#god i wish i could share the fucking IMAGE i have in my head

[sugar-omi]

Also Omi, one more horny 3am thought... But I've been thinking about all the moments in OL and I keep thinking about the moment Happiness? Where once you confront Cove about studying up on Happiness and, if you're in a relationship, you start making out after the conversation... That's what I keep thinking about! Especially the end part where Cove gets really into it and flips you over?? Like it's so hot??? Him just being over you, caging you in and pressing you down with his body?? Like the boy scares himself after that but!! Imagine him doing that again once he gets more comfortable!! Just manhandling MC and just like... yes!! Especially if you just start innocently kissing and it gets heated and suddenly he's just like... flipping you over and letting himself get carried away?? hnngh I need a irl Cove ~ ☕️(now I REALLY should be sleeping)

YES YES YES. I LOVE THAT PART. I LOVE WHEN HE TAKES THE LEAD LIKE THAT. I SCREMED, I CRIED WHEN HE GOT OFF ME. LIKE COME BACK HERE????? FUCK ME??? BREAK MY BACK???????

and.. and in the first patreon 18+ dlc.. when you talk about the experience n he asks you what you liked.. i think, n i usually say this bc its TRUE. but when you tell him you like when he was rough... i think that fucking changes his brain chemistry

seeing the way you react to him being a bit rough with you, flipping you over, grabbing your ass, taking the initiative to french kiss you.. TAKING THE INITIATIVE TO EVEN BRING UP WANTING TO HAVE SEX.

like, i replayed that dlc last night and i havent played olba in ages but the whole time.. i jus kept thinking "what a MAN" "oh my god he's such a man..." LIKE I COULDNT.... I COULDNT RELAX. I WAS IN PIECES.

istg i would inflate his ego so badly i am SICK.

but when he finally gets confident.. god, cove putting his body weight on you, forcing your legs against your chest and all you can do is let cove kiss you, swallowing all your moans, whines and sobs about how good you feel or how it's too much..

all you can see, smell, and feel is cove. his hips smacking against your thighs as he absolutely fucks your brain into mush, his cock slamming into that delicious spongy spot deep inside your messy hole

and all you can think about is his strong arms caged you in, his hands behind your head to keep you from bumping against the headboard. your mind boiled down to the way cove's cock is bullying its way through your overstimulated insides, stirring up your wetness and your ears are filled with loud, filthy squelching, skin against skin, and cove's grunts and moans in your ear...

it's filthy. it's animalistic. it's pure, nasty raw sex and it feels good.

[jamminvroomvroom]

4 with lando :)))

flashing lights - kanye west (respect the art not the artist!)

LN4 x reader

tysm for the request xoxo!! finally continuing my requests (sorry it took ages whoops) flipped my list and went from the bottom for this bc otherwise we were gonna have some repeats lol

images below from pinterest - i claim no ownership 🙃

warnings: none! some swearing, some fluff, lando being a funny little camera shy pr machine - but fr minors pls just dni with my work okay tysm!!!

lando was frantically pacing your apartment when you walked in, eyes wild, as if he hadn’t slept, and hair an absolute disheveled state. his usually sun-kissed skin seemed to get even paler when he heard the door shut behind you, coming to a halt in your kitchen and staring at you as though he’d seen a ghost.

“lando?” you questioned, confused as to, a) why he was here so early, and b) why he looked like he was about to confess that he had killed your entire bloodline.

“baby, i’m so sorry.” your blood ran cold. what had he done? he closed the space between you, tentatively taking your hands.

“lando… what’s going on?” you tilted your head, starting to sweat in your oversized leather jacket. you’d just been out running errands, picking up bits for the dinner you were supposed to be sharing with the mclaren driver, much later in the day.

“i didn’t think anyone had seen us but then i had my assistant, the entire pr department and my mother phoning me, and then max called and said that him and pietra wanted to see if we were okay, before i could call anyone else back which confused the fuck outta me, so i finally checked twitter and there it was and i just got in the car and came here but god, i’m so sorry.” lando finally exhaled, looking like he was about to pass out, with creases so deep on his forehead that you thought they’d stay there permanently.

“okay, lando? sweetheart? yeah, okay i’m gonna need a bit more info.” you over enunciated each word, stressing that you were still in the absolute dark about whatever was on the verge of sending him into cardiac arrest.

“there’s photos. of us. kissing.” he finally said, quietly, and after a good ten seconds of staring at you in utter fear.

“fucking hell, i thought something terrible had happened. jesus christ, lando.” you exhaled, eyes wide. he stared at you like you’d grown a second head, stepping forward to mockingly rest his hand against your forehead as if he was checking your temperature.

“are you… are you… okay?” lando asked, eyebrow quirked. he was shocked at how calm you were.

you’d both agreed to keep your relationship private, and over the last five months, that had gone swimmingly well. but some low quality photos taken, as you waited for some friends outside a restaurant in the outskirts of london, had fucking launched the cat out of the bag.

“how bad are the pictures? are we naked or something?” you scoffed at him and now lando was truly confused.

“no, but- but i thought we were gonna keep this quiet.” he murmured.

“i know, baby, but okay, it’s out. is that really so bad? it was bound to happen eventually.” you reasoned, and lando finally saw your point.

“i just want to protect you, from all of the lights and the flashing cameras. love you too much to lose you to those vultures.” lando dipped his forehead against yours as he spoke, eyes locked on yours. you couldn’t help but smile at him, the loveliest man you could have wished for.

“oh, my sweet, sweet boy,” you crooned, pecking his lips. “you know i love to show off.” he laughed at that, a low rumbling in his chest.

you pulled away, stepping around him and walking further into your apartment, dropping all of your stuff down in your kitchen.

“anyways, i already saw the pictures. we look hot.” you ignored his incredulous ‘what?’, waving him off. “now, come here and help me make dinner.”

[mothdruid]

Concerned Neighbor

pairing: bradley “rooster” bradshaw x fem!reader

summary: Bradley and you are neighbors, sharing a duplex owned by Mav. But Bradley never realized how paper thin the walls really were until one night. He learned the difference between your moans, from true pleasure and fake pleasure. He makes it a point to show you true pleasure when with someone.

wc: 4.5k

warnings: 18+, smut, mdni, protected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), oral sex (male and female), vaginal fingering, jealousy, listening through the walls, possessive!Bradley, degradation and praise kinks

a/n: this idea was brought to you by @emerald-chaos and it's also unbeta'd, so don't mind my mistakes pls. and yes, I'm using the same Bradley gif I use for all my Bradley fics.

When Mav first brought up renting out the other half of the duplex, Bradley was hesitant. He had been reminded that it was Mav’s decision and to 'play nice' with the other tenant. And how could Bradley not 'play nice' when you were the person he was sharing a wall with. He would never forget the first time he met you, your smile bright as you awkwardly tried to open your door while carrying a box. That's where Bradley came in, offering to help carry the box. And that was where your friendship began.

Bradley did admit it was nice having you there. You watched his cat while he went on leave, making you its mother practically. Him mowing your side of the lawn, you collecting his mail while he was gone. It created this odd relationship, which created your now bi-weekly dinner date the two of you had. Sharing your company for a little while every so often made him not feel as lonely. Reminding him he still had the proper skills to interact with more than just fellow aviators.

Everything was just going swimmingly until he heard it one night. That's when he started to curse the fact your bedroom was next to his. Only a thin wall separating the two rooms. Bradley assumed that his room lined yours, but this was a confirmation. At first he wasn’t sure if it was all just in his head. He hadn’t been physical with anyone for a long time, so maybe it was his brains way of saying he needed to get a fuck in. But then he heard it again. And again.

It was the sound of you, moaning in pleasure. Bradley wasn't quite sure when his hand had drifted down to his grey sweatpants, palming his growing erection. He hadn't realized how paper thin the walls were, your breathing was almost audible to him. Hearing every moan and gasp you had to offer.

The thought of you touching yourself, vibrator on your clit, or maybe even a dildo inside of you had Bradley biting back groans. It wasn't like he never thought of you as attractive, cause God you were to him. The image of you laid out for him, touching yourself or eagerly taking his cock had him fisting his dick. Your mouth would be hanging open, those moans he was hearing falling past your lips.

It was obvious when you crept closer to your orgasm, moans getting louder and more frequent. So he timed it perfectly, thrusting into his hand and groaning when eventually he heard you hit your climax. He followed suit shortly afterwards, hot spurts of cum covering his stomach. Bradley laid there staring at the ceiling with his hand still wrapped around his cock, wondering how he would ever face you again.

A few days passed and he didn't see you, not really leaving the house in all honesty. Even though he wasn't seeing you, he was still hearing you. Every night he would hear your moans. Bradley couldn't help but take advantage of them every night, fucking his hand and wishing it was you instead. Then one day, he was greeted by a new car in your driveway. He assumed it was a friend, until later that night.

It was almost like a schedule. He would get in bed at 8pm every night, wait about ten minutes, then hear your moans, signaling it was time for him to shuck off his sweatpants. But tonight wasn't like that. He didn't hear anything from your side of the wall until about 8:40pm. He knows because he checked his phone. And the noises he heard tonight weren't the same.

The sounds he heard tonight were a different pitch, not sounding like you. They sounded forced, fake. Bradley even got out of bed to check the driveway, still seeing that unfamiliar car in your driveway. He honestly couldn't bear the thought of it. You fucking someone was fine, but not being pleased and full of pleasure? Hell no, you deserved more than subpar sex. He hadn't even heard the usual climax ending you had every night.

Bradley didn't know how to approach the situation though. It's not like he could just bring it up to you, explaining that he could hear you through the walls. You would definitely move out after that confession he figured. So, Bradley decided not to ignore you anymore. He would come over daily and ask how you were and if you needed my help around the house. Hell, he even mowed your half of the yard. But it got him nowhere.

Bradley was yearning for your bi-weekly dinner, only a week away. He wanted something to happen that night, hoping you'd give him some form of opening. He saw that same unfamiliar car five days before your dinner, making him irritated. Bradley knew he wouldn't be able to take another night of your fake moans, so he left and went to the local bar for a few hours.

When he came home the car was gone and the lights on your side of the duplex were still on. Bradley slipped into his own side, finding his way into bed quickly. He laid there for a few moments, ruminating on the idea of you getting fucked by some random man that didn't even know how to please you properly. After a few more moments he heard it though. Heard you.

It was those soft and pleasure filled moans he loved to hear. They immediately went to his cock. His hand palmed at the front of his boxers, as he listened. Every moan was something angelic yet sinful. Bradley craved to hear them without the barrier of the wall so bad. His hand pumped his cock as he heard your moans pick up.

A heat was rising in his chest and cheeks, his mind thinking about how good you would look splayed out. Legs spread wide, one set of fingers working your clit, while your other hand pumped a dildo in and out of your greedy hole. Bradley bit back a groan, thinking about what it'd feel like to be inside of you. Bradley paced himself with your moans, waiting until the last moment to follow you over the edge. As he laid there on his bed with his spent cock resting against his abdomen, he wondered how he was going to face you at dinner.

The bi-weekly dinner came faster than what Bradley expected. Five days passed in the blink of an eye. But he had heard you every night, and that car never showed back up. He hoped that the car would never show back up again. He wanted you to be taken care of, hoping he would be the one to do it.

You were currently on his living room floor, twirling a stick with ribbons attached to it across the floor for his cat. His cat, Twix, aggressively chased the blue curled up ribbons back and forth on the floor. Twix was a stray that Bradley had found, the short haired tabby keeping him company and not completely lonely. Bradley watched the two of you play as he continued with dinner. He wasn't sure when you noticed him watching, but he couldn't help but smile when he caught your gaze.

God, you were going to be the death of him.

Bradley got out a can of cat food, distracting Twix from the toy you had. After Bradley plated Twix's canned food, he made up both of your plates and took them to the table. There was just small talk through the entire dinner, Bradley not wanting to ruin it with the main topic on his mind.

"You okay, B?" Bradley nodded with a small smile.

"Yeah, I think so." You tilted your head.

"Think so?" You shot him a questioning look. "You know you can tell me." Both of your plates were empty, signaling to Bradley he could finally bring up the subject.

"Who did you have over this week?" Bradley didn't mean for it to come out so demanding. But it did, and there was no way of taking it back.

"What do you mean?" You narrowed your eyes at him.

"There was a car in the driveway."

"Why does it matter?"

"It doesn't matter."

"I can see who I want to see."

"I know you ju-"

"Sorry, I'm not like you." Bradley's eyebrows knitted together, his hazel eyes staring at you intensely.

"I'm sorry, what?" You knew you ticked a nerve.

"Bradley, you know what I mean."

"No, not sure I do. Explain. Now." The tone in his voice sent a chill down your spine. You straighten your posture, interlacing your fingers and placing your hands on the table.

"Well you just. All because you don't bring anyone home doesn't mean I don't have to." You thought it'd be awkward, but it wasn't. Something in his stare had changed, it wasn't intimidating anymore. It was something more playful. A smirk pulled at one side of his mouth.

"Even if he can't get you off." Your eyes grew wide.

"Wha-"

"You think I don't hear you?" You stared at him. A heat started to rise in your cheeks, as well as between your thighs. Bradley had been listening to you? The thought of him fisting his cock while listening to you fuck someone else plagued your mind. "Hear your little moans every night?" That's when it dawned on you. Your room shared a wall with Bradley's.

Bradley took notice of the way your face changed. It wasn’t shocking, more akin to something else. He watched as you took your lower lip between your teeth, gaze looking away from him for a moment. You took your hands from the table, placing them in your lap. Your thighs squeezed tightly as you felt his eyes crawl over you. You had always found Bradley attractive, but never considered the possibility of him coming on to you. The thought of him jerking off to your sounds plagued your mind, showing you just how desperate he actually was for you. Your eyes flicked up to meet his blazing hazel orbs. A surge of courage ran through your veins.

“How many times did you hear me?”

“All of them.” A heat blazed through your body like a forest fire. “You should fuck someone who actually makes you feel good.” Bradley leaned across the table, playful smirk on his lips. “Someone that has you moaning like when you finger fuck yourself.” Your insides clenched at his words, thighs squeezing together once more.

“Is that what you want?” A tension was swirling between the two of you now. The both of you knew exactly what each other wanted.

“Just a concerned neighbor is all.”

“If you’re so concerned about this problem, then fix it.” You emphasized the T at the end of the sentence. Bradley quirked an eyebrow. The two of you stared at each other for a while, only the small bell on Twix’s collar filling the silence.

“You sure you want that?” Bradley asked. “Want me to ruin you for anyone else? Make you come crawling back?” Bradley stood up, taking a few steps until he was standing next to you. You turned and looked up at him, eyes unwavering as you answered him.

“Show me what a ‘concerned neighbor’ can do.” Bradley’s hand moved to your chin, taking it between his thumb and pointer finger. A smirk adorned his face, eyes scanning your face.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty.” Bradley’s fingers started pulling on your chin, hinting at you to stand up. You made your way to your feet, a fire surging underneath your skin. His fingers drifted down your jaw, hand moving to cup the back of your neck. Bradley leaned down, lips barely touching your earlobe. “I can’t wait to hear those pretty moans. The ones you make while you touch yourself.”

Teeth and lips clashed together, neither of you sure who kissed the other first. Bradley’s fingers tightened around the nape of your neck, pulling you closer towards him. His hand grabbed at your hip, kneading the flesh underneath your t-shirt. One of your hands threaded into his honey locks, tugging lightly. They were softer than you had ever imagined.

“Fuck.” Bradley whispered, his hot lips traveling down your jawline to your neck. The hand on the back of your neck disappeared, ghosting down your side to your hips. Rough hands grappled with your waist, kneading at the flesh under your shirt. The tiny hairs of his mustache prodded at your skin, urging you to keep up with him. It was as if Bradley wanted to consume you, know everything your body had to offer.

Bradley needed to know the exact things that made you moan. One of his hands grabbed your ass, pulling you flush against him. A hardness pressed against your abdomen and pelvis, letting you know Bradley was enjoying this. Your hips rocked against his, the hand on your ass trailing to the small of your back. He kept you pressed against him like that as he backed you up towards the wall.

A hand was now pressing on your core, rubbing you over your pants. Bradley pulled back to watch you, listening to your gasps and moans while he provided you with minimal pleasure.

“Must have thought about this for a while, with the way you’re moaning.” Bradley sneered. It wasn’t a lie, ever since you had moved in he plagued your mind. He was your main source of masturbation material, the idea of him being more than just your neighbor.

“What if I have? Thought about this before.” The words were like honey to Bradley, sweet and just what he wanted. Both of his hands went to the front of your body, one moving to work at the button of your pants while the other kneaded your breast.

“Is that what you thought about when you fucked yourself? Wishing it was me deep inside of you?” His hand slipped down the front of your pants and panties, fingers slipping between your folds. A groan tore through Bradley’s throat. “Fuck, how are you this wet already? This wet and we still have our clothes on.”

“It’s been a serious problem.” He covers your neck with hot and wet kisses, fingers circling your clit. They were tight and quick circles, ones that made your abdomen tense up. You knew you would last long, especially at this pace. It’s like Bradley already had a map of your body, with each sensitive spot marked with an ‘x’.

“Should have let me fix it sooner. Not have those useless dudes try to fix it.” Bradley’s tone had your insides melting. All you could do was stare at him, lips parted while moans fell from them. Without warning he removed his hand from your pants, turning you around and pressing you against the wall. His hands hooked into your pants and panties and pushed them down to your knees. His hand returned, this time his fingers tracing your entrance.

“God, this hole is so needy for me.” Bradley pressed two fingers into you, filling you up just the way you needed. He draped his body over yours, pressing your chest to the wall. His mouth nursed at your neck, nipping at the tender spot below your earlobe.

