

you towel off and when you clamber into bed, you feel the weight of him beside you, your cat nestled between the both of you. you feel him pull you into him, his breath against your neck and his lips against your pulse point, and your eyes flutter shut. before sleep captures you, you murmur, “i love you, james bucky barnes.”

the feeling of his smile against your skin is imprinted on your heart, and his words coax you into sleep-- “i love you too, doll.”

bucky barnes sleeps through the night and doesn’t wake once.

[l-r-christian]

Title: 'Tied to one' part three

Pairing: Poly!Mikaelson x Black!Witch!Reader

Summary: Hayley had gone to a undoing the Mikaelsons soulstrings to Y/N and to have Elijah tied to the hybrid. Not only did it undid the strings it also had brought back Mikael and Esther along with the second oldest Original.

Warnings: Angst, Jealous Mikaelsons, Hayley being kinda of bitch, Reader being a shy bean, Soft Finn

A/N: holy another long part Batman 😳 I am really enjoying doing this series.

Hayley went to the witch that she was going to check out with Elijah but since the noble vampire and his siblings found their soulmate, Elijah was more focus on Y/N instead of Hayley.

"This spell is powerful. Are you sure you want this? The price for this is great."

"Whatever it takes. Just do the spell." Hayley said glaring at the witch who swallowed knowing she'll die after doing the spell as to rewrite a soulstrings could disrupt the balance of nature. Hayley woke gasping feeling an arm tighten around her and Elijah's scent hit her nose and felt him nuzzle her neck.

"It's too early to be awake baby." Elijah's voice husky from sleep making Hayley flush as she realized that she was bare. Hayley looked seeing it was 7AM and heard Klaus with Hope then felt Elijah's hand move along her waist.

"Elijah?"

"Hmm?" Elijah acknowledge Hayley as he placed kisses along her neck pulling her closer and Hayley caught a glance at her string that was tied to Elijah's finger and couldn't help but notice three other strings tied to hers.

"Hum...what...happen last...night?"

"Did you drink too much last night?" Marcellus threw a party then Niklaus and I took you to bed which you took us both so well." Elijah says as Rebekah walked in without a care surprising Hayley when the vampire kissed her.

"You and Nik wasn't too rough on her, right?"

"Never Rebekah." Elijah says kissing Hayley's shoulder before getting out of bed and Rebekah began to dress Hayley. The hybrid walked out a little overwhelmed of the fact she took Y/N's place to which she noticed the witch wasn't in the compound as it was like that the witch didn't even step foot in the place.

"What happened to Y/N?"

"Y/N? Who is that?" Kol asked confused as the others looked at Hayley confused as Hayley realized the spell the witch did had work though Hayley only wanted Elijah.

"Nothing, I was just thinking of a character of a book." Hayley said sitting next to Elijah as everyone took her word unaware of what was coming their way. Mikael woke in a tomb with the thought of killing Klaus while Esther had woke where Klaus left her last frowning when she didn't see Finn. The second oldest Mikaelson had woke before his mother and saw his string having a burst of color and went to follow it to his soulmate.

Y/N flet like something was wrong as four of her strings was a ash gray yet one was a warm orange and brown with swirls of gold mixing with her pastel colors but she couldn't ignore the magic over the other four. Y/N rush down the street carrying a bag of herbs and bumped into a man who quickly caught her from falling.

"Oh.....sorry." Y/N breathed staring at the man getting lost in his hazel-green eyes as the string on her finger glowed and the man stared into her chocolate eyes. Soulmate echoed through Finn's head and now he was going to focus on her no longer caring about Esther's mission.

"No my fault. I'm Finn Mikaelson......your soulmate."

"Oh hum....I'm Y/N L/N." Y/N said flushing when Finn kissed her hands and he noticed the ash gray string.....dead soulmates this made his heart ache at the idea that Y/N had ready lost four soulmates.

"Witch?"

"Yes....an old one..... I was just getting some herbs." Y/N said as Finn held his arm out to his little soulmate and the urge to protect her filled him.

"Allow me to take you home."

Klaus stormed into the compound tearing a stake from his chest getting the others attention right away. Elijah stood pulling away from Hayley worried about Klaus watching the Original hybrid pour a drink.

"What happen Niklaus?"

"Our father happen! Mikael is some how alive again." Klaus growled angry as Elijah narrowed his eyes as Freya frowning walking into the den getting their attention.

"Freya is something wrong?"

"Finn isn't in the pendant.....I can't feel his soul."

"First Mikael now Finn what's next? Our mother?" Rebekah asked as they all looked at one another unaware of Hayley's worried face. Hayley left the den to check on Hope as Freya went to do a spell to Finn and Kol leaned back looking at the others.

"Hey do guys feel like something is missing? I know that Mikael is important and a missing Finn but lately I have been feeling a dull heartache."

"Yes and the ash gray string....are we going to ignore it?" Rebekah asked as they looked at the second string seeing how dark the string was. Klaus and Elijah knew what both Rebekah and Kol was talking about.

"A dead soulmate we never met? Though it is impossible as soulmates always find one another." Elijah said as Klaus stood from his chair he sat in.

"We'll deal with it later at the moment our loving father is alive."

Finn watched Y/N make some kind of potion for her protection rituals as the three months he spent with her was the most joy he had ever felt in a millennium as she made him feel alive. The vampire moved behind her placing his hands on her hips nuzzling her neck taking in her scent relaxing against her making the witch smile reaching up rubbing his cheek and he turn his head kissing her palm.

"You seem clingy today Finn."

"Only for you my beloved. Are you feeling better today?"

"I am so is our little jelly bean." Y/N said as Finn placed a hand on her abdomen listening to the small heartbeat. A sudden crash caught Finn's attention and he quickly place his soulmate behind him growling lowly fangs showing feeling Y/N grip the back of his shirt.

"Protective of your little witch, brother?" Finn heard Klaus say as the oldest Mikaelson stood straight glaring at the hybrid as Elijah and Hayley walked in. Y/N peeked out from behind the tall vampire seeing the other Mikaelson brothers feeling an urge to hold them fill her.

"What do you two want?"

"Our mother and father has been back for awhile now. Niklaus and I hoped you knew where mother was."

"I haven't seen her, Elijah. I have been focused on my soulmate." Finn says as the two looked at Y/N feeling the need to kiss her filled them as an ache settled in their chests hearing a soft heartbeat coming from her. Elijah was snapped out of his thoughts when Hayley held his hand making him smile as Y/N felt hurt for some reason but shook it off.

"Your witch uses old magic maybe she can find mother or father. Her magic won't be sensed my mother."

"It is up to her."

"We should help them my big bear." Y/N says softly still staying behind Finn feeling shy as she clings to her vampire while Klaus smirked looking at Elijah.

"A bear? Elijah, I thought our brother was the boar."

"He is, Niklaus."

"He isn't a boar! He is a bear!" Y/N said shouting at them narrowing her eyes at them then squeaked when the three looked at her.

"Stop scaring her. We'll help."

Freya was so happy to see Finn even more learning her brother found his soulmate too while both Kol and Rebekah stared at the young witch feeling the need to rush to hold her. Y/N was beautiful in their eyes as it seemed her mocha skin was glowing as Finn was carrying her things talking to Freya about the spell Y/N would be doing.

"So you're Finn's soulmate." Y/N heard a voice say and look seeing Kol standing in the door away watching the black beauty working on a spell as Kol thought it was odd that he could see her strings but was drawn back to her cute face.

"I'm Y/N and you must be Kol." Y/N said smiling as Kol spotted her tarot cards and walked in sitting down.

"Can you give me a tarot reading?"

"Yeah I can. I need to leave this sitting anyway." Y/N said shuffling the cards and had Kol pick four cards. Hayley stopped hearing Kol and Y/N while seeing Finn and Elijah watching from the doorway.

"What do they say?" Kol asked watching the witch frown as she looked over the cards then looked at Kol.

"Someone close to you is lying to you, something is not real or not what it seems." Y/N said as Kol stared at the cards and how all this felt familiar. Kol looked at her and his heart skipped a beat as he swore a memory flashed in his mind.

"What do they say?"

"Hmmm something good is in your future." She says making Kol smile brightly staring at her in awe as Elijah comb though her hair loosening her curls letting them fall down her back.

"Is that good thing you, baby?" Elijah asked the witch as he kissed her neck making her flush while Kol smirked enjoying how Elijah flirted with her.

"You alright Kol?" Elijah asked snapping the vampire from his thoughts and just got up leaving in a hurry confusing them all. Y/N looked at Elijah worry on her face as Elijah looked at her feeling the urge to cup her cheek to soothe the witch.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No beloved." Finn said moving down kissing her forehead as jealousy fill Elijah watching Finn with Y/N. Hayley stepped up to Elijah pulling his attention to her as he gave her a smile.

"I'm sure Kol is fine. Maybe your tarot cards are wrong?"

"Her cards are never wrong." Finn says noticing the worry on Hayley's face but Y/N grabbed his attention.

"I found your mother. She is in the Ninth ward hiding with the witches."

"Stay here with Freya. I don't want you hurt." Finn tells you as much like Elijah the other three felt jealousy fill them seeing Y/N cup his face placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

"Return to me safe. Return to us safe."

"I will my beloved." Finn says smiling as his siblings saw their ash gray strings spark with color before dying out. The siblings left unaware that Mikael was headed for the Abattoir while they headed for Esther and soon Hayley's mistake was about to com ed to light.

[quindolyn]

hello bug! you put your requests off but I’m going to forget if I don’t send it in now (sorry). feel free to ignore until you’re ready love!

james potter stuck in subspace (mommy kink!)

Strawberry Lips || James Potter

Word Count: 2594

A/N: Okay so I’m an idiot, half way through I realized I both had the reader fucking him and a butt plug in and I had to go back and rework it. I procrastinated on his all day so it’s currently 11:!5 and I have to be up at 6 tomorrow and I require 8 hours of sleep to function like a real human being. There’s probably a million little mistakes but I’m too impatient to wait until morning to reread, please tell me if you notice anything super fucked up

Warnings: mommy kink, sub!James, male penetration, my first time writing subspace and all the subspace blurbs I’ve read before have been from the perspective of the submissive so please don’t judge me too harshly on this, slut is used like once, aftercare

Masterlist

800 Follower Celebration

“You can take it, pretty boy,” You murmured, gazing down at him adoringly, flicking your thumb over the weeping head of his overused cock as you pumped your hand up and down his shaft. 

You could tell that he was completely submissive to you, from the glazed look in his eyes to the muffled whimpers and gasps that carelessly slipped from his mouth and the way his hips had stopped trying to squirm away from the combined stimulation of your hand on his member, the heavy glass of your strap on pistoning in and out of him. He was a drooling mess for you as you reached with the hand not on his cock to slap his ass, his body jolting at the unexpected, though not unwelcomed contact.

It was like there was fire flowing through your veins, with the alertness one feels after downing a few shots of espresso but minus the jitters that often accompanied it you were completely tuned in to the man before you. 

Splayed out on his back you observed with a careful eye the way his thighs clenched in his efforts not to cum until he was given your permission. You studied the furrow of his brow and the drops of glistening sweat rolling down his face, examining every aspect of his appearance to make sure that he was okay. 

When James slipped into subspace he slipped hard and more often than not couldn’t even remember his own name, never mind the safe word the two of you had previously established. No, it was up to you to make sure that he was alright, and the very prospect that this man, this beautiful, beautiful man, trusted you enough to allow you to take care of him in such a way was thrilling.

“Taking Mommy’s cock so well baby, is it nice and deep inside of you, making you feel nice and full?” You smiled as you let go of his cock, watching it as it bounced along with the rest of his body, in time with your rough, fast paced strokes. 

“Uh huh,” He gasped, squeezing his eyes shut as he offered the pathetic nod of his head, “Feels so good Mommy, want more, want your cock.”

“You’ve already got it, baby, it’s all yours. Or do you want more?” You questioned, slapping his erect, sensitive prick without ever ceasing your thrusts in and out of him, keeping your speed consistent while watching his body jump at the sudden contact. 

“Mommy,” He whimpered, his cock throbbing as you traced just the tips of your fingers up and down his shaft.

“Come on baby,” You cooed, trailing your fingertips down his shaft to his balls, taking them in the palm of your hands before griping them tightly, smirking as his face scrunched in pleasure, “How do we ask for more of Mommy’s cock?”

“Please!” He begged unabashedly, “Please Mommy, please!”

“Aw baby,” You lilted, dragging your open palm down the expanse of his muscled chest, moving up and down before finding your way to his nipple which you pinched harshly.

“Owie, Mommy,” James whined trying to squirm away from your touch.

“Gonna cum one more time for Mommy baby,” You decided after dragging your eyes over James’ quivering form to assess him, “One more, can you cum one more time for me, pretty boy?”

You spat onto your hand, returning it to his throbbing length, your ministrations on his member were faster than last time, wanting to get him right to the precipice of cumming and making him beg for it. 

Sure he’d already cum four times but Jamesie was your good boy, he could take another. With the resumed stimulation of your hand, all James could manage from his lips, bitten a bright rosy red, was a desperate whine accompanied by what was supposed to be a nod was more of a jerk of his head, too fuzzy from the pleasure coursing from his veins to properly control his body. 

“Good boy,” You praised, “Just one more,” You leaned back to watch your strap on slide in and out of his tight hole, thanks to a spell you and he had spent months perfecting it was like the cock strapped to you was an actual appendage of your body and you could feel every time James clenched around the glass. It was heavenly, being buried so deep in him and you couldn’t get enough of it. 

Balancing yourself by gripping onto his hips you sped up your movements, lifting his bum slightly to push deeper inside of him with every stroke.

Only a fool wouldn’t be able to tell the signs that your ministrations were bringing James dangerously close to climax as he incoherently blabbered on and on, “S’too much Mommy, need more, need more of your cock.”

“Aw has Mommy fucked you dumb baby? Don’t even know what you want, you want Mommy to stop?” You mocked, smirking wickedly when his eyes flew open.

“No no no no no, please don’t be stop Mommy, don’t want you to stop, please don’t stop, need your cock,” He pleaded shaking his head in efforts to convince you.

“You’re pathetic Jamie, such a slut for my cock,” He released a high pitched whine at your teasing which just spurred you on even more.

Living up to the title of slut you’d bestowed upon him he squeezed around your strap on at the degrading name, as much as he loved praise, degradation turned him on more than he’d like to admit, “Please let me cum Mommy, pretty please, I’ve been a good boy, I wanna be your good boy, please let me cum.”

Satisfied with his begging you gave a curt nod of your head, too so focused on the pleasure that zipped up your spine warming your body as you continued both thrusting in and out and sliding your hand along James’ shaft.

“Make a mess on Mommy’s hand baby boy, be a good boy for me and cum,” Your verbal permission was all he needed, cumming almost instantaneously, covering your hand in his warm, milky white release. The feeling of his cum on your skin sent shivers up your spine and the sight of him erupting on your hand drove you over the edge too, stabilizing yourself on his thighs you felt pleasure overwhelm you.

“Fuck Jamie,” You swore under your breath as you let your head fall forward, it becoming too heavy for you to support as you felt yourself clench around nothing. You were brought back to reality from the bliss of your orgasm by the pathetic little whines that left James as his cock twitched against his stomach, he was still cumming.

“Poor baby, made you cum five times and you’ve still got cum in you” You crooned, slipping your strap on from his hole you heard him whimper, comforting him by placing a steady hand on his thigh, dragging your thumb over his skin in small circles. You knelt before him, lifting up his balls to place a gentle kiss on the sensitive skin. 

James’ ragged breathing sounded through the room as he recovered from his orgasm and slowly regained the ability to speak, “W-was I your good boy Mommy?” He managed to stutter out, his eyes flickering open as he spoke. He sounded far off and dreamy like he was high off his orgasms.

“You’re always my good boy baby, you did so well for me like you do every time,” You extolled, sliding one hand up the crimson, silk sheets to find his hand which still had the bedding scrunched up in his fist. Once you’d slowly eased his hand slack you intertwined your fingers with his, keeping that contact as you stood up to peer down at him.

You studied him with a critical eye, examining every inch of him, taking note of the cum beginning to dry on his stomach and cock, the teeth marks from where he’d bitten his plump lips which looked bloody from where you stood, and the sweat covering his entire body from hours of going at it.

“Really?” He asked you, his tone genuine as he looked up at you with wide eyes.

You smiled at him before leaning down over his ruined form, melding your lips with his in a quick kiss, allowing your tongue to trace his bloody lips, “Always baby.”

He winced as you shifted above him and looking down you realized your strap-on was brushing against his ruined cock.

“M’sorry baby, let me take this off yeah?” You started to push yourself off of him but he soon latched onto your wrist, pulling you down on top of him.

“No Mommy, don’t go, want you please,” He murmured against the soft skin of your shoulder.

You allowed your head to fall against your shoulder but you were careful to keep your hips up as to not hurt Jamie but you’d gone just as long as James had and the position was soon becoming too strenuous for your overworked body.

“Gimme a second baby, m’not going anywhere just have to get comfortable too,” You explained, and though he didn’t respond James seemed to understand as he allowed you to stand up and remove the harness from your body, abandoning it on the dresser, making a note to clean it up in the morning. 

Glimpsing at James you noticed that his eyes were closed and you took the opportunity to sneak away to the bathroom where you wet a washcloth to clean up James. But as you ran the soft fabric under the warm water coming from the faucet you failed to notice him slip into the bathroom behind you.

In fact, you weren’t even aware of the dark haired man’s presence until his strong arms scooped you off of the floor, his grip on you was surprisingly sturdy given his foggy headspace and that every time he moved he winced as his cock rubbed against his muscled thigh.

“You said you weren’t gonna leave me, Mommy,” He whined into your ear as he carried you back to the bed, you shifted in his hold so that you could run the damp washcloth along his toned shoulders, he visibly unwound under your touch. 

“I know baby,” You murmured not wanting to speak too loudly, “But I need to clean you up and I thought you wouldn’t notice.”

His response was unintelligible as he dropped you down on the bed with a little less care he would if he wasn’t so out of it.

“Thought I fucked you dumb baby,” You teased, pulling him to sit down next to you before gently pushing on his shoulders so that he was propped up against the fluffy pillows arranged on the bed.

“That’s not nice Mommy, m’not dumb,” He grumbled, making grabby hands for you to move closer to him to which you obliged, settling in between his legs with yours thrown over his hips, keeping enough distance between the two of you so that you didn’t agitate his used member. 

“Aw baby Mommy didn’t mean to upset you,” You grinned at his vulnerable state, pressing a delicate kiss to his nose to distract him as you gently brushed the damp cloth against his member.

Despite your most valiant efforts he still jumped, mewling at the stimulation while trying to squirm away from your touch.

“I know it hurts baby,” You ran a hand up and down his flexed thigh, “Gotta clean you up though.”

“Want your lips, Mommy,” He sniffled, puckering his lips and closing his eyes.

You leaned forward to meet his soft cushions to distract him as you finished cleaning up his prick. You kept the kiss soft as to not push him even further under or to agitate the wounds on the red pillows.

Pulling away you plucked a tube of lip balm from the bedside table, leaning over James’ face to reach it. Seeing an opportunity and taking it James latched his lips onto your nipple, sucking lazily but just hard enough to not let you pull away. When you tried despite his hold on you he threw a strong arm around your waist pulling you flush against him, not reacting when your knee bumped his dick.

“You gotta let go of Mommy’s titty baby, she’s gotta help you, darling.”

His response was muffled by your tit stuffed into his mouth so you pulled back so that you could hear him, “Say that again baby?”

“Want your titty Mommy, wanna make you feel good,” He begged, replacing his mouth with his hand, palming the flesh of your breast.

“You have James, you’ve made me feel so good. But s’not my name anymore baby, not Mommy anymore, it’s (Y/N), yeah?”

Your words seemed to go in one ear and out the other as he just continued groping at your tit, watching it like it held all the answers in the universe. Easing his fingers from your body you sat back in your original position tapping James’ lips to signal to him to pucker them again for you. 

“Good boy,” You praised as you ran the lip balm over his lips, smearing the strawberry flavored balm over the cracks. 

As you pulled back to recap the tube of lip balm James stuck his tongue out, sliding it over the balm before tucking it back into his mouth, humming approvingly, “I taste like strawberries,” He smiled goofily.

“Yes you do baby but you’re supposed to keep it on your lips so that it’ll help you, pretty boy,” You shook your head as you reapplied the balm to his lips.

“You gotta taste (Y/N/N),” He said eagerly, the fog starting to clear, puckering his lips once again, “Tastes so good!”

“Okay Jamesie,” You giggled, meeting his lips with yours, tasting the strawberry lip balm he seemed so fond of in his fragile state.

“What do you think (Y/N/N)?” He asked you as you used your finger this time to reapply the shimmery balm. 

“You’re right baby, tastes very good,” You agreed to appease the boy in front of you.

You began to lift yourself from the mattress but you were tugged back down and into his chest. “No leaving, not again,” His discontent was evident in his voice as he nestled into your hair, inhaling to take in your scent.

“Gotta get us clothes,” You tried to explain, drawing shapes on his pec with your finger.

“Don’t need clothes,” He mumbled, “Wanna feel your skin anyway.”

You pulled your head away to look at his face, though he was talking his eyes were closed, he was beautiful with his hair a messy dark halo around his face and his pretty glossy lips, his lips parted as his breathing began to slow.

“You’ve come back to me baby?” You needed to make sure before you let him fall asleep.

“Uh huh,” You felt his chin bump against your head as he nodded his head, “M’back (Y/N).”

“Okay love,” Unable to stop yourself as you gazed up at his plump lips you ran the pad of your thumb along his bottom one before popping it into your mouth to suck on it, “Strawberries,” You murmured.

“Strawberries,” He agreed, wrapping his arms around you to pull your body as close to his as possible.

“You’re right love, tastes really good,” You snuggled closer to him, gripping one of his well defined biceps as you too felt sleep begin to overwhelm you.

“Told you.”

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @amourtentiaa @kittykylax @superbturtlemakerathlete @oliviashea05 @gxtitobxby @thotbutpurple 

[the-regal-warrior]

Cadre Weaponry: Jealousy

I finally have another CW update, and this one is very special. This chapter is a very very VERY Happy Birthday gift to the one and only @live-the-fangirl-life !! B - happy happy birthday! I hope you enjoy the shenanigans!

A note: this chapter is called “Jealousy,” but it’s not actually about the boys being jealous - I just couldn’t think of a better word. The theme of jealous does come up, but that’s not what it is - it’s just the boys wanting to show the world how lucky they are that their girls chose them. Also, this update all takes place during the original CW timeline.

Summary: Welcome to Cadre Weaponry - the shop for all your weapons needs, both antique and modern! Join the boys of the Cadre as they become friends and tackle this thing we call life. Maybe, just maybe, they’ll even find love along the way.

Let’s see what happens when our boys get put into situations that could very easily make them jealous.

Warnings: language, implied sexy times.

.

THREE YEARS, NINE MONTHS, AND EIGHT DAYS AGO

Fenrys had never considered himself to be a jealous man - it just wasn’t what he considered to be a good look. He’d never taken part in trying to show the world that whoever he was dating was “his,” because that was complete and utter crap in any relationship. 

And he certainly wouldn’t say that Asterin was his by any means - she was her own person, and that was it - which meant that he didn’t care who she talked to or spent her time with.

So, no… he wasn’t a jealous man.

He was, however, a man determined to keep his girlfriend from being hit on by assholes she didn’t want hitting on her.

They’d been dating for four months, and in that time he’d realized that occurrences like their first date - the one where she’d kissed him to chase off some guy from trying to ask her out - were pretty common. Asterin was gorgeous, and she oozed so much confidence that it was hard for people not to be attracted to her. 

But he knew that all the attention weighed on her sometimes. 

So, when that happened, he did everything he could to make it clear that she wasn’t available. 

They’d gone out for dinner because neither of them felt like cooking, and he’d excused himself to the bathroom soon after they ordered. Rounding the corner on his way back from the bathroom, he saw his girlfriend shaking her head at the dark-haired man leaning on the edge of their table, her fingers flexing against the seat of the booth like she was two seconds away from smacking the guy. 

As he got within earshot, he heard the man say, “all I’m saying is that I think we should go out sometime, I promise I’d show you a good time.”

Chuckling when he saw Asterin’s eyes roll - clearly this was not the first time the man had asked her out - he just slid onto the booth next to her, grateful that they’d gone to their favorite diner, which had wide booths that allowed him to do what he was planning to do. Slinging his legs over her lap and resting his chin on her shoulder as he peered up at the man staring at them in disbelief, he merely asked, “problem, love?”

“All good, baby,” she replied, letting her hands settle on his legs as she leaned into him. “Just telling this man here that I’m already taken.” The words were pointed, like it wasn’t the first time she’d said them, and the glare she directed at the stranger just underlined that point. 

Raising his hands placatingly, he shot her a vaguely apologetic look before walking off. 

“Thank you,” Asterin breathed, slumping against the back of the booth on a massive sigh. “I thought he’d never give up.”

Chuckling, he pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. “That’s what I’m here for, Rin. I’m happy to play jealous boyfriend for you any day of the week.”

“My hero,” she cooed, tightening her grip on his thighs when he went to swing his legs back to the floor. “No, stay,” she murmured, “just until the food comes. You’re so warm.”

“Anything for you,” he replied, situating his legs over her lap once more. “You know me: Fenrys Moonbeam, loving boyfriend and personal space heater.”

Shooting him some serious side-eye, Asterin just shook her head and knocked him lightly in the stomach with her elbow. “You’re a mess.” Though her tone was flat, he knew by the look in her eyes that she was fighting back a laugh. 

“Yeah,” he agreed, leaning in to knock his forehead against her jaw, “but I’m your mess.”

Sliding her hand around his shoulder and trailing her fingers along the back of his neck, she gave him the widest, happiest smile before kissing him softly. “Yeah, my mess. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Me either, Rin. Me either.”

THREE YEARS, SEVEN MONTHS, AND TWENTY-ONE DAYS AGO

Going out dancing with his girl had quickly become one of Rowan’s favorite things. Aelin had always loved music - from picking the perfect playlist every morning to be the perfect backdrop for her cafe to her perfectly curated playlists created to help shut her mind off before she fell asleep - and getting to experience that joy with her as they danced was something he wouldn’t trade for the world. 

They’d decided early on in their relationship that they’d make time at least twice a month to go dancing, and that hadn’t changed in the year and two months they’d been together. No matter how stressed or busy they got, they made the time. It had become something of a date night tradition for them.

Rowan loved every second of it. 

They way Aelin lit up the minute they got through the door and the music was pumping through their veins, the way she immediately started bouncing and moving to the rhythm of whatever song was playing, the way she’d indulge him if he wanted to get a drink first even when all she really wanted to do was dance until she couldn’t feel her feet anymore… he’d never loved anyone more. 

“Ro,” Aelin enthused, tugging on his hand as she danced around, “this is my favorite song!”

Chuckling, he leaned in to kiss her temple. “Go on, then, Fireheart. Go dance. I’ll join you as soon as I grab the drinks and find a table.”

Squealing, she kissed him quickly and darted off for the throng of people moving as one in the middle of the floor. 

He paid the bartender for their drinks and quickly found an empty table, setting Aelin’s down as he took a long sip of his. Casting his eyes over the crowd, it wasn’t hard to find his girl. She’d always stood out in a crowd - between her golden hair and her unique eyes, she was hard to miss - especially when she was dancing.

When she was dancing, she turned every head around her.

Something about Aelin was so electric, so magnetic that people couldn’t help but watch her. 

Noticing the way some of the guys around her were looking at her - the way he imagined he’d looked at her when he first met her, and probably still looked at her if he was being honest - he took another swallow of his drink and made his way toward her. 

It wasn’t that he was jealous, because he knew that Aelin had chosen him the same way he’d chosen her. It was just that seeing other people watching her made him want to have her in his arms, basking in the knowledge that they hand chosen one another

Rowan wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, meshing his body with hers as they began moving as one. “Fireheart,” he breathed, one hand coming up to grasp her chin. Using that grip, he turned her face until he could press a hard, claiming kiss to her lips. “Do you have any idea how sexy you are when you dance?”

“Mmm, that kiss gave me a pretty good idea.” She rocked her body against his, sliding one hand up around his neck and tangling her fingers in his hair. “Didn’t expect you out here so quick.”

His chuckle a rasp in her ear, he ran his lips down over her jaw. “Just didn’t want my fiancée out here all alone.”

“Two and a half months of wearing your ring on my finger,” she said, turning in his arms, “and I’m still not tired of hearing it.”

Humming, he pressed his lips to hers. “My beautiful fiancée,” he whispered, their lips still touching, “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of saying it.”

Aelin just smiled and kissed him again, letting him feel how much she loved him in the way her lips moved against his. 

He poured his own love in the kiss, content to just stay in that moment where they lost themselves in the music and the feeling of being together. 

It was moments like those that made him love dancing with Aelin all the more.

TWO YEARS, SIX MONTHS, AND TWENTY-TWO DAYS AGO

Getting to watch his girlfriend work was something Connall didn’t think he’d ever get tired of. It truly was inspiring, the way she could take a client’s idea, put it on paper beautifully, and then transfer that to their skin just as flawlessly. 

In the year and four months they’d been together, three of which they’d spent officially dating, he’d never stopped feeling blessed that he got to experience that. 

Reclining against the back of the sofa in the lobby of The Wastes, he crossed his arms behind his head as Vesta finished up with her client. She’d brought the man into the lobby so he could see the piece that stretched from his upper arm, over his shoulder, and onto his upper back in the large mirror on the wall next to the front desk. 

As always, Connall was blown away with his girlfriend’s work. The lines were stunning, the colors were vivid, and the whole piece was so lifelike it took his breath away.

When they finally walked back into the lobby, her client’s new ink was covered and wrapped, but he still hadn’t managed to pull his shirt back on. Connall couldn’t help the way his eyes rolled - which luckily no one saw - at the obvious way the guy flexed as he reached for the pen to sign off on his bill. 

“Thank you so much,” he beamed as he handed the pen back to her. “As always, your work is stunning.”

Nodding, she pulled him into a quick hug as she replied, “I’m just glad you trust me enough to keep coming back for more ink.”

Connall tried very hard not to think about the fact that the man was still shirtless. 

His girlfriend exchanged a few more pleasantries with her client before he finally left - thankfully with his shirt back on - with one final wave and nod in Connall’s direction. 

“Amazing work as always, my love,” he said, standing from the low sofa and stretching his arms up over his head. 

Nodding, Vesta hopped up to sit on the counter, quickly filing the receipt in the appropriate folder and flipping through her appointment book, no doubt making sure she was prepared for whatever appointment she had next. 

He took in the miles of leg left bare by the black combat boots and steel blue sundress she’d chosen for the day, took in the way a few tendrils of her long red hair had escaped her bun and were drifting down over her shoulders, which were also left mostly bare by her dress… He took all of that in and was across the lobby before he even realized he’d moved, his hands cupping her cheeks as he pressed his lips to hers. 

Gasping, she froze in surprise for a split second before she was kissing him back with everything she had. Her mouth opened under the pressure of his lips, and it wasn’t long until their tongues were tangled together, her hands sliding over his back and down to cup his ass as his thumbs swept in long lines over her jaw. 

Pulling back with a needy sigh, Vesta looked up at him through hooded eyes. “What was that for?” she asked, her cheeks flushed. 

“Just wanted to make sure you knew how proud I was of you, beloved girlfriend.”

She just arched a brow at him. “Mmm, and it had nothing to do with the very fit, attractive, shirtless man that just hugged me?” The laughter in her tone - plus that fact that Connall had met this client before and actually quite liked the man - made it more than clear that she was teasing him, and the way her hands never stilled on his ass just further proved that she was trying to get a rise out of him. 

Connall wasn’t a jealous man - or, at least, he tried very hard not to be - but if his girl wanted to play, he was happy to indulge her. 

“Sounds like I need to take you to the office in the back and spend some more time showing you just how proud I am to call you mine.” He lifted her into his arms as he spoke, her legs easily wrapping around his waist as she moved her arms up to loop around his neck. 

Nipping at his bottom lip as she kissed him again, she cooed against his lips, “oh, I absolutely think you do.”

He was more than happy to oblige.

ONE YEAR, TEN MONTHS, AND TEN DAYS AGO

Walking through the front door of The Keep Pub and Grille, Vaughan didn’t even have to look where he was going, just letting the familiar sound of Sorrel’s laughter guide him to the bar - not that he had any doubt that she, as head bartender, would be anywhere else. They’d been together - hanging out, hooking up, doing whatever they were doing that wasn’t dating - for almost two and a half years, and he found himself making more and more time to come visit her while she was working.

Just because he visited her at work didn’t mean that they were dating, no matter what his ridiculous friends kept telling him. 

He was happy with things just the way they were. And so was Sorrel.

That was all that mattered. 

Taking what had quickly become his usual seat at the end of the bar, he tipped his head at the dark-haired woman standing behind it and nodded at the questioning look she gave him. The regulars at the bar nodded at him while the woman prepared his drink, and he just offered them a grin in response. 

He supposed he was becoming a bit of a regular himself.

“Your drink, my good sir,” Sorrel greeted, squeezing his hand after she set the glass in front of him. 

Chuckling, he flipped his hand so he could trace his fingers along her palm as she pulled away. “Why thank you, beautiful lady.”

She just shook her head at him as she laughed before walking away to wait on her other customers. Vaughan watched as she worked, feeling the small smile growing on his face as she proved all over again how much of an excellent bartender she was. She handled everyone’s requests with ease, laughing and joking with her regulars as she went, making sure the newer and less frequent customers felt just as welcome. 

Vaughan felt his smile sink a little, however, when he noticed two guys on the other side of the bar checking her out as she moved. They shot her winning smiles as she stopped in front of them, and he could hear their cheesy pick-up lines across the bar. 

Gritting his teeth, he took a sip of his drink.

Sorrel wasn’t his girlfriend - he was the one who’d made sure they weren’t dating, and she’d readily agreed - but something about seeing someone else hit on her wasn’t a pleasant experience.

He tried to shake off whatever expression his face had settled into - he wasn’t sure what it was but he knew it probably wasn’t polite - as she finished waiting on them and politely but firmly turned away their advances. 

Apparently, however, he was not successful, because she arched an eyebrow at him and walked back over to him quickly, rounding the bar to lean against the front of it next to where he was sitting. “Everything okay?” she questioned, taking both of her hands in his. 

“Yeah. All good.” Shooting one last look at the men across the bar who were still staring at her, he couldn’t stop himself from leaning in and pressing his lips to her temple. “Just helping drive the point home for those two over there.”

Rolling her eyes, Sorrel just leaned against his side, letting him wrap his arm around her waist. “Is that all?” she quipped, kissing his jaw softly.

“Mmm, and what else would it be?” It seemed he couldn’t keep himself from kissing her, because he tilted her chin up so he could kiss her lips just as softly as she’d kissed his chin. Vaughan was aware that he was acting more like someone in a relationship that he usually did, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. 

He’d analyze what that meant later. 

“Maybe,” she responded, nudging his shoulder with hers as she went back behind the bar, “you just missed me?”

Sighing even as he smiled, he just picked up his drink, content to watch her get back to work. “Maybe I did.”

ELEVEN MONTHS AND FOURTEEN DAYS AGO

Gavriel was actually in love with the days his fiancée got out of work early and came to visit him at the shop. She loved to walk through the store like she was browsing, spending hours just going through all the arrows they offered like it was her first time even though she’d seen them all before - hell, she usually helped them figure out which ones they wanted to stock. 

They’d been together for almost two and a half years, engaged for a year and a half of that, and watching her love what he loved never got old.

The competitive archer in her never took a day off, even when she wasn’t actively competing. 

For his part, he’d just sit on the stool behind the till and watch Lin move through the store, his eyes tracking the pieces of dark hair that always fell free from her bun as she talked excitedly with customers who seemed interested in whatever she was standing next to. 

He was always amazed by the sheer number of people she managed to talk into buying something they’d previously been on the fence about. 

It was a rare day when all five of his friends were also in the store - no one was out on supply runs or visiting a weapons expo or had even taken the day off - which meant that he had spent most of the day running the till, able to stay there since his friends could cover everything else. That wasn’t the most thrilling of jobs during the slow moments, which were thankfully few and far between, but it gave him so much time to marvel over Lin, who’d only worked a half day and had spent the rest of the day in the shop with him. 

Just finishing up with the customer he’d been ringing out, Gavriel looked up to wave them through the door and found his gaze almost instinctively drawn to his fiancée. She was standing by some of their newest arrows, and she was explaining all about them to a customer, her eyes bright with that sparkle that archery always seemed to bring out.

It really was a sight to behold. 

The man she was talking to, who seemed to be hanging on to every word she said, watched as her hands moved over the selection they offered, most likely pointing out the different features of each style. He nodded at something she said, and then Lin was turning to pick up a handful of the arrows she’d just pointed to, gesturing the man to the counter as she followed behind. 

“Making sales again, Lin?” Gavriel asked, hopping off the stool to grab a box from under the counter that would hold all the arrows in her arms. 

Chuckling, she set the man’s purchases on the counter before rounding it to stand next to him. “Aren’t you a funny one today? You know I can’t help myself when it comes to archery.”

“I know, I know.” Gavriel turned his attention to the man, quickly ringing him out and getting everything boxed up. “I’d ask if you found everything okay, but I think I know the answer.”

The man laughed, sliding his card through the machine to pay. “For sure. Y’all really know your stuff here. It’s nice to know someone will always have an answer to any questions we have.”

“Thanks, man.” Dipping his head in gratitude, he handed the box over to the man, who disappeared out the door with a cheerful wave. 

Sinking back onto the stool, Gavriel pulled Lin into his lap, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. His arms were tight around her waist, and Lin squealed at the suddenness of the movement coupled with the way he started kissing a trail from her temple down to her lips. “Think the guys at the garage would let me poach you away to come work here?”

“I highly doubt it,” she murmured, turning her head and meeting his lips in a messy kiss that was all teeth and tongues. “But if this is how you thank me every time - and not just when it’s a guy that I help - then maybe I’ll be tempted.”

Gavriel pulled back so she could see his raised eyebrow. “Are you implying that I’m jealous?” He knew the incredulous look on his face was probably ridiculous, but he couldn’t seem to shake it. He’d never been the jealous type - and he thought Lin knew that. 

Clearly Lin was messing with him, because her laughter rang through the store. “Of course I’m not - but that was a great face you just made, so it was totally worth it. I know you’d never be jealous, but I do like to mess with you.”

“You, my love,” he started, nipping her jaw lightly and drawing a gasp from her, “are a menace.”

Nodding, she settled herself against his chest in a more polite way as the front door jingled with the sound of another customer walking through the door. “Yes I am. And you wouldn’t have me any other way.”

“You got that right.”

ELEVEN DAYS AGO

Lorcan still couldn’t believe that Elide Lochan - well, Salvaterre as of a month ago - was his wife. They’d been together for right around three years, he’d proposed a little over a year and a half ago, and just about a month ago they’d finally gotten married. 

It was better than any dream he’d ever had. 

They were out with all their friends for half-price appetizers and trivia night, and as much as he loved all their friends, he tended to forget - or at least manage to pretend to be blissfully unaware of - how chaotic they could be. They were a noisy bunch, and trivia night tended to ramp them all up. 

Sometimes it got to be a bit much for him - at least before he’d had time to get used to it. 

He could tell Elide was starting to feel the same way. She had burrowed closer against his side in the booth, and she was sliding the charm on her necklace - a silver L pendant - along the chain. 

“Feel like going to get us some drinks?” he whispered, leaning down so she could hear him. “Some of our glasses look pretty empty.”

Smiling up at him gratefully - she knew exactly the break he was offering her with that simple question - she prodded Fenrys until he slid out of the end of the booth with a theatrical groan. Determining who needed a refill and what they wanted, Elide made her way to the bar. 

Lorcan settled back into the booth as he watched his wife cut through the crowd and lean against the bar, getting the bartender’s attention with a wave of her hand. From the way the man smiled at her, he had a feeling that her good looks had something to do with how quickly he’d given her his attention. 

The man was all smiles as he refilled the drinks, and Lorcan realized that, with as many drinks as Elide had ordered, she’d never be able to carry them all on her own. 

Plus he had the urge to make sure the bartender - who had definitely just winked at her - knew she was taken, knew that she was his wife. 

“Move, pup,” he grumbled at Fenrys, poking the blonde in the back of the head so he moved, “gotta go help El with the drinks.”

Shooting him a knowing look, Fenrys just rolled his eyes. “Uh huh, sure you do.”

Deciding to ignore him, Lorcan just strolled to the bar, his long legs eating up the distance in no time. “Need some help, wife?” he asked, sliding his hands around Elide’s waist and pulling her back against his chest. 

“Lor!” she jumped at his touch, clearly not expecting him to walk up behind her. “Actually, yeah - I don’t know why I thought I could carry all of these by myself.”

Chuckling, he squeezed her hips before releasing her, taking half of the drinks from the counter. “Anything for my loving wife.”

“Thank you, husband.” Smiling at him and tossing the money on the bar with a grateful nod to the bartender, Elide grabbed the rest of the drinks and led the way back to the table. 

Once they’d sat back down, she curled up against his side once more. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that little display back there,” she murmured against his neck, her fingers playing with the hem of his tee. “Jealous much?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say jealous. I just want the whole world to know you’re my wife, even if that means little displays like that.” He noticed the way she shivered at his words, and he tugged the flannel he’d worn as a jacket over her shoulders. “That okay with you?”

If he wasn’t, he knew he’d promise then and there never to do it again.

“As long as you don’t make a habit of it.” She gave him a hard look, and he nodded once, knowing that he wouldn’t become one of those territorial assholes. Elide was her own person and he would never do anything to infringe on that. “And as long as you keep promising to call me wife - it’s so hot when you do it.”

“Whatever you say, wife.”

.

Tags: @highqueenofelfhame @dashedwithromance @musicmaam @snelbz @theladyofdeath @tangledraysofsunshine @lordof-bloodshed @nalgenewhore @mis-lil-red  @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @photofeesh @belamoonbeam @velarian-trash @julemmaes @thesirenwashere @tswaney17 @b00kworm @maastrash @empress-ofbloodshed @gwynethhberdara @mynewdreamwasyou @maybekindasortaace @hizqueen4life @firestarsandseneschals @bielectra @bamchickawowow @ireallyshouldsleeprn @thegoddessofyou @somenerdydancer @wisteriiagrow @perseusannabeth @flamingveritas @treasurethelittlethings @sexy-dumpster-fire @story-scribbler @infernoqueen19 @live-the-fangirl-life @vanzetanze @the-hospitality-of-knives @rowanaelinn @mybloodrunsblue @sv0430 @swankii-art-teacher @pagemasters @marigold-morelli

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[1kook]

kissanime & foreplay

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans. warnings; mentions of hentai yes u read right, kook leads most of it, cunnilingus, masturbation (f), oral (f), use of a sex toy, fingering, nipple play, face sitting/fucking/riding idk (f), praise kink, hints of dumbification, cum eating, jk is like passive aggressive in this one, 4 (f) orgasms, this is the kicker: sub kook at the end😳, like 2 sec of dom yn lol, & u get 0.002 sec of adams apple kink misc; more dumb story lines, made up sex stores bc my creativity knows no bounds, Jungkook plays nice but is actually mean for the majority of it, once again doyeon plays a pivotal role in the furthering of women empowerment, internal love monologues about jk best boy<3 wc; 8.2k

notes; back when kissanime was offed I remember looking at this fic in the drafts like what the hell we gone do now.. n almost deleting it but I was like yknow what this isn’t a 1kook fic unless there’s smthn weird going on so here we are. also yes I know ohshc is on Netflix shut up!!!!! 