“Only for you, Bradley.” A soft growl came from him, his fingers thrusting in and out of you, stretching you open. A wave of pleasure ran over you as his fingers brushed that special spot inside of you. “Fuck! Ri-right there.”

Bradley added another finger at your words, zeroing in on that one spot inside of you. He could feel your walls clenching, tightening around his digits. He knew you were close and so did you. The tightness in your abdomen was almost unbearable, waiting for the tension to snap. A mix of swears and his name were pouring out of your mouth.

“You sound so fucking good moaning my name.” Bradley’s cock twitched every time you moaned his name. He never realized how much of an effect it would have on him. “Only my name, nobody else's. Nobody can make you feel like this, only me.” Bradley whispered in your ear.

“Only you, Br-Bradley!” You stuttered at his name as you came. The tension in your abdomen finally snapped. Your walls tightened around his digits and he helped you ride out your high. A groan came from him, his forehead pressing tightly to your shoulder as he just felt and listened to you.

A shaky breath passed your lips when he removed his fingers from you. Bradley’s hands found your pants and panties that were still around your knees, pushing them down and helping you fully remove them. He pressed kisses all the way up the back of your legs, biting at the meat of your ass eventually. As your legs regained consciousness, he gestured for the two of you to go to his bedroom.

“If I’m fucking you right, I’m fucking you in my bed.” You nodded, still a little blissed out from your first orgasm. You took the hand he had held out and followed him.

You immediately climbed onto his bed, not waiting for him to direct you. He shucked his shirt off once reaching the bedroom, just in time to watch you. Bradley stood at the foot of the bed, watching you put on a show for him. The skin of your back slowly became more exposed and you dragged your shirt up your body. His eyes scanned your skin, taking it all in as territory that he finally was able to claim. He couldn't help his hand drifting towards his pants, rubbing at the strained fabric covering his cock. He saw the bubblegum pink bralette, making him wonder if your panties were matching. He didn’t pay much attention to them when he took them off you. Your hand trailed up your sides, grabbing at the band of your bralette and tossing it to his floor.

Bradley bit his lower lip, coming around the side of the bed to see you. You turned to him, letting him see you completely bare. Bradley started to kneel at the edge of the bed, his hands moving out to grab your legs. He pulled you closer to the edge, pushing your legs apart and putting your cunt on full view for him.

“Look at you.” Bradley said as he dove between your thighs. He drug his tongue up and down your slit, flicking it against your clit. He brought a hand around your thigh, using his fingers to open your folds even more. You propped yourself up on your elbows, moaning and whining as he feasted on your cunt.

It was as if he was a mad man and this was his only purpose. His mustache rubbed against your clit as he licked lower, your hips stuttering at the sensation. Your back arched when you felt his fingers prod at your entrance again, pushing inside of you while his tongue worked over your clit. Shivers ran through you as the tension in your abdomen returned. Bradley groaned against you, the vibrations making your legs shake. You brought a hand to his locks, threading your fingers through them.

“You taste so fucking good.” Bradley groaned as you tugged at his hair. The tension in your abdomen was tight, threatening to snap at any moment. His lips wrapped around your clit, sucking just enough to push you over the edge. His tongue never left your clit, flicking as your body shook with pleasure.

“Bradley! Fuck!” Your legs went to squeeze shut, the sensation becoming too much. But Bradley stopped them, grabbing the inside of your thighs and forcing them open. Your entire body was tight, your orgasm feeling like it was never going to end. “It’s too much! Bradley, please!”

Bradley pulled back after you begged him to stop, letting you finally catch your breath. You laid on the bed, chest heaving from each breath. This was the first time you had ever felt like this, this blissed out from a man. You had enough trouble getting off once during sex with most men, let alone twice. But here was your neighbor, easily pulling to orgasms out of you because he was jealous. That’s when you heard the sound of a zipper, pulling you back from your post-orgasmic thoughts.

Bradley was standing up now, jeans low and open on his hips. His hand was pushed down past his waistband, working his cock through the fabric of his boxer briefs. Steadily you sat up, legs draping down off the side of the bed. You reached out, pulling at the waistband of his jeans. You pushed them down his legs, him kicking them off to the side. Next your fingers trailed around the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“Don’t get all shy on me now.” Bradley joked as he watched your fingers slip into the waistband. You flicked him a glare as you pushed them down his legs. His cock was red and angry, standing at full attention. You had always assumed he was big, but this just confirmed your suspicions. You wrapped a hand around the base stroking lightly. Bradley watched with his mouth agape, tongue running over his lips.

You pressed your lips to the tip, licking softly before taking the tip into your mouth. Bradley let out a deep groan as he watched your lips part, taking him into your mouth. He let his head fall back, trying to focus on the feeling of your hot mouth wrapped around his cock. This was a moment he had dreamed of since hearing your moans. But he didn’t know if it was enough. He wanted to be in you, fucking you until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“I can’t.” You gave him a curious look, pulling off of him. Before you could ask him he spoke, “I need to be in you now.”

Bradley pushed you up the bed, draping his body over yours. He reached over into his bedside table, grabbing for a condom. You watched as he tore the wrapper with his teeth, tossing the wrapper to the floor. He rolled the condom down his cock, running his cock between your folds. Every time his head rubbed your clit you quaked, shocks of pleasure rolling through you.

“God, you’re gonna look so good taking me. Letting me ruin you for everyone else, making sure you only want me.” Bradley settled between your legs and lined up, pressing the head of his cock in your entrance.

A moan fell from you as he pushed in you, stretching you with only the head of his cock. Inch by inch he eased into you, rocking his hips slowly. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, kissing at your clavicle. When he was fully seated inside of you he paused, listening to your breaths. He pulled back to look at you, a look asking for permission on his face.

“Fuck me, Bradley. Make me yours.” Bradley groaned. His hips pulled back, slamming back into you in an instant. He set a brutal pace, heavy deep thrusts as he filled you. He kissed down your neck and chest, kissing at your breasts before taking a nipple into his mouth.

“You’re so fucking dirty, fucking other men while wishing they were me.” His words were intoxicating, speaking truth that you didn’t know he knew. You clenched around him at his words, letting him know he was right. “What a fucking slut. But that’s okay, I have you now. Gonna fuck you so good.” Bradley continued to babble on, talking about how you were made for him and that he was made for you.

“Bradley, you- fuck!” Bradley adjusted, changing the position slightly. He sat back on his heels, grabbing the underneath of your knees and holding your legs out. He thrusted inside of you, immediately hitting that spot inside of you. Your back arched hard, walls clenching around him. Bradley didn’t like to be a two minute man, but the way you were squeezing around his cock was making it hard.

“You feel so fucking good! Fuck! It’s like you’re sucking me in.” Bradley pushed your legs together, leaning over you. He practically had you folded in half as he pounded into you. “Say it, please say my name.” It was almost like a plea when he asked.

“Bradley! Please!” Bradley knew you were close, he could feel how close you were. He was close too, had been close for awhile but was trying to hold out for you. It was all becoming too much for you. You were on the edge of your third orgasm, the spot inside of you being hit over and over again. Bradley let your legs fall apart, finding your clit with his fingers and rubbing it. That was it.

His name was all you said as you came, clenching his cock impossibly tight. Bradley held out for a bit longer, helping you ride out your orgasm. He leaned down and captured your lips with his, a small taste of you still noticeable. You moaned as he pounded into you a little bit more, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.

A groan ripped through him as he came, his thrusts stuttered as he unloaded into the condom. He rested his head on your chest, the both of you trying to catch your own breath. You started tracing small circles on the expanse of his back. A comfortable silence settled between the two of you for a moment. Bradley was the one to break it as he shifted, pulling out of you.

“So, problem fixed?” He asked. You rolled your eyes and rolled onto your side.

“I think so.” You responded while yawning. “But I would like to keep it fixed.” Bradley smiled as he stood up, taking the condom off and tying it. He leaned over, placing a kiss on your temple.

“Good, cause I don’t think I can give you up now. Plus, I think Twix would be mad if you stopped coming around.” He helped you stand, the both of you making your way to the bathroom. You sat on the toilet as he cleaned himself with a wet washcloth, leaving it sitting in the sink when he was finished. Twix mingled in between your feet, meowing at the both of you. You gave him a small scratch on the head before leaving the bathroom. You went back to Bradley’s bedroom, crawling into the bed and under the covers. Bradley followed shortly afterwards, cuddling you from behind.

The next thing you knew you were waking up, a heavy weight on your chest. You looked up to find a cat on you, Twix specifically. You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you and Bradley must have. Which made you look over, seeing your neighbor in bed next to you. His eyes were closed, mouth slightly open as he slept. A warmth spread in you, knowing that all your problems were fixed.

[samuelsdean]

If you won't do it, I will.

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: you were so engrossed with images of you kissing Reid and him kissing you back that you forgot one detail—the man could wake up at any moment without you noticing. and he did wake up. You just failed to notice, too busy ogling his pink lips.

genre: fluff & angst

word count: 3.7k

author's notes: another tooth-rotting spencer reid fluff because i said so! you can listen to watch you sleep by girl in red & out of my league by fitz and the tantrums while reading this because those were the songs i listened to while writing this and i think they fit really well with this fic.

THAT DARN SUNLIGHT, YOU SHOULD GET YOUR BLINDS FIXED WHEN YOU’RE FREE—THEN IT HITS YOU. You just got it fixed about two weeks ago. You are definitely not in your room.

Scrambling to get up, you were about to jump off whichever bed you ended up in last night when you felt a warm, lithe arm tucked underneath yours, clasping you in a soft embrace like a lover. Now that you think about it, you could feel this person’s hair tickling your chin and their warm breath against your neck.

This is seriously freaking you out. You have no idea who you are cuddling with. Jesus Christ, how many shots did you drink last night? Why would the team let you go home drunk with some guy? 

Gently, you removed the arm wrapped around your waist and slowly pushed away the brunette positioned snugly between your head and shoulder. No way.

The person you are cuddling with is none other than your genius coworker.

Dr. Spencer Reid.

Like any other normal person would do—no person in their right mind would sleep with their coworkers, literally and figuratively—you checked yourself for any presence of clothing. Thank God, you did not completely lose your mind last night and slept with Reid. But it still doesn’t explain why you were wearing his faded Star Trek shirt and one of his pajama pants.

Fucking hell, did he change your clothes for you? You were ready to catch the next plane and disappear at this point.

You were about to start berating yourself for getting into this mess when you noticed how the sunlight made the man beside you look more angelic than usual.

The sun seemed to caress every freckle on his face, the slight pink tinge from the cold morning air, and his hair—although unruly from the tossing and turning during the night—could pass for that of a shampoo model. Pretty.

And his lips.

They looked even more inviting right now, pink and full and parted slightly, as he breathed in and out small puffs of air, finally sleeping soundly following a week of sleepless nights tracking down an unsub. You roamed your eyes once more on his face, starting from his hair and down to where his upper body was covered by an old shirt and the blanket you shared—forgetting your initial dilemma as to how you ended up in bed with your coworker (whom you have a big crush on).

Thank goodness you did not have sex with the one guy you were practically in love with for years. It would be nice to remember every detail of that rendezvous—if that ever happens. You groaned inwardly. This is not the time to fantasize about your coworker, Y/N! You need to get out of bed and out of his house.

But a part of you longs to keep pretending that this is real. That sleeping next to—cuddling, let us be honest—Reid is a usual occurrence. Pursing your lips, you closed your eyes and willed yourself to go back to sleep. Let the future version of you worry about how you will handle waking next to your coworker. Except you could not.

You wished you could tattoo what Reid looked like in the early morning light when he was asleep and without that crease between his brows that seemed to be etched permanently from all the stress of chasing unsubs around the country.

You gotta admit, some days, you yearned for Reid’s eidetic memory. You wished you could have memories of him engraved in your brain that no matter what you do, you could not help it. He would be there. A persistent thought. But then again, you were in too deep with your feelings for the man that you think, even without an eidetic memory, you could definitely recount all your favorite memories with him in a heartbeat.

So, you chose to stay awake.

This is not looking good for you. How else would you explain to someone—your coworker, of all people—who just woke up why you were staring at them while they slept. God, you are down horrendously.

He looked so peaceful like this. Pink cheeks, freckles, and messy hair. He looked so adorable you wished you could pepper his face with kisses and bury your face in his chest. And he is snoring lightly. He is endearing.

You are never getting another chance like this. This will not hurt anyone, right?

Hence, you took in every tiny detail, every freckle, every mole, and every scar you could see. You committed to memory every inch of skin your eyes could reach before the man beside you woke up. You tried to learn by heart what this man looks like when he is untroubled and at peace—what he looks like in the eyes of his future lover when they wake up next to him because that would never be you.

It would never be you.

And that could happen any day now. Reid was bound to find someone who would love him. He was the easiest person to love. He was not a prince charming nor the male lead of a romance novel kind of guy, But he has this boyish charm.

Let us be real. Reid was probably the most uncoordinated guy alive and the most socially awkward person ever. But you were taken by him. The moment he started spewing facts and statistics about anything and everything under the sun, you were done for.

He could talk to you about why worms were called worms and the probability of people dying on their birthdays. And you would listen to him willingly. You were that taken by him. Not to mention, it does not help your case that Reid was probably the prettiest person alive. Well, not literally, but he was that close to being the prettiest person—in your opinion of course.

He had messy, brown curls that looked like they barely experienced the touch of a comb, but you knew they were soft. You knew because every time Reid did something endearing—everything he did was endearing, for you—you always ruffled his hair. This would make him grumble about how he had to fix it again and to which you would reply with a cheeky, You know what a comb is? And Reid would roll his eyes at you.

He had hazel eyes that reminded you of a puppy dog. They were mostly brown with a tinge of green. Most days, it reminded you of being cozy, drinking hot chocolate by the fire. They looked like you were coming home. They always looked like they were pleading for you to stare at them. And you admit you have lost count of the many times Reid had to flick his fingers in front of you with a matching Earth to Y/N and a mini history lesson starting with a Did you know that the history behind that phrase comes from science fiction movies showing people on earth sending messages to people in space?

And Reid always wore the fluffiest cardigans and sweater vests, reminding you of your teddy bear collection at your childhood home. It was crazy how if you saw anyone else in the law enforcement track having the same fashion sense as Reid, you would probably think of them as ridiculous. He wore a pair of black converse sneakers, among other things. For heaven’s sake! Come on! You have to go after seasoned criminals—you at least have to look the part. Right? You have to look imposing and menacing to intimidate them in interrogation rooms. However, the teddy bear look—as you’d like to call it—works so well for Reid. 

What is more, is that Reid fits your ideal type. He is probably the poster boy for it. Ever since you were never into the macho guys and their big muscles. No offense to them because those are their bodies. They look good, but you like your men a little scrawny. You liked lean and really tall men. And Reid is definitely that. He may have failed his fitness test a gazillion times, but the man was in no way, shape, or form, unhealthy. He had the right muscles at the right places and besides, he literally goes after serial killers. He is fit alright.

Lost in your thoughts, you were damn near ogling the man beside you and ended up looking fixedly at his lips. You always thought he had kissable lips, minus the fact that it is probably because you were practically in love with the guy.

You wanted to kiss him so bad it is killing you right now. But in your good conscience, you couldn’t and you wouldn’t. You were completely aware of Reid being a germaphobe, and he has mentioned countless times, kissing is more hygienic than shaking another person’s hand, kissing a sleeping person was out of the books for you. One, the person couldn’t consent because they were unconscious. Two, you were not his lover. Kissing him while he was asleep would be a violation to him. Not to mention, unwelcomed and creepy as hell. Imagine waking up and someone has their lips slobbering your face. Icky!

You were so engrossed with images of you kissing Reid and him kissing you back that you forgot one detail—the man could wake up at any moment without you noticing.

And he did wake up. You just failed to notice, too busy ogling his pink lips.

“If you won’t do it, I will.”

You froze in place.

Like a deer caught in the headlights, you rushed to leap out of Reid’s bed—almost toppling over on the floor in an unladylike fashion. You probably would look worse than Reid when he was huffing and puffing during his last fitness test mandated by the bureau.

But before you could jump out and run away from the man beside you, Reid had all but effortlessly pulled you towards him. You ended up burying yourself into his chest face first as you clutched his shirt to break the fall. It is not even 8 am in the morning yet, and you have managed to embarrass yourself enough for your parents to cut off all ties with you. You would rather dig yourself a hole to die in than be here.

Knowing you have nowhere else to escape, you believe it was time to lie on the bed you made. Sluggishly, you pulled your face away from the lean chest you descended on and peeped up at the angelic face you’d been staring at for the past hour with a sheepish smile.

“H-hi, Reid!”

This is just pure torture. Reid probably knew why you looked like an actual tomato with how red you are, at this moment. He is smiling at you like a cat who ate the canary as he suppressed a laugh.

“I didn’t know you had a clumsy side to you, Y/L/N,” Reid snickered.

What?

“What?” You frowned, which made Reid chuckle some more, shaking his head.

“Nothing,” you scrunch your brows as you tilt your head in confusion, “You just seem so formidable on the field and interrogation room. I’d hate to be the one you’re tracking down,” Reid responded.

“Oh, um,” you grinned as you thought of the perfect rib for the man in front of you, “Just because I’m an FBI agent doesn’t mean I can’t be uncoordinated every now and then. I mean, I know plenty of agents who are quite the klutz on the daily,” you peered at him while he gawps in protest.

“Hey!” He argued, scowling at you.

God, he’s endearing.

“I didn’t mention any names,” you chortled, raising your hand in defense, which made him roll his eyes.

You cracked up at his juvenile actions. In turn, Reid smiled in amusement.