HAPPY BDAY MY LOVE AND MUSE JEON JUNGKOOK !!!! 🥺💜

—

The good thing about getting your own apartment is that you finally have a place to call your own. There’s no limit on how many potted plants you can squeeze into a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, and if there was one, you’re twelve in and no one has said anything to you yet. You don’t have to share the shower space with anyone, label all your products with a hastily scribbled name. There’s a bathtub—something you haven’t had the pleasure of using during college—and a fairly open living space. There’s so many empty spots to fill with useless decorations and family heirlooms and that ugly plastic rooster Jungkook won you at the summer kick-off fair last month.

The bad thing about having your own place is that the entire world and their mothers seem to know now. Despite graduating from college, you still keep in touch with your trusted graduate mentor Kim Namjoon, who is still very much in school, and has made it his mission to bring you a new plant every week, hence your growing collection. Your childhood friend comes over every Saturday morning to lounge around after her Friday nights out. Jungkook, although the only one who is ever actually invited, runs through your strawberry scented body wash like a madman.

And of course, Doyeon.

Your beloved college roommate of four years, Kim Doyeon, has been the bane of your apartment experience so far. Unlike you, who had slaved away for four years, saving every penny you made during college for this moment, Doyeon was a big spender. She blew every dollar she ever came across, which is why she’s going to be stuck living at her parent’s house for at least a couple more years.

Nothing wrong with that, of course, if she wasn’t the most maniac online shopper in existence. It hadn’t been a problem in college because she was always good old pals with the students who worked the mailroom. If they saw something questionable, they’d let it slide as long as it was under Miss Kim Doyeon, Room 229.

The reason it became an issue for her now is because it’s poor Mrs. Kim who signs over the package from Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! one Tuesday afternoon as it is delivered to their suburban home.

So now she’s taken to ordering all her freaky stuff to your new apartment, where the small cabinet by the door has quickly become home to her impulsive shopping habits. Truthfully, you don’t mind accepting Doyeon’s weird packages, and have long since grown used to the uncomfortable looks the mail carrier gives you.

Jungkook’s supposed to come over today and you really hope he doesn’t ask about the state of your hall cabinet. Now that you work at a small company outside of your degree to make ends meet, time with Jungkook has been significantly decreased. You weren’t in college anymore, so you didn’t have the luxury of dropping by his house whenever you wanted to in between classes. Of course, it’s mostly your schedule that conflicts with your planned hangouts, because Jungkook is still working his dream job from home.

However, because Jungkook is quite possibly the most amazing person on this planet, he’s started coming over every Saturday night to make sure you’re still alive and not dying. And so weekly media binges are a thing, and it’s currently week four.

He gave up on showing you the Marvel movie franchise last week, after you had asked where Wonder Woman was three times in a row. Since the Barbie Movie Debacle of last month, you’ve found a nice medium between who picks when. Jungkook picks most of the time, because most of the time you don’t really care. It’s become a running joke between the two of you that movie binges are usually just terribly masked excuses to go to town on each other, so you don’t mind missing an entire 15th Century French Revolution documentary if it means Jungkook is deep in your guts by the time King Louis XIV gets beheaded or whatever they did to him. Is it too obvious you didn’t watch the documentary?

Occasionally, there are instances where one of you genuinely does want to watch something, in which case you have an intense match of rock-paper-scissors to decide who’s picking that night. Most of the time, Jungkook wins. But for every match Jungkook wins, he promises you’ll pick the next one so you’ve long since stopped trying to actually beat him.

Long story short, last weekend you sat through a two part Ancient Aliens episode on the connection between aliens and American presidents.

It was the most god-awful conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of, but Jungkook ate up every minute of it. By the time the two hosts announced their conclusion you were just about ready to rip your own ears off and single-handedly fist fight every producer on the channel for allowing the production of such an atrocious show.

Anyway, because you had so bravely sat through the entire evening without complaints— well, no complaints towards Jungkook’s terrible taste; the show, however, was not safe from your wicked tongue —Jungkook has so graciously allowed you to pick the media for this weekend.

You’ve been telling him for the longest time that you were going to hook him on anime. It was one of the few interests you always believed Jungkook should possess, being a weeb and all, because it was only fair that he had one questionable trait to balance out the rest of his perfection. Liking anime isn’t bad— if a hottie like you enjoyed it, then it obviously had its perks. However, you know a lot of other people are turned off by anime-enthusiasts due to preconceived notions of the genre and the viewer-base.

Now, it was a widely known fact that you always had ulterior motives. So maybe turning Jungkook into a weeb was just a ploy to turn other women off from him and keep your jealousy at bay. Sue you, your boyfriend was a walking wet dream, and you’d do anything to keep him to yourself.

After long deliberation, you’ve decided on introducing Jungkook to anime with a classic: Ouran High School Host Club, a god among anime, a true Beyonce among shoujos. The only problem was that you absolutely refused to pay Crunchyroll or Funimation when you could so easily find the entire show on KissAnime.com, home to only the finest of hentai ads and Are You a Robot? questions.

He sends you a text when he’s outside your building, and five minutes later there’s a rap against your door.

“Hi,” you smile up at him, heart fluttering in that same trademark way it did whenever Jungkook was within a five foot radius. He smiles back softly, leaning down to peck your lips as you step aside for him to enter. He’s got on those cotton sweats that you love, the ones that send your brain into a censored frenzy. But he’s also got that soft curl to his hair that lets you know he came here straight out of the shower in his hurry to see you. How you managed to bag a dream boyfriend like him was beyond you.

You bask in the overwhelming feeling of unannounced love for all of ten seconds before Jungkook is lifting up a square package you hadn’t seen at his hip. “Mailman gave me this,” he says, waving around the signature bright pink packaging of Sexuality Unleashed. Jungkook, for all his politeness and respect, seemed to falter in those categories when it came to you. He turns the box over, reading the big fat name of the company on the side. “Since when did you start buying sex toys?” he asks rather loudly in the hallway.

You yank him inside, hurriedly slamming the door shut before any of your neighbors can come out into the hallway and get a peek of this avid sex toy consumer. “They’re not mine!” you hiss, standing still when he uses you to balance himself as he tugs off his shoes. You snatch the box out of his hands, turning it around to make sure it is actually addressed to your home. Sure enough, it’s for you. Couldn’t there have been some other sex toy fanatic on this floor?

With his shoes off, Jungkook wastes no time enveloping you in a hug, the Sexuality Unleashed box tumbling to the ground. “It’s okay, baby, no need to be embarrassed.”

You groan, leaning your forehead against his shoulder as he continues to pat your back like you’re actually embarrassed to be caught buying toys— you’re not. You’re embarrassed he caught you with a sex toy you simply can’t put to use. “Whatever,” you sigh, “your gross popcorn is in my bedroom and it’s probably stale.”

He releases you, not before pulling you into a slow and languid kiss that has you clutching tightly at the front of his shirt. He pulls away with a soft smooch, right eye falling into a wink. “Bring the box, gorgeous,” he teases, before sauntering off in the direction of your bedroom.

You groan loudly. “It’s not mine!” you repeat, but for some reason do as he says.

Not only do you have no idea what’s in this package, but you’re frankly not too keen on finding out. You’re more interested in Jungkook’s reaction to one of your favorite animes of all time. The package is tossed onto the end of the bed, where Jungkook has already stripped himself of his socks and cuddled beneath your covers.

Your laptop has gone dark from inactivity so you slam down on the space bar to bring it back to life. Your first mistake was pressing anything at all. It flickers back on alright, but you forget that you are working with a minefield of ads ready to explode. You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans.

“What the hell is this?” he asks in a tone that screams he has never had to fight viruses off his computer just to watch something at two in the morning.

You ignore him, cuddling into his side as you hurriedly type in the title of the anime before another annoying ad can intercept you. “KissAnime,” you answer for now, accidentally clicking down on the mousepad with the heel of your palm. Another tab opens up to some sketchy credit site. You huff.

“Baby, I swear I just saw like twelve viruses,” he says. “And what even are these?” he scoffs, jabbing a finger at one of the many ads that lines the perimeter of the website. “Animated teacher porn?”

By the grace of god, you somehow manage to get onto the episode selection screen without having another tab open on you. You smile in relief, turning the power of your excitement onto Jungkook… only to find his eyes narrowed in on the square advertisement for some hentai website. “What? You wanna watch hentai now?” you snort, placing the laptop on his legs as you cuddle into his side.

Jungkook sputters, cheeks tinting red at the mere insinuation he would ever consume such media. “No,” he glares, releasing the arm around your shoulders to huffily cross them over his chest. “I am not going to watch anatomically incorrect illustrations of a woman teacher relieving herself, ___,” he says rather matter-of-factly.

You snort, repeating, “a woman teacher,” mockingly and in a high pitched voice that, honestly, doesn't sound anything like him. You click play on the video box that appears after only about twenty more pop-up ads. “Silence, you nymphomaniac, the episode is starting.” Jungkook pulls you close with a displeased expression, finally quieting down when you put it on full screen and the ads disappear from his view.

You’re beginning to wonder if Jungkook really is the script and plot dissector he claims to be, or if he just lives to get under your skin. He doesn’t make it three minutes without finding something to critique. First it’s the quality of the frames, and then it’s the characterization of the lead character. He nitpicks everything about the best anime in existence, and by the end of the first episode you’re considering breaking up with him.

“Oh my god,” you groan, tearing yourself away from him. He’s all laid up against your mountain of pillows, tongue prodding at the insides of his mouth in that ridiculously attractive habit of his. Usually, you’d be tripping over yourself to kiss him, but you’re about two seconds from ripping his head off. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, baby,” you sigh, picking up his hand in yours. “You gotta shut up.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I have to shut up?” he asks in a scandalized tone. “You sang through the entire intro, off tune may I add.”

At this rate you’re getting nowhere, so you just snatch the laptop back up before you actually hurt his feelings. You escape the full screen, met with those hentai ads that are slowly becoming the bane of Jungkook’s existence.

“Who actually watches those anyway?” he mumbles, covering the sidebar full of naked cartoon ladies with his palm for you, a real gentleman if you ever saw one. “Really?” he says, knocking his pointer finger against a particularly raunchy ad with the caption Be a Good Boy and Let her Play beneath it.

You snort. “You are such a baby,” you tease, pinching his cheek much to his annoyance. “What? Can’t handle seeing some anime titties?”

Jungkook shoves your hand away, leaning back to become one with the pillows as you continue onto the next episode. “They’re just weird,” he admits. “And make unrealistic faces.”

“Unrealistic,” you repeat, finally giving one of the ads the time of day. There’s an adorably drawn character making the most perverted expression, knees hiked up to her chest. Her face is twisted up, drooling like a dog and with her eyes crossed in ecstasy. You shrug. “Just because you can’t get those faces out of me doesn’t mean they’re unreal.”

The second the words leave your mouth Jungkook is letting out a scandalized scoff, sitting up to level you with another glare. “First of all, I can get you like that,” he defends, tapping his finger against the ad on screen. “In fact, I can get you like that without even trying, so let’s not say anything too drastic now, okay?”

His sudden bout of defensiveness makes something playful in you switch on, laying back down beside him with a smirk. “Oh, you can make me all stupid like this?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Yes.”

“Uh huh,” you drawl, tracing a finger up his chest teasingly; Jungkook knocks your knuckles away, obviously still butt hurt about your comment. That’s fine, because a slightly riled up Jungkook was always the best Jungkook. You sit up and lean in close, letting your hand slip beneath his hoodie, palm running over his bare shoulder and around the top of his back. You give his nape a light squeeze, lips pressed against the shell of his ear. “Why don’t you prove it to me, Jungkookie?” you purr, before pulling away.

His jaw twitches at the nickname, one shapely brow unconsciously arching as he regards you with a calculative expression.

The thing about Jungkook was that, after almost a year of dating, you know just how to push his buttons. He has a rather calm and collected exterior to him, the same one he’s had since the day you met him, but beneath it all was a childish competitiveness that raged with the heat of ten suns. He disliked being taunted like you were doing now, especially when his credibility was at stake.

Honestly speaking, you don’t doubt Jungkook can make you look as goofy and messy as those hentai ads. In fact you’re rather confident he can. Either way, him being right or you being right, you would still get some fun out of it.

“Hm?” you add, tracing your hand up to dance over the skin of his cheek, pads of your fingers running over that stiff jaw. “Are you scared I’m right and you’re wrong?”

A hand snaps up to catch your wrist, fingers tight around your skin until you’re shivering against him. “Oh baby, I can make you cum until you cry,” he murmurs, his usual sweet and lilting tone dropping to a low vibration that makes your pussy throb beneath your panties. Your heart leaps in your chest, lips falling open when he ducks down to brush them against yours. It’s too light, just a simple touch that makes you follow his mouth when he pulls back.

With one firm shove, the laptop is tumbling off the bed, thudding loudly against your bedside rug. Jungkook leans over you, his usual trademark doe eyes zeroed in on you with the focus of a laser. “Have a little faith in me,” he teases, and when he presses close you can feel his fattening cock flush against your thigh. Your body is begging to be touched, every brush of his fingers against your skin searing trails in their wake.

Suddenly, he’s drawing back. “Kook?” you frown, barely biting down on a childish whimper when he snuggles back into your mountain of pillows, one arm stretched behind his head.

He flashes you a smile. “Go on,” he says, arms behind his head. “Show me how to get you like that.”

“By myself?” you ask, shifting onto your knees anyway. Jungkook nods, a soft jut of his chin as he gives you another one of those easy going smiles of his. His goal seems a little unclear, but you had a ridiculous amount of trust in your boyfriend that whatever he had planned was certain to be good. With one final skeptical glance his way, you sink down onto your bum, knees spreading and giving him a clear view of your little pink boy shorts, elastic band hugging your waist.

The material of your t-shirt is guided away, held to your chest by the hand currently not traversing the length of your stomach, gliding across soft skin, over your belly button and past that band until it slips beneath. You chance another look Jungkook’s way, only to find his eyes wonderfully downcast in the direction of your core. That smile is gone now, replaced with a somber look as he watches your hand move mysteriously beneath the fabric of your undergarments.

The first brush of your forefinger against your swollen button makes you twitch, back arching at the sensation that is magnified by his watchful gaze. “Mmh,” you bite down, hand twisting in the material of your shirt. Jungkook’s eyes glare a molten path across your skin, from the comfy bra that peeks out from beneath your rumpled shirt to the wrist slowly working beneath your panties.

A hand falls over your thigh, tattooed fingers giving the skin a light squeeze as you get to work swirling your bud around. The sight of his inked skin on yours makes something warm blossom in your lower abdomen, your eyes following the inky swirls up, up, up. They lead you to the face of your very handsome boyfriend, long lashes fanning across his cheekbones as he watches you play with yourself. “Wanna take these off for me?” he says, the tip of his pointer finger wiggling beneath the fabric of your shorts.

You nod hurriedly, wiggling around on the bed until you’re on your back, legs bent in front of you. The shorts come down your legs; the simplest press of your thighs makes something quiver in your abdomen. You toss them off to the side, and just as you go to sit back up, Jungkook places a hand on your knee. “Stay like this for me,” he says, sitting up from his mountain of pillows to glance down at you. You melt into the plush mattress beneath you, staring down at him between your legs. He’s got that adoring look in his eyes, the one that makes you feel so warm and in love, it’s only natural your hand slips down to play with your bare clit again. “That’s my girl,” he smiles, rubbing a hand down the outside of your thigh, urging your legs to fall open.

There’s this overflowing vat of arousal that builds up inside of you everytime Jungkook is around, like the moment your eyes land on him you’re reminded of every position he’s ever had you in. You remember the soft brush of his hands on your body, the way his lips feel on yours, the soft tickle of his hair when he gets too close. It makes your heart lurch in your chest, like if you don’t grab onto him tightly this feeling will slip through your fingers and out of your life. So you were crazily in love with your boyfriend— now what?

A puckered set of lips meets the inside of your thigh, the action ripping you from your overly gooey, overly soft inner rambling. Your hand trails down your quivering pussy lips, collecting your dripping wetness as you go. At the same time, Jungkook kisses down the inside of your thigh, soft smacks of his lips against your skin filling the air with an emotion that makes you bite down a whimper. Your hole puckers at the brush of your fingers, anticipating an entrance that you yearn to give into soon.

His mouth is on you before your finger can go deeper than a centimeter in. But Jungkook doesn’t brush your hand off, doesn’t shove you away to prove his mouth was undoubtedly better. He places a kiss over your knuckles, before swallowing up your significantly smaller hand with his, that of which he clasps together over your navel.

You groan, head rolling from side to side. “Don’t be so soft with me,” you whine, leg twitching when he presses a kiss against your engorged bundle of nerves. “Push me around like that one time, you know I like it.”

Jungkook grins, mouthing over your clit with practiced ease that has you releasing all kinds of whimpers and sighs. He’s got his other hand wrapped around your thigh, strong arm pulling you closer to that devious mouth and tongue that lavished attention on your clit. “Need me to be mean to you, baby?” he purrs, curling his tongue in such a way that it makes your entire body tense up, muscles pulled tight. “Want me to push you around like the stupid little girl you are?” You moan, head bobbing up and down at the ideas he stuffs in your mind. As he moves down the length of your cunt, that round nose you love brushes against your bud, and the cheeky shit takes an obnoxiously loud sniff of it, a soft groan breathed against your lower lips. “But isn’t this better?” he hums, languidly molding his lips against your lower ones, much in the same way he does with the ones on your face; he moves slowly, slips his tongue in every few seconds before eventually diving in head on. “Slow... and so easy.”

“Kook,” you mewl, getting this overwhelming urge to cover your face with your hands. But you can’t, because he’s knotted one hand with yours and his fingers only tighten when you try to yank them apart. Instead you’re left pressing one knuckle against your mouth, brows pinching as he begins slowly fucking his tongue into your cunt. “F-Faster,” you beg. He, of course, ignores your plea.

The wet mass moves past the clenched muscles around your hole, nose brushing against your lips with every intrusion. Every few cycles he stops to press a kiss against your pussy, so hard and wet that it hurts when he pulls off. You’re left writhing and moaning, your heel knocking against his shoulder when he pushes your leg up closer to your chest. “It’s enough,” you cry, your entire body shivering.

Jungkook pulls off with a loud pop, lips glistening with your arousal. He’s got this glint on his eyes, like he’s thoroughly entertained by your reactions. He shuffles around to get comfortable, finally releasing that grip on your hand. Immediately, your newly freed hand jumps forward to tangle in the hair above his ear, tracing down the delicate curve of his cheekbone. Jungkook turns his head, pressing a soft peck against your open palm that makes your heartbeat thunder in your ears.

As he moves around, his leg bumps against something that has both of you pausing. It sounds out of place next to your shallow breaths, and both of you glance down only to catch sight of that stupid package from Sexuality Unleashed teetering on the edge of the bed.

The moment you see it, it’s like you’re transported into an omnipresent view of the scene, the next few hours flashing before your eyes as Jungkook snorts. You know he’s going to reach for it in two seconds, and you know he’s going to tear the hot pink packaging apart with his bare hands. He does so with a scary amount of power, the industrial tape not standing a chance against him. A box roughly the same size as the package falls out, and before you can kick it away and save yourself from suffering beneath Jungkook’s teasing antics, he’s snatching up the box.

“The Bullet Bestie,” he reads aloud, dark eyes flying across the text with lightning speed before that box is also being ripped open. (Briefly, there’s a voice in your head that thinks of Doyeon, but you’re not sure why.) Out tumbles a little pink bullet with a strap on one end that bounces against your thigh and an even smaller remote.

“Baby,” you rush out, the sight of the tiny toy making your heart thunder in your chest. “We can look at it another time,” you try, hands coming up to brush against his face again. “Why don’t you finish off here?” you ask, a sickeningly sweet politeness dripping off your tongue as the knot in your tummy fades into the background of his attention.

Jungkook ignores you, picking up the remote with a wondrous look in his eyes. Before you can try to persuade him back between your legs, a quiet click cuts you off and the little bullet whirls to life. You yelp at the sudden vibrations against the inside of your thigh, so close to your throbbing core. The jump of your thighs has it falling onto the mattress below you, wide eyes snapping back to the smirk that grows on his face.

“No,” you say slowly, sitting back up, “no, no,” you try, your usual assertiveness melting into a whiny cry as you try to wiggle away from him and the nefarious ideas infesting his lust-addled mind. You’re barely turning, ready to make a run for it and hand him his victory by forfeit, when Jungkook is catching you by the waist. Your hips get pulled up, arms clawing uselessly at the sheets beneath you as he drags you close to him. He’s fast, already having moved onto his knees behind you, and when he yanks you up, you can feel every hot plane of his body aligned with your backside. “Kook, please just make me cum,” you gasp.

There’s a smile pressed against your shoulder, lips still wet from before, kissing along the side of your neck. “Look at my girl,” he murmurs, and you nearly jump out of your skin when something smooth is traced along your thigh. One hand slips beneath the material of your shirt, soothingly rubbing circled against your skin. This hand also holds the tiny remote between two fingers, and every nerve in your body is on edge waiting for it to be used. “Where’s that smartmouth now?”