God, you can’t believe that you’re laying on a bed beside Reid. With Reid—like it’s an everyday thing. The smiles. The banter. The laughter. This is crazy. You could get used to this. Sleeping next to him and not just next to him—like the ones you have during your cases where you get to be roommates. No, sleeping on one bed, next to each other. Waking up next to each other. Hearing his gruff morning voice.

You could get used to this.

You can’t.

You shouldn’t.

Reid is your friend. A coworker. You shouldn’t be fantasizing about sleeping and waking up next to him, that is unprofessional. Not to mention, you would be breaking one of the golden rules of the bureau. Never fraternize with a fellow agent on the same unit. 

Seemingly lost in thought, you retreated from the man beside you, as you grimaced.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, Reid,” you smiled glumly, “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” you patted his cheek gently.

“Is this about you waking up in my bed? I swear no—”

“I know, Reid,” you sighed, “You would never hurt me. I was drunk last night. I’m sure you brought me here because you were too tired to take me home. We just got back from a case and I shouldn’t have drank a lot of shots after all the sleepless nights,” you were slowly sitting up now, “But thank you, Reid. Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Always, Y/N.”

This made you smile.

Trust Reid to always make your heart flutter at the tiniest gestures. He’s probably the most genuine and compassionate person you know. It breaks your heart every time you remember that his actions might make you feel butterflies in your stomach, but he does them not because he sees you romantically—he just does them because that is just how he is—caring.

“I’m gonna get up now,” you muttered.

“So, that’s it?”

This made you pause.

“What do you mean?” You looked at him, to which he scoffed.

“You know what I mean, Y/N.”

“No, I really don’t, Reid,” you scowled, growing irritated at this whole situation, his riddles, and him, for being so perfect, “So, you better tell me because you scoffing at me is slowly infuriating me.”

“You spent an hour, eighteen minutes, and thirty-eight seconds watching me sleep,” Reid shared as matter-of-factly, as if to say "You aren’t slick, Y/N, " which made you sputter in indignation. At this rate, you wouldn’t be surprised if Reid would be considered by the Guinness World Records as the first omniscient person on earth with his brilliant mind. The man has an IQ of 187 for Pete’s sake!

“If that doesn’t tell you anything, then I don’t know what will,” he finished.

“First of all,” you started, “I did not watch you sleep.”

This made the man raise one brow at you. Liar.

“Second of all, if I did watch you sleep and you felt it,” you continued pointedly as if to tell Reid you weren’t watching him sleep. “Shouldn’t you have called me out on it? Why did you let me be then?” 

“I don’t know. Okay?”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” You pushed, crossing your arms.

“I woke up just a few minutes after I felt your stare,” Reid began rambling, “Did you know the reason why we feel someone is looking directly at us is that we have this system called the gaze detection system? I woke up a few minutes after I felt you staring.”

You smiled fondly at the man prattling facts from the back of his brain. This was your favorite version of Reid. The one who knows anything and everything under the sun and can probably talk about them if you asked him to. But right now, you have had enough of that. You won’t allow him to distract his adorable babbling from knowing why he let you stare at him.

Maybe he shares the same feelings with you.

“Reid,” you exhaled, “that still doesn’t explain why you let me watch you sleep.”

This made the man’s cheeks start dusting with pink. You were aware of the fact that it should have been the questioning done the other way around. You literally breached his privacy in his own home but you couldn’t help it. You wanted to know if he feels the same way as you. You wanted to know everything now rather than later. You know you’d probably get rejected but you wanted to get it over with.

“I wanted you to kiss me.”

This made you gasp, eyes widening—you think they were about to come out of their sockets. Reid blushed some more with your shocked expression. 

“I didn’t know what to do,” he continued explaining, “so I pretended to be asleep but I wanted you to kiss me. I thought that you would kiss me but you didn’t. So, I waited.” He looked down at his lap and bit his lip.

With your initial shock wearing off, you practically looked like a wild animal pouncing on the bed. Reid yelped at how quick you moved from where you originally stayed put. Without further ado, you reached for him. Thumbs caressing his rosy cheeks, you stared at his hazel irises.

“Are you sure about this?” You asked gently, wanting to be sure that he wants this just as much as you do. Before you could say anything else, Reid pressed his lips against yours.

As soon as you felt his lips against yours, your eyes closed. His lips were warm and soft—a little chapped but you didn’t mind. It feels perfect against yours. You didn’t want this to end but you want to see him—feel more of him. So, you did. You buried one of your hands in his curls as you caressed his chiseled jaw. Warmth blossomed in your chest as you realized you were kissing the guy you’d been pining for years and he is kissing you back.

You could taste your shared breath and feel the flutter of his long lashes against your cheeks. He tilted his head slightly in the opposite direction and nudged his nose against yours as your lips parted slightly, allowing him to slip his tongue inside.

You wanted to open your eyes. You wanted to see the faint constellations on his face, admire the slight scrunch of his brows when he’s focused—you had a feeling after this kiss is over, being with him won’t be as easy as it was before. You would be ruined knowing what it was like to kiss him. But you were so tired of longing for him. And his mouth was the softest mouth you have ever kissed. And nobody has ever kissed you like this before—loving and warm.

You didn’t stop kissing Reid until you felt like you were running out of air from running. So, you held his shoulders and distanced your face from his. He tried chasing your lips but you dodged him. Instead, you looked down at your lap. You felt your tears and willed them to not fall. Not here, not now, not in front of him. You wouldn’t want him to pity you.

“Hey, Y/N,” Reid placed his warm hand against yours, “What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?” His thumb caressed your hand soothingly.

“That’s the thing, Reid,” you explained, looking up at him right now as he flinched, noting the tears glistening in your eyes, “Nothing’s wrong. The kiss was perfect. You’re perfect.” You could see his shoulders sagging in relief after what you said. “And because of that, I can’t just pretend that what happened was normal because it isn’t. I know it won’t happen again so I can’t get used to it. And you know I’m not the type to kiss someone unless they mean that much to me.”

You were about to explain some more when you felt Reid pull you. You gulped when you felt the tickle of his breath in the junction of your neck and shoulder. “I really like you, Y/N. If it isn’t obvious,” Reid muttered shyly, “I’ve liked you for quite some time now.”

“Oh.”

If this was difficult for you, it was difficult for Reid as well—if not more—to be vulnerable about his feelings. You knew about how difficult it was for him growing up, being the only twelve-year-old prodigy in a public high school. He’s been through so much with his dad leaving and having to take care of his mom. He’s never had a proper experience with just about everything from making friends, being a normal kid, and in this case, harboring romantic feelings for someone—you.

So, you did what you thought could convey that the feeling was mutual. You gently wrapped your arms around him and nuzzled your face into his brown locks. He smelled of crisp pages of a book with a hint of pine. If you thought your favorite version of Reid was him rambling about facts and statistics, you’re probably going to give that version a run for his money. Because this version of Spencer Reid right here—the one who chose to be vulnerable, the one who chose to open up to you not knowing if the feeling was mutual—is probably your new favorite version of him.

“If it isn’t obvious to you, Dr. Reid,” you began, “I’ve liked you for quite some time now too.”

With that, you pulled him away from being tucked into your neck and kissed him again. You felt him grin widely, as you showered his pretty face with pecks, and you could not be happier. Before you could shower him with more kisses, Reid started spouting statistics about office romances.

“One in ten heterosexual couples in the United States meet at work.”

“Lucky for us,” you said as you tried to bury your nose in Reid’s neck, which made him giggle. "We are that one couple in the BAU. Now, shut up, so I can kiss you some more.”

This made Reid guffaw.

You couldn’t be happier waking up next to your coworker.

[grapejuicestyless]

I Just Want To Love You.

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Harry’s an idiot, but he’s not stupid.

Seeing her so distraught was something I wish I had never seen. The image of her teary eyes burning into mine tattooed itself into my brain and her trembling lip was a constant thought that clouded it just as horrible.

She had been so bubbly, so happy when I first called her. She seemed relieved I was there to talk to her, there to catch up while we were so far apart.

I noticed that about her. With each of these calls, she seemed to grow more and more excited. She got more and more lively like my presence was the best thing in the world to her, even if I couldn’t be there to hold her and say what I wanted to, to her face. She supported me fully, every god damn time.

It was only when her voice came out a shaky mess and her eyes blinked rapidly to hide the tears that it clicked. All too late and all too naive to realize it at the time, but it all fell into place as soon as the phone went dead and the final sentences spoken to each other fell deaf.

She was excited I was coming home. My y/n, my baby, had been at home, waiting patiently for her lover to come home and live up on her for so long. She’s been so patient and so supportive, how could I have not seen it.

Sure, I suspected it in the past, seeing the slight twitch of her lips when I’d mention another leg of tour being added in order to connect with more international fans and spread positivity in the best way I could, but her over supportiveness overshadowed those brief moments. My stomach twisted sickly at my careless neglect to my love.

While I was out for months between holidays, surrounding myself with love and overwhelming support, y/n had been waiting for the one person she held close to her heart to come home and show her some love in return.

Suddenly, I felt selfish. I felt disgusting and I felt like the worst boyfriend in the history books in that moment. How had I been so careless with the most precious love of my life? How had I let myself drift so far from her?

This realization set in hard, hitting deep. I couldn’t sleep on it, knowing I was hurting her by not being there with her.

So, though I was sure I would get an earful the next morning from some of my closest friends on this long, close knit tour group for being so on and off and deciding so last minute to cancel any further plans, but it had to be done.

I watched the phone ring for a few minutes, Jeff’s name illuminated on my phone. Glancing to the clock by my side, it read out 2:35am. Three hours after the phone call with Y/n had ended. Three hours since that moment had been stuck on a loop in my head.

“Hello?” He answered, voice heavy with sleep and throat dry from the hours with no water.

“Hey, Jeff. Sorry for calling so late…listen, fuck. I just want to be straight forward about this. I can’t do those additional shows like I said before. I need to go home this month. Not September. July. I need to be at home.” My voice came out a mile a minute, loud and stern. I was certain of what I wanted.

My palms were heavy on my eyes. Fingers rubbing harshly into my temples, Jeff let out a quiet sigh.

“Okay, yeah. That’s fine. Nothings been finalized yet. We can cancel. I’ll get on it first thing today. At a normal hour, okay? Go to bed, Harry. You have a show today.” The phone beeped dead, and for the first time in the last few hours, the guilt that was so heavy became slightly lighter.

I wanted to call y/n, share the exciting news and explain how horrible I felt for treating her so poorly these past few months. I wanted to kiss her and hold her until she screamed at me to leave her alone, but I was still halfway across the world with a couple more shows left before I could fix everything for us.

…

Going away for awhile was bittersweet usually. I would cherish the time alone I would get in the serenity of my own home. Having the ability to curl up on the carpet and spread myself put into a comfortable sleep whenever, the feeling of home enough to lull me into a deep slumber for the first few days. I would miss the stage terribly too. I would miss the fans funny signs and excitement surrounding a shared passion for music. Yet, when I made the speech about going away for a bit, I found myself hesitating on the promise to come back.

Yes, of course I would come back. In a years time I would be ready to head back on the road. Yet, still feeling the hangover from my breakthrough just a few weeks ago, I felt nothing but relief to be going away to my y/n.

I found myself rushing to the airport. Showing up early just to sit impatiently with my headphones jammed in my ears so hard it almost silenced all my thoughts.

Y/n seemed to be doing better, recently. I hadn’t told her we finalized the plan to not continue adding shows to HSLOT. I hadn’t told her about that late night call with Jeff or how much deep regret I felt for ignoring her all those weeks apart.

We talked almost every night. She shared her silly poems she had written and doodled on every unused notebook in the house while I was away, she confessed. Always the most cheery when she didn’t have to be. Always so strong. Always such a beautiful, caring woman to me.

What a beautiful love story her and me had that I’d managed to fuck up so carelessly.

That idea became my new worry. From the airport all the way to our driveway, it became the poison that overtook my body. How I hadn’t listened to her silent pleas. How I hadn’t seen how I was slowly killing her with my lack of care.

My knuckles rested on the door. I knocked, knowing it was my home too. I still knocked, unsure if I would be welcomed.

The door swung open, y/n looking sleepy, pen ink on her hands and my clothes blanketing over her body in a cozy make shift pajama set.

“Harry?” It was pure shock, the tone she used to greet me. She eyed me up and down, not knowing if it was too good to be true. If her mind was making up games to tear her down all over again.

“Hi, Baby.” The tears clouded my vision, a lump growing in my throat so great that it came out a gravely whimper.

Arms wrapped tightly around my body, her cheek nestling into the crook of my neck. She could’ve knocked me back, if it wasn’t for the good footing I had on our front steps. Even if we fell and I bled out, at least I was back with my love.

And as my shirt became soaked in her happy tears and her hair growing wet from the ones that managed to escape my eyes, I could only think of one thing. Only one thought that replayed the entire journey home. The one thing I wanted so badly since the realization dawned on me.

I just want to love you.

———————————————————————-

I’m so sorry this is soooo messy 😦😦😦

I had the thought and just had to write abt it ASAP so I wouldn’t lose it. I might redo it later!!

[sourbinnie]

☆ wish i could forget.mp3 ☆ [hit me where it hurts pt.2]

/ the sad ending /

♡ genre ¿? ♡ -> double the angst ♡ pair ¿? ♡ -> ot8!skz x gn!reader ♡ plot ¿? ♡ -> words that left scars on you are not easy to forget. ♡ warnings ¿? ♡ -> cursing ; arguments ; no happy endings ♡ request ¿? ♡ -> yes!

first part -> hyung line | maknae line

a/n: so before you read, there’s gonna be a make up version of this reaction. i decided to get the sad one out first because it’s the one i could write rn :] but seriously i am overwhelmed by the support and the love that i have received. i gained so many followers and likes/reblogs that it’s insane to me. thank you all for everything and enjoy the heartbreak! unless you wanna wait for the happier version.

chan ✉

as chan took every step to your shared apartment, everything felt like it was crumbling apart. he couldn't sleep, he felt like he was suffocating in the dorms so he spent most of the night at the studio. exactly the opposite of what you would've wanted and that led him to think the worst of the worst. he knew he had messed up big time, he knew you were only trying to help him and this is how he repays you?

putting the key in the lock, he felt dread in his heart as he walked in. everything looked too perfect, like you weren't even there but as soon as his eyes stopped looking around, he saw you. you were standing there, bloodshot eyes as you finished... packing.

"please don't tell me this is what i think it is." he said and you just looked at him. a sad look in your eyes, as he tried to process everything that was happening and what he was gonna say but nothing was coming out. oh god, he was panicking, he did not want you to leave. "please (y/n) i'll do anything." 

"i made my decision. i would rather not be here if i'm not wanted and if i am gonna be treated like this. i'm sorry but there's nothing you can do that's gonna make me stay." you said and if he didn't feel broken and obsolete before, he was feeling pure numbness now. 

"we can work this out. this was a one time thing!" he said and this time oh did the tears fall from his eyes.

"it's not the first time chris and i think it's not gonna be the last time either." you said picking up your suitcase and heading towards the front door as chan looked in horror at the scene unfolding. "i'm sorry it had to end this way."

"i should be saying sorry, i fucked everything up." he said clearly and you just got close to him again, pressing a kiss to his wet cheek and wiping away the tears. 

"you'll be okay." no, no he definitely wouldn't be as he watched you leave from the apartment you two shared so many memories with and now they're gone. taken from him just like the power in him to stand up, as his legs gave out and the knot in his throat got tighter.

minho ✉

another award and you weren't there. this time for a good reason though and he still couldn't process his words, the ones he spoke with such cruelty and the instant regret that hit him when he would try to call you and would lead to voicemail. when he got off stage and the first thing he did was check his phone to see no messages, he felt like crying right then and there. he was not one to cry at all but since the fight, he felt like he could feel the tears coming in at any minute.

he knew the boys were all still confused about what happened and wondering why you didn't show up anymore. he didn't know how to explain that he was the one who messed up. he felt such disappointment in himself and carried it everywhere with him, he just couldn't function without you. 

he checked his phone again, texting one more time but this time they wouldn't send. no, that could not mean what he thought it meant right? that's not what he's thinking. he decided to leave without explanation and not care about his image or the professionalism of it all, he just wanted to see you and talk. as soon as he found himself in front of your door, he knocked and waited for you to come out. as soon as he saw you in front of him, no words were coming out of his mouth.

"minho? what do you want? i already left your things at the dorms." he didn't even have time to check that and it felt like everything was suddenly drifting away from him. "i know i didn't say anything but i think the things you said were enough for this to happen right?".

"i can't leave you (y/n), i know i fucked up immensely and that you don't want anything to do with me but please i'm asking for another chance." he said and felt his world crumbling when he saw you shake your head. 

"i wish i could forget what you said but i don't think i ever will. maybe it's stupid of me to do this and i will regret it later but right now? it feels like the right choice, goodbye minho." you said as you closed the door and left his figure standing there. 

changbin ✉

chan and jisung decided to go with him to the dorms as they were still trying to figure out what happened. they knew changbin didn't have the biggest temper but they never saw him get mad at you. he eventually said what happened exactly and he could sense the disappointment in his bandmates as he explained it but they were still there to support him through it all. even with that, he felt completely lost and heartbroken, he couldn't seem to forget the look in your eyes.

he decided to try and call you, maybe you had calmed down by that point. maybe you were ready to yell at him for what happened. maybe you wouldn't pick up at all and this would be the way you two drifted apart.

luckily you picked up but not so luckily he would have to hear some heartbreaking words.

"hey bin. i know what you're gonna say and i'm gonna say it before you. i don't think i can forgive you for what you said and i think it's better if we go our separate ways. like you said i get in your way too much and maybe someone else would be better for you." before he could answer, you were hanging up and leaving him absolutely speechless. he didn't even sense the tears coming out of his eyes as he tried to dial your number again and call you but it looked like you turned off your phone.

the fact that he made you feel like this, was gonna haunt him. he wanted to go to your apartment so bad but he found himself like he couldn’t move as he wiped the tears but they did not seem to stop. the part where you said he should be with someone else when all he could think, dream and feel was you. all he wanted was you and yet a part of him knew that after what happened you deserved better.

he sat down eventually and waited for someone to push him out of that state he was in. thankfully felix was there with him as he had no words but at least he held him as he still repeated your words in his mind.

"there's no one better than them lix. there's literally no one." he said as his friend tried to console him but there was no cure for a broken heart.

hyunjin ✉

as much as he insisted he was fine, he was far from it. he didn't know what he was doing most of the time as he expected for you to walk in. he wanted to see you so badly yet he was scared and as the days passed he was sure that this was the end unfortunately. he was tired of waiting so he headed to your work one day, being done with going back and forth and in circles around this fight. he didn't know what he was gonna say as he waited outside but he surely did know that he had to do something before it all fell apart.

"hyunjin? what are you doing here?" you asked and he could already sense by the tone of your voice, you did not want to see him.

"i wanted to talk to you, about what happened and about us." he said and you crossed your arms 'cause the last thing you wanted to do was to fight again with him outside of your work. "listen, i know i should've called you or showed up earlier but-."

"but you didn't and now it's too late. i really don't wanna hear it." you said as you headed towards the opposite direction but he grabbed your wrist before you could walk away. "let go, seriously what the hell hyunjin? you hurt me and then leave me all alone, expecting for me to hear you out?"

"i don't know why i didn't contact you okay? i was a fucking idiot. but please i'm here now and i want to fix things, it's been hell without you." he says honestly and raising his voice. he wasn't mad, he was just frustrated and tired of the fighting but this time he knew he deserved to go through this 'cause what you went through was worse. 

"well i don't want to. i'm done with you and i don't want to see you ever again." he let go then and felt a lonely tear fall from his eye. you went away, far from him and the pain he brought. you didn't want anything to do with him anymore and he knew this would be the last time he saw you so he stood there as he watched you. walk away from him and his life forever.

jisung ✉

you in fact did not come back to jisung. it's been so long without you, he started to forget what being with you was like. every love song turned into a sad heartbreak song in the lyrics he wrote, every step he took was in direction towards your apartment but he couldn't go back there. he felt so alone and broken, how could he be so careless? how could he say that stuff to you? those words kept repeating in his head over and over.

you were never too much and you definitely didn't make his life difficult. you made everything so much better, right now it just felt like it was all crumbling.

"jisung? i'm sorry, i was just packing my stuff." he didn't even know how he got here, he must've confused himself again and thought he was going to the dorms. but here you were standing in front of him with boxes upon boxes of stuff that you had packed. you didn't take the photos or the presents that he gave you and that left a sour taste in his mouth.

"it's okay, it's not like i come here anyways." he said and that left you confused but then you realized that yeah it was hard to walk in here. too many memories that blinded you and saddened the atmosphere. "can we talk?" he asked and you didn't know what there was to talk about.

"i think it's better if we don't. before we say things we regret again." you said and that was a dagger to jisung's heart. of course you were still mad, what was he thinking? that you were gonna give him a second chance? that everything was gonna be alright?

"i will always be sorry (y/n), please know that." he said and you nodded, not believing a word he said. he sighed as he left the apartment, hoping to never come back. he wouldn't see you in it again so what was the point right? no more future that held you two, it was just him on his own again. and that was worse than anything he had ever felt.

felix ✉

he was already calling you as soon as chan got home from dropping you off. he didn't know what came over him when he pronounced those words but he was surely gonna make things up even if it took him everything. he knew you needed distance right now but he needed to know how you were (and guess who's clingy now?). 

"baby, listen i know you don't want to talk to me right now but please i hope you know that i didn't mean a thing i said. i was just in a bad mood but it's not an excuse for what i said and-." he knew he was gonna get cut off, he was just rambling but everything that you said cut through him.

"so that's what you came up with? listen i don't know what gives you the right to use an insecurity of mine against me but i'm not gonna tolerate it. it was a low point for me that you did that and i don't think i'm gonna be able to move on past it especially after i told you that those kinds of comments still hurt." you said clearly, there was no sadness or anger in your voice. it was just plain and simple what you said yet felix felt like falling apart right then and there.

"i know love and i'm deeply sorry. i won't insist on it but please if you reconsider, call me? i know i shouldn't have messed with that. i truly do love you forever and ever." he said but you did not want to hear it so you hanged up and left him right there, with no more words coming out of his mouth. chan who witnessed the whole scene and expected you two to make up but it looked like it was from reality.

"lix, i'm so sorry." he said as to which the other nodded and sighed. he didn't want to cry in front of his hyung but it was inevitable when the tears were just rolling freely through his cheeks. he was wrapped in chan's arms as he let go of what he feared the most and started to think how he was going to handle his life without you in it. 

seungmin ✉

ever since he said those things, everything changed. you two were still together but it was never the same, it felt like he was trying to compensate for the hurt of his words with material things, sweet words and dates. it was enough for him to realize that he was never gonna be able to completely make it up to you because he didn't know how to solve what his words did.

so when he saw you packing even if it hurt so fucking much, he had to let you go. he had to actually live with the reality that you were not be with him anymore, no more fake smiles or pretending to be fine. you weren't okay with him and it showed. 

"i'm sorry it had to be like this. i wish i never said those things to you and we both could be okay again." he said sadly and with a cloudy vision. it felt like all the air was taken from his lungs and like he was trapped in a room with no way out. 

"i wish i could forget them." you said calmly and gave him a little smile as you hugged him one last time. he held you tightly not wanting to let go because this moment would be one that he never forgot. it just pained him that he hurt you so deeply that it made you want to leave. it scarred him that he made so much damage that nothing could repair it even if it wasn't the best solution, he was still trying right?

"i love you (y/n)." there was no response, just your broken smile as you looked at him again and left. it finally broke him that there was no more, no more love, no more relationship and no more holding on. he didn't know what he was gonna do without you and picking up the pieces of what you had been was not the solution. he had to grow up and be better next time in his next relationship. yet he didn't see that happening, he just wanted you and will always want you.

jeongin ✉

did you talk later? no, he wasn't ready to have the conversation. you also weren't ready to confront him about his words. it felt like the perfect picture was ruined immediately when you heard him mutter his cold and harsh words. he felt like he did everything wrong, it was hard to get him out of his room because all he wanted was to close the door and never come out of it. he wanted to see you but everything was stopping him, he truly thought you deserved better this time.

when he finally saw you because you were the one who decided it was enough and you two needed to talk. he felt like falling right then and there in your arms where he belonged but he couldn't do that, at least not again.

"i'm sorry (y/n)." he said and looked at you for a response. he knew he should say more but he couldn't find the right phrasing of things to go with it so he just said the words that came out of his heart. "i should have never said that and i'm deeply sorry that i hurt you."

"i'm sorry for not being what you wanted innie. it's okay, i guess it was gonna happen. i hope you'll be okay after this and that you grow from it." ouch, you didn't know how much these words would be kept in his head like a mantra. he wanted to grow from it now, he wanted to be better right now for you and for you guys to be okay but this was more like a goodbye than a hello.

"please don't go." he said and you just kissed him to shut him up one last time. his hands met your cheeks as he deepened the kiss not wanting this to be your final one but knowing all too well that it was. you would stay there, standing in the living room looking at each other for a while to then let go and leave him stranded like you two just didn't share the most precious and hurtful kiss. it wasn't okay, none of it will be okay without you in his life and as much as he would want to move on, everything would bring him back here again.

[takemebacktocaitlyn]

•I blame the Kitchen Fan Lullaby for this idea. And I also my re-awaken obsession with Ghost.•

Warning: Angst and death. This is just sad.

Summary: As Ghost finds himself fading away, he can’t help to have his mind wander to what could have been.

— — — — — — — —

The mission had gone wrong. Horribly wrong.

Simon found himself stumbling down a dimly lit hallway, wounded badly and bleeding heavily. His breath was ragged and every step he took there was nothing but pain engulfing him. The only thing that made his situation better was that his team was safe and out of harms way.

Finally allowing the pain to take over him, Simon leaned against the wall and slowly slid down to the floor. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, feeling woozy from the blood lost. His vision was also going in and out, becoming fuzzy before he forced it back clear with a slight tap to his cheek. With a frustrated groan Simon removed his head gear, skull mask and his balaclava. His hair was laced in sweat and so was his face.

Simon knew he was not going to make it out of this god forsaken building. He raised a shaky hand and opened one of the breast pockets of his vest, retrieving a picture. It was a little black and white sonogram of a baby. His baby. His little girl.

You, his loving wife of four years, had sent it to him in a letter weeks ago. Of course, you had already announced to him over the many video calls you two shared of the news. He—as you jokingly said—had hit the target the first try, and before he was deployed had gotten you knocked up. Sure neither of you were thrilled he was miles and miles away facing danger while you were home, growing a life alone and could possibly give birth to the babe by yourself. You weren’t really alone. You had your friends and family to help while he was away and Simon was thankful to them all. He just hoped he’d they’d all would still be there for you with what comes next.

The sonogram of his daughter, his little Amadora, was your last one before birth. He could see from the image she would have your nose, small and cute as a button and your same pouty lips. Maybe she’d have his eye color and maybe his hair? Fuck. He wish he would be around long enough to know.

Simon used to not fear death, he’d always embraced it as a friend anytime he was in the field, and always anticipated something like this would happen. Growing up how he did made him hard. He was a solider. So, if he died being one, dying for his team, dying to protect the innocent, dying as the goddamn Lt. “Ghost” Riley he was, then so be it. Yet, that changed when you came into the picture.

You with your good hearted nature, your ambitiousness, and your power to turn everything bright around you. You were the most stubborn woman he had ever met and yet he loved that about you. The feisty side you could have and how you could have easily beat every man on the task force with a hand tied behind your back. Price always commented on how you were one hell of a woman to be the only female on Task 141.

Simon loved your feisty side. He loved your sweet side. He loved you. Love was a foreign feeling to him until you came around and he could drop every wall he built up in his life for you. Only you. His true love, his best friend and his sweet little missus.

When you left the force, it was a mutual decision. Stuff got too much for you after a while but Simon was always there. And you two kept your relationship going, and after about six years together, Simon popped the question to you. He remembered how you wrapped your arms around him, knocking the both of you to turn ground as you kissed all over his face, his lips, anywhere you could while sobbing happily like a baby.

Simon wished he could see those tears again as you both held your daughter for the first time. See them when you dropped the little tike off to her first day of school, going off to college and he wished he could walk her down the aisle like every little girl wished their daddies would do on their wedding day. Because he knew you’d have those tears coming down your face, and he was not too much of an asshole to admit, tears would be coming down his face as well.

But he won’t.

He’d have to watch all the big mile stones from the clouds. Or wherever the fuck he was going.

Feeling your body grow cold was an odd feeling. Or the slow realization that your heart was beating slower and slower, and breathing was getting harder to do. And when you could they were hollow and uneven.

Simon kept looking at the sonogram in his hand, holding to it tightly, fighting his hand that kept wanting to become loose as his body slowly started giving up on him. He smiled softly.

He thought back to a random conversation you two had one morning, laying in bed on a Saturday afternoon. You remembered a science lesson from the tenth grade, where your teacher had mentioned that at death the brain has just enough function to remember seven minutes of happy thoughts, or basically what coulds. Just like it had the same function to allow the eyes and mouth to move before the brain, too, died. And he remembered how you ran a hand over his mask less face, letting your finger tips run over the scruff he had developed from being off duty, and told him that whenever it was your time, he’d be your seven minutes.

Simon had kissed you softly after that. The kiss growing more passionate until early morning love making happened. Something the both of you enjoyed.

Swallowing thickly, hardly any saliva from how his mouth and throat were so dry, Simon closed his eyes one more time.

Memories of the both of you came to his mind. The good, the bad, the ugly and the wonderful. His team, his friends, his brothers came to his mind. And everything every one of them had been through together in the years he spent with them. Then he used the last bit to see for himself an image of you and the baby together.

You would be in the kitchen cooking breakfast, Amadora on your hip as you hummed that little song you always sung. Swaying from side to side slowly as you watched the pancakes on the griddle.

You always had woken up before him and giving that a baby was now added to the mix, getting up early was out of the question. You could always wake him and he made sure to always tell you that, but you never wanted to do it. You always wanted to let him sleep because you just knew he was tired. He would be but he wouldn’t mind if you woke him to help you with anything. Even settling the baby down.

Amadora was what he hoped she looked like. She had your nose and your pouty lips, and some of the faces she made were all you. Yet, some were him as well. Her skin fair with dark hair like his. It was even uncontrollable in the mornings like his was when his hair grew back after shaving it for work. And her eyes? Hell. She had his same hazel brown eyes, a little bit of green near her pupils. Her brown was a bit more warmer than his but they were still like him.

You would turn to face him with a smile on your face and at the sight of him, your daughter would beam a toothless grin behind her pacifier. Her deep dimples showing perfectly on her chubby cheeks. Simon would walk over to his beautiful girls, kissing his little daughter on her head and rubbing his nose with hers before turning to you, wishing you a Goodmorning before letting his lips meet yours. The kiss was always slow and loving, always had been. You always smiled into the kiss and placed your hand on either his cheek or cupped his chin as he lovingly held his hand to the nape of your neck.

He would wrap his arms around your waist and rest his chin on your shoulder, placing a few kisses to the bare skin. A smile on his face as he would look back, wondering how he got so lucky and just glad he did something with his life to end up with you.

“I’ll see you soon my loves,” Simon spoke with a voice barely above a whisper, “just wait for me until then.”

His breathing slowed and slowed until he could feel his head dipping down, chin resting against his chest. This was supposed to be his last mission for a while to go watch his daughter come into the world, and this was his last mission. But it was his last mission because he sacrificed himself for his team. He had mentioned to Soap prior to the mission that morning if anything happened to him that Simon wanted him to be the one to deliver the news. And he knew Soap would and would do anything in his power to be there for you and the baby.

The right grip he held in his daughter’s sonogram loosened and the picture slipped from his grasp. It fell on the floor beside him, your neat handwriting in red pen on the bottom, acting as if the baby had written it, saying, “I can’t wait to meet you, Daddy!”

An image of your smiling face came to him once more, for the very last time. With what little strength he had left to even move his face muscles, the corner of his lips turned up into a smile before they fell again into a straight line.

Before he even knew it, darkness over took him. And Simon Riley took his very last breath.

[whimsimille]

VACANT ROOM

Lee Dong Wook x fem! reader

"My dear, could you perhaps verify it one more time?" You asked, mustering the most charming smile you could manage in the face of the disinterested and nonchalant receptionist, who seemed more interested in her nails than her job. "I find it incredibly hard to believe that a reputable company like Starship would commit such a glaring oversight."

At half past midnight, the hotel was teeming with actors, singers and idols. Positioned in the center of the lobby, the luxurious building housing the assistant's desk was where you were standing. The interior exuded an atmosphere of old-world elegance, with polished marble floors, ornate chandeliers, and plush velvet drapes adorning the walls. Soft candlelight cast a warm glow over the dining room, illuminating tables adorned with crisp white linens and sparkling silverware.

Guests, dressed in their finest designer attire, mingled and conversed in hushed tones in the grand ballroom. Their quiet laughter pierced the air, merging in perfectly with the sweet notes of a Mozart sonata that drifted from the grand piano in the corner, played by a virtuoso whose fingers moved like dancers across the keys.

"I regret to inform you, ma'am," she retorted, her eyes barely leaving the glossy pages of an article about the latest trends in Seoul's fashion week. "But your company specifically requested a grand suite with a panoramic view spanning across the sea, located on the 16th floor. One king-sized bed, presumably for you and Mr. Lee Dong Wook."

"But that can't be right! There must be some kind of mix-up." Instant panic set in, your pulse going haywire as images swarmed in your mind—you sharing close quarters with him—definitely not on your wish list.

With an exaggerated sigh, she ditched her magazine and leveled her gaze at you for the first time since this little chit-chat commenced. “I assure you, there is no mistake. Everything has been arranged as per the request we received. The company was very explicit about the arrangements."

"Explicit about throwing me into a room with my ex-husband? That doesn't seem like a professional request."

"That's not for me to comment on, ma'am," she replied curtly, picking up her magazine again. "My job is to ensure our guests have the best experience. If you have a problem with your arrangements, I suggest you take it up with your company."

"But that's... it's... preposterous!" you stammered, feeling the blood drain from your face. "There must be some way to rectify...”

"I'm afraid all other rooms are fully booked. Perhaps you could address your grievances with your company, ma'am.”

"Aish…"

You turned your head to the side, spotting Dong Wook standing in the doorway of the lobby, dressed in a new, crisp navy blue suit with trousers tailored to his frame, complete with a matching tie and polished leather shoes. God, he had become insufferable since he discovered fabrics imported from Milan. This was where all the money had been going before the divorce.

Crushing the last of his half-smoked cigarette under the heel of his polished Italian leather shoes, he looked down and saw the flickering neon sign from the hotel entrance reflected in the trail of smoke.

"What the fuck is going on?”

“You ought to watch the language you use, old man,” you retorted, your thumb and index finger nervously smoothing out creases from the Chanel dress handpicked for the company's decadent birthday celebration held at this isolated high-end dwelling. “Prayers should dominate your vocabulary rather than swear words at this stage in life.”

His sharp gaze turned to you, and you could see the frustration simmering beneath his usually calm exterior.

Unmoved or maybe portraying so, you played along, “Just stating the obvious.”

A dismissive snort escaped him as he ran his hand irritatedly through otherwise meticulously groomed locks. “And if I don’t?”