“Jungkook,” you try to warn. But there’s no bite to your words, only an anticipation that grows the closer he moves that damned toy between your thighs. “Baby, we-we can play another time, okay? Just please—“

A soft click, and suddenly your spine is giving out on you, upper body flopping forward as Jungkook runs the vibrations over your clit. Of course Jungkook follows, never letting you slip far from his reach. A loud moan spills from your lips, lower lip wobbling at the unreal amounts of pleasure he bestows upon you with such a small toy. “W-Wait,” you sob, the coil from before suddenly magnified tenfold. It makes your orgasm loom over you bigger than ever, a wave that threatens to spill over and drown you in one go. “No-please.”

His mouth presses against your ear, hot breaths fanning against the skin there. “Hey pretty girl, does it feel good?” he husks out, kissing just below your ear. “Aw fuck,” he groans, something stiff pressing against the cleft between your cheeks, “can’t even see if you’re making that stupid face right now.”

You are, but you don’t even have the words to tell him that. The moment the vibrator had made contact with your already ravished clit, your eyes had rolled into the back of your head. You don’t doubt you look like those silly ads you’d laughed at earlier, mouth opening and closing every few seconds as he circles the toy around your bud. You settle on a high-pitched whimper that has Jungkook laughing meanly against your ear.

It ends too soon, the stimulation from Jungkook eating you out for a few minutes combining with the bullet to form a powerful duo that swallows you whole. An embarrassingly loud moan rips itself from your throat, hands twisting in the sheets beneath you as it washes over you. It’s so powerful, it blinds you, pussy spasming. Jungkook’s name is repeated about a thousand times in between, your body eventually melting back into the mattress as the final shocks run through you.

The vibrator clicks off just as quietly as it turned on, your harsh breaths filling the room in its place. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, raining down a parade of kisses against your shoulder. You mewl in appreciation, still awkwardly shoving your face into the mattress, and your hips in the air. From the corner of your eyes, you watch him set the glistening toy off to the side, and you’re just about ready to thank the heavens for such an experience with your boyfriend, when said boyfriend hits you with a curveball.

The gentle pecks against yours shoulder dissolve into harsh kisses, rough hands trailing up your waist. The t-shirt gathers around his knuckles, pushed and pushed until he’s got those same hands cupping your breasts. “Did you like that?” he asks, biting down against your shoulder; the sensation is dulled by your shirt being in the way but it still makes you whine. You moan softly, nodding against the mattress as he gets to kneading your breasts over your bra. “Mm,” Jungkook sighs, “my pretty girl was so good for me, wasn’t she?”

Those deft fingers run back down, crawl beneath the elastic of your lounge bra and push it away until your breasts are bouncing out of their cage. “Kook,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut as he traces circles around your nipples. “W-Wait,” you whimper, suddenly reminded of the swollen cock pressed against your backside when he leans closer.

“Shhh,” he soothes, tweaking your nipples. “Relax for me, sweetheart,” he coos, flicking your hardened nipples with his fingers. You can’t relax, not with your body still so sensitive and him playing with you. Still, the low intonation makes something soft and warm settle in your chest, the kisses against your jaw making your eyes fall shut. “That’s it,” he says, giving one nipple a playful twist that draws a high-pitched moan from you.

Just as you’re beginning to fall into the rhythm of Jungkook’s caresses and voice, he releases one breast to traverse his hand down and over your tummy, to your sensitive pussy. You gasp, biting down on your lip as he teasingly flicks your clit with his fingers. “Bet you could come again now,” he murmurs, taking the tip of your earlobe into his mouth and nibbling softly. You groan, shoving your face into the sheets as if that will save you from your doom. “Bet your pretty little pussy can cream itself just like this, isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

You whimper, hips bucking back against him when he begins nudging your bud, lewd sounds reaching your ears. His other hand remains on your breast, no longer toying with your nipple but simply holding it almost comfortingly. There’s a smirk pressed against your skin, that pearly white smile you usually adore so much teasing you as he circles your nub.

“Come on,” he encourages quietly, kissing up the column of your neck again. You moan, thighs quivering as he strokes a second orgasm out of you with no struggle. Your eyes and throat burn at the heat that washes over you, and you release a hoarse scream into the mattress— Jungkook chuckles at the sound, egging you on with that low voice until your muscles go limp a second time.

When he rolls you onto your stomach again, you try desperately to cover the tears that blur your vision, turning away from him like a child when he tries to look. “Crybaby, crybaby,” he sings teasingly, prying your hands away to capture your mouth with his for the first time that night. “Lemme see those tears, baby,” he purrs.

He tastes like you, tongue dripping with that sweet tang of your pussy, and he smells like you too. It strokes the flames of you ego, arms eventually wrapping around his shoulders as he settles above you. He pulls off with a curl of his tongue against your swollen lips, brown eyes lazily staring down at you. It’s embarrassing how well kept he still was compared to your half-nude state of dress. His skin is all glowy and pretty, not a single tear track in sight, and his grin is still too relaxed for your liking.

Jungkook’s body feels so warm and comforting against yours, muscles keeping the heat trapped between your bodies. You go to brush a hand through his hair, needing to feel the familiarity of those silky locks, before he’s suddenly leaning away. He shuffles onto his knees again, glancing down at your thoroughly abused cunt with a quirk in his brows.

“God,” you groan, knocking your foot against his side. “Just fuck me already,” you huff despite your earlier fatigue. You could only go so long without feeling Jungkook’s fat demon cock inside of you.

He snorts at your snappy tone, cutely tilting his head to the side to move his hair out of his face. His jaw looks sharp from this angle, facial features covered in shadows the lamplight behind him can’t touch. “Can’t,” he announces, and you could pull your hair out from all this unnecessary build up.

Truth to be told, you and Jungkook were both equally as unrestrained when it came to each other. Most of the time, the lead up to actual, penetrative, key-in-lock sex included a couple minutes of heavy petting from his end, and maybe a half assed handjob from you. Sometimes if you felt extra attentive, he’d eat you out and you'd him off. But for the most part, the two of you jumped straight into it after an orgasm, like horny teenagers despite the two of you being twenty-three now.

The most adventurous you’d ever gotten up until the point was maybe two orgasms bestowed upon you by a crazed Jungkook. And, well. You had hit two orgasms now. You were ready for his monster cock.

“Kook,” you whine childishly.

Jungkook shakes you off, placing a palm on both your knees. Slowly, he spreads your thighs apart again, eyes zeroed in on the glossy folds that come into view, the sparkling pearly cum that leaks out of your hole. “I can’t, baby,” he says, almost pained. “I gotta clean you up first,” he insists, and before you can tell him how counterproductive it is to lick you clean of your arousal before fucking you, he’s diving face first into your cunt.

But the biggest surprise doesn’t come from Jungkook going in for thirds, but from the hands he clasps around your thighs, the sheer strength he uses to roll you over (ignoring the shriek you let out) to sit you on his face. “No, no,” you yelp immediately, “I-I‘ll break you,” you cry, trying to escape from his hold.

From beneath your thighs, dark eyes peering up at you daringly, you can see the clear warning on Jungkook’s face. It’s a look that loudly says don’t you dare fucking move, shapely brows sending a jolt of genuine fear down your spine for a moment. “Jungkook,” you fret, trying to ignore the arousal that only continues to blossom as his tongue laps against your folds for the second time that night. “I’m, I’m,” you stammer, hands burying themselves in his hair as he ignores your cries. “I’ll break you,” you try again, spine arching when he slurps your clit into his mouth. “I-I’ll—“

He pulls off with a pop. “Fuck my face, baby,” he says, as if he hadn’t heard a single of your concerns at all. His nose nudges against your clit, a whimper catching in your throat. Briefly, his hand disappears from around your thigh, and when it returns, that tiny bullet vibrator from earlier is pressed against your thigh. “You got that?”

You nod, internally torn apart by your fear of crushing him and your need to drag your cunt all over your boyfriend’s handsome face. You glance down at him, watch him slip that vibrator into his mouth for just a second and lewdly coat it in his saliva, before he’s reaching around to shove it past your pussy lips. They’re still swollen and puffy, but have long since relaxed enough for him to slip it in. “B-But what if—“

“You won’t,” he cuts off, readjusting himself closer to your cunt again, “come on, pretty girl.”

The reason you think you and Jungkook click so well was because he was able to bring that vulnerable side out of you every now and then. He knew you liked to parade around with that huge superiority complex, and he loved it. But he also knew there were things you liked and disliked, and sometimes it took a little pushing for you to reveal them.

For a second, that horny cloud over his irises lifts, and he gives you one of those cute, sloppy winks as he taps your thigh gently. “Fuck my face, sweetheart,” he whispers, “drag that pretty cunt all over me until I can’t breathe.” A gasp catches in your throat, hands unconsciously curling against his scalp. He notices, and flashes you a lazy smirk. “You can do that, can’t you?”

Something akin to adoration blooms in your chest, and before you can blurt out something embarrassing—like I love you—there’s a soft click that has The Bullet Bestie revving up inside of you. You gasp, the sudden vibrations deep inside your pussy making your hips snap forward, clit rubbing against Jungkook’s nose.

“O-Oh,” you cry, and that’s all it takes for you to lose it. Your hips start off slow, at first just savoring the wet drag of his tongue against your lips, his nose against your clit. He sticks his tongue out for you, and part of you wants to tell him he’s a good boy, that corny hentai ad flashing in your mind, but you doubt you’ll survive the aftermath of that. Once you find that perfect pace, your hands are practically yanking at his hair, pushing him further into the mattress as you ride his face like he’s nothing but a toy. “Kook, Jungkook,” you pant, grinding your lower lips against his all too eager mouth.

It feels oddly weird being over him like this, using him like this. You like to think you and Jungkook have equal power in the bedroom, but you will admit that more often than not, he assumes control by default. You’re not particularly bothered by that, because you doubt you’d ever come up with the crazy ideas Jungkook did when he was horny (okay, a lie, because you definitely have thought of crazy sex schemes before).

But, this moment…

The power was quickly going to your head. “Fuck,” you sob, roughly dragging the length of your pussy over and over his face. The hands around your thighs are pressing against your skin with a strength that would hurt were you not blinded by arousal. His eyes are shut, lids fluttering open every now and then as he watches you buck wildly over his face like he was a pillow in high school and your parents were gone for the weekend.

It doesn’t help that the rhythmic pulses of the vibrator inside of you are doing their job well, the tongue that slips into your pussy joining together to form a powerful combination. It’s ultimately what has you halting your manic thrusts, instead falling into a slow grind over him. Your hips circle, eyes squeezed shut as you lose yourself in the lapping of his tongue against your dripping hole. “Mmmf,” you mewl, biting down on your lower lip as the wet muscle prods against a delicate spot within you. You hear feels light, view of the gorgeous man beneath you obstructed by the eyelids that can't seem to stay open. “N-No,” you cry, pulling his hair more roughly than you intended to in order to redirect him. “There, there,” you whimper, holding him tight against your pussy.

Beneath you, Jungkook exhales harshly against your lips, hands moving frantically over your thighs as he works his tongue inside of you alongside the bullet vibrator. If you weren’t so caught up in your own pleasure, all kinds of sounds spilling from your lips, you would have heard the quiet moans that fall from his. Alas.

It takes a few more pulses from the toy and a few more licks from Jungkook until you’re coming for the third time that night, features twisting up as your pussy clenches around his tongue before spilling down his mouth. Your back arches, a defeated moan escaping you as you release the same mess he’d claimed to clean up onto his lovely face. You can barely breathe afterwards, mouth dry and head dizzy when Jungkook finally pops back out from between your thighs. You barely have enough time to lift yourself up, pussy lightly brushing across his Adam’s apple as you stop yourself from crushing his windpipe. It makes you twitch.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises with a cheeky smile that distracts you from the bullet toy he retrieves from your quivering cunt. His face is absolutely glistening from your arousal, skin warm and flush. He’s looking up at you like you’re some mythical goddess and he’s but a humble villager coming to pay his respects at the temple that is your body. Fuck, were you okay? You don’t think you’ve ever felt this good in your entire life, and Jungkook’s mushy gaze was doing things to your heart.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh before helping you off of him, laughing meanly when you flop limply down beside him. He’s still fully clothed, a fact that irks you when he leans over to kiss you with that glossy face of his. “D’you like it?” he mumbles, kissing softly down your face. You nod, legs twitching from the aftermath of that wild ride. “I saw it, y’know,” he says suddenly.

“Saw what?” you mumble, mindlessly rolling your head to the side and exposing more skin when he begins kissing along your neck.

Jungkook says nothing, just rolls over you. Part of you thinks he’s crazy, but you’re suddenly hit with the realization that while Jungkook’s drawn three orgasms out of you in the course of an hour, you hadn’t done anything for him. Before you can dive head first into swallowing his cock, he’s kissing you softly. “That stupid face,” he smirks, slotting his mouth against yours. “That weird, now realistic face,” he tacks on.

You huff out a laugh, throwing your leg around his waist comfortably. Jungkook smiles, kisses you one last time before settling in your arms, face cutely pressed in between your boobs. “Hey,” you call, “don't you wanna cum too?”

He shakes his head, a soft sigh filling the air. “Nah,” he says, cuddles closer into you. “Rest now, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “I can feel your dick against my thigh,” you point out, wiggling your pelvis upward to brush against his throbbing erection. Jungkook holds you down in an effort to stop you. “Fuck me.”

He groans against your collarbone. “No, you’re tired,” he tries to convince you, but his skin is warm and flushed in the way it always gets when he’s riled up. “Sleep.”

With the leg around his hip, you pull him closer. “Fuck me, Jungkookie,” you purr, using the hands in his hair to turn his face up towards yours. His dark eyes are drawn down cutely, pouty lips too. “Use my body,” you suggest, “I’m yours anyway.”

His eyes flutter shut, a quiet whimper falling from his lips. “Don’t say that,” he sighs, “makes me wanna do very mean things to you.”

You smile. “You can do whatever you want to me, don’t you know that?” Another groan, his head falling forward until he’s hiding in your neck. Still, there’s movement from below, he sweats slipping down at his hips until that throbbing cock is pressed into the tiny crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. There’s a moment of hesitation, and you wonder if this is what he felt like earlier when he’d managed to get you to sit on his face. “Inside, Jungkookie,” you murmur, reaching down to line him up with your sensitive entrance. He whines softly, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close. “Good boy.”

Despite your earlier belief that you’d never survive an encounter with Jungkook after using such a term on him, the result is much different from what you had anticipated. He visibly melts into your arms, cock slipping past your folds easily. “No,” he says, his voice feathery and whiny against your ear. “I can’t.”

You soothe a hand down his back, eyes fluttering shut as he begins slowly rutting against your swollen lips. “That’s it,” you encourage, tugging softly at his wavy hair. Jungkook moans wantonly against your neck, rolling his hips harshly against you until his arms are the only things keeping you from jostling out of his hold. “Do you like this pussy?” you ask, purposefully clenching around him, tummy tightening at the stimulation you keep packing on.

Jungkook shudders, pace growing slipping inside of you. “Yes,” he pants, “s-so wet… creamy.”

“Yeah?” you huff, pressing a smiley kiss against his forehead. “It’s yours.”

“Ffffuck,” Jungkook chokes, picking up his pace as his well-deserved orgasm reaches its peak. He’s breathing harshly now, and it’s taking everything in you to keep your pussy tight around him. But after the night he’d given you, the sounds and faces he pulled from you, it’s the least you can do. Besides, your body, after being so thoroughly pleased, still rears up for one final orgasm with him. “Mine,” he growls, bucking his hips into you. “You’re mine, baby, mine,” he seethes, ending his little tryst with a piston of his hips that makes you gasp, body almost unconsciously spasming around him. It’s painful, but so, so delicious how he manages to pull this last orgasm from you as he finally busts inside of you.

He comes with a stuttering garble of words, none of which you catch as he collapses into your hold for the final time that night. “Fuck,” he pants afterwards, leaning into your touch when he finally registers the soft combing of fingers through his hair. “That was evil.”

You laugh, pulling him closer. “As evil as you making me suffer through three orgasms before putting your dick in me?” you tease. Jungkook slips out of you, and you know it’ll be a hassle to clean your sheets tomorrow but it’s worth it.

“It’s called building the scene,” he weakly defends, blindly tugging the puffy blanket over the two of you. “I was gonna rhyme it with that horrible website you made me use but I already forgot it’s name.”

“Rude,” you snap, “it’s called KissAnime.”

“And fore-play,” he suddenly says, and you almost yank his eyeballs out of their sockets for doing that stupid thing again.

—

epilogue 

Two weeks later, your favorite website and home to hentai ads is shut down after years of piracy. Jungkook laughs at your demise, sits and actually cackles at your heartbreak, until he eventually comforts you with his flaming demon cock and a subscription to both Crunchyroll and Funimation. Doyeon spends weeks tracking down a missing package, apparently some freebie she’d gotten for being such an avid customer on Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! before eventually finding it in your drawer. And because her and Jungkook have some awkward life-long rivalry for your attention, he doesn’t pay for that. 

—

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[kassandras-one-braincell]

Abby Anderson x GN!Reader - Please Don’t Leave Me

Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt: Please Don’t Leave Me (I’m creative with my titles)

Can be found on AO3 here.

Setting: before Abby leaves to go golfing. Abby and the reader are in an established relationship.

Warning: angst angst angst, excessive usage of the f-bomb and discussions of murder.

(Y/N) replacer safe.

Word count: 1846

Fuck, she’s really doing this.

Every day since Isaac had granted the Salt Lake Crew leave to hunt down Joel Miller, you tried to bargain with Abby, tried to make her see some sense. That killing him won’t take away any of the pain she feels. The grief. The gaping hole in her heart. But she’d always brush you off, distancing herself from you, suppressing her emotions with bicep curls and crunches as per habit.

Each passing hour, a nail was hammered into the coffin of the woman you love. And this morning is the final nail.

The quaint apartment you call home is filled with a cacophony of rustling and pleas as Abby shovels supplies into her backpack, preparing for her hunt. In her mind, Joel’s death warrant is signed, the execution nigh. And God are you desperate, trying to drill some semblance of reality into her stubborn mind one last time before she embarks on a journey she’ll only regret.

“Abby, please just listen to me for one minute—”

“I need to do this.” She heads to your small shared closet, refusing to look at you from your position by the bed. You frantically try to intercept her path, knowing full well she’s much, much stronger and can reposition you with ease. But it’s worth a try.

“This isn’t going to solve anything,” you implore, clutching the wood.

“Move, (Y/N).”

“Abby, this isn’t going to bring him back. You know that.”

“Move.” Her tone is exasperated, utterly focused on packing her shit and promptly leaving. Your heart sinks to your stomach.

“That girl in the hospital. The immune one. She must have been like a daughter to him for Joel to kill a group of innocent people for her,” you plead, feet firmly planted on the floor. Searching for her eyes, those blue irises alight with a maelstrom of hateful determination. They meet yours. “Killing him will just put her through all of this.”

Abby reaches for the closet door and slowly pulls it open, acknowledging your reluctance to move, deciding to disregard it. The wood begins to dig into your back and you’re forced to step aside. “This isn’t going to end, Abby. You fucking know this.” As she folds some spare clothes and places them in her backpack, you fall gracelessly to the bed, needing to sit down. Bile climbs up your oesophagus. Shit, where was her sense of fucking empathy?

“Abby…” Once again, she doesn’t so much as spare you a glance, folding the garments in robotic fashion. “Abby, you said she was a kid. A kid.”

The final shirt is stuffed haphazardly into the bag. She grits her teeth and turns to you. “He killed dozens of Fireflies, (Y/N). Dozens. And that’s all we fucking know of. There could be hundreds of others because he’s a stone cold killer.” Her face flushes with anger, no remnants of the woman you know left behind. “No one person is worth that many fucking lives.”

You let out a breathy laugh in sheer disbelief. “But it’s not about them, is it? Not to you.” The words escaped you in a hiss, one that didn’t go unnoticed. “Never fuckin’ has been.”

Abby rolls her eyes and grabs her maps from the coffee table, iron fist crumpling the papers beyond legibility. “There could have been a cure. A fucking cure to all this.”

On the surface, her words are rational. One life for a cure that would save millions was a worthy sacrifice, that you would be foolish to deny. But the odds of developing this cure were slim, and the girl would have likely died in vain. You knew this. Abby knew this. Jerry knew this.

With a shaky breath, you cradle your arms, never before having felt the urge to cage yourself around Abby. Fingers firmly gripping at your elbows, you let the cards fold. Unadulterated truth.

“You’re in denial, Abigail.”

A tut. “Don’t you fucking ‘Abigail’ me.” Her previous efforts to maintain a steady tone have been vanquished, anger seeping into each progressing word.

She’s gone.

And it’s this precise revelation that fills your eyes with oceans. Throat closing up, nose burning with the urge to spill over, you attempt – attempt – to articulate yourself, to no avail. Seconds later, rivulets trickle from your eyes to your cheeks, and you find yourself sniffling like some stupid kid… No, not a kid. A grieving adult, bereaved by the loss of a lover. Because the other figure in the room is but a husk of the radiant soul you fell for.

“All…” You pause to inhale, deeply: a futile effort to regulate your breathing, to lay rest to the turmoil suffocating your ability to fucking think. “All that’s going to happen is… You’re going to have to—” Hiccupping, you close your eyes, praying no more tears would fall. “To live with the guilt of orphaning a kid.”

Sentence finally out, you surrender to your sorrows, allowing them to wrack your chest with sobs and heaves until it gets too much, salt freely spilling from the floodgates. You can’t…you won’t bring yourself to look at Abby – the machine in her place, one programmed to kill and kill alone.

It’s wholly terrifying.

Distress flickers in her eyes, her frown slackening for a fraction of a second at the sound of your despair. “No one is forcing you to come,” she puts plainly, as if that has anything to do with the issue at hand.