You rolled your eyes, masking the unease creeping into your voice. "Then you'll just be an old man with a foul mouth, won't you? A grumpy, divorced, aging actor with nothing but a string of B-list movies to his name?"

"Better than being a frustrated little girl who got pissed by losing an award to me,” he retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm and a bitter bite. "A little girl who can't accept that she's not the best and that someone else could actually outshine her brilliant talent."

A sharp retort tipped the tip of your tongue as you hesitated, but you swallowed it down, heart palpitating. If only the hotel was closer to your home, you'd escape this uncomfortable situation. You'd rather risk wandering down a dark, unfamiliar alley at midnight than share a room with your ex. But you were stuck here, trapped in this ostentatious lobby, miles away from any familiar comfort, forced to face whatever the night would bring.

"Can't you sleep in the same bedroom as your best friend? You two are usually tied by the hip, practically inseparable at every social event," You taunted, eyes glinting under the harsh lobby lights.

“Gong Yoo has a wife and you know it. And I'm not about to impose on their space. What about you? Don't you have other friends that came other than scripts and books? Or did they all get scared off by your charming personality?”

“Oh, you better bet that I'm charming. Maybe that's why our daughter decided to stay with me.”

Before he could respond, a bitter laugh escaping his lips, the woman at the desk cleared her throat, extending a key towards the two of you with a look of forced patience. "I believe this is what you two are fighting over, correct? Perhaps you could decide who gets the bed and who gets the sofa without causing a scene in the lobby?"

You took the key from the receptionist's hand with an exaggerated sigh, turning it over in your fingers. The weight of it felt heavy in your palm, like a lead boulder pulling you down into the pit of despair.

“Yes, of course. Thank you so much; your help was really indispensable.”

Turning back to face Lee Dong Wook, you could barely contain your humiliation as he stood stoically by your side, staring out at the dark ocean beyond the hotel's glass walls. Along with the sound of the ice cubes in his drink and the scent of his expensive cologne, the lobby was filled with the sound of the waves crashing against the coast. You couldn't help but wrinkle your nose at the cloying smell that reminded you too much of your past.

"I suppose we have no choice but to make do," you said finally, motioning for him to follow you towards the elevators.

As he settled into step beside you, the click-clack of your high heels on the marble floor created an odd harmony with his steady gait.

It was almost impossible not to gag at the stale, rich smell of warm metal and coffee that pervaded the elevator. Pressing the button for the sixteenth floor, you peered up at the metal ceiling.

A few seconds later, the doors opened with a soft hiss and you stepped out into the dimly lit hallway, feeling Lee Dong Wook's hot breath on your neck. He seemed to be waiting for you to take the lead, as if this were some kind of game, a cat-and-mouse chase that you just couldn't seem to win.

Swallowing hard, you walked ahead to the suite number indicated by the keycard.

When you finally turned the handle and pushed open the door, you found yourself face-to-face with an opulent display of luxury: plush red and gold carpets underfoot; crisp white linen tablecloths adorning an ornate dining table; fluffy duvets piled high on a king-sized bed; and a decadent bathroom beyond.

It was too much like the honeymoon suite he'd gotten you when you were still married, and your heart skipped a beat as it registered.

Butterflies filled your stomach as you set your luggage down on one of the side tables.

You turned around to face Lee Dong Wook, who was standing in the doorway, watching your every move intently, reminding you of the way Yeosin would look at you when she was planning a prank. 

Well, she was his mini version after all.

You held your breath as he stepped inside, taking in his tall frame and perfect nose. 

He took a deep breath before reaching up to his necktie and loosening it ever so slightly. "It's going to be a long night," he muttered under his breath as he moved closer towards the window, pulling back one of the heavy curtains to let the cool sea air and the sound of waves splashing against the shore gently lap at his face.

"I'll take the couch. It's not like I haven't endured worse accommodations while filming on location.”

He turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing slightly, an all-too-familiar gesture. “You have had back pains all the time since giving birth to Yeosin.”

“I don’t," you snapped back immediately, an automatic response honed by years of bickering.

“Yes, you do," he insisted, his tone softening. "I may not have been around recently, but I do remember. You’d wince every time you thought I wasn’t looking. But if you want to play the stubborn card here, if it makes you feel stronger, be my guest. In the meantime, you can freshen up. I'll make a makeshift bed for you, kid.”

There you stood, in the silence that followed, absorbing the sight of him.

It wasn't fair, an inner voice protested, as you took in the jawline you had kissed and nibbled countless times, the tantalizing constellations formed by the moles adorning his neck, each one a landmark you could identify even with your eyes closed, like a child eager to please and win a candy.

In the end, it wasn't fair that he could still find his way into your heart, the way a worshiper finds their way into a long-abandoned cathedral, kneeling in reverence among the dust and the decay, and still find it holy, still find it beautiful that there’s a vacant room waiting for him to lay his head.

He was the prodigal son returning to the home he once renounced, and you? You were the father left to wonder if welcoming him back was a show of futility or a sign of welcomeness.

"You always were stubborn," you retaliated, folding your arms across your chest. "Always thinking you knew best. Well, I'm not that same naive 23 year old girl you married. I can take care of myself.”

“Stop it. I have a headache right now.”

"You were always quick to jump in and play the hero, weren't you? But this isn't a drama, Dong Wook. There's no director yelling cut, no script to guide us. This is real life. And in real life, I don't need you to save me."

"I never asked to be your hero," he retorted, the quietness of his words cutting through the tension like a knife. "And I never wanted to be one. I just wanted to be there for you. But you always made it so damn hard." 

Frustration bubbled inside you, "You think I made it hard? You were the one who walked away. You were the one who gave up on us." 

“She’s only six,” he countered weakly. “She doesn’t understand what’s happening.” 

“You’d be surprised, Lee. Kids are smart. They pick up on more than we give them credit for. She knows something’s wrong. She misses her father. She misses us being a family.”

As the words left your mouth, you could see a flicker of pain cross his eyes. But you didn't care. You were too angry, too hurt to care about his feelings. 

With a huff, you turned on your heel, leaving him alone in the bedroom. As you slammed the door shut, the metal clanged loudly against the wall, echoing through the otherwise silent room. You hear the latch click into place, sealing you inside the small, enclosed space.

The bathroom was spacious and modern, with a luxurious glass-enclosed shower stall and his-and-hers sinks. 

Before you was the daunting task of turning on the water to run a hot bath. The faucet gave a small shudder, like a beast waking from slumber, as it sputtered to life, filling the room with the biting smell of chlorine and the comforting warmth of hot steam. A bottle of expensive shampoo, perhaps a gift from one of his many sponsors, sat on the vanity counter. You uncapped it, and its scent—a tantalizing blend of jasmine and sandalwood—tickled your nose as you sniffed it slightly.

The room began to mist up as your fingers fumbled at the buttons on your dress as if they had a mind of their own, desperate to get out of this suffocating fabric that reminded you too much of happier times when he'd slide them down your spine slowly and carefully, making you gasp under the cover of darkness.

Heat flooded your cheeks, remembering how those fingers had once traced your entire body—the pulse point at your wrist, where his wedding ring used to be, now replaced by a thin silver band around your third finger.

Stepping into the tub, the water was scalding hot—almost too hot to touch—but you reveled in it nonetheless.

As you slipped into the tub until it was almost full, feeling it lap at your neck and shoulders, you let out a long sigh of relief.

Closing your eyes, you breathed heavily as you began to scrub the last few days off yourself. 

Memories flooded back—years' worth of memories that had led up to this moment: the late-night movie marathons where you both would cuddle on the couch, the way he would laugh at your comical impersonations of movie characters, the way he would always keep the last slice of pizza for you, the way he would read bedtime stories to your daughter, his voice imitating various characters, making her giggle. You remembered his bright smile when your daughter took her first step, his eyes filled with tears of joy, the proud look on his face when she called him 'Daddy' for the first time.

But alongside the sweet memories, the bitter ones also found their way: the arguments that lasted till dawn, the slamming of doors, the sound of shattering glass, and the cold silence that followed. You remembered the canceled family trips due to his sudden shooting schedules, the forgotten birthdays and anniversaries, the vacant spot beside you in bed getting colder each day, late-night calls from agents about last-minute script changes, and sleepless nights spent worrying about Yeosin while he was off filming some romantic comedy filled with clichés and air kisses towards irrelevant starlets.

You scrubbed until your skin began to redden and sting from the heat, until all that was left was residual anger and resentment. Then you climbed out carefully, reaching for the plush white towel hanging on a stainless steel rack.

After drying off, you slipped into your silk pajamas and brushed your teeth with Totoro’s brush, the one Yeosin insisted on bringing so that you could remember her while she stayed with her Nana.

Stepping back into the suite, you expected to see Dong Wook, but he was nowhere in sight. The room was empty, save for the soft hum of the air conditioner and the distant murmur of voices from the television.

You walked towards the window, peering out into the darkness. The moon was a thin crescent in the night sky, casting a faint glow over the sea. Lee was probably out there, taking one of his late-night walks along the beach, letting the cool sea breeze clear his mind.

Turning around, you noticed the makeshift bed he had prepared on the couch. The cushions were arranged neatly, with a soft blanket folded at one end and a pillow with a fresh case. Beside it, there was a small side table with a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers—for your bruised ankles and sore legs, no doubt. Despite everything, Dong Wook was still considerate.

You walked over to the couch, running your fingers over the soft fabric. It wasn't a king-sized bed, but it would do. 

Lowering yourself onto the couch, you winced slightly, feeling the day's exertion catch up with you.

You slowly stretched out your legs, trying to find a comfortable position. As you did so, you could feel the soreness in your muscles easing slightly. 

Curling up on the couch, you wrapped the blanket around yourself, pulling it up to your chin.

Lying there, you found yourself mimicking Yeosin's favorite position—curled up like a small ball, waiting for her father to come home and pick her up. It was a bittersweet feeling, a reminder of the simpler times, when the lines between work and personal life hadn't blurred, when the word 'divorce' hadn't been a part of your vocabulary.

As you closed your eyes, the events of the day replayed in your mind: the party where he'd been eyed by other women, the looks he gave you when you seemed more interested in your Champaign than his speech, the receptionist's words, the look on his face, the tense silence in the elevator. But despite the turmoil, you felt a strange sense of calmness. Maybe it was the fatigue, or maybe it was the realization that you could handle whatever life threw at you.

With that thought, you slowly drifted off to sleep, the soft hum of the air conditioner and the distant sound of the sea lulling you into a deep, peaceful slumber.

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

As the first rays of dawn creeped in through the slats of the blinds, you stirred from your sleep.

Slowly blinking your eyes open, you adjusted to the soft morning light, feeling something different.

Under you was not the stiff fabric of the couch, but something softer, more yielding. You didn't know when or why, but here you are, in the king sized bed that was supposed to be Dong Wook’s.

Confusion clouded your sleep-laden mind as you tried to piece together the puzzle and heat hushed to your cheeks as you felt something nuzzling your neck, the soft sensation making you bite back a groan.

Suddenly, you felt a warm presence between your legs, a muscular thigh that was solid yet comforting. It took a moment for you to register the protective arm draped securely around your waist, pulling you closer against a firm, muscled chest.

"Wha--?" you started, your voice cracking as surprise jolted you fully awake.

Before you could react, a chill coursed through you as your shirt was ridden up, an audacious hand slipping underneath to splay across your bare skin.

"Shh, it's just me, baby," a deep voice whispered in your exposed left breast before sucking it into his mouth softly, tugging at the pink flesh with his teeth while rolling the other hardened nub between his fingers.

As he slid down even further, his tongue softly licking the valley between before finding its way into your cleavage, your mind reeled from the situation. You gasped at the feeling of his cool tongue tracing circles around the right nipple, tickling it lightly as it hardened even more under his touch.

Your hand instinctively reached up, fingers tangling in the soft strands of hair. It was familiar—too familiar. The scent of sandalwood and sea salt filled your senses—a scent you had known for years, a scent that brought back a flood of memories, reminding you of all the times he had made love to you on a beach house's balcony after one of his late-night strolls along the shore.

"Dong Wook…” you breathed out, the sound more like a plea than anything else. The name felt foreign on your tongue after so long, tasting bitter and sweet at the same time.

"Yes, it's me," he replied, his voice a soothing hum in the quiet room. "I missed you."

"I--I don't know what to say," you stammered, your mind reeling from the sudden turn of events.

"Just relax. All you have to do is open up those pretty legs and let me fuck this pussy once again.”

His tongue found its way into your mouth; you tasted the remnants of the Merlot from last night. You sucked on it eagerly, feeling him groan softly as he pushed deeper into your throat.

Hungry. You were hungry for him, starved for this intimacy that had been denied to you for too long. 

You couldn't believe it—this was Lee Dong Wook, the man who had once claimed not to know how to please a woman properly, who had once slept with dozens of nameless starlets and models just to forget your name.

Letting go of your lips, his head found its way into your neck and his hand slid further up, pressing against the mound hidden by your silk pajamas.

You didn't trust yourself enough to speak, fearing your voice would betray the growing need twisting inside you. Instead, you responded by parting your legs slightly, granting him access to your cunt.

Expertly unbuttoning your pajamas with his other hand, Dong Wook spread the fabric apart, revealing all of you to his hungry gaze. 

Your pussy glistened in the dim light, a testament to the tangible evidence of your arousal. He swept away your slit with one broad thumb, gathering slick and marveling at how wet and ready you were for him.

"That's my good girl.”

Unable to resist any longer, he dipped two fingers into your slick folds while his thumb continued its sensual assault on your swollen nub. Pleasure started to unfold in waves of white heat, and the combination made you utter moans.

With a devilish smirk, he withdrew his hand and brought it up to his mouth, sucking on one finger. 

"Fuck, you're so wet and sweet for me, honey. Tell me, didn't any of your flings with those little boys in the set make you cum like I used to? Or were they so young that the only things they observed were these lovely curves and a treat for their hands?

His words stung, but the ache between your legs pulsed with need, completely drowning out any traces of regret.

In the haze of his touch, you were lost. It was obvious that you ought to halt him, shoo him away, and remind him of what he had done to you—severing all ties, abandoning you while he toured the globe filming and failed to remember you existed.

But the truth was that you missed him, missed the sensations his mouth could create in your mouth, and missed the way his hands could change from being rough to being gentle in an instant.

“Shut up, Lee.”

There it was, the opening salvo of a fight, but he ignored it, knowing that once you got past this hurdle, you would be his again.

He rewarded your honesty with a devilish grin before sliding his hand back between your legs, slipping his fingers deeper inside you. "Such a dirty mouth on such a pretty girl," he murmured against your skin before pressing his index and middle fingers deeper, crooking them to find your g-spot with practiced ease. “I guess I'm the only one who teaches nice manners to our daughter, huh?”

You moaned long and low, bucking against him. Your whole body felt like it was shivering underneath the touch, like a fever dream that turned into reality.

"Drop this shit before I decide to leave you with a purple dick."

"Calm down, darling… I'm just playing with you, hum?"

He pushed you down into the mattress then, holding your hips in place as he began thrusting his fingers in and out of you in a rhythm that had your body trembling with need. 

You could feel the bed squeaking beneath you as you arched into him, craving more contact as he thrust faster and harder into your pussy, sliding off on to his fingers as if they were a big, thick dick. 

It was perfect; it hurt and felt amazing at the same time.

“Jesus…”

A whimper escaped before you could stop it, betraying how much you needed him inside of you again.

"Yeah, that's it. Just take it," he encouraged, watching with dark eyes as you moaned his name while his fingers plunged deeper into your slick folds, finding that spot that always made you come apart.

"You need this; you need me."

He was right. You did need him in this moment, in this bed, even if it was wrong and twisted. You needed him to make you forget everything else—the cameras flashing, the public scrutiny, the anger. He'd always been good at distracting you from all that.

"Oh, fuck," you moan into the pillow, feeling the pleasure coiling inside you like a snake ready to strike. Your wetness pours down his hand and fingertips before it drips onto the comforter beneath you. 

You open your eyes to look at him, seeing how he bites his lip in concentration as he works you open with his fingers, tongue and teeth. His dick twitches against your leg, eager and ready. There's no one else who can make you feel this way; there's no one else who could make love to your body with such precision even after all these years apart.

"Squirt for me, baby. I know you can, hum? Like old times.”

“I… I can't…” you whimper, but he doesn't let up.

“Shhhh, baby… Come on, you can let it out. Soak me. Soak the sheets. Show me how much you want me.” He urges, his words acting like a spell, pushing you further towards the edge.

His fingers worked faster, his thumb pressing down on your clit in relentless circles while his other hand gripped your hip hard enough to leave a mark. His other hand slides up to your throat, fingers closing around it lightly, the threat of pressure making your pulse race even faster. 

Overwhelmed, you felt yourself let go, your walls clenching around his fingers as a rush of warmth gushed out of you. Your body arched as you squirted, your release soaking both his hand and the sheets beneath you. 

“Dong Wook!" you scream, the words echoing in the room as you come apart under his touch.

The sensation was too much; your body was sensitive and overstimulated. You whimpered, but his fingers didn't relent, continuing to stroke your swollen nub even as your body twitched and shuddered.

As you came down from your high, your mind felt foggy, and your body was limp. The surroundings softened into a comforting mist as you sank deeper into subspace. But he wasn't done yet.

Even as your body begged for a reprieve, he moved over you, his body pressing down on yours as he positioned himself at your slit.

“W-What are you doing?” You ask, your voice weak and shaky.

“What do you think, wifey? I'm going to pound into you until you're begging for mercy. Going to fill you up so good, you'll be begging me for another baby. Want to give Yeosin a baby brother. Want to make a little version of me for her to play with. Can you imagine our son running around the house, causing trouble just like his father? But first...” he trails off, the hand on your throat, applying such pressure that dark spots form behind your eyelashes.

“First, I'm going to fuck you senseless."

Suddenly, your phone rings, the sound piercing the silence like a gunshot. You glance at the caller ID and see Gong Yoo's wife, Ji-Eun, name flashing on the screen.

Well, he'd have to wait then.

"Dong Wook, it's Ji-Eun," you try to protest, but he ignores you, his eyes dark with desire.

"Let it ring. She can wait," he growls, and before you can protest further, he thrusts into you, burying himself to the hilt inside your wet heat.

But the ringing never stops.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four calls.

With a sigh, Dong Wook grabs your phone from the bedside table, places it on the pillow next to you and answers.

Before the line could finally connect, he changes positions, seating himself against the headboard with you straddled in his lap. Your breasts bounce with every single movement, and soft moans spill from your mouth as he continues to thrust into you.

"Hello?" He breathes into the phone, his voice steady as if he isn't buried deep inside you. His free hand grips your hip, guiding you up and down his length at a relentless pace while he talks to Gong Yoo's wife, Ji-Eun.

"Dong Wook, what the hell were you thinking?" She scolds from the other end of the line. "You can't just arrange for you and your ex-wife to share a room, no matter how many strings you pull!"

Dong Wook chuckles lowly. “Well, it seems our plan worked perfectly then," he murmurs in your ear, his warm breath fanning over your skin. His words surprise you, making you pause.

He planned this?

Ignoring your shocked expression, he continues his conversation. "Listen, I appreciate your concern, Ji-Eun, but there's no need to go yelling at the manager or looking for another room. We're adults; we can handle this." He punctuates his words with a particularly harsh lift of his hips, ripping a breathy moan from your throat.

Meanwhile, Ji-Eun continues her rambling, her words becoming background noise as you frown, scratching his shoulders and trying not to lose your shit. It would be humilliating coming all over his dick only from seeing it poking your belly.

Suddenly, Dong Wook pulls the phone away from his ear, offering it to you. "I think she wants to talk to you," he murmurs, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he kisses your nose.

You glare at him, about to protest, but his hand encircles your bruised neck again, making you relent.

With a huff, you take the phone, pressing it to your ear as you try to keep your voice steady. "Hello?"

Dong Wook smirks, his hand dropping to join the other on your hips, guiding you up and down his length like a well-used doll again.

This man is the devil.

"Oh, thank God, you're there, honey." The older woman exclaimed, relief evident in her voice. "I was worried about you! I'm on my way to your room now. We need to sort this out."

Panic set in; the last thing you wanted was for her to see you in this compromising position. You had to dissuade her.

"No, wait! You don't need to do that. We're handling it. We're...we're talking things out," you lied, hoping she'd buy it. 

"Are you sure? I can be there in five." Her voice was filled with concern, but you could detect a hint of suspicion.

"Yes, we're fine. Really," you insisted, biting back a moan as Dong Wook hit a particularly sensitive spot. "We'll...we'll talk tomorrow, okay? Goodnight."

Abruptly, you ended the call, tossing your phone onto the nearby bedside table, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest.

Turning your wrath on him, you struck his chest with all the strength you could muster. "I swear I'm going to kill you, you absolute jerk!”

"Oh really?" He groaned in response, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smirk. "But darling, before you commit homicide, don't you think you should let me leave a lasting heir on this divine body of yours?"

Before you could lash out again, his other hand darted out, capturing your wrist mid-air. His grip was firm effectively stopping your hand from making contact with his broad chest again.

“I want you.”

“You’re crazy, Lee! Delusional, old, out of your damn mind!”

“I’m yours too and I still love you.”

His eyes eyed you hungrily, his gaze dark with desire and something else. Something that made your heart pound out of your chest, something that made you weak in the knees. He loved you once, and he loves you still.

Or maybe it wasn't love anymore—maybe it was possession, maybe it was lust—but it felt real in that moment. You couldn't resist him, no matter how hard you tried.

“L-love me?” you husk, staring at him in disbelief as you feel his cock pulsating inside you. He pushes deeper, but you don't resist. You feel an odd mix of anger and desire, pain and pleasure, all mingling together into an intoxicating brew.

His tongue flicks out, licking your lips as he leans down, his face close enough that your noses touch. "Yes, I do," he murmurs against your lips. "And I always will." His voice is low and rough with want as he kisses you gently before plunging his hips once more.

In the end, you realized that it wasn't about fairness. It was about acceptance. Acceptance of the past, acceptance of the present, and acceptance of the potential of the future. It was about opening up that vacant room in your heart once more, dusting off the cobwebs and letting the light in.

Maybe it was welcomeness. Maybe it was time to let go of the pain of the past and embrace the possibility of a new beginning. Maybe it was time to let Dong Wook find his way back not as a prodigal son but as a cherished guest. Maybe it was time to let love bloom once more.

And just like that, the vacant room wasn't so vacant anymore.

[wi55iams]

Worship (noun):

1. the feeling or expression of reverence and adoration for a deity.

2. great admiration or devotion shown towards a person or principle.

I have a lot of thoughts about Carlos Sainz Jr and it's about time i shared them. I'm trying to write a fanfic but i'm finding it difficult to articulate my ideas, this was is test run of sorts to see if I can communicate a message in a way that makes sense. Enjoy. Credits under the cut.

‘Hope is the biggest of our foolish things’ -Alfred de Vingy // Mark Thompson for Getty Images // Carlos Sainz believes he deserves F1 seat // ‘To wish was to hope and to hope was to expect’ -Jane Austen // Carlos Sainz’s last race with Toro Rosso // ‘Expectations were like fine pottery. The harder you held them, the more likely they were to crack’ -Brandon Sanderson // Sky Sports // Marina And The Diamonds, Oh No! // It's like everyone tells a story about themselves inside their own head. Always. All the time. That story makes you what you are. We build ourselves out of that story’ -Patrick Rothfuss // Medium // An ode to my father, the matador // ‘Maybe if you sleep where another person sleeps and do what that person does, then eventually you’ll start turning into that person’ -Jack Cheng // Ferrari, one name two destinies // Jos and Carlos Sr on their sons’ rookie seasons // ‘Christianity is a religion built around a father who does not rescue his son. It is the story of a son whose father is a ghost’ -Terrance Hayes // Carlos Sainz poses with his father // Jos and Carlos Sr on their sons’ rookie seasons // ‘Perhaps it’s impossible to wear an identity without becoming what you pretend to be’ -Orson Scott Card // Sky Sports // Junior status; Sharing dad’s name a mixed bag // ‘Who did I think we were. Who did I think I could make you. This is the oldest mistake, to confuse wanting with magic.’ -Marty McConnell Emily Kagan Trenchard // Sainz thrilled with first podium after Hamilton penalty // The Crane Wives, The Moon Will Sing // ‘If you spent your life concentrating on what everyone else thought of you, would you forget who you really were? What if the face you showed the world turned out to be a mask... with nothing beneath it?’ -Jodi Picoult // Top Gear // Carlos Sainz: the boy who became a man // Motorsport.com // Mikky Ekko, Who Are You Really? // ‘Sometimes we want what we want even if we know it’s going to kill us’ -Donna Tartt // RacingNews365 // Max Verstappen tells Carlos Sainz ‘I felt sorry for you’ // Racefans // Carlos Sainz has openly discussed his contract regulations // CNN // Sainz wins thrilling Singapore GP // ‘Who wouldn’t want you? Whose most demonic appetite could you possibly fail to answer?’ -Louise Glück // Sky Sports // Carlos Sainz Sr Wikipedia // 'Do you still believe myths can save you? Foolish creature. Let me be clear: every version of the story ends with you being slaughtered' -Tory Adkisson // Sydney Morning Herald // Planet F1 // Luvbug, Icarus // ‘Sometimes I prayed so hard for God to materialize at the foot of my bed it would start to happen; then I’d beg it to stop, and it would.’ -Marie Howe, // ‘Click here to be saved’, unable to find original author // ‘God’s favorite follower’ by Tumblr user quiet-plaything // ‘God is fucking with my oblivion. If he wants forgiveness, he shouldn’t have given us memory’ -Vi Khi Nao //  ‘What you have to understand, is your father was your model for God’ -Chcuk Palahniuk // John Mayer, In The Blood // ScuderiaFans //

[loversj0y]

Dadbur never grow up !!!

never grow up

event masterlist

pairing: dadbur x AFAB reader (gn pronouns)

tws: none!

notes: iin honor of speak now tv!!!!! ive never written dadbur before and ive also never written many parent dynamic type things? but this is way too fucking cute as a concept so <;3

word count: 1.1k

taglist: @l0veb0mb1ng / @core-queen / @zooone / @lillylvjy / @ghostsacrosslndnfields / @melunnek

When you had Tallulah, Wilbur sobbed the first time he held her. He had been so supportive throughout the pregnancy, and he was scared to death the entire time as well, worried that he wouldn’t be a good dad, or that something would happen to you.

So the first time he held your little girl in his arms, he sobbed out of love and happiness, kissing her head and whispering about how he’d never let anyone hurt her or break her heart. You could already tell he was going to be a great father. When she gently wrapped her hand around his finger, he suddenly felt like everything was going to be okay. The world had never seemed so quiet. 

He was incredibly attentive after she was born. He was constantly with her, and he took so many photos and videos of her as she grew up. He did have to go on tour eventually, but he would call every day, and he’d look at every photo and video every night to remember what he was coming back to.

When he came back from tour, she’d grown so much. 

“My little ‘Lulah,” he cooed, holding her close in his arms, “You need to stop growing, ‘Lulah. Before I know it, I’ll be beating up any person who tries to break your heart.”

You chuckled, leaning into him gently, “I wish she could stay this little forever.”

He smiled, gently kissing her head. She rested her head on his shoulder, babbling sleepily. She was about 15 months old now, and she was such a sweet child already. She had pieces of her father’s wild soul, but she carried more of his quieter traits.  

“Here,” he passed her over to you, “Let’s go tuck her in. I wanna play her a song.”

You held her and walked to her bedroom, while Wilbur followed with his guitar strapped along his back. As you set her down, he sat down next to her crib, playing a soft tune on his guitar for her as she fell asleep.

As she grew up, Tallulah continued to be the spitting image of her father. Same mess of curly brown hair, and same big brown eyes. She was sweet and kind, always making sure that her friends were doing okay and wanting to help them. However, the similarities with her father meant she definitely got his sense of teenage angst. She was fourteen, and Wilbur was driving her to the movies with you riding shotgun. She looked nervous.

“‘Lulah? You alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she sighed softly.

“You don’t sound fine,” Wilbur added.

She frowned lightly, “‘M just a bit nervous, dad. I’ll be fine.”

He nodded softly, “Remember your breathing exercises in case, okay?”

“Yes, dad, I know,” she rolled her eyes, “I’m not a child.”

You and Wilbur shared a look, slight amusement on both of your faces.

Wilbur pulled up to the front of the movie theater, and you spoke up, “Be safe, and text us when the movie is over, but wait inside for us, okay?”

“Yes, I will,” she got out of the car quickly, and for a moment, she looked like she was going to slam the door shut. 

“Bye, I love you.” She spoke softly.

“Bye, darling. We love you too,” Wilbur responded, and she closed the door softly. 

You took Wilbur’s hand as you watched her walk in and meet up with her friends. 

“You think she’ll be safe?”

“She’s your daughter, Wilbur. I don’t think we have to worry about if she’ll be safe, we should worry about if she’ll talk someone’s ear off.”

He laughed, kissing your hand gently, “God, I hate that she’s growing up. It feels like just yesterday she was just tiny.”

“I know,” you sighed softly, “I wish I could protect her from everything.”

“Me too,” he started to drive away, keeping his hand in yours, “We’ll be there for it all, though. We can’t protect her, but we can help her.”

“Is this your ploy to get her into music?”

“It’s not entirely a ploy,” you both laughed, swiftly heading back home.

“Dad, let me carry it, it’s fine,” Tallulah groaned, reaching for a box Wilbur was holding.

“I’ve got it, ‘Lulah. Don’t worry about a thing,” he smiled, carrying the box up to her apartment. Her first apartment. Neither of you were coping well with the thought, but she was only a two and a half hour drive away. You were so incredibly proud of her. She did follow in her father’s footsteps, but she learned every instrument she could find. Her hard work paid off, granting her a full-ride music scholarship. She also decided to minor in English as well, and it was weird to see your daughter so adult, even if she was just on the verge of 19. 

You’d taken great care to helping her move in, making sure the place felt like home. Mostly by sneaking in little notes from you and Wilbur into every crevice you could find, to be discovered later. It was so odd, to see her in her own place now. Wilbur was setting up her internet while she made sure all of her instruments were in their proper place (she always had a thing about making sure everything had its own specific place). Before you left, you placed a scrapbook next to her bed, filled with some of the photos of her, you, and Wilbur.

Leaving her and driving back home was messy. You and Wilbur both cried, and you caught a glimpse of her tearing up as well before you started on back home. It was so tough to leave her, even if you’d been watching her grow up and preparing for this for years. It was just hard to see her go off. The car ride home was quiet as well, his hand in yours as you wiped at teary eyes. 

Late that night, you and Wilbur were lying in bed, just holding each other close. “She seemed so happy to leave. Do you think she’ll miss us?” You asked softly.

“I think so.” “Really? I just remember how happy I was to finally be away from my parents.” “Well, your parents weren’t exactly the kindest.” He noted.

“I know, but I mean, it’s the freedom and feeling grown up, right? I’m worried we’ll lose her for a bit.” “I don’t-” his reply was cut off by his phone going off. He grabbed it, smiling softly. “I don’t think we’ll have anything to worry about,” he turned the phone towards you, showing off Tallulah’s contact proudly. 

He answered the call, and you both spoke to her as she got settled into bed for her first night alone, and you could hear just how much she missed you both in her voice.

[cats-obsessions]

Dark Urge/Gortash

Just a Drabble I cant get out of my head- Durge is able to recover more of his memories along his travels back to Baldurs Gate, and Orin doesn’t bother telling Gortash that her kin has returned.

“Hello, Lordling”

The Dark Urge, Son of Bhaal, Nox leans back against the old, mahogany desk in his dear friend, Gortash’s office where he’s been waiting, ever patiently, for the tyrant to arrive.

It’s luxurious to a point Nox had once found gaudy, but the room gives him a warm feeling in his chest now.  Some parts of his memories echo through his empty brain as mere feelings and impressions. Some remain vivid, yet the bulk of what he could access shows glimpses of his life only in the months before Orin’s attack, but he knows they go deeper. Flashes of late night scheming, shared heists, interrogations, pools of blood, carefully plotted assassinations, then, the smell of avernus clinging to their skin amidst a first kiss. All of it went back to him- Gortash, not Bhaal. Not his fathers wishes or the Urge or even the temple. Everything in Nox’s empty brain was bringing him here.

He let his companions greet the new archduke on their own, but he watched from the shadows, the disappointment in Gortash’s eyes betraying the tyrant, but this was a meeting better had in privacy. The very same newly coronated archduke stands in front of him now for the first time in only the gods know how long.

“Fuck off,” Gortash grumbles, a tight frown on his face. The large double doors of the office swing closed behind him. As their eyes meet, Nox can see the extent of exhaustion that permeates the tyrant’s being. Circles much darker than usual shroud his near-black eyes. His hair had grown in the past two months, resting on his collarbones in disarray. Even the way he breathes sings of discontent.

Nox tilts his head, unmoving from his spot on the lord’s desk “Not the welcome home I was hoping for. I can understand your anger, but-”

“-Orin” the duke hisses sharply, “I have better things to do than this. As do you. Make yourself useful for once.”

Orin. Something in Nox’s chest sinks with the realization, “She’s been mocking you with my face? Gods- I’m going to kill that inbred little bitch the second I see her” he growls.

That earned a raised eyebrow from Enver, but the duke keeps wary eyes trained on his assassin “I’m not playing your games this time” he sighs.

“I assure you, Enver, I am not here to play games.”

Nox watches as Gortash moves across the room to his liquor cabinet against the wall, fine wood gilded in gold. The duke’s eyes stay trained on him, even as he begins to pour a glass of fine, amber whiskey. “Yes, yes, you will slash me in two, bathe in my blood, and what was it-” Gortash pauses to take a long, slow sip, sighing once again “-wear my intestines as a scarf? No matter- all the same, uncouth drabble with you.”

“Not until the end. And not like that. I won’t kill you until- unless we are the last two living in all the realm. First you, then me.” Nox clenches his fingers, his jaw tightening and untightening as he feels the images of Enver’s death set in behind his eyes. The Urge whispers for him to take the Banite now, but he knows better. He takes a slow, deep breath, reaching instinctively to the band around his wrist. He focuses on the feelings to ground himself for a moment before continuing. “I believe that was the promise I made you before- Well, things are hazy- a lobotomy does that to you.”

Enver stops, his glass half raised to his lips as his eyes widen. Nox can nearly see his thoughts, debates. He’s questioning if Orin could have such knowledge, if Orin could keep calm this long in a conversation, if Orin could push down her Urge. Nox gives a lopsided smile as he continues. “I don’t remember everything, but I remember you. I came back for you- to stand by you. As we are meant to be.”

It only takes a few seconds for Gortash to cross the room, his glass crashing into the golden tray below it, well abandoned; and Nox smiles, allowing his shirt collar to be grasped tightly in the duke’s hands. Gortash crowds his space, leering at him. There’s venom in his expression, but just below that lies hope.

“Prove it or die.”

How many times had Orin tried this? How many times did she dangle Nox in front of Enver? Did she pretend to return to him just like this? Or simply take his form to berate the tyrant lord? The thought makes the teifling’s blood boil. But he will save that rage for later.

Nox huffs out a chuckle, “If I were Orin, I would have my fucking dagger, and this goddamn tadpole wouldn’t be in my head, Enver.”