“You know this – isn’t about that. Fuck, even Owen knows this…this is a bad idea.” Too dejected to cry. Too dejected to battle the hitched breaths you take trying to force out the words.

Words that fall upon deaf ears. “That’s not what Owen told me.” She slots a Swiss army knife into her cargo pants’ pocket, headed with a canteen in hand towards the kitchenette. “He was there, (Y/N). He agreed that Joel needs to die.”

“Because he’s fucking scared of you!” We all are, nearly breaks free from your lips, but that’s not what Abby needs to hear right now. Nothing that will push her away. Further away. The reigns you have on your lover are fraying, leaving you grasping at nought but strings. Frenzied, you attempt a softer, less concrete approach. “Baby, it isn’t normal to be so…hellbent on revenge like this.”

Silence. The delicate trickle of water sounds from the faucet as Abby fills her canteen. Then, a sigh, one of frustration as opposed to defeat. “If you think calling me ‘baby’ is going to erase four motherfucking years of grief, you are sorely mistaken. You’re smarter than that.”

Patience thinning, you stand up, wading through strewn supplies across the apartment floor towards the kitchenette. “Four years and you still haven’t given yourself time to mourn properly,” you reason, deliberately obstructing her path out of the kitchen with your body again. “Maybe if you had you’d see some fucking sense.”

God, that was a mistake. Shit, shit, shit shit shit the last thing you want to do is piss her off, not with her mind in such a volatile state, devoid of all logic.

“I appreciate you’ve lived a fucking sheltered life since the outbreak,” she seethed. What?

“That’s not true—”

“And you have no fucking idea what it’s like to have someone ripped away from you like that.” Volume rising, words a mantra fuelled by detest. “And you know, maybe, just fucking maybe, this’ll be my one chance to put an end to this shit!” The fist not clutching her backpack clenches. And for the first time ever while alone in her company, you flinch.

“He fucking deserves this, (Y/N)! If I can show him a fraction of the pain he caused me—”

“Abby, you’re scaring me,” you whimper, closing in on yourself. Genuinely afraid she’d raise her hand towards you.

Had you a mirror, you’d know truly how perturbed you look in this very moment. Streamlines drying on your cheeks, eyes reddening and puffy from crying, wide with fear like a doe face-to-face with a moving car. Body subconsciously making itself smaller, reducing its surface area, reducing the likelihood for any incoming swings to hit.

She lowers her guard, colour returning to her knuckles as she unravelled her fist. Knitted brows returning to their natural place above her eyes, mouth parted as the horror of her behaviour settles in.

“You know I would never hurt you, right?” Even her previously stern voice cracks at this.

It takes tremendous willpower to not fall back as she takes a tentative step towards you.

Drying your eyes with your sleeves – her sleeves…you forgot you’re wearing her old sweater, the notion sour on your tongue – you break your mutual gaze. “You’re not you right now,” you whisper, not trusting your larynx to produce anything above a mouse’s squeak. “This isn’t the Abby I know.”

For the first time this morning, a sentiment other than bloodlust registers in her face. Hurt.

Either unable or unwilling to respond, Abby recommences her packing in solemn silence.

Shit, you have three, perchance five minutes at best to dissuade your girlfriend from leaving and doing something that will haunt her for all eternity. Yet all you can do is brace yourself against the wall and allow a second tsunami of tears to wash over you, pangs of anguish striking your heart. “Abby—”

“I’m going, (Y/N).” Firm, with a shred less conviction, but firm enough.

A violent sob tears through you as you beg, beg, the vessel of the woman you adore, “Please don’t leave me.”

For a fleeting moment, your heart stops as she hesitates in her tracks. A flicker of hope seizes your mind, that perhaps she has reconsidered, that finally some logic has entered her train of thought.

It all crashes down when she reaches for the spare rifle ammunition by the front door.

“Fuck, Abby—”

“I’ll be gone a month at most.”

Hail-Mary.

Hail-Mary.

Please.

Chest shuddering with each sob that wracks through you, you utter through violently trembling lips and hiccups, “You’re so – fucking blinded – by your hatred – right now – that you can’t – fuck, see – this will – kill you—”

The gravity of the situation threatens to make your knees buckle.

Abby plucks her jacket from the coat hanger and wades over to your crippled stance by the kitchen. A hand brushes your salt-slicked cheek as a lock of hair is swept out of your line of sight. “I love you,” she whispers in pained honesty.

“Abby…” You try to take her hand, to ground her, to remind her of the life she’s leaving behind on her relentless pursuit of this warped sense of justice.

“Goodbye, (Y/N).” She squeezes your palm and lets go, zipping up her pack as the front door to the apartment creaks open and slams shut.

Death is a word that isn’t used lightly, especially not after an epidemic takes the world by storm. But part of your spirit certainly died the moment that door closed behind her.

(I’ll leave it up to you whether she has a change of heart or leaves and scores a few hits above par.)

[goldencuffs]

untraditional

@lamenweek day five: traditions

Damen doesn’t think he’s supposed to feel so bone-weary at thirty-one.

Everything in his body aches, and he’s already greying at his temples. Last night, he had gone to bed at eight.

Theomedes doesn’t look up from the Ios Financial Times when Damen enters the Drawing Room. The table already has been set: Damen’s seat is, as usual, is to the left of his father, exactly fourty-seven centimetres apart. Damen’s food has been already served, because his father got here before him, and everyone gets served the same time as Theomedes.

Damen’s entire life has been dictated by these traditions, guidelines and precedents.

Some of them are good, but most of them are like this: nonsensical and elitist.

Even Theomedes’ and Damianos’ tea is prepared via strict protocol: one teaspoon of loose tea leaves per cup, heated to a hundred degrees celcius (seventy for green tea), with a tablespoon of organic, raw honey added straight to the teapot.

(It’s amazing tea, though).

Theomedes says, “Your food is cold.”

Damen stares at the pile of mash potatoes and salmon. “I’m not hungry.”

He also hates salmon, but Theomedes is the only one who sets the menu for the week with the head chef. Last week, they had roast beef and vegetables four times.

“You’re not still sulking are you?” Theomedes finally says, three minutes later.

Damen grips his table fork. He forces himself to do the breathing exercises Makedon had taught him.

In an ideal world, he wouldn’t reply, but in this one, everyone answered to the King.

“No, sir,” Damen says, and shoves a polite bite of food in his mouth.

“You haven’t had a meal with me in three weeks,” Theomedes says, and he sounds hurt and disappointed.

“Hmm,” Damen says. “I’ve been busy. You know I’ve been working on the preservation of Marlas with Nikandros.”

Theomedes crosses his fork and knife over his plate. Instantly, three different staff members rush forward to clear the table.

Damen’s plate is cleared too; no one eats after the King has left. Another useless, bane tradition.

“You know I did what’s best for you,” Theomedes says, looming over Damen.

When Damen nods, Theomedes kisses his temple. “You’ll realise it sooner, rather than later.”

“Yes, sir,” Damen says quietly, and rises only after Theomedes has left, as is protocol.

*

An hour later, the itch under Damen’s skin becomes unbearable, and he finds himself burrowing under the left corner of his mattress for certain… supplies.

He pulls on the red, shoulder-length curly wig with little care, and then the faux-leather beret. It’s peeling and terrible, but Damen doesn’t care.

The rest of his outfit is just layers: sunglasses, two coats, scarves, and a muted shirt, to hide as much of his body as possible.

He normally doesn’t leave so early in the day, when he’s being patrolled by guards and the Kyros.

Luckily, it’s only Nikandros who catches him, right outside his door.

His expression is flat. “You’re not serious. You’re leaving now? We’re in the middle of drafting the Delpha treaty!”

Damen shrugs. “I have to go.”

“You don’t have to—” Nikandros cuts himself off with a sigh. “Whatever. Can you please bring me back those caramel slices?”

Damen grins. “You got it, boss.”

Once he’s past the Main Foyer, the rest of the journey is easy: Damen takes an hour and a half train ride from Central Ios to Andris, and then a fifteen minute bus ride on the eighty-six. And then finally, an eight minute walk to the Andris Office District.

There’s a small bookstore there called Pocket Bookmark, painted emerald green, the lettering done in gold.

Inside, it’s not too busy: it’s not quite the end of a business day, and the customers in here are high school students, skimming the Shakespeare section, and a man hovering near the new releases.

Damen keeps his head down, weaving through the aisles.

Nicaise, the mouthy teenage cashier rolls his eyes when he sees Damen approaching, lifting up the wooden flap on on the bench, allowing Damen to duck through.

“Thanks, kid,” Damen says, mussing his hair.

“Ah, fuck off,” Nicaise grunts, but fondly. He’s warmed up to Damen ever since Damen bought him his first car. (Nothing too flashy, obviously).

Damen hurries all the way to the back, opening the door marked, No entry, and then goes up the narrow steps, which always make the worst creaking noises.

There’s another door a the small porch upstairs, and Damen fishes out the key in his pocket to open it.

Instantly, he’s hit with the smell of butter chicken simmering on the stove, and his mouth salivates. He dumps his entire attire by the small settee in the hallway, inhaling gratefully.

The second thing he’s greeted with is Wendy, who meows and claws at his leg.

“Come here, baby,” Damen murmurs, picking her up and holding her to his chest. She purrs and curls up, like a big ball of fluff and he kisses her head. “I love you so much.”

She meows in response, and snuggles closer.

Laurent turns off the stove in the tiny kitchen. He looks over his shoulder for just a second and scrunches his nose. “Ugh, she’s such a slut. I’ve been petting her for the last hour, but apparently I’m just not good enough.”

Laurent is in his after work attire: which means he’s as half dressed as possible. The shirt he’s wearing is one of Damen’s, and his shorts are the pair that shrunk in the wash; they ride too high up his thigh.

Laurent’s just come out of the shower: the hair at his nape is still wet, and his skin is pinked and glowing. Even with the curry, Damen can smell jasmine and coconut.

Laurent has got this sweet, soft smile that lights up his eyes.

It takes Damen’s breath away: not just Laurent, but this entire picture of domesticity. It’s all Damen’s wanted his entire life.

He means to make a snarky comment about Wendy, but what comes out is: “Marry me.”

Laurent drops the wooden spoon, eyes wide.

Damen grips Wendy too tightly and she lets out a shriek and jumps out of his arms.

They stare at each other for a moment. Damen’s heart is racing.

Laurent blinks. “Oh, sorry. I think I hallucinated for a minute.”

Damen steps forward, smiling. “It wasn’t a hallucination. Marry me.”

Laurent makes a small noise in the back of his throat. “Are you asking me or telling me?” He swallows, eyes darting all over Damen’s face, his body. “I don’t see a ring,” he says quietly.

Damen groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Shit, I know. I had this whole plan, I was going to propose with the Queen’s ring, but obviously I’d have to talk to my father first and—” He sits down at the kitchen table, pulling out his phone. “There’s a courthouse ten minutes from here. It’s Thursday night, so they’re still open. We just need to show up with a signed ‘Intended Marriage Certificate’. It’s like three pages, we’ll be fine.”

“…Oh.” Laurent has gone very still. “You’re looking up courthouses. You’re serious.”

“Shit,” Damen says, watching him. “I’m so sorry. You—Do you want to marry me, Laurent? Because I’ve been dying to marry you since I first saw you. Er. No pressure, though.”

Laurent glares at him, affronted. “Of course I want to marry you, you fucking idiot!”

Damen leaps to his feet, grinning and flushed. “Fuck yeah! Let’s go print this form and—”

“Damen!” Laurent laughs, looking a little crazed. “We can’t just—Just wait a minute.”

“Alright. Shoot, baby.”

Predictably, Laurent flushes pink. “Is it even legal? Aren’t there special ceremonies for royals? And—and the King still thinks we broke up!”

Damen winces a little at that.

After an entire year of sneaking around, of meeting up in discreet hotels, and making plans to move in together one day, Damen had fucked up three weeks ago.

Drunk and enamoured, he had kissed Laurent outside his bookstore after a date. There had been photos—and the only saving grace had been the fact that Laurent’s face had been inscrutable.

But the fact that he was a commoner had been enough for Theomedes to unleash his rage. He had ordered Damen to break things off with Laurent, and Damen had pretended to, but… Well, Laurent had been hurt. It had been the first time he had realised how shaky their entire relationship was, how quickly it could come crumbling down.

Damen had spent days convincing him otherwise, and Laurent had finally agreed, but there had still been shadows in his eyes.

Now—now, though, Damen realises exactly what he can do, what he should have done months ago, to make Laurent realise he’s it.

“Fuck the King,” Damen says. He finally closes the distance between them, gripping Laurent’s hands. “Laurent, listen. I can still get married legally in a civil ceremony.”

“But—” Laurent bites his lip. “I don’t want you to get into trouble. And,” His voice grows small. “I know there’s so many rules and traditions you have to follow. I’ve read about the whole tradition where your father is supposed to gift you a diptych piece.”

Damen’s heart is warm. He smiles down at Laurent, smitten. “You’ve read up on royal wedding traditions?”

Laurent colours even more. “Of course.”

Damen kisses him hard, unable to bare the love swelling up inside him. Laurent flings his arms around Damen’s neck, his mouth emitting small, sweet gasps.

When they pull apart, Damen presses his forehead to Laurent’s. “Fuck the King,” he repeats. “Fuck the customs and rules and traditions. You are the only thing that matters to me. Just forget everything for a moment and answer: do you want to go downtown and marry me?”

Laurent’s smile overtakes his face, his eyes shining. “Yes,” he says softly. “I want to—so much.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you in a better way or give you a ring or—”

“Stop. This was absolutely perfect.” He sighs. “You’re perfect.”

Damen kisses him again, pressing him to the counter. “I want you to have my mother’s ring.”

Laurent buries his head into Damen’s chest, overwhelmed. He nods.

Damen drops a kiss to his hair. “Get changed, baby. We’re getting married.”

Laurent looks up at him in wonder. “We’re getting married.”

[thefanficmonster]

Corpse Infested

Corpse Husband & Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Mentions of dysfunctional family, Family problems, Swearing

Genre: Humor, Comfort, Platonic fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When your friend disappears for a long time, seemingly having lost interest in what fueled the most passionate fire in their life, you cannot not worry about them. Even if you wanna give them space, you will reach out, you will offer your help. You will tell them they always have you to rely on and talk to.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! I’m really sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request, but here it finally is! Hope you come across it and if you do I hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

For me, it’s never hard to find things to do. I’ve constantly got things on my mind and tasks to tend to, keeping me occupied and my mind focused at all times. I think that comes with living in a home as dysfunctional as this one. I honestly can’t recall a time when my parents got along nor can I think of a time where there was at least one second of peace while the two are both present in the house. It’s always a warzone up there. I’m saying up there because I tend to live out of the basement of their home. I know living in your parents’ basement is considered a peak loser point, or the bottom of the bottom, but you’d have to believe me when I say - I wasn’t always like this. In fact, I only recently came back to this hell-hole and boy do I regret it. I mean, it was a decision forced upon me by circumstances. Trust me, I tried every other option there was. When my dorm was to be closed down and demolished, we were given a notice to start planning our next move about a month early. You can bet I immediately started looking at places but my very tragic and miserable budget didn’t allow such a purchase. No rent was adequate for me and my near-empty wallet so my second option was moving in with my best friend who was also not in the greatest of situations but I thought I’d give that a shot too.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t work out. She lived in a tiny apartment with her boyfriend and his best friend at the time, so four people in one apartment was a nightmare. Still a lesser nightmare than this one but a nightmare nonetheless. Some unwanted and downright traumatizing events chased me out of that place after barely managing to pack my stuff. Therefore, finding myself on the streets again, I had no other option other than the obvious and least liked one: moving back in with my parents.

Making money during my first year of college hasn’t been easy. Working two jobs at once and also streaming video games on the side was what my time was filled with all throughout the first semester but then this damn pandemic started and now ruined everything for me. I had things going for me, I was slowly getting my life together and now it has all fallen apart yet again. The places I worked at closed down due to quarantine and I haven’t been able to steam, not only cause I’d be the victim of my parents’ comments but also cause my terrible home life would be exposed to all my fans and viewers. It’s not like I could cancel out the commotion going on right above my head, it’s a livestream and this house’s walls are cardboard thin meaning all the arguing I hear almost 24/7 will serve as background noise for my streams.

I haven’t reached out to my friends or fans to inform them of this which I feel slightly guilty about but I’m really not looking forward to having to lie to them, just as much as I’m not looking forward to having to tell them the truth so instead I’ve picked silence which is probably either worrying them or driving them insane. Either way, I’ll make my comeback soon.

Well....not very soon by the looks of it...

I have to gather the money, then I have to find a place, then comes the packing, moving out of here, moving into the new place...oh God, there’s so much to it that I don’t even wanna think about. Just that thought that I’ll be inactive for that long makes my stomach turn. Streaming’s where I’ve been channeling all my negative emotions, turning them into something positive and entertaining with the help of my friends.

Speaking of my friends, I should probably put emphasis on how amazing they are. Basically the older siblings I’ve always wished I had. I’m the baby of the group, the eighteen year old freshman in college, powering through life the best they can cause they are constantly getting tripped up by inconvenient occurrences such as this one for example. I tend to have the gang poke fun at me quite frequently - all lighthearted and with good intentions obviously - but they are also the ones to get super defensive if anyone gets the balls to talk shit about me. They’d never allow me to be the victim of any smack talk or online rumors and ‘cancel culture’ or whatever the hell people will come up with to leave others restless and wondering if they did something shady a decade ago. Well, to be fair, I didn’t even know about the concept of social media a decade ago and I’ve never been one to post much but I still have a protection squad in case anyone decides to come after me.

Little do they know the people I need protecting from are the very people that are supposed to protect me - my parents. Luckily, they don’t venture into to basement very often if at all and I have my own exit to the outside world so I don’t have to run into them unless I absolutely have to. The only time I emerge to the surface of the house - aka the ground floor - I do so to leave my share of rent money on the dining table and I usually do it when they aren’t home or when they’re asleep - that happens often with how many bottles they each knock back on the daily.

*sigh*...at least I don’t have to talk to them, right?

Anyhow, remember how I mentioned I always have things to do? Well, right now I’ve tasked myself with rifling through the large boxes containing random stuff I found in one of the basements down here to see if there’s anything I could possibly sell online. For starters, I’d like to hope there aren’t any severed body parts in here because this was one shady-ass basement before I moved in and un-creeped it a bit so I wouldn’t have to become an insomniac due to the paranoia of there being a homeless person down here with me or some paranormal entity. Regardless, old basements tend to be, apart from haunted, also filled with junk no one would find valuable despite it actually being worth something after all. That’s basically what I’m hoping to find at the moment.

As I dig through the contents of the first box, the YouTube playlist I have put on on my phone cuts off causing me to furrow my brows in confusion for a second before my ringtone pierces the silence the lack of music created.

I quickly mute the ringing and take a look at the Caller ID to see a name I never thought would pop up on my screen as an incoming call - Corpse. I, as well as many of our friends, know that he’s not the biggest fan of talking to people on the phone so this is rather surprising. Still, I pick up the call in case it’s not a mistake and an odd chance that it’s somethin urgent cause Lord knows Corpse doesn’t call people willy-nilly. 

Thank God it’s quiet up there at the moment.

“Hello?“ I try my best to cover up the confusion in my voice but I can only assume I didn’t do the best job considering Corpse replies with a slightly awkward chuckle.

“Surprised you, didn’t I?“ He asks, getting my cheeks to redden a bit, “You can’t blame a guy for calling after up and disappearing on him and on the whole internet. Where’ve you been?“

I open my mouth to respond when I hear the sound of glass breaking a shouted curse from upstairs.

Oh for fuck’s sake!

“Um...you know, places?“ I’m aware the answer isn’t only nonsensical but also sounds more like a question, but I can hardly focus on that right now. I’m too buys praying to an entity I don’t fully believe in for the situation above to not escalate.

“Uh, is everything ok over there? Where even are you right now?“ The teasing tone to his voice is all but gone at this point, replaced with deep concern, having obviously heard the commotion that did the exact opposite of what I prayed for - escalated.

“Y-yeah, it’s ok. It’s just another Thursday, you know.“ I attempt a small laugh but it’s blatantly miserable, “I moved back in with my parents when they announced the quarantine so that’s where I’m at now. They’re not the quietest of folks as you can tell so...“

“I FUCKING HATE YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! I HOPE YOU DIE“

Oh crap, here we go.

“...So I can’t really stream a lot...or at all.“ I mutter, cringing with all my might, “But it’s only temporary! I’ll get back in the saddle as soon as I find another place to stay.“ I don’t dare mention how long that’s gonna take me, it’ll be too disappointing and depressing for the both of us. “So yeah...um...thanks for showing concern but there’s really nothing to worry about. I’m ok, everything’s ok, things are just...a bit off the rails, but I’ll fix em no problem. Like I always do!“ I attempt to sound as cheerful as possible with little success due to the overwhelming anger I feel towards those people upstairs and the gut-wrenching nostalgia for the world of streaming I can no longer be a part of because of them. Actually, I put the blame first on the pandemic and second on my parents - if it wasn’t for Covid I’d probably still be in my dorm!

“Hey...um, I think I know an affordable place where you can take up residence. Only if you want to, of course.“ He sounds hesitant but I easily overlook that as excitement bursts throughout my entire being at the sound if an escape being offered to me just like that. Had I known I’d find the solution to my problem in the very people I spent time avoiding because I was afraid of their pity, sympathy and judgement.

“Oh please, it could be a rat and roach infested shoe box and I’d go running to it. How much is rent?“ I ask through a gasp of hurried laughter that’s a result of my inability to contain said excitement. Listen, I’ve been sitting here in Hellsburg for three months now and haven’t gotten a proper shuteye during that whole period, whatever Corpse is offering has to be better than this misery.