His words are enough, and Gortash yanks the collar of his shirt forward until they are pressed against each other, their lips colliding in a rough, forceful kiss that dissolves into desperation. For Nox, it’s familiar and new all at once as if he were acting out a scene he had only seen in a play; he knew Enver’s taste, his smell, the way he was rough and gentle all at once. Yet, feeling it rather than seeing it through a haze of lost memories and confusion was enough to make his knees weak.

“You have a tadpole in your head. You gods damned idiot.” Enver smiled against his lips, words devoid of venom. His hands move up to cup Nox’s face, warm gold of Gortash’s gauntlets pressing against his cheeks. “I have missed you so, my dearest.”

“I missed you, too.” Nox chuckles, and his cheeks warm up as if the words were meant to stay inside his mind- as if he was supposed to be ashamed by such thoughts, but the way Enver pulls him closer makes him think perhaps it is okay not to be ashamed about some things. Perhaps, whatever lingering worry circles in his mind from before does not matter anymore.

[tojiscumdumpster]

CHAPTER SEVEN - TOJI

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀✧ summary page

Within the next few minutes, I’ll be dead. I knew this the moment I saw that blue-eyed freak reappear after when I thought I killed him. Fucking sorcerers and their cursed technique bullshit. Maybe I was too confident thinking I would win the second time. I doubted myself at first, but then I calmed down… No. 

 I was just too confident.

 A world like this wasn’t meant for a monkey like me. I was born into a fucked up family that treated me like shit because I didn’t have any cursed technique. The scar on my lip reminds me of it every day. I got over it, though. I accepted this was my faith. I served my purpose, and it was time for me to go.

 Still, I can’t help but wish I made it out alive. That I had a little bit more time. 

 “Nah,” I replied, vaguely. 

 How am I supposed to answer some cliché question like that? 

 Any last words?

 Why would I tell him that? 

 Tell him about the thoughts and images that’s in my head.

 Tell him that I had a wife who I actually saw some good in me. Good enough to get pregnant and raise a kid together. Tch, me? Toji Fushiguro? A husband and father? I never thought I would live to see the day. And of course, it didn’t last long. 

 My wife died because of an incurable sickness. I never felt pain before. Not when I’m standing here with half my body blown off. Not when my family tortured me. But the day she died, I felt pain. I didn’t cry. I just felt empty. Felt like I had no reason to be decent anymore. How was I supposed to raise a kid by myself? 

 She told me I was going to be okay. 

 I wasn’t okay. 

 I’m a fucked a person.

 A fucked up father.

 . . . I was never made to be a fucking dad. Me selling my son to my family is better than what I could’ve done for him. It wouldn’t make any difference if I was or was not in his life because I would never be good enough to be a father. . . A person. . . But I met. . . Her.

 In my final moments, I think of my late wife, my son, and—

“Dad!” Megumi’s deafening voice wakes me up. “It’s almost five. We have to go to the store.”

  What the…

 What the fuck was that? 

 Lately my mind has been clogged with thoughts and what feels like memories I used to have. Could never decipher them, but that dream was probably the clearest I had. 

 Me being on the verge of death (wouldn’t be the first time), apparently being killed by some blue-eyed fuck. Giving Megumi away to the Zen’in Family? Like fucking hell. I would endure the shit they put me through every day for the rest of my life knowing it would keep my kid safe. I just don’t understand these dreams I’ve been having.

 Are they signs? Is my judgment day coming where I would have to atone to my sins? Some bad shit about to happen to me? Megumi? I don’t fucking know. 

 I don’t care for karma. I don’t care for faith, destiny, or any of that manifestation bullshit. But I do believe in purpose, and sometimes I feel like I don’t have any. That there isn’t any.

 I’m a dad. For what? To fail my son. I was a husband, had my flaws but shit, I tried. And for what? To lose her only after being parents together for eight years? It was unexpected. Nature calling, and at the moment, I never hated whatever fucking god above so much because they took her away from me. 

 From me and Megumi.

 Please take care of Megumi.

 It’s like I can hear her lecturing me about all the times I had our kid eating take out or having him walk home alone from school. 

 Take care of Megumi. . . Yeah, I’m trying.

 I have to do better.

 I need to.

 The little purpose I have is left for him.

 “If you can’t go anymore, can you at least give me the money so I can go by my-”

 “No,” I interrupted, clearing my throat. “No, let’s go. Sorry, kid. Your old man was dozing off.”

 Here’s another thing about being a parent. Being around other parents who force small talk while their kids go off and buy shit. Because we’re parents, that means we have to share funny stories and randomly show baby photos to people you don’t even fucking know. Why? I don’t know, but I bet the mom next to me that has been talking my ears out for the past fifteen minutes could tell you.

 Having Megumi as my kid means he’s going to have most, if not some, of my traits. One of them being how much of a loner I am that appreciates his space. After my failed attempt to walk around with the kid to maybe have some father-son bonding, I figured I just stand at a comfortable distance and let him do his own thing. 

 No pressure. I’m on his time. Not the other way around.

 Still, me standing alone was not a fucking invitation to talk to me.

 I respect women. I do, but I’m two seconds away from telling her to fuck off in the nicest way possible. 

 Though, I have a reason why she approached me to begin with. 

 How she’s invading my space, trying her hardest for me to look at her tits. The extra pout she gives her lips while talking to me. How she’s still asking me one off questions, despite my vague one word answers.

 She’s looking to get fucked, but she’s just too shy to say it. 

 Attractive for most part. Probably five-foot-ten, maybe in her late thirties. Strong perfume. Hair drops right below her jaw. 

 Hm, not my type. 

 “So, here’s another photo-”

 “Sorry, why are you showing me these again?” I abruptly asked. 

 “I—” she stumbles over her words, pushing her hair back while giving me a timid smile.

 “Seems like you had other reasons.”

 “Like?”

 I shrug. “To get fucked.” I can tell that my brute honesty throws her off a bit, but she gathers herself. 

 “Are you offering?”

 “No.”

 She’s probably taken back by my response. I wouldn’t know because I casually walked away to the next aisle. 

 Back in Tokyo, I gained attention, but in America? The women here look at me like I’m a fucking piece of meat. Not that I don’t mind, but shit. 

 What would help if they didn’t waste both our time with trivial chit chat and just cut straight to the chase. 

 Anyways. 

 Told the kid I’ll be walking around the store if he needs me, and of course he replies with whatever . Like I should be surprised. 

 He’s my son, after all. 

 Pretty packed for a Tuesday night at the store. Guess all the parents are out buying their kids shit, too. While Megumi is getting his supplies together, figured I could go to the meat section to make dinner tonight. Probably hot pot for the kid and offal for me. 

  Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing this parenting shit right. You know, letting Megumi be by himself to buy things while I roam around. Probably not because I see families throughout the store and they look happy, for the most part. 

 The look on their faces, the light conversations they’re having about who knows what. . . I can tell this is going to be one of those fucking nights for me. 

 Remember there was a point in my life where I was content with the small family I created. My wife. Megumi. Living in the shittiest apartment building back in Tokyo and barely making ends meet. 

 I came from a wealthy family. One of the wealthiest in Japan. I was supposed to be a silver spooned brat that was grateful to be born into money, only later to be beaten and emotionally abused, which eventually left me in the streets. 

 And you know after all the shit those Zen’in fucks put me through regardless of the amount of money I had access to, I’d always choose what I had with my wife and my strained relationship with Megumi. 

 But of course, any good that happens to me is only temporary. Can only imagine how long I have left with Megumi until he turns eighteen and moves far away from me if he decides to go to college. 

 Is it wrong for me to wish my kid would cut me some slack? Probably, but that’s not something I would ever ask him. Though, I can fucking admit that it stings how he addresses me has changed over time. 

 Daddy to Papa, now to Dad. Soon he’ll start being formal and shit by calling me father or even my first name. I guess I should be grateful he’s calling me anything at all. 

 Damn, if I liked alcohol, I would’ve said I need a drink right now. Maybe a few. Being in family settings makes me feel the emotion I hate feeling the most. Vulnerability . 

 It makes me feel weak, like I’m pitying myself. I don’t care for pity. I don't care to say I didn’t deserve to experience trauma. It happened. There’s shit I can do about it. No point for me to keep thinking about it. 

 It’s just hard when your son doesn’t even want to be seen with you in public to go school supply shopping. 

 I need to clear my head. 

 Already worked out twice today, and clearly that’s not working. Maybe some pussy. It’s been a while since I last had sex. Maybe I need…

 Y/N .

 Here I am again thinking about her at the most random fucking times. I said I need her. Would I ever tell her that?  Most likely not. 

 How can I tell a woman that I don’t know that I need her? To be around her and have her bubbly personality overshadow my grumpiness. To stare at her in dead silence and think how fucking pretty she is. How good she smells. How can I tell Y/N that? 

 She’s good company. 

 That’s all she is…

 Soon she’ll see I’m no good. 

  “Miss L /N told me you’ve been doing good in class, kid.”

 Been home with Megumi for about two hours now. School shopping is not fucking cheap, to say the least. My job pays well, but the cost of shit in America is still something I’m trying to adjust to, especially in comparison to Japan. 

 Megumi is the only reason why I haven’t gotten broke yet. 

 “Yeah,” he responds flatly.

 I stuff my mouth with a piece of meat. “Want to talk about it?”

 “Not really.”

 “Alright.”

 There goes that loud silence. 

 I continue, trying to keep conversation. “Food's good?” He nods. “Think you got everything you needed for school?”

 “Yes, Dad.” Annoyance fills his voice, making it very clear that I’m bothering him. 

 “Everything’s okay?” I asked. 

 “Can’t we just eat in silence? Why are you forcing conversation?”

 Oh.

 “Sorry, kid. Just trying-”

 Megumi pushes back his chair, standing up with his plate in his hand. “I’m going to my room. Thanks for dinner.”

 What the fuck am I doing wrong?

 I talk, he’s annoyed with me. I don’t talk, I feel like he’s being neglected again. Not sure if I’m giving Megumi too much space or just enough space, but it’s kind of fucking hard when I don’t how he feels. 

 When you come from an abusive family that doesn't know how to give or receive love, it passes onto you and potentially it’ll pass onto your child. 

 That’s what I’m trying to prevent. 

 I was scared as shit when my wife first told me she was pregnant. I mean, how the fuck was I supposed to be a dad? I don't know what it feels like to have one. But I knew I was going to be okay if I had her by my side.

  I’m a fucked up person. . . A fucked up father. 

 “Fuck, I need to take a walk,” I say to myself. 

 I get up to put the leftovers in the oven so I can finish later. Before I walk out the door, I tell Megumi I’m stepping out for a while and guess what he says? 

 Whatever. 

  Patience, Fushiguro. Patience.

  Be kind to yourself, Toji . That’s what Y/N told me the other day. I have messaged or contacted her at all since I got her number yesterday. Maybe I need to talk to her… see her… just for a little bit. 

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

discussion question #3 — the more we see toji and megumi's relationship, struggles are shown between them. more so, on toji's part. do you think he should continue making small talk or allow megumi to come around whenever he's ready? looks like toji is afraid to let that happen because he doesn't want megumi to feel neglected. thoughts?

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

Secret

In which Gale asks his lady to tell him a secret. NSFW.

“Tell me a secret,” Gale whispered to his lady. There was a slight slur to his words because of the wine. He’s so adorable when he’s a little drunk. Even more cuddly and snuggly than normal, which is not a bad thing! I love it.

Agnes giggled. “Gale love, you already know so much! There’s very little I haven’t told you.”

He took another sip of wine and placed the goblet down on the little table in his tent. As per their previous agreement, when they were alone, his glamour was off. But that’s not the only thing that’s off. He’s down to his smalls and holding me and kneading my belly and kissing me and oh my fucking gods please Gale don’t ever stop. “My sweet sorceress, surely there is something you haven’t shared.” He kissed her red curls and sighed. “Could be a nice secret. Not anything bad.”

The dwarf closed her eyes for a moment, listening to Gale’s heartbeat. “I…do you remember the night we shared the Weave? The night of the celebration after saving the grove?”

“Mhmm yes, my love.” His free arm continued to hold her to him as he drank some more. “Such a beautiful moment with you.”

Playing with his thick, dark chest hair, she smiled. “Feeling you, feeling the Weave…I knew I loved you in that moment. I mean, I already liked you of course.” She opened her eyes and tickled him a bit. “Even though you insulted me.”

He let out a dramatic sigh. “You’re never letting me live that down, are you?”

NOPE. Agnes giggled. “Maybe in a decade or so, love.” Back to my not-so-secret secret. “I knew I loved you that night. I could feel your very essence, and it made me feel safe. Happy. Adored.” She felt his hold on her tighten. “You’re a sweet, wonderful, handsome man, Gale. I only wish I said something sooner.”

A broken sob escaped him as he practically squeezes the stuffing out of me!! GOOD GODS, LOVE! “My love, I had wanted to tell you that night, but the orb…any amount of excitement could have made it unstable. I didn’t want to erupt and kill you!” He kissed her hair and rubbed her back.

Should I? I SHOULD. Snuggling against his chest and still playing with his chest hair, she hummed. “Well, I hope that you’ll erupt inside me later.”

The strangled sound that came out of Agnes’s lover made her giggle. Before she had a chance to tease him just a little bit more, Gale kissed her soundly. He was breathless when he pulled away and cupping her face in his hands. “Lie down, my sweet. Let me take care of you.” His brown eyes were full of emotion. “You take such good care of me, sweetness. Let me love you…” He positioned her on her back and began kissing her neck and collarbones. “Oh Agi darling, you’re so beautiful.” His hands found their way to the laces on her corset. Eyes locked with hers, Gale whispered, “May I?”

“As if you even have to ask.” Agnes giggled. You never have to, Gale of Waterdeep! And the only reason I wear this extremely uncomfortable thing is because it’s hot seeing you unlace me! AND MY TITS LOOK GREAT!

Gale chuckled, his long fingers undoing the laces. “While that may be true, my love, it never hurts to ask. Who knows---there might be a night in the future when you don’t want me fondling your breasts.” Pulling the laces loose, he removed the offending garment and tossed it to the side. His hands quickly grabbed her large breasts, kneading them gently. “Though, I do pray they’re few in number.”

“You and me both.” She teased before she let out a soft moan. “Gale love, please…” Please don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.

Those three words seemed to do something to Gale, whose head then dipped and took a nipple in his mouth. Licking and suckling, he was relentless in his very mean and cruel and perfect and amazing assault on his lady.

“G-Gale love, please…”

He released her with a pop, a smirk across his lips. “Please what, my beauty? Please don’t stop? Please continue? Please conjure a mirror image to take that other succulent breast in his mouth?” He leaned back down, his lips barely touching hers. “Please give me your large, incredibly hard cock?”

Trying and failing to rub her soft thighs together because he’s RIGHT THERE, Agnes whined. “For fuck’s sake, Gale…just fuck me already!”

Gale’s brown eyes darkened as he laughed heartily. “Who am I to deny such a heartfelt request from the most beautiful, sweetest sorceress in all the realm?” He lined himself to her entrance and sighed happily. “My love, I’ve been wanting you all day…needing you…”

YOU. AND. ME. BOTH. GALE. LOVE. “A-ah,” she breathed as she felt the tip of his cock slip through her folds. “Is that why you’ve been so handsy tonight?”

Groaning, he nodded quickly. “You arouse me in infinite ways, my beauty. Seeing you cast even the simplest spells…the sway of your hips as you walk…” He gently thrust a few times, moaning. “The way your thighs touch…your generous bosom bouncing as you get excited…your plump lips touching mine when I give you a kiss…” The next thrust was much harder. “The way you come on my cock…Gods, I can’t get enough of you.”

Gale love, this all amazing and I love you so much but MORE FUCKING LESS TALKING. Reaching for his broad shoulders, Agnes pulled Gale down, his lips crashing into hers. As much as she could, she wrapped her legs around his thick waist. Want more contact. Want more of him. All of him. Always. Thrusting up into him, she moaned into his mouth. “So close…” She breathed, gasping for air after their kiss. Feeling his fingers pinch her clit, she came with a small scream on his mouth, her brown eyes meeting his.

He came soon after, several very ungentlemanly but very sexy grunts escaping him as he collapsed next to her. He said he’s afraid of crushing me. I’m a dwarf! I’m tough! I can handle my big, sexy wizard. One hand was over his heart, sweating pouring off him. The other was holding hers. “I love you dearly, my sweet sorceress, but I’m afraid you’re going to be the death of me.”

Turning, she snuggled into his side and giggled. “Who? Me? Your beauty? Hurting you? Never, Gale love.”

“Ha! I never said ‘hurt,’ darling, but if you want to go again, give me a few—”

She pressed a kiss to his chest. “Not tonight. If we were at my house, in my bed…yes, absolutely.” When we get to Baldur’s Gate, I’m insisting on a night for just the two of us at home. I’ll cook him whatever he wants, maybe chocolate chip cookies for dessert, watch the sunset on the roof deck, and then ride him until dawn!

He raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Or in Waterdeep? I assure you that my bed is quite comfortable---a soft mattress with the finest silk sheets and Waterdhavian feather pillows. Plenty large enough for the two of us.” Kissing her red curls, he heaved a heavy sigh and sat up. “But before we delve into this much further, let’s get cleaned up, shall we? You stay right there,” a long finger touched her nose as smiled gently. “Let me.” He grabbed a cloth and tapped a bowl that filled with water instantly. I love magic. He carefully cleaned her first and then himself. Knowing his preference for modesty, Agnes expected him to put on his sleep shirt and trousers and lie back down.

He only put the trousers on.

She raised an eyebrow as he pulled her into his embrace once more. “Your shirt…?”