“Rent can be discussed once you move in...“ He trails off, “And it’s not rat nor roach infested but there’s a slight issue...“

“Which is?“ I’m honestly expecting the worst: in a bad neighborhood; faulty wiring with a high chance of being electrocuted; faulty piping with a high chance of flooding; people have died there; things get randomly moved around in the middle of the night etc. However, I don’t voice any of them to avoid getting laughed at for my wild imagination.

“Well, uh, it’s corpse infested.“ He says a little awkwardly, causing me to let out an inaudible sigh.

So my ‘people have died there’ guess was on point, huh?

“People have died there, huh? Well, I can turn a blind eye to that as long as I don’t find their bodies in the closet or meet their spirits at 3AM.“ I attempt to joke, now second-guessing my eagerness to accept the offer.

Corpse bursts out laughing his ass off at my statement, getting me to furrow my eyebrows in confusion and wonder what I said was so funny - it was a poor attempt at a joke, it in no way deserves that sort of reaction, barely a chuckle in my opinion.

“You’re golden, Y/N, I swear.“ He says once he forces the laughter to subside, “I meant corpse infested as in Corpse Husband infested.“ He breaks out in another fit as my brain slowly starts connecting the dots.

Oooohh he’s asking me to go live with him

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait, hold up for a sec. Are you aware of what you’re offering me? I mean, we’ve never met IRL, you barely know me and....and for all you know I could be the serial killer in this situation!“ I have no idea why I’m pushing my luck, don’t ask. I just don’t want him to make a decision he’ll later regret, I guess. “Like, I could kill you in your sleep!“

“Would you?“ He asks confidently, silently stating he already knows the answer.

I roll my eyes, “Of course not! But...” He cuts me off.

“Great, the offer stands on my end. I’m not a noisy nor nosey roommate so I suggest you start packing. If you choose to live in that hell-hole over living with me, I’m sorry but I’ll be hella offended, just so you know.“

Corpse sounds like he’s about to hang up on me, a decision already made, so I hurry to stop him. “Wait! What about rent?”

“Fuck the rent, pack your bags.“ And just like that, despite my efforts, he hangs up on me.

Well...this is a chance of a lifetime that I know refusing would lead me to not only remain stuck here but also put me in the hugest loser bin. There’s also the fear of being Corpse’s burden which I’ll try my best not to be - I mean, I’m a super independent person and Lord knows that if this offer came any other time or from any other person, I would’ve declined asap, no discussion.

But streaming

But sleeping properly

But having a normal life again

Yeah those are most certainly the reasons I get up and go into the closet in search on my emptied suitcase. Time to fill it up again, I guess. This time with a smile on my face and excitement fueling each and every movement of mine.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse

[creativeashproductions]

Lost Time // Luke Patterson

Summary: Things changed since Sunset Curve fell apart literally as three out of four members died before a gig. Leaving a sad girl behind Luke by chance runs into the reader with someone else. Death tore the couple apart, and time can’t fix this.

Warning: Talk of death, depression, angst and fluff

Words: 2.2k

Might as well join the Julie and the Phantoms fan club!

*For the sake of the story the time frame has been altered, it takes place in the mid-2000s. Also! I tried to make the reader as generalized as I could to make sure that everyone can relate. The reader is Alex’s sister, for inclusion that can be biological, adopted, half or stepsiblings. I want to make sure all people can be the reader.

Masterlist

THIS IS FROM MY SECONDARY BLOG! REPOST!!

The 1990s was definitely some of the best years of your life watching your brother grow more comfortable in his identity. Alex had kept his sexuality secret, taking the frustration of the secret by learning how to play the drums. You would often be found curled on the chair listening to his growing talent; Alex was a great brother.

Alex found friends in three local boys Reggie, Bobby and Luke, even a little more than friends with Luke briefly. By 1991 the boys had formed a band Sunset Curve with each other and a loyal fan in you. By mid-1994 the band had a fanbase and some gigs, but playing The Orpheum was the goal.

Luke had admitted to Alex, he had feelings for you, and with a lot of encouragement from Alex, he approached you. Luke had been focused on music since his parents gave him his first guitar, so relationships weren’t even on the backburner.

“Hey.” Luke spoke, pressing a kiss to your cheek backstage, “Missed you.”

His hair tickled your skin, bringing a bright smile from the teenage boy and a deep blush from you, private time wasn’t as often as it once had been. After Luke’s fallout with his parents a few months back, he had couch surfed between Reggie and Alex’s rooms; he wasn’t allowed in yours.

“You saw me last night.”

“A monumental time.” Luke bent his bend to place a lingering kiss on your bare shoulder, his jacket having fallen down, “Three years together and a bright future ahead.”

Last night had been the third anniversary of your relationship and hopefully the previous night worrying on parents walking in, cheap dates Luke often felt guilty about. Luke knew in his bones playing The Orpheum tonight would open the door to a legendary future. A future where money wasn’t tight and he could you on dates he deemed acceptable for the love of his life.

Bobby voiced brought Sunset Curve’s lead singer back to that moment, you dropped from the stage to settle in the empty audience to watch the soundcheck. With a wink from Alex, he started making the beat to Now or Never, you beamed as they poured their souls into the song. The four were talented and made to be in a band together even if you didn’t really like Bobby.

Cringing at the awkward wink Bobby sent you turned on your converse to head to the bar for a glass of water. Thanking the bartender, you tuned out the conversation with the waitress and the band only jumping when arms wrapped around your waist.

“We’re getting street dogs.” Luke spoke, bringing your body to rest on his chest, “Do you want one?”

The thought of those street dogs honestly horrifying given they were cooked in some random guys car. The one time you tried, it had permanently tattooed the taste in your memories forever, and just remembering was vomit-inducing.

 “I’ll pass.” You wrinkled your nose, turning to wrap your arms around his neck, “I don’t know how you guys like those.”

“Tradition.” Luke shrugged caressing your cheekbone with the pad of this thumb. Gazing at features he wanted to wake up to for the rest of his life, “Still down with the plan?”

“The minute I’m eighteen, we go to the nearest chapel.” You grinned playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, “I’ll be waiting Rockstar.”

Luke pressed a long passionate kiss on your lips, pulling away to jog over to Alex and Reggie waiting at the door. Bobby having declined the street dog invitation to flirt with the waitress Rose. Alex waved before the door closed. Little did you know that would be the last time you saw them alive.

1995 was the worst year of your life. 1996 was the hardest, especially with the forever reminder of your love. You wouldn’t trade 1996 for the world however, only wishing for one change.

Los Angeles, 2004

Alex, Reggie and Luke had learnt a mere few days away from that life had drastically changed forever. Firstly, the three boys had died from eating the street dogs mere hours before performing on the stage of The Orpheum. Secondly, it was no longer 1995 but instead nearly ten years had past bringing the three ghosts into 2004.

The most jarring wasn’t being able to be heard playing music with a random girl named Julie but that the most constant part of the band no longer was there. You hadn’t died that night, and Alex was pretty sure you were still alive. Luke felt lost waking up without you beside him and the deep regret of not reconciling with his parents.

It would be a week before Luke would swallow his pride enough to orb himself into his unchanged childhood home. Emily, Luke’s mom, was in the well-worn chair knitting a scarf Luke recognized as his favourite colours. Mitch was in the kitchen, putting the groceries away. It was heartbreaking being invisible to his aged parents.

“Hey, Mom.” Luke sniffled sitting on the couch nearby staring at his silent mother, “Sorry for not visiting sooner.”

Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes feeling hopeless, not being able to ease his parents’ pain, the regret and guilt bubbling to the surface.

“How is Y/N? I bet she’s living in New York of London now. We promised to travel the world together. Part of me is guilty of wishing she had eaten a street dog that night so we could be together.” Luke sobbed, wrapping his arms around his midsection reminiscing on the beautiful girl he had unwillingly left.

“Hey.” Mitch spoke, kissing his wife’s forehead. Her eyes closing in contentment.

“I wonder if you know where Reg and Alex’s parents are. Reggie’s neighbourhood was torn down who knows when. It makes me scared to see if Alex and Y/N’s parents still have their place. I don’t think so. They lost their son.”

“Hey Luke.”

Luke glanced over his shoulder to see Alex at the door, reluctant to impose of Luke’s privacy.

“Yeah.”

“We’re rehearsing.” Alex spoke, smiling as the other teenager took one more wistful look at his parents before orbing out of his house to the Molina family’s garage. Minutes later, the front door opening and feet thudding brought the noise to the Patterson home.

“Grandma!”

A four-foot blue of green and black blur covered the room in seconds nearly sprawling Mitch to the floor. Why was that 1996 year difficult? Well, ’95 was when Sunset Curve tragically died, and a stick changed your life. ’96 was spent going through the last five months of pregnancy without Luke.

October 1995

You kept your lips pressed tightly together, unable to look at the smooth, shiny mahogany rectangle surrounded by flowers. Looking up meant the reality kicking in. Funerals sucked. Especially the third funeral in the last handful of days. It was surreal thinking that one week ago you had kissed your boyfriend and hugged your brother and now they were dead. Gone. Not even a goodbye.

“Are you okay?” The broke voice asked, gaining your attention. Swollen red eyes matching yours held unimaginable pain. While the last few months had been icy with your parents, it didn’t mean losing one of their kids didn’t sting.

“I will be.” You whispered clasping your hands over the scratchy black velvet dress, one you had worn three times too many.

The sobs broke out seeing the best picture Alex had taken in his life, it encapsulated his best features; his beaming smile and kind, caring eyes. Alex was gone. Your brother was gone because he ate a bad hot dog with his friends. You would never see your boys again. Never feel Luke’s skin or share a laugh with Alex or complain about things with Reggie. You wouldn’t get to meet in the chapel with Luke wearing second hand ‘fancy’ clothing. In one night, your life changed.

It changed further seeing the two lines on the test later that night. The heartache growing. The baby you carried would never meet his uncles and his Dad. Would never hear them play or learn to play. ’95 and ’96 sucked ass.

You sighed, closing the door to follow the rambunctious ball of energy into the living room where he entertained Mitch and Emily. Some days it was difficult to stare into the green eyes he inherited from his father.

“Benjamin Lucas.” You spoke crossing your arms, meeting the gaze of the eight-year-old boy, “What did I say?”

“To not runoff.” Ben quietly replied, playing with his hands. His messy brown hair, in need of a trim, falling into his eyes, “Sorry Mom.”

“Please don’t do it again.” You gently told the little boy elated as he quickly found the toy box in the corner of the room.

Ben was loved deeply by Mitch and Emily, who had stepped up when your parents made the decision to sell your childhood home. Wanting Ben to know his paternal grandparents, you had struggled to find an apartment and job to say in the neighbourhood. Since the baby was the last part of their son, the Patterson parents’ had welcomed you into the home where you stayed until Ben was two.

“Do you want us to come around for Luke’s birthday?” You questioned sitting on the love seat, the same love seat you had made out on with Luke many times during movies.

The room turned sad at the question and reminded that for the ninth year, you would celebrate Luke’s birthday without him. A day where Ben wouldn’t fully understand. Emily simply nodded her head.

 “Have you met anyone?” Mitch asked, leaning over to clasp his hands together. For the last few years, they had been pushing you to date. They wanted your happiness and for Ben to have a father even if Luke couldn’t be it.

“Mama can we stay here tonight?” Ben’s innocent voice cut the tension, saving you from answering the question again. Mitch and Emily each nodded their heads at the question, unable to tell the young boy no.

“Have you ate?” Emily asked, turning to look at you in concern. The chuckle left your mouth at the question she frequently requested, she missed cooking for more than two.

“We had pasta before we came.” You replied, turning to gaze out the window to the dark sky, “I should put Ben to bed.”

The soft whine from your son and denial was a nightly routine and very much a mirror image to Luke’s character as well. With a smile, Emily held out her hand to her grandchild, she was notoriously the only one able to get Ben to sleep fast.

 “Come on Bug.”

It seemed the universe was keeping Luke from seeing you and discovering Ben, but when that night came, he was shocked. Emily was curled up on the patio couch, watching Ben in the newly bought sandbox. The patio doors opened. Inside, Mitch had invited a stranger who knew his son into the house.

 “I think I heard the doorbell. I’ll be right back.” Emily called out to you. You had found shade under the tree reading a new book.

The soft cry had you up and running to Ben before you even realized, on his knee was a bleeding wound. You had already scooped the boy into your arms to quickly get into the kitchen. The moment your foot stepped into the home, the sound of a familiar voice and song filled the house.

Gently placing Ben on his feet, you followed the sound to the living room. Across the room behind a young girl stood a boy.

“Luke.” You breathed floored at the sight of the teenager who looked exactly like he did back in ’95. The ghost singing widened his eyes at yours, taking in the mature features and change of fashion.

He continued to sing the song Unsaid Emily he had written as an apology to his mom following the last big fight. The song he never got to show her. His voice faded as the ending of the song came around.

“Mama!” Your attention broke from Luke’s when a tiny hand reached for yours. The pain in his voice bringing you back to the most important part of your life, “It hurts Mama.”

Despite being sad, Mitch was the one to cross the room to lift the little boy into his arms. Placing the little boy on the counter, the man gently wet a paper towel to wash the area.

“I think he needs stitches.” Mitch sighed, furrowing his brows.

“Who is that?” Luke asked the Molina girl. The girl shrugged taking in the features she could recognize. Julie asked Emily.

“That’s Ben.” Emily beamed, looking over her shoulder at the little boy that filled the void of Luke’s death. It didn’t fix the wound or erase the pain, but Ben’s existence helped with the loss as he was a precious gift, “When Luke passed away his girlfriend Y/N found out she was pregnant with Luke’s baby.”

The choked sob fell from Luke’s mouth echoed by the thud of his knees, hitting the floor in the pure shock. The heartbreak painted so clear Julie was sure she could feel Luke’s agony.

God, why did Luke have to eat that fucking street dog. Fuck his band dreams. Nothing hurt as bad as finding out about Ben and Y/N having to be a single parent.

“I have a son?” Luke cried, orbing himself as far as he could from the Patterson home and his most tremendous loss.

Part Two

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[moonknightly]

and you keep me holding on : santiago garcia x reader (nine)

Word Count: 2.3k+

Excerpt: “He’s figured out that she thinks she’s dreaming every time she opens her eyes and sees him. She thinks that she’s going to wake up to Nathan and that Santiago will be gone.”

Warnings: Mentions of sexual assault, cursing, uhhh I think that’s it?

[SERIES MASTERLIST]

OCTOBER FIFTH — DAY TWO

Santi isn’t sure who calls her parents, but they’re in the waiting room the next morning and while he knows that they have every right to be there, he wishes that they would just go away. Her mother is already talking about taking her “home” the second she’s released from the hospital.

He doesn’t have the energy to fight with them yet, doesn’t know how to tell her grieving parents that her home is with him. She belongs with him, he’ll take care of her.

But then again, he’s already failed once.

Maybe she won’t feel safe with him anymore.

Maybe she won’t feel safe in the new apartment, she won’t recognize it. Sure, she’ll look around and see familiar furniture, some pictures and the duvet she’d picked out herself. Nevada. Maybe she’ll smell Santi’s cologne in the air or the stench from the cigarettes he smokes when things get just a little too hard, but it’ll all be in a space that’s entirely new.

Did he make the right decision? Should he have stayed at the last place?

No. No, he doesn’t think that would’ve been smart either.

Maybe she does need to go with her parents, back to the house she grew up in, where her room hasn’t been touched since she was in high school and everything is familiar.

But then she says his name in her sleep, and he knows that he’s not going to be able to let her go.

He knows he can take care of her. He’ll do it right this time, he’ll never let a damn thing happen to her ever again.

So Santi shuts it down the moment her mother brings it up again, and he’s surprised that her father actually sides with him on it. It doesn’t turn into an argument like he thought it would and he’s beyond thankful for that.

She stays asleep for most of the day, only waking up for a little while at a time, and when she does, she refuses to take her eyes off of Santi. It only serves as further confirmation that she needs him, he’s the right decision.

Jay offers to stay with them for a while, thinking maybe they’ll both feel better with another set of eyes, a little added protection, and at first Santi shakes his head — he feels guilty for some reason, he doesn’t know exactly why but he feels like it’s too much.

But then she has a nightmare, and he watches as Jay immediately reaches out and touches her cheeks to let her know she’s not alone, she’s safe and they’re right there. Santi’s positive that Jay has noticed that he hasn’t touched her yet, and he also knows that she probably needs someone who will be able to give her physical reassurance when she wants it.

So he caves, only if Jay will take his bed while he crashes on the couch and of course Jay says no.

But it’s not something they really have to worry or argue about right then.

She’s not going anywhere anytime soon.

OCTOBER SIXTH — DAY THREE

Every single news channel has been covering her return just as much, if not more, as her disappearance. They’re still looking for Nathan, but Santi’s sure they’ll never find him. Not anytime soon, at least.

He didn’t know if he��d dumped her with the intention of her being found alive or dead, but either way he has to know she’s been found and that they’re looking for him again with the same amount of ferocity as they had been when she first went missing. He hates to think about that, how after just a few months everything just seemed to die down for everyone else but those in his little circle, and even then sometimes he felt like the only one who still cared.

Santi shakes his head and pushes those thoughts away.

Her. He just needs to focus on her.

They’d gotten her temperature up, and the cocktail of medicine they’d been pushing for the last three days seem to be doing their job. Her scans all came back clear, no damage to her heart or brain. All in all, she’s responding well to treatment.

She’s still confused though, still disorientated whenever she wakes up but the doctors assure Santi that it’s completely normal and to be expected. He’d asked them how long it would take for her to become lucid and coherent, and they hadn’t really been able to give him an answer.

Could be a few days, could be another week.

But it’s okay, she needs to rest. She needs to rest and Santi needs to get a fucking grip on himself so he can be there for her when she’s finally fully conscious again.

He thinks the nurses have started to notice that he’s keeping his distance, and that they’ve been setting him up to touch her in small ways that he can never really say no to.

“Can you fix her blanket for me?”

“Hold her hand up while I replace the bandage on her IV?”

“Help me slide her over?”

He always does what’s asked of him, but his fingers never linger and he’s managed to do it all without directly touching her skin so far. The sweatshirt she’s in is good for more than just keeping her warm.

But still, he doesn’t really count it as touching her. Direct contact with her body isn’t something he can even imagine right now because he still wants to cry every time he pulls away from her, and he’s only touching a fucking piece of clothing she’s wearing.

Santi needs to get his shit figured out.

It’s not fair to her, not in the least.

So at three in the morning, when he knows it’s going to be another hour before her morning labs are drawn, when he knows that there won’t be a single person in to bother them until then, he gets out of the chair he’s been living in and moves to sit on the end of her bed.

She stirs, and the panic in her eyes is immediate. Her fingers tighten around the blanket and she looks like she’s getting ready to scream or cry out.

He hates it. He hates causing it even though he knows that he’s not really the reason behind it.

He clears his throat and whispers her name, trying his best to keep his voice from wavering.

She blinks, his voice clearly registering in her head though she still looks confused and unsure, but the terror melts away. She knows this is someone safe, someone that she can trust and someone who isn’t going to hurt her. She’s safe.

“Stay.”

“I’m right here, baby.”

She shakes her head and closes her eyes again. “You always leave.”

He’s figured out that she thinks she’s dreaming every time she opens her eyes and sees him. She thinks that she’s going to wake up to Nathan and that Santiago will be gone.

It breaks his heart.

“You’re not dreaming sweetheart. You’re okay.”

She shakes her head again.

“I’m right here,” he repeats, taking a deep breath before he reaches his hand out, but he stops when he’s only an inch away.

There’s no heat radiating from her, and if he wasn’t standing there watching her breathe he’d be thinking the worst.

It finally hits Santi just how small and fragile she is.

And now he feels like if he touches her, he’ll break her.

He pulls his hand back.

He’ll try again tomorrow.

OCTOBER SEVENTH — DAY FOUR

It’s cold and dark and his voice is coming from all around her. He’s calling her name, threatening her with things that she tries so hard to block out but they still creep into her mind, filling her with even more panic and dread as she’s left to think about what he’s going to do to her once he finds her.

Nathan calls it “The Game”.

He gives her a thirty second head start, tells her to run as far and as fast as she can, and if she can get away, she’s free. She can go home.

But if he catches her, his twisted words become a reality. He’ll keep her chained up for a few days, or maybe it’s a couple weeks or even a month, she’s never really sure but then the cycle repeats.

And he always catches her, always. No matter how sure she is that she’s finally escaped, he’s always right there to pin her to the ground and have his way with her. He’s always there to crush her hope and what little faith she’s able to gain back in those brief moments of thinking she’s free.

She shakes her head, trying to clear her mind enough to focus. She needs to get moving.

She looks down to figure out which way she had come and there’s snow. She hates snow. She used to love it, back when her and Santi would go for walks around Christmas time, hot cocoa in hand with their arms linked together. She wonders if he’s put the tree up this year. She wonders if Christmas has already passed.

But per usual, that happy thought of Santiago is ripped away from her when she hears Nathan’s voice again, this time only closer. Her skin crawls.

She has to start running. She knows she’s not as fast as she used to be, she’s too weak, but she has to try.

God, she hates snow.

She never stands a chance. It’s always so easy for Nathan to follow her tracks, and it always feels like there are tiny little needles stabbing into her bare feet with each step she takes, but she doesn’t allow herself to feel it in the moment, no. She never thinks about the pain until The Game is over, because of course she’ll take that moment of pain in trade for freedom. She’ll take those pins in needles if it means she’s just one step closer to getting away.

She thinks she might have it this time. Nathan’s voice is far off again, and she can see something in the distance. A road, maybe.

Yes, a road. That was definitely a car zooming past.

She runs faster, that familiar hope blossoming in her chest. She’s so close, so so close. Just a few more yards-

But then there’s crushing weight on top of her, and rough hands grabbing at her hips and she doesn’t have to look to know who it is.

He found her, of course he found her.

She immediately starts to cry, kicking herself because she should have expected it, she shouldn’t have gotten her hopes so high. All Nathan does is laugh and pull her closer, and then she feels his hand move into her hair. He holds her head up so she can keep her eyes on the road while he gets himself ready to do what he always does.

She tries to just lay there, begging her mind to drift off towards Santi, towards her safe place. When she thinks about him instead of what’s happening, it’s not so bad. Santi makes it all better.

But then another car drives by, and then another, and another and she can’t focus on anything but the fact that she’d been so close. There were people right there, maybe close enough to hear her if she’s loud enough.

She screams.

She wakes up screaming.

She’s screaming and kicking and Santi’s immediately by her side, calling her name, begging her to look at him but she doesn’t hear a thing, doesn’t register it.

He calls out for a nurse, starting to panic, afraid that she’s hurt and in pain but then he hears his name leave her lips in a broken, mangled sob and he knows she must’ve been dreaming.

He wants to cry with her. He hates seeing her like this.

Two nurses rush into the room, trying to get her attention as well but to no avail. They’re asking her what hurts, what happened, but all she can do is thrash around and call out for Santi again.

Hearing her like that, it’s the final push he needs to finally reach out to her.

Santi takes her hand, kissing each of her knuckles once he feels like she’s not going to punch him while he whispers that it’s okay, he’s right here and he’s not leaving her. She’s not with Nathan, she’s not in danger. She’s okay.

She doesn’t calm down, not really, so beyond terrified that Santiago’s voice is nothing but a trick her mind is playing on her, that he is the dream, one her brain had created to block it all out.

He repeats his words a second time, moving one of his hands up to her cheek, and it seems to break her out of it just a little bit more. He brings the second one up so that he’s cupping her face, and he watches as she immediately melts into him.

“You’re okay, sweet girl, it’s okay. It’s me, Santi.”

She doesn’t open her eyes. He wishes she would, but he doesn’t expect her to, not really. She’s so tired and he’s sure crying has left her completely exhausted.

He knows he’s right when her breathing evens out again.

But he doesn’t let go. Now that he’s touched her, he doesn’t want to stop, even though he knows that once she’s coherent it’ll probably be the last thing she wants.

He’ll take it while he can get it though.

He holds her hand all night long.

[jungshookz]

the one where yoongi hates his therapist but kind of likes her receptionist; lveb!verse

➺ pairing; min yoongi x reader

➺ genre; lveb!universe equal parts emotionally constipated and cheeky yoongi!! the man of our dreams!! i don’t really know what to categorize this drabble as but it’s cute and it’s sfw <3 

➺ wordcount: 5k 

➺ summary; yoongi hates going to therapy - but you and your dumb little hershey kisses make it a tiny bit better, he supposes. 

➺ what to expect; “you like a man who’s unable to form emotional bonds with people, baby?”

➺ optional reading: not necessary but feel free to read la vie en bonsai just to get a feel for what yoongi’s like and why we’re all falling hopelessly in love with him!! 

                                          »»————-　♡　————-««

“see you next week, yoongi!”

“uh-huh, yep.” the smile on yoongi’s face drops as soon as he shuts the door behind him and he immediately rolls his eyes

well

that was an hour and a half of his life that could’ve gone towards something more productive

watching paint dry probably would’ve been more productive than whatever the hell that was

dr. i-don’t-have-chairs-but-i-have-beanbags basically spent the entire session asking him to list out things that he loved which he thought was going to be an easy task because he liked a lot of things!

and everything was easy peasy lemon squeezy until dr. glittery-purple-nameplate pointed out that yoongi kept saying that he ‘liked’ this and he ‘liked’ that and he’d never actually said he ‘loved’ anything once and then she went into the whole ‘why do you think you’re so scared of love?’ thing and his eyes rolled so far back into his skull that he actually saw his pink, wrinkly brain

he knows that she’s just doing her job but he’d really appreciate if one of his sessions with her just consisted of the two of them sitting in silence while scrolling through their phones

he even asked her one time if it’d be alright if they did that just so he could tell his friend (the one that sent him here) that he willingly sat through an entire session of therapy 

obviously she said no and yoongi resisted the urge to use that as an excuse to give her 1/5 stars on google reviews (unfortunately the option to give 0 stars isn’t available) 

it’s just really hard to believe that dr. are-you-more-comfortable-opening-up-to-my-homemade-handpuppet-rory-the-lion has 5/5 shining gold stars on basically every single one of her google reviews

yoongi should be happy that he’s going to one of the best therapists in the city but he’s noT because: he doesn’t even need therapy!

he doesn’t even know why he’s here!

he shouldn’t be in therapy!

he’s min frickin yoongi!!

what the hell does he need a therapist for??

what the hell does he need therapy for?!

he can literally solve his own problems

if he’s sad he just plays video games all day and also eats an entire pint of ice cream  

if he’s mad he just plays violent video games all day and aggressively shoves an entire pint of ice cream into his mouth

he’s spent his entire life coming up with different coping mechanisms for himself and he thinks that he has a pretty good grip on his emotions

the only one that he’s a little iffy about is obviously <3 love <3 but-

that’s not a big deal, is it?

yes, technically speaking, he’s “emotionally unavailable” or whatever, but he really doesn’t know why that’s such an issue

yes, the thought of committing to someone in a long-term relationship and the thought of saying “i love you” to someone makes him want to rip his skin off but again, he really doesn’t know why that’s such a big iSSUE

besides

emotional unavailability is sexy

whenever he tells someone that he’s incapable of loving and the sex we’re going to have in three seconds will be animalistic and primal and will also mean nothing to me whatsoever their underwear basically flies off their legs and out the window

so, again: what! is! the! big! problem!

the only reason why he’s here is because, as mentioned earlier, one of his friends set up an appointment for him because god knows he’s not here of his own accord

(also, she did it without asking him first, so he’s still a little upset with her, but she made him a whole batch of brownies as a form of an apology so now he’s a little less upset with her. just a little, though.)

he knows she means well and only wants the best for him but he’s starting to think that maybe she sent him here to torture him and not to help him

his original plan was to go for like one or two sessions and then end it there buT there’s just a teeny little detail he has yet to mention 

there is one (1) thing that keeps him coming back every week

he’d even go as far as to say that this thing is the only thing that motivates him to continue to waste his hard-earned money on these weekly appointments

and that thing is-

“yoongi!” your eyes light up and yoongi can’t help but smile at how excited you are to see him even though you literally saw him when he was checking in an hour and a half ago, “how was your session?”

“it was-”

“oh, wait!” you gasp before pressing a finger up against your lips, “i don’t know if i’m legally allowed to ask you that. pretend i didn’t said anything.”

“my session was fine-” yoongi ignores you as he folds his arms up on the counter and leans forward, “i’m still dead on the inside and the concept of love remains ever so terrifying, so… yeah! everything’s pretty much the same.”

“ah, yes.” you lean forward as well, “that’s exactly what every girl wants to hear.”

“oh yeah?” the corner of yoongi’s mouth twitches in a smirk, “you like a man who’s unable to form emotional bonds with people, baby?” he asks in a particularly sultry tone and you grin in response

“you gotta stop calling me that before i fully fall in love with you, yoongi-” you sigh dramatically before flittering your lashes at him and yoongi laughs lightly, “well, it is what it is. one day at a time, right?”

“baby steps.” yoongi hums and you nod in agreement before suddenly perking up

“hey- you want a kiss?”

another reason why yoongi enjoys your company is because you keep a little gumball machine on your desk

except you despise gumballs (you told him that on his very first day here when he asked you why there were no gumballs in what was obviously a mini gumball machine) so you filled it up with hershey’s chocolate kisses instead (you change the flavour of them every week! last week they were the milk chocolate almond ones)

“a kiss? from you?” yoongi digs his hands into his pockets, “at least let me put some chapstick on first, darling.”

“you know what i mean, yoongi.” you roll your eyes playfully before plopping the machine down in front of him, “they’re the cookies and creme ones this week!”

"mhm. whatever helps you sleep at night, y/n.”

                                                                  ♡

“see you next week, yoongi!”

“you got it, chief.” yoongi forces a smile before promptly shutting the door behind him

he lets out a huff before shaking his hair out of his eyes

somehow the hour and a half in there felt more like four hours and a half

he kept looking at the clock and whenever he thought that at least a good twenty minutes had gone by, it’d turn out that only like two and a half minutes had gone by!

he feels like maybe once the door is shut that time just ceases to exist

today he was forced to talk about all of the romantic relationships he’s ever had and that’s something that he’s never really discussed with… anyone, really.

not even his closest friends! 

yoongi’s had a multitude of flings but he’s been in three serious-ish relationships (yes, he knows that’s a huge surprise) - obviously none of them worked out because he’s now in therapy for his intimacy issues, but still

needless to say, they messed him up pretty bad

see, his problem was (and you probably wouldn’t be able to guess it after looking at him) the fact that he… fell in love too hard and way too fast.

his first one was in high school - he was pretty much ready to marry this girl and even gave her a promise ring to which she freaked out and broke up with him on the spot 

(she said she felt that it would be better if they broke up since they were both going off to different universities and long distance relationships were tough)

(on the same day they broke up she immediately changed her facebook status back to single which yoongi thought was a pretty icy thing to do)

his second one was in his first year of university (not very long after the high school breakup because that’s how desperate he was to fall in love again) and he wasn’t super sure if he loved this person or if he just wanted to fill the empty void inside of him bUT after two months of dating yoongi asked them if they wanted to move into the same dorm together for the second semester of first year - they said no. 

and then they broke up with him. 

and yoongi ended up with a single-person dorm, which was great!

:D because it meant no one could hear him crying himself to sleep at night worrying that he would never find true love and that no one would ever love him :D

and finally, with his last relationship, he told [unnamed person because yoongi would like to keep that private, thank you very much] that he loved them, like, two weeks after they’d started properly dating (they’d known each other for a year before getting together so yoongi didn’t think it was that weird. it’s not that weird, right??)

long story short, they didn’t say it back, and instead responded with: “oh! thank… you?” and that was a pretty devastating (and humiliating) blow for yoongi and it was after that breakup that he decided that things just had to change

he couldn’t be this person for the rest of his life!

this pathetic wimpy shrimPY little ‘<3 i love you <3’ weak-ass PUNK

eventually he figured that if he just turned all his emotions off, he wouldn’t run into anymore issues

it’s like that saying mo’ money mo’ problems except in this case it would be less emotions less problems

and he thinks it’s been working out pretty well for him so far!

he’s never gotten attached to any of his one-night stands (although he can’t say the same for them, because c’mon - he’s an absolute catch)

and he kind of takes pleasure knowing that they want to have something more with him when he doesn’t want anything at all

he likes playing with feelings

it’s like dangling a piece of candy over a little baby

it’s fun!

…does that make him a twisted individual? 

is he going to go to hell for being a little emotionally manipulative?

also he always finds himself snickering whenever one of his friends started talking about how much they love (gags) their significant others

even the one who sent him here - she just started dating someone in her apartment building - is fully in love with her significant other (he might even go as far to say it was love at first sight for the both of them (double gag)) and sometimes yoongi has to shove a croissant into her mouth just to get her to stop blabbing about how fond she is of her boyfriend

after all this time, yoongi has finally figured out that love is merely a concept

it’s not real!

it’s an idea. 

love is not real.

so, again - yoongi genuinely doesn’t see the issue with being emotionally unavailable. 

this isn’t just him being stubborn or anything - he literally cannot come up with one single reason as to why being emotionally constipated is such a bad thing 

real life constipation is pretty bad but emotional constipation is totally fine! 

emotions make everything that much more difficult and he doesn’t have the time nor the energy to deal with it

being emotionally unavailable makes life easy, breezy AND beautiful!

...

of course, there is the one slight issue that sometimes pops into his mind

is he okay with being like this for the rest of his life?

because if he is, he’s… literally going to die alone.

sure, his friends will be there (unless they die before him, in which case he’s actually going to be alone), but even yoongi has to admit that platonic companionship and romantic companionship are two entirely different things 

is he truly incapable of falling in love with someone? 

he... doesn’t like thinking about that

he prefers to keep those gloomy thoughts tucked away in the dusty basement of his brain

he’d much rather think about-

“yoongi!” you greet as enthusiastically as always as yoongi rounds the corner, “have fun today?”

fun?

in therapy?

that’s hilarious.

“fun? oh, yeah.” yoongi snorts as he folds his arms up on the countertop, “i even got to talk to rory today.”

the two of you exchange knowing glances and you snort before quickly reaching up to clap a hand over your mouth

hey! 

you’re supposed to be supportive of rory’s role in therapy!

he has a very important job

one might say that his job of providing emotional support is far more important that yours, you measly little receptionist

you make appointments all day but rory saves lives 

“well, i’m… glad that rory is helping you during these trying times.” you clear your throat as you straighten up in your seat

if you get caught making fun of rory you’re dead meat

“mhm.” yoongi nods before leaning over a little, “now gimme a kiss, babe.”

your heart skips a beat in your chest and you can’t help but grin when yoongi turns his head and points to his cheek, “well?”

“milk chocolate caramel this week, babe.” you hum as you place the little gumball machine in front of him

“ooh, yummy-“ yoongi’s eyes widen in excitement as he cranks the metal knob, “so, you got any plans tonight?”

a single kiss plops out and he opens up the little metal flap to take it out

“eh, i mean i guess i do?” you shift in your seat before shrugging, “sort of.”

yoongi raises a brow as he unwraps the tin foil, “what’s that supposed to mean? you got a hot date or something?”

“...yep!”

wait what

yoongi pauses right as he’s about to pop the chocolate into his mouth

because he was… just kidding about that

that was supposed to be a joke

“oh!” yoongi clears his throat, “well, who- who are you… who are you going out with? tell me about them.”

“oh, you don’t wanna-” you shake your head, “the details are boring, i promise it’s nothing to geek out over-”

“no, c’mon! tell me.” yoongi shoves the wrapping into his mouth as the chocolate melts over his tongue, “give me the deets.”

“alright, well…” you reach up to push your glasses up, “i actually met him at the club that he works at! he’s a bartender. we’ve gone out on a couple of dates and he’s really nice! he’s super nice, i just- i don’t know. i guess i just- there’s not much of a spark, you know? he’s taken me out four times and he kissed me on the last one and it was nice but… i don’t know. i’m not sure i even know where i’m going with this story- b-but he’s nice!”

yoongi nods slowly as he pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek

ah

well

good for you!

whatever

you’re going on a date and it’s whatever

it’s not like he cares

because if he cared it would imply that he has feelings for you

and in case it wasn’t already clear, yoongi is incapable of having any feelings at all because that’s just who he is

he’s spent years building his status as an emotionless android and he’s not going to let a stinky girl like you ruin it (you are not stinky. you smell like pears and it’s very pleasing to his nostrils. and he hates that he spent thirty minutes at the drugstore sniffing multiple shampoos until he found the one that he’s pretty sure is the one you use. and now his pillows smell like you.) 

“nice, nice…” yoongi mutters under his breath, “anyways, i should, um, probably go! i’m like, two minutes away from getting a parking ticket-” he laughs nervously before reaching up to scratch the back of his head

“oh! okay, yeah-” you take the gumball machine down and set it back down next to your monitor, “are you- is everything okay?”

yoongi’s no longer looking at you and you’re usually the first one to break eye contact so this is… odd  

“yeah, i just- i remembered i had a thing, so-” yoongi coughs into his fist, “yeah, i gotta go.”

“should i- should i put you down for next week, or-” you get up from your seat quickly when yoongi basically sprints towards the elevators

“yeah!” he flicks his wrist at you, “um, yeah- go for it. i’m just gonna-”

ding!

the elevator doors slide open and yoongi rushes in at the speed of light

“s-same time, or-”

the door glide shut before you get a chance to finish asking your question and you can’t help but feel a little… rejected?

even though you’re not entirely sure what it is you’re being rejected by

that was weird

that was weird, right?

it’s not just your imagination?

you frown to yourself as you plop back down on your squeaky chair

maybe your chocolates tasted funky or something?

you unwrap one for yourself before popping it into your mouth

…

no, the chocolates are fine!

what went wrong?

you chew on the inside of your cheek anxiously as you quickly go through what just happened

everything was fine

everything was normal up until the point you said you were going out on a date…

oOh, maybe you shouldn’t have brought up dates or anything like that

you don’t know too much about yoongi’s sessions besides the fact that he has intimacy issues but maybe the subject of dating was triggering for him?

damnit

you idiot!

this is why you could never be a therapist because you’d probably end up traumatizing your patients instead of helping them 

you should’ve just told yoongi that your plans tonight involved NO dating and it was just going to be you going to town on a pizza at home

it’s too bad

you were kind of hoping the reason why he started acting so weirdly was because he didn’t want you to go out on a date

here’s the thing: 

you… you sort of… have a little crush on yoongi. at least, you think you do.

you can’t help it!

he’s surprisingly very sweet and he has that boyish charm that you’re really into anD he’s also super goofy AND hello!!!! even when you’re not wearing your glasses you can see that he’s really attractive!!!

sometimes you find yourself daydreaming about that smirk of his 

it just makes you feel tingly 

...

what were you talking about again?

oh

right! 

you’re pretty sure the two of you use the same shampoo and you don’t want to be that person but... 

match made in heaven? 

you’d like to think so. 

you just don’t want to ruin this super fun and bantery and also kind of flirty relationship you have with him (though, now that you’re thinking about it, you can’t help but wonder if it’s actual flirting or if yoongi’s just doing his thing) and you knoW he’s definitely going to freak out if you’re suddenly like hey,.,. do u,.,. maybe wanna go out on a date or something.,,. because i think i have a teeny crush on you because even though you’re dead on the inside you are OBSCENELY charming and witty and attractive and everything i want in a significant other,.,.

yoongi would run for the hills if he ever found out you felt that way about him!

“good going, y/n.” you grumble to yourself as you lean back against your chair

well

you can worry about your yoongi-related issues later

you have a date with a cute bartender to get to

a cute, very nice bartender

                                                                 ♡

yoongi’s jealous.

at least, he thinks he’s jealous

this is weird, right?

because yoongi doesn’t get jealous!

he doesn’t get jealous over anything so whY does he not like the idea of you going out with someone who isn’t him?

yoongi squeezes his fingers tighter around his steering wheel as he stares ahead with knitted brows

he left the office like half an hour ago and now he’s just been sitting in his car in silence

and before you ask, yes, there was a parking ticket tucked behind his windshield wiper when he came down here

“jealous, jealous…” yoongi mutters to himself before shaking his head and letting out a huff, “no. i’m not jealous. i’m not!”

he’s not jealous because he doesn’t like you!

he doesn’t!

he likes flirting with you, it doesn’t mean that he likes you

of course, if he didn’t like you… he wouldn’t be grinning like an idiot every time you greet him

if he didn’t like you, he would’ve called you out on your lame ‘you want a kiss?’ joke a long, lonG time ago - instead he just lets you keep saying it because he knows you like making the same joke over and over again

if he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t be coming back to therapy every week, for crying out loud

if he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t have bought pear-scented shampoo for himself

he should be buying manly shampoos!

like… winter breeze!

or… musky oak??

or diRTy monster truck??!? (he’s not sure if that’s an actual shampoo scent for men, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it was)

you know, those kinds of scents!

not frickin pear

yoongi pauses when he realises that he actually doesn’t mind the thought of waking up next to you

he feels his heart skip a beat and he gasps in surprise before quickly slapping his hand up against his chest

oh god

it’s happening!

“…son of a bitch!” yoongi groans as he slams his head back against the headrest, “are you kidding me?!”

he’s feeling!

NO!!!!

that, or he’s having a heart attack

(he’d rather have the heart attack.)

yoongi turns his head right as you exit the building and he doesn’t know where these emotions are coming from but all of a sudden he’s being flooded with what can only be describe as…

pure, blinding rage

“what the hell did you put in those damn chocolates?!” yoongi slams the car door behind him and you practically leap ten feet into the air

“i have no money in my wallet i only have a starbucks gift card and it has like three dollars left on- oh.” you immediately relax when you realize that you’re not about to be robbed

it’s just yoongi 

your eyes widen in slight fear when you see him storm his way over to you with his fists clenched at his sides looking like he wants to skin you alive

“you are unbelievable.”

“me??” you shake your head in confusion, “yoongi, what are you-” you pause to glance down at your watch, “why are you still here? you left, like, forty minutes ago-”

“answer the question, y/n!“ yoongi crosses his arms, “you did something to those chocolates! that’s the only reason why i’m feeling like this-”

“what- i don’t- is it your stomach or something?? maybe you’re lactose intolerant-”

“nO, i don’t mean i physically feel something-“ yoongi looks around before leaning in, “i’m feeling something.”

you frown

“yoongi, the chocolates aren’t special chocolates, if that’s what you’re implying. there are kids that come to the office, i can’t go around giving out marijuana infused hershey kisses-”

“i don’t want you to go out with your nice bartender guy!” yoongi blurts out, “because i… i want you to go out with me instead.”

you pull back in surprise before tilting your head curiously

…what?

“what do you- what are- what?” you ask incredulously before narrowing your eyes at him

did he just... ask you out?

yoongi swallows nervously

his pure rage has now been replaced by pure anxiety

“i’m saying that i-” yoongi shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, “i’m- i wanna be the one to take you out. o-on a date. or whatever they’re called.”

“you wanna take me out on a date?” you ask dumbly and yoongi rolls his eyes

“a.. i mean i guess it’s technically a da..ate...” yoongi’s mouth goes dry and you can see the panic quickly filling his pretty brown eyes 

“we don’t- we don’t have to call it a date!” you perk up, “we can just... we can call it a... flirty hangout!” 