He tensed immediately. “O-oh, you want it on? Forgive me, I—”

“No! No, it’s not that. I mean, you usually have on a shirt and bottoms. It’s a…good change.” Good. Great. Amazing. Spectacular. She nuzzled his hairy chest and rubbed his soft belly. I love you so much. My own walking encyclopedia magic bear. I hope this is another little step towards you loving the man you are, not the great wizard you think you should be.

Gale sighed and rubbed her shoulder. “Oh! Well, good then! As I was saying, my bedroom…”

His lady giggled softly, listening to him describe nearly every detail of his bedroom for over a half hour before she poked his side. “Hey, you asked me for a secret earlier. How about one for me, love?”

He did not say anything for a few minutes. “I,” he swallowed thickly. “I…ever since we’ve been together, despite the dire circumstances of said meeting, despite the orb, despite everything else, I’ve been dreaming of the future so much more. Do you want to hear about them?” His voice was tentative, and he seemed a little nervous.

“Of course I do, love.”

With a nod, Gale continued. Breathing a deep sigh of relief. Poor love. “I dream of us in Waterdeep, living in our tower.” Our!!! TOWER!!! Oh goodness, this already sounds perfect. “I have students that come for lessons. After all, every wizard begins somewhere! Not like a certain sorceress who was simply born with awesome power.” He chuckled and kissed her head. “Ahem, anyways, I’ll have students coming and going for lessons. Or maybe I’ll teach at my old university. There was a dream where you brought us sandwiches and treats.” I can picture the dreamy look on his face. “Another you came in as I was doing work with a tray of freshly baked cinnamon rolls,” his lips curled into a smile. “With a small army of little ones following. Each with varying degrees of red in their hair, big smiles, and another one on the way. We ate. Laughed. I told them stories about our adventure, about the Weave, anything, everything. Sometimes you were the one telling stories.” His voice broke a little. “The dreams themselves are so beautiful, my love, but the fact that I can dream about this…that it may actually come to pass…all because of you…I cannot describe what it…what you…mean to me. There are so many words yet all they all seem inadequate for you and what you’ve given to me…to us. I suppose that’s a long way of saying I have the most pleasant dreams of our future, and they make me so happy.”

As he spoke, Agnes’s eyes had filled with unshed tears. She shifted, leaning on her elbow. With the change in position for her, he turned on his side to face her. “Gale love, I promise, no matter what, all your dreams will come true.” She got closer to him, their foreheads touching and their eyes locked. “We will make them happen. Together.”

His lips lazily touched hers, a small smile forming. “Yes, my love. Together.”

[according2thelore]

i just reread ur Love Potion no. 9 and now I’m thinking about es!dean cooking ls!sam a ribeye bc he has a KITCHEN here and ls!sam trying to make himself eat it <3 anyway love ur stuff so much

EEP! thank you anon! i love domestic winchesters so much, lol!

this idea crawled into my head and stuck there until i wrote it. this is humiliatingly long but thank you for the prompt!!! your brain anon!!!

mwah!! mwah!!! <3

the smell brings sam into the kitchen. younger dean is standing near the stovetop, shuffling dishes around. when sam clears his throat, about to ask what he's making, the kid jumps.

"are you making dinner?" sam asks, confused. dean picks up the dishtowel, wiping his hands. sam's younger self and older dean went out to get extra spark plugs for the old junker in the garage an hour ago, and sam was planning on reheating some takeout from the other night.

dean hasn't dropped the dishtowel, kneading it between his hands like he's trying to strangle it.

"yeah, y'know. grandpa told me that i--he--us. we? do a lot of the cooking."

sam rolls his eyes because dean has gotten in the habit of calling older dean 'grandpa' and 'the geezer' and 'ol dusty.' it's cute.

but gosh, the smell. sam's stomach roils. dean must see something shift on his face because he's quick to explain.

"d'you remember when we were stuck outsida asheville? and the only thing we had were those hotdogs?"

sam can't help but wrinkle his nose. he definitely remembers. dean had done everything he could do dress them up and make it different, but they went on a hotdog strike for months after, only choosing other food if they had a choice.

"i got real handy with the grill. that's...kinda the only gourmet cooking i've got under my belt. i asked, but. uh. anyway. i made you steak? a ribeye steak?"

it sounds like a question at the end and sam's stomach sinks because oh shit. dean made this. dean made this for me. sam looks over dean's shoulder, easier than it would be if dean were his older self, pounds of muscle not packed in yet.

that's where he's been. he's been in here since before the other two even left. cooking dinner. for sam. to eat.

it's not even a question of if sam's going to do it. because he is going to do it.

it's a question of how neutral can he make his face as he chokes it down.

and oh god, it's huge. the steak is as big as dean's face, and sam knows for a fact that he must have picked it out specifically, because dean did not have that thing in their fridge.

sam's stomach goes wobbly with the image of this little dean, trailing in aisles in the local grocery store with a hat pulled low over his eyes (like they had all agreed to do until this blew over), deciding which steak sam would like the best.

"oh wow!" sam says, trying to sound encouraging. "it's big."

dean flushes fourteen different shades of pink over a period of ten seconds, and yeah. sam sighs. he's going to eat the fucking steak.

six minutes later, after dean had pushed sam down into a chair and let his hand on sam's shoulder linger for two seconds longer than it should have--

(and really, dean is not smooth. sam wished he had known back in 2006 that dean was this easy to fluster because he would've fallen to his knees in shitty motel carpet ten years early and saved them all a lot of heartache.)

--sam is staring at easily sixteen ounces of meat. to dean's credit, it looks like it should feature on a grilling magazine or something. but all sam can smell is the slightly seared odour of flesh.

"and i heard that you like greens, so--" sam tears his eyes away and dean awkwardly balances a bagged salad in his hands. sam feels like crying. this is going to be a rough few minutes.

"share it with me," sam asks, begs really, but dean just shakes his head.

"nah, man. i made it for you. i've got one for me." and sure enough, sam's stomach sinks as dean brings over another plate to the table with a much more reasonably sized offering.

"great." sam says, smiling bleakly. his throat is clogged and thick when he swallows. he tastes acid at the back of his throat. they sit in silence for a few minutes while sam pops the salad bag, trying to frantically puzzle out how he's going to eat this thing.

he could eat it as fast as possible? give his nerves less time to process the hot skin sliding down his throat. but the chances of him throwing up would increase exponentially. he could chew and hide bites in his napkin? but dean would catch it.

sam's stomach sinks. he's going to have to chew it. and swallow it. and let it sit in his stomach. heavy and full. skin grease and meat tearing under his teeth. sam's mind whites-out with the memory of the cage, of being forced to eat his own thigh down to the bone.

"so..." dean asks, "how long have we lived here?"

sam looks up, and realizes that dean is gripping his beer bottle so tight that it looks like it might shatter in his hand. sam softens. kid looks like he's going to shit himself.

"you know i can't tell you that." sam chides. and he picks up his fork. he picks up his knife. he braces himself. and he cuts.

"and what are your...what are your plans?" dean asks, thirty minutes later. they've been talking back and forth, trading memories of things pre-2006. sam's been trying to keep this strictly common knowledge, and dean--unlike sam's younger self--takes it mostly in stride.

sam feels an automatic reflex to burp rising in his throat, and he locks his muscles as much as he can because if he feels the taste of aerosolized meat in his mouth again, he will vomit.

half the steak is gone, and dean's food is completely gone. he doesn't seem to be in any rush, and keeps giving sam more beer. sam keeps having to take sips after each bite to wash the taste away as soon as he can, so he appreciates it. dean seems more and more surprised that sam isn't letting more slip, and sam smirks to think of how much of a light-weight he used to be.

is dean trying to get him drunk? sam's kind of flattered, he thinks.

"my plans?" sam repeats, raising an eyebrow.

"yeah. y'know. for the future."

sam looks at dean appraisingly. it could be a ploy for information, but for some reason, dean looks prematurely disappointed, like he's bracing himself for bad news. sam quickly takes another bite, thin enough that he can swallow it down without chewing at all.

"well." sam says, slowly. taking another swig of beer. "i've always wanted a dog. but--" he smiles. "'grandpa' says no. he's afraid it's going to get hair all over the car."

dean blinks at him. like he's waiting for something else. but when sam just stuffs another bite in his throat, dean cracks a hesitant smile.

"well. grandpa's very wise. i've always said so. dander is shit for leather."

sam smiles, rolling his eyes, when he hears footsteps.

"did someone grill out inside--" dean. older dean. he rounds the corner, and freezes when he sees the steak in front of sam. his younger self sitting across from him. "what the fuck?"

"dean, it's okay--" sam says, quickly, before dean can say anything, but dean is already storming across the room.

"did you eat this?" he demands, but before sam can say anything, dean whirls on his younger self. "he doesn't eat meat, jackass."

the younger dean blanches. "what? yeah he does. we eat burgers all the time."

"not my sam, one tree hill." dean turns around to face sam again. "are you okay?"

in truth, sam already feels the meat settling oddly in his stomach. he feels like he's going to be sick. but he just glares at dean instead, furious. the cage is sam's to tell--or sam's to bury, in this case. dean's tone is too acerbic for young dean to not pick up on the weight of it. it's clear from dean's tone alone that sam's aversion to meat is not a choice made on ethics.

younger dean looks like he's about to cry, sitting back in his chair. silence stretches for a second.

"give us a minute." sam snaps. dean flushes a furious shade of scarlet.

"what the hell? i'm not--"

"dean." sam says, cutting. dean peters into silence, and sam looks at both deans, one furious and one crestfallen. "he was doing something nice."

"by forcing you to--"

sam puts a hand on dean's, pushing the plate in his hands down. he makes eye contact, and sees the concern there. dean's never been good at letting sam take care of himself, and sam can already see how a version of himself 'hurting' sam is making him ready to start throwing punches. he softens.

"i'm going to be fine. let me handle this, please. i'll catch up with you later."

dean's mouth twists up in a snarl. "sam--"

"later." sam repeats, and dean growls something unintelligible as he storms out of the room. sam sags forward, finally allowing himself to process how full and ill he feels. how the alien flesh in his stomach feels revolting, thick.

"why didn't you say anything?" a quiet voice. sam looks up, smiling a genuine smile this time, and allowing it to look as weird as it probably does.

"i can't." sam says, apologetic. he's not going to tell dean anything about it. he can't know. dean rubs a hand over his face.

"i'm not used to not knowing you, sammy." he murmurs, looking sick. he looks so young that sam's chest contracts. what a sorry pair they make.

"you know me." sam reassures softly. "i'm your little brother."

dean looks up at him then, huffing an unamused snort. they look at each other for a long while, sam tracing the round curves of dean's face. his wide eyes. sam wonders what dean sees when he looks at him.

"yeah. okay." dean says, finally. "'m sorry."

sam shrugs. "how about we get outta here? there's a diner down by the movies that makes a mean veggie burger."

dean nods, still looking lost.

"they also make the best pecan pie in the state. we've checked."

dean snorts, and there he is: sam's big brother. young, and lost, but undeniably here, in the swoop of his bottom lip as he smiles.

sam's chest expands with his first full breath in almost an hour, and something else. something warm.

"i'll be the judge of that." dean says, cocky and all false-reassurance. sam wants to kiss him. but he stands instead, and nods towards the door.

"lead the way."

~~~

i saw something the other day that suggested veggie!sam was a hot take, and i think i'm only a partial veggie!sam believer. i think it comes and goes--he has good and bad days.

i can only imagine the cage made sam's relationship to consuming meat weirder. but who knows! thank you again for the prompt anon!!!

-lizzy

[saltygilmores]

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls 2/16, There's The Rub, The Part Where Dean Shows Up And Ruins Everything, Part 5

Read parts 1-4 and all other episodes in my pinned post. This one may not come across as terribly funny; I felt the urge to continue with this episode but I also felt a bit off my humor game, probably because it's 8,000 fucking degrees outside. Maybe that's what's draining my funny juices. But it does contain a bonus surprise (something I've never done before), so read on. Where we last left off, we were moments away from armageddon as Dean was heading over to the Gilmore house, with his fucking pint of ice cream in a bag, ignoring Rory's wishes to be left alone because consent has never been his forte, hell bent on destroying this evening of blissful harmony being shared between Jess, Rory, and Paris. Rory has just checked the Butthead News and Weather report and learned that a Level 5 DeanStorm is bearing down on the Gilly Girls house. She immediately shifts into panic mode as she tries to evacuate everyone from the house.

I swear he is too smart for his own good. #AdmireTheBaby #ISAIDADMIREHIM

Please don't go, my love.

God, I'm ashamed to admit how long it took me to notice this was actualy a clever ploy to get Rory alone in her room. Clever baby.

I thought Jess was saying he wants to sit down and have a heart to heart talk with Rory, then I realized he actually meant Dean and that is way funnier. I love the absurd image of those two idiots working together to achieve mature conflict resolution. Totally bonkers concept. I've said it before and I'll say it again, if Dean and Jess would just fucking make out with each other there would be peace in Stars Hollow. Rory would be spared, Lindsey would be spared, Lorelai would watch her dreams of marrying Dean Forrester wither on the vine, Shane would still be alive and not murdered by Jess after the dance marathon...

Milos "tiny little ice cream package" line delivery in the following scene is so fucking adorable that I went ahead and made it into a video clip. I should start doing this more often tbh.

I don't know how Jess is always so fearless around Dean, if I were Jess I'd be pissing my fucking pants. Dean fucking terrifies me.

Shit. Is the cold fear that this fictional character instills in me on a regular basis a testament to Jared Padalecki's acting or what? I mean, I hope it's just acting. It's a little too convincing.

He is one scary motherfucker.

Poor Paris. Dean is so horrible to Rory in the next scene, like he is just getting more and more abusive towards Rory as time goes on. So you know what, I'm not even going to write about it. Fuck Dean Forrester. Paris jumps to Rory's defense and makes up an excuse to calm Dean down from his jealous rage and it works. I wish I just could give the both of them (Paris and Rory) a great big hug. Paris is a hero and her love for Rory knows no bounds.

You are not. Fuck you!

Rory, honey. No...just no. 😭

[glamorousnightmares]

TW: g0re art, f3t1ish art, mental illness

Hello everyone, it's been a while since I've made a sincere post and really been on here. I apologize to my online friends who I feel like I've abandoned, my irl life has gotten quite busy.

It's taken me too long to make a post about this but I think it's time to finally face my fear and admit to somethings I never even wanted to think about again. No one made any callouts or did anything to scare me into this, I just want to rid myself of feeling so guilty about the things I've done. It isn't easy to come on here and talk about it, but I need to address what I've done so that I won't hide it any longer than I have. All of everything i talk about is public and I'm mixed on if i will take it down just so I can be reminded of who I was before and to never, ever return to anything like it again.

A few years back, 2021 I think, I got on Tumblr for the very first time. I was not ready for anything like this and I should have waited until I got right in the head space to get on a platform like this. Before then, I had a discord, which I spewed so many words I no longer agree with or stand by. I have changed and grown over the years, almost a new person but with the scars of my past always leaning over me. I didn't fully understand what I was talking about or what I said. To be clear, it wasn't a slur or something, it was a really shitty take on something I thought was right but now I see is severly fucked up. I no longer stand by what i said. I won't get into the details, but if you want them just dm me and ask. If nothing else, this is a callout to myself and who I was before.

Now the worst part and what still haunts me to this day. (To preface, this is where the tw starts, tread carefully.) When I first got my tumblr, I didn't know the dangers of the internet fully. I didn't think about any actions I did, I just wanted to be seen. I will be blunt, I reblogged g0re art and f3tish gore art because of multiple reasons. (None of which are right don't get me wrong)

1. I was not and will never EVER be attracted to anything like that, it was NOT a f3t1sh thing, my brain was just attached to it because of some fucked up things of my past. I won't get specific, that's just what I wanted to see and reblog at the time. I've blocked out a lot of it to be honest, so i don't remember some of why I looked at/ shared such horrible images. Thinking about it now makes me sick and I want nothing more than to bring to light what I've done and seen so that no one will use something like this against me or hurt others with it. It was a sort of "comfort the disturbed, disturb the comforted" type thing.

2. It would shock those I talked to and make me look "insane" and "crazy" so I could be different. I hate those people now and I refuse to ever be like that again, and remembering who I was and how it affected others makes me steer clear of ever even considering being like it again. G0re art and f3t1sh g0re art will never ever be allowed on my blog or anywhere near it again. I wish I could go back and erase all of it, and I have done my best to do so. If you see anything like that, please for the love of God don't interact with it. If you are hurting to the point where you feel as if you need to or are hurting others, please seek help. You are not alone and there is always a brighter day. If you are thinking about doing anything like what any of those pictures showed, please tell someone close to you and do not hurt yourself or anyone around you. Someone will always listen and cares about you, I promise.

Another thing was the way I treated others back then was shitty, and while I had so much fun with everyone that I met, talked to, or just had a few interactions with, I hold all of them incredibly close to my heart. I will try to interact on here more and do my best to be a better person with strong morals and the best intentions.

Saying all of this leads me to one thing I should have said more back then; I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was like that and how I treated others. I'm sorry I had to put all of you through that just because of things going on in my own life. You all deserved better and I needed to be better.

Living with what I've done, said, and shown had been tough, I'm not going to lie. I'm not trying to make it a sob story, I'm just being honest. But it was important to who I am today and what it makes me as a person. Was it right? No, it never will be no matter how much I try to justify it. But learning from it and taking away the lessons is more important than anything. I hope this could clear some air and shine light on who I was so that I will never become like that again, hurting others and only showing and being the worst the world has to offer. Making not the world, but at least some corner of it brighter and better than It was will be my main goal now. I no longer want to be hurtful, I want to help those who need it. If there is one thing I will strive for, it is to be better.

With love and high hopes,

-Glam☆