“a flirty hangout?”

“a flangout.”

“a flangout.”

yoongi takes a second to think it over

a flangout

yeah!

he can do a flangout because a flangout is noT a date 

“i’m sorry, i just-” you wave a hand in front of yourself, “i thought your whole schtick was that you didn’t believe in dates- flangouts- and ooey-gooey holding hands related situations, so why would you wanna-”

“because i like you!” yoongi groans before looking away from you and running a hand through his hair, “i think? i don’t know, okay? i know that i’m definitely attracted to- i just- you make me- i like talking to you after my sessions are over, and i like that you keep a gumball machine on your desk even though it still doesn’t make sense to me that you’ve filled it with kisses and not with actual gumballs, and i like that even though you know i, professionally speaking, have very intense intimacy issues, i-i like that you don’t judge me for it...” he trails off before letting out a breath and turning back to face you, “you can say no, obviously, but… i just think you’re really pretty and i think you know exactly what you’re doing whenever you ask me if i want a kiss.”  

you blink owlishly at yoongi and he immediately feels like he’s about to projectile vomit everywhere

see??

this is exactly what he means when he says that feelings make literally everything ten times more complicated

he just told you that he likes you and now he just made things awkward!

which means noW he has to go find a new therapist-

wait, no

nope! he’s not going to find another therapist - he’s just going to noT go to therapy

why?

because min frickin’ yoongi doesn’t need therapy-

“i do.” yoongi looks at you with wide eyes when you suddenly speak up

you do

did… did he PROPOSE to you?!

great!!

of course he did!!

his feelings are back and they’re even worse than before-

“i do know exactly what i’m doing whenever i ask you if you wanna kiss-“ you hold up a finger to correct yourself, “if you want a kiss.”

“i’m happy with either one of those options-“

“there is one minor issue, though.” you turn your phone around to show yoongi, “what am i supposed to tell sweet tae?”

“who the hell is tae- ohhhh, bartender guy.” yoongi winces as he glances at your texts briefly, “i forgot about him.”

“nice bartender guy!!” you push your bottom lip out in a pout as you scroll through your texts with taehyung

:-(

his last message to you was ‘excited for tonight!! see you soon :-)’

:-(((((((

“do you… do you genuinely like him?” yoongi asks cautiously

“i mean, i- i don’t noT like him, you know?” you sigh and reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, “it’s just that… he’s so nice-”

“okay, i think we’ve got that part covered-”

“i don’t wanna break his heart!!” you whine, “what do i do?!”

“alright, here’s what you’re going to do-” yoongi clears his throat, “you go out with him tonight-”

“but i don’t want to lead him o-” 

“you go out with nice bartender tae tonight to tell him that it’s over. and you tell him that you’ve really enjoying spending time with him, but you feel like the two of you would be better off as friends. it’s simple, it’s clean, it’s straight to the point! no harm, no foul.” yoongi dusts his hands off before smiling proudly, “and then i’ll take you to the mcdonalds drive-thru for dessert.”

“i mean, i guess so…” you purse your lips in thought, “should i, like… if he kisses me or something, should i kiss him back?”

“you’re going to pity-kiss him?” yoongi gasps dramatically before tutting at you, “wow. and i’m the one in therapy.”

“wha-”

“now, c’mon-” yoongi places his hand on the small of your back as he leads you towards his car, “let me drive you to your gross date so that we can go on our cool flangout afterwards-”

“you know, they’re doing a limited edition chips ahoy mcflurry right now-“ you grin excitedly as yoongi opens the door for you, “you wanna split one with me?”

“split one?” yoongi scoffs and bends down a little so he can look you directly in the eye, the corner of his mouth curling upwards in a teasing smirk, “baby, i’ll get you your very own mcflurry-”

(it turns out that taehyung actually planned to end things tonight, too - he said if you ever made your way back to his bar he’d give you a cocktail on the house! so, it looks like you can have your cake and eat it too.) 

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

requested drabbles masterlist

[alltooreid]

Dancing With Our Hands Tied

In order to keep Y/N safe from danger, Spencer vows to keep their relationship a complete secret from everyone they know. However, as their romance gets more serious, Y/N and Reid begin to realize that no matter how in love they are, they may have been doomed from the start.

A/N: Back at it with a hopefully very angsty fic! This is of course inspired by the Taylor Swift song, but you don’t need to be familiar with the song to read and enjoy! Also I made a playlist for this one shot, which you can find here (its best if you listen to it in order and of course you don’t have to listen as you read, but if you enjoy that kind of thing, I thought it would be fun). Additionally, in order for the timeline of this fic to make the most sense, I’m choosing to ignore the Lauren Reynolds subplot, because trying to incorporate it and explain it would be distracting and unnecessary in my opinion. Thanks for reading!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Type: Angst

Word Count: 3.9K

Content Warnings: Some cursing, general fighting angst, discussion of pregnancy, brief mention of abortion (follow up is left intentionally ambiguous, based on your own desires and beliefs you are allowed to decide where that aspect goes (pro choice tings))

“I, I loved you in spite of Deep fears that the world would divide us So, baby, can we dance Oh, through an avalanche?”

Spencer Reid hated funerals. 

Somehow he felt he was always invited to one, and no matter how hard it was for him to be there, he always made every effort to go. So when Hotch had to plan Haley’s funeral, Spencer knew he had to go, no matter how much he would hate it.

He looked down to the grass as his supervisor cried over his now dead wife, the most emotion he had seen from him ever. He refused to look up and watch, although there were at least a hundred people there to mourn Haley, this moment felt innately private to Hotch. Spencer didn’t think it was his place for his eyes to intrude. 

So he stared at the lawn and got lost in his own mind.

Right then and there he realized he never wanted to go through what Hotch had to go through. No matter how many philosophers described love in the most beautiful, enchanting way, Spencer didn’t want it anymore. 

He didn’t want to go through a heartbreak, because how worth it could it be?

Of course, all information he had in his repertoire pointed to the claim that it was worth it. Yet he couldn’t pay attention to Oscar Wilde, trying to tell him that “hearts are made to be broken,” or E. A. Bucchianeri screaming that “grief is the price we pay for love.”

All he could see at that moment was the most stone-faced man he had ever known, breaking down in front of everyone he knew over the woman he loved. 

At that moment Spencer Reid vowed to completely give up on love. He would become the best profiler to ever live. People would compare him to Jason Gideon, but Spencer Reid would win every time. Spencer wouldn’t let himself be like Gideon and get so hung up over a person that he couldn’t ever work anymore.

So when Spencer left the funeral and went to bed that night, he was confident that he would sleep alone like that forever. It was comfortable like that and he was happy. Who needs to be in love?

Not Spencer Reid that’s for sure.

Well, until three months later, when Spencer Reid met Y/N Y/L/N. 

She was beautiful, and Spencer knew he wanted to get to know her the first time he laid eyes on her. 

But he was doing such a good job recently…. Even Hotch was impressed with his work ethic. The only one who had talked to him about his lack of emotion was Penelope, she seemed concerned when Spencer told her he didn’t want to meet let alone go on a date with the cute nerdy barista from her go to coffee shop. Spencer refused to reason with her, he was too focused on proving himself to Hotch and the rest of the team. 

Even though in the back of his mind, Spencer knew he had already proven himself to the rest of the team, now he just needed to be good enough for himself.

A truly impossible task.

But he was still trying to do it, so he didn’t talk to the barista at the new coffee shop he was trying.  

He wasn’t expecting her to try and talk to him. Maybe that’s why he was so willing to give up his own reasoning.  

“That’s a lot of sugar, sugar. Are you as sweet as your coffee?” she said, giggling as she did it. She knew the line was cheesy and stupid but she had been eyeing Spencer Reid since he came in and knew she needed to get his attention. Luckily, he couldn’t help but laugh.

Their first date was right then and there. They got distracted and talked till closing, Y/N’s coworkers noticing she was actually putting herself out there and deciding to pick up her slack so she could continue. 

“So are you going to call me Dr. Reid or were you just leading me on for 3 hours?”

“Of course I’ll call you, how else am I going to get you to watch Doctor Who?”

Y/N smiled, “Well I know this is kind of forward, but I have this art exhibit tomorrow, I would love to see you there. But don’t over think that! I’ve invited pretty much everyone I know. I have a bet to win amongst the other art students, whoever has the most people come to see them wins one of those giant Costco sheet cakes. I need that sheet cake Spencer.”

Spencer smiled, “Well, I am from Vegas . . . Maybe I could help push the odds in your favor.”

“Well I can’t wait to see you there. Tomorrow, 6 pm, I’ll text you the details.”

It was only when he laid down to sleep that Spencer remembered his philosophy on love, but strangely, he did not care. 

He may have been trying to freeze his heart, but Y/N was coming in with a blowtorch.

And he didn’t mind. In fact he unlocked the door to let her in.

So when he arrived at work the next morning, he fully intended on going to her art show. He thought about what flowers to bring her. . . was this a date? Was last night a date? Were roses too strong a message? He couldn’t do anything red, it was too forward. Pink? What if she saw it as stereotypical because she’s a woman, maybe she hates pink?! Yellow Tulips were safe, but if he got her yellow tulips then she would think they were just friends and Spencer didn’t want to be just friends.

His internal debate was interrupted by none other than Penelope Garcia, but not to interrupt their paperwork day with a case, but to make an announcement to the bullpen.

“Hello my loves! I have an interesting idea for some team bonding tonight, my favorite barista and dear friend has invited me to her school art show. Of course she needs the most support humanly possible, so you all need to come with me and look at cool art!”

“Who’s this friend of yours Penelope?” JJ asked.

“Oh Jayge you’ve met Y/N! She’s lovely and I’m sure an incredible artist. You guys will all love her!”

Suddenly Spencer remembered Hotch and his broken down faces at Haley’s funeral. He remembered his philosophy on love and his fear of heartbreak.

But he also remembered how alive he felt with Y/N. How the way she laughed like a little kid and how that made him feel giddy. He remembered how she was always so interested in what he had to say. He remembered that he really liked her.

And at that moment, Spencer realized that he did not have to choose between being in love and keeping his heart safe from the devastating heartbreak of seeing his true love die. He realized that the reaper could only find Haley because Hotch let people know they were together Because everyone knew of Hotch’s wife, she was in constant danger.

Maybe if he kept Y/N secret he could still be with her.

“Spencer! Did you hear me?”

“No, um sorry Garcia what did you say?”

“I asked if you were going to come to Y/N’s art show, you know you too would make such a cute couple! You should totally come.”

“I actually can’t, I’m not feeling well.”

She sighed, “That’s what you said last time I tried to get you two together 187 . . . Do you want to talk about anything Spencer? You haven’t been yourself lately.”

“I’m fine, I just have a headache. I don’t want to go out tonight.”

She rested her hand on his shoulder for a second, before following Morgan to the kitchen. Spencer knew she was going to say something to him, but he didn’t care. He had found the perfect solution to his conundrum.

And he knew exactly what flowers to send to Y/N.

Y/N texted him thirteen times, and waited an extra hour after the open house closed in case he showed. So although she went home empty handed, one person away from enough cake to feed fifty, she received a call from Spencer Reid.

“Hey, where were you tonight? I was looking forward to seeing you.”

“I’m sorry Y/N, something came up, but I have something for you! Are you still there?”

“Oh no, I just got to my apartment. I can send you the address.”

“I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

And five minutes later Spencer was at Y/N’s door, with Chinese take out and white peonies, a flower known for its apologetic symbolism.

Y/N blushed, “You didn’t have to bring me flowers Spencer . . .”

“Well I wanted to bring some to your show, but I figured this could be the next best thing . . . And maybe we could eat some of your Costco sheet cake afterwards. Sounds like a balanced meal to me.”

“Although I love that idea, I unfortunately came home tonight sheet cake-less.”

Reid frowned, “How close were you? Would I have made any difference?”

“Oh no!” Y/N lied, “I was way off, don’t even worry about it.” She smiled, “I’m just excited that you're here right now.”

Spencer blushed and looked down at his feet, “Well I’m excited to be here.”

Four months after that night, Y/N asked Spencer a seemingly stupid question while they were eating take out at her apartment. “Spencer, I love takeout and all but we haven’t gone out in public together since the first time we met. . . Call me stupid but I’m starting to wonder if you don’t want to be seen with me.”

Spencer sighed, “Y/N, it’s not that it’s just . . . complicated.”

“I just don’t get it. Am I the second woman or something?”

“No! Absolutely not! You are my one and only flower,” he said, smiling and then leaning in to kiss her nose. She giggled in response, but quickly remembered the serious nature of their conversation. “Y/N, you know what I do for a living.”

“I don’t understand what that has to do with anything.”

“Not too long ago, my boss was targeted by a serial killer who made it his mission to make his life miserable. In doing so he killed his wife. I just . . .  I don’t want that to happen to you Y/N. I think I’m falling in love with you, and I can’t put you through that.”

“Spencer . . . I love you too.”

So no matter how badly Y/N wanted to tell her family, or update her Facebook status, she respected Spencer, and although she didn’t completely understand his concerns, she wanted him to be happy.

So she spent ten more months like that, catering to Spencer Reid’s peace of mind. Pretending to smile as he told her stories of all the funny things his team members did, all about their partners, and their love lives.

A couple times now, Y/N asked Spencer if she could meet them, but Spencer always shot it down. When he first mentioned the idea of keeping their relationship a secret, Y/N had secretly hoped it would be one of those things that was forgotten about within a week or two. But no. It had been many, many weeks, and Spencer still didn’t want to be seen in public with her.

And by now that was all she wanted. To go on a real date, to introduce him to her friends, to actually be able to tell her coworkers that something did come from that guy she hit it off with.

Everyday, Y/N felt she did the same exact thing, she went to work, would come home and if Spencer was still in Quantico, she would convince him to come over. (They had been dating for over a year now, and Y/N had never been to his apartment. She didn’t even know where it was). If Spencer did come over, he would usually bring some kind of dessert with him, and they would talk and be merry in their own little secret oasis. A couple weeks ago, Y/N started to get this uncomfortable, uneasy feeling that encompassed her whole body, her whole being. Every part of her was trying to tell her that Spencer Reid was not the man for her. And even though she was still very much in love with him, she agreed.

Although she loved Spencer for the person he was, the man who brought her every different flavor of cheesecake from the bakery across town (one a day for fifty nine days straight), the man who begged her to make him a painting for valentines day instead of buying him a present, the man who cried when she did and laughed when she did and-

There were a lot of things to love about Spencer Reid, but there were a lot of things to hate about their relationship.

She hated the time she bought a gold locket in the shape of a heart, and put a picture of them in it so she could keep him with her all day long, and he made her return it because it could fly open and someone could recognize him. She hated the day she came home with a little beige kitten named Betsy and Spencer made her give Betsy to her sister so that he wouldn’t get cat hair on his clothes and have to answer a million questions. She hated the time Spencer missed her birthday weekend because he had a case and couldn’t give an excuse to why he couldn’t go. She hated that Spencer was her entire life, while she seemed like just an inconvenience to his.

And most of all, she hated that she loved him so much. Because deep down she knew that she could never leave Spencer Reid, but she also knew that there was no way they could last if nothing changed.

Just then Spencer knocked on her door, she had offered him his own key many times, but he declined because he didn’t want anyone to see it on his key ring and ask what it was for. She let him in, and right away his fun perky smile dropped. “You’ve been crying. I can tell.”

“Is that the kind of thing they teach you in FBI school?”

“Yes actually, but that’s not the point,” he said, dropping his bouquet of red chrysanthemums on Y/N’s coffee table and grabbing one of her hands with both of his. “Talk to me Y/N.”

She sighed, “I love you Spencer, but I just don’t know if we can do this anymore.”

“What do you mean flower?”

“Spencer we’ve been together for over a year-”

“One year, two months and five days,” he corrected.

“Yes, yes that. We’ve been together for one year, two months and five days but no one except us knows that.”

“Y/N I thought you were okay with that, I just want you to be safe.”

“I thought I was okay with it but,” she paused, afraid of what she wanted to say, “I’m not Spencer, I don’t want to live like this anymore. I love you, and I want to be with you. To really be with you. What happens if we ever get married, do we have to get eloped, would you even let us get married because you need someone else to watch? When do I get to tell my mom I’m in a relationship? What if you get hurt out in the field, and no one has heard of me, let alone knows to call me, and we never get to say goodbye? How far do you plan on taking this?”

Spencer grew flustered, “Um, I- I don’t know? I didn’t know you were even thinking about those things.”

“Do you think about those things? Things like getting married?”

“You’re the love of my life Y/N, of course I do.”

“Well then something needs to change. We can’t live like this anymore.”

“Things will get better Y/N, I promise you, we’ll start small but I’m going to make this better for you. Actually, um we can start right now,” he started digging through his messenger bag. After a minute, he pulled out a smaller gold heart locket than the one you had originally purchased for yourself. “I, um I was going to give it to you for your birthday, but I feel like now is the best time. I couldn’t find the same one, but it’s the same picture inside.”

She teared up, “I love it. It’s perfect. Here, put it on me.” She turned around and pushed her hair to one side so that Spencer could clasp the delicate chain around her neck.

They kissed, and afterward Spencer spoke, “I hate to ruin this moment, but I’ve had to use the bathroom ever since I got here.”

Y/N laughed, “Ok go, I’ll be waiting.”

While waiting for her love to come back, Y/N admired her flowers. Ever since Spencer began to get her different flowers to symbolize different things she had developed an abnormal botany fascination. She would always beat Spencer to explaining the symbolism of her latest bouquet, so she already knew the red chrysanthemum was a symbol of prosperous, passionate love in most countries. However she also knew that in Italy, chrysanthemums were a death flower, given only at funerals.

Part of her couldn’t help but wonder if some unconscious part of Spencer’s genius brain was beginning to feel the same way she did. Three weeks later nothing much had changed in the state of Y/N and Spencer’s romance. She was still unheard of in the eyes of the BAU and two nights prior Spencer had stopped her from calling her mother to tell her about him.

And then Y/N discovered her sick, uneasy, all over body feeling was not just her incredible intuition.

She was pregnant.

She had taken a couple of tests a while prior and could just now get into the doctor to get it confirmed. But it was official. She was pregnant.

As soon as the nurse confirmed it she broke down crying. And when she asked her a couple more questions, she broke down even further. “Are you currently in a relationship?”

“No,” she sniffed.

“Do you know who the father is?”

“I don’t know,” she sobbed.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know where you want to go from here, but there’s a lot more options that you may think. Everything will be okay.”

Y/N still cried the whole way home.

She spent the rest of the day thinking about how to tell Spencer, and then overthinking what he would say.

She knew Spencer loved children, but he couldn’t even manage to tell people she existed, how was he going to explain a long term relationship and a baby?

It would have taken decades for Y/N to prepare to deliver this news, but Spencer showed up at 8:19 pm.

“Hi flower! How are you today?”

“I’m pregnant.” She blurted out, she was not planning to do it exactly like that, but she panicked.

“What?”

“I’m pregnant Spencer.”

He sighed and ran one of his hands through his hair, “You could get an abortion?”

Y/N lost it. “Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me Spencer?”

“I don’t think a baby is going to be very easy to keep a secret Y/N.”

“Is this how far you’re willing to go Spencer? You want to keep me hidden so bad that you want me to get an abortion? Are you insane?”

“You’re right, Y/N, I’m sorry, we’ll figure something out.”

“No, you’re wrong there Spencer. I’ll figure something out.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can’t do this anymore. I’m done. I love you but, please just get out of my apartment.”

“Y/N please don’t do this, I love you, we can make this work. I know I haven’t been doing the best job for these three weeks, but just give me a little time and I promise we can do this.”

Y/N wiped tears from her eyes, then reached her thumb up to Spencer’s face, wiping his cheek. “Spencer, it’s not a matter of how much I love you or you love me. Sometimes, things just aren’t made to work out. We gave it a good run, but no matter how hard we love each other, I don’t think either of us is happy.”

“But I don’t know how to live in a world without you in it, flower.”

“I’ve never been in your world Spencer, after tonight, nothing in your life will drastically change. You don’t have to worry about living in a universe without me because you’ve already been doing that for 15 months.”

“Please don’t do this, can we just give it another try?”

Y/N wrapped her arms around him, “That’s all we’ve been doing.”

The couple stayed in silence like that for a couple of minutes before Spencer spoke. “Can we just stay here for one night. I can’t believe I never got to do it.” Spencer had never spent the full night at Y/N’s place because he always worried that he would forget to answer his phone and the team would try to come to his apartment to tell him they had a case.

“You know we can’t do that Spencer,” she sighed, knowing she had to stay strong and act on her own best interest, but she also loved Spencer. “But you can stay here, if you want.”

He thought for a moment. “Okay, um do I need that key you always offered me? To lock up when I leave?”

“No, the front door locks automatically when you close it, you just have to make sure you have everything before you go.”

And so Spencer slept in Y/N’s bed, for the first time, without her in it.

And Y/N called the one person she knew Spencer would never try to track her down to to avoid exposing himself.

Penelope Garcia.

She of course let Y/N stay with her for the night, and although she would eventually, Garcia did not pry when Y/N said she didn’t want to talk about what was going on. So Y/N walked to her apartment with peace of mind, she knew that although she had a lot to think about, for the time being everything was going to be just fine.

On the way to Penelope’s apartment, Y/N saw a flower vendor. She couldn’t help but stop by and pick up a bouquet for Penelope, but more so for the symbolic meaning.

Daffodils and daisies.

The flowers of new beginnings.

“I'd kiss you as the lights went out Swaying as the room burned down I'd hold you as the water rushes in If I could dance with you again”

- Thank you for reading! Please reblog and let me know what you think :))

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