#i am so excited to finally have a dream of him PLS !!

[satorisoup]

OMIGOSH I JUST WOKE UP NOBODY MOVE !! THE DAY HAS FINALLY ARRIVED !! BOKUTO WAS IN MY DREAMMM RAHHHH EGEHEHDHS :3

[kithtaehyung]

minted: three (explicit) | myg

title: minted: part three (m) pairing: street king!yoongi x street vendor!reader series: masterlist | one | two rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , smut ; haegeum au , gang au summary: at this point, you would do anything to forget. including the unthinkable with a gangster. note: sooo this series basically saved my writing slump haha. i am still having the time of my life and i’m so excited to show y’all more of this minted universe. and to also show you just how spicy things can get❤️‍���� note 2: this is ofc a present for hali @sailoryooons that spiraled into a whole universe. still always gonna thank nary @joonary for letting me use the vendor reader idea, as well! also happy birthday to @remmykinsff @awbells @keylime4eva @aaclariww and @noshit-cantfindagoodone!! to everyone else having a bday around this time, this is my gift to you hehehe. warnings: language, drugs, alcohol, slow burn, murder mentions, gang activity, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, chains bc of course :)), world-building, reader is still sassy, yoongi is still infuriating, tension explicit warnings: under the cut! drop date: december 9th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 12.3k 😀👍

explicit warnings: i know it’s a slow burn but there’s definitely smut lol, choking, head/hair tugging, penetration, oral (f rec), backshotssss, marking bye, rough sex, ass play, breast play, his hands are a nice necklace😀, taunting cus reader’s an icon, thighs, breath play, spanking, hand job, protected sex, multiple orgasms, restraints (his hands, robe tie), brat!reader but who is honestly shocked🙂‍↔️, brat tamer!yoongi lmao, yoongi is a menace i’m sorryyyy, but reader is…?????, need them both™, teasing, rawdogging HELLO?? (pls wrap it up fr!), commanding yoongi a ha ha, pain kink, cowgirl🙂‍↕️, this is just the calm before a whole damn storm

—

—

“But,” you exhale with a shake. “Just for tonight…”  

This is it.

The brink of no return.

Your soul dips into the dark.

“Please make me fucking forget.”

Did you go too far? 

Is there a limit to his accommodation? Did you actually think this was gonna be easy? 

When silence swirls between your robes, you start to second guess your demand. 

But Yoongi simply stares before stepping aside, allowing you to enter his room with jellied legs. 

This is madness, but you’re gonna go through with it. Whatever the hell this will be. Because you may not know much, but you figure all men sit up the same when sex is on the table. 

This man, though... 

Quite frankly, you aren��t sure about anything when it comes to him. Unless it’s about him doing something questionable. Then there’s no question about it.

The enigma himself makes no conversation as you step inside, even as your eyes roam around a cleaner, more put-together room than when you left the first time. Did Yoongi clean this much while you made a mess of your dreams? 

The only answer you get is a door shutting, followed by a massive presence at your back. Before you can so much as turn around, the first words on your shoulders burn like embers,

“Was he your first.” 

Fuck. 

This isn’t what you approached him for. He’s supposed to make you forget, not remember. Remember?

You don’t turn around; you don’t respond right away. Instead, you swallow before focusing very hard on the fact that Yoongi sleeps on the bedside nearest the window. At least, judging by the way the covers are flipped. You happen to prefer the side opposite.

The heat from his body proves soft but intense, and you can’t help but close your eyes when you finally answer with a question, 

“Do you remember yours?” 

“Yes.” 

“Do you ever regret it?” 

“No.”

Your vision lowers to the rug lying still under the bed. A splash of light grey amongst a darkened, moonlit sea. 

No matter how quick Yoongi answers. No matter how even his tone. 

He still remembers it, too. 

But this isn’t what you expected when you walked in here. You assumed this man was going to get right to it, save no room for you to second guess yourself. Clearly he gave zero shits about kissing you in that taxi, and he damn near undressed you in the living room. 

So what’s the holdup here? Does he want this for real? Or not? 

Head at a slight angle, you admit with a hint of finality, “I don’t wanna talk about that.” 

“Mm.” A warm, rough hand subtly tugs at your belt, and prominent knuckles nudge through the smooth material of your robe. “So what are you really here for.” 

Your eyes blink thrice. 

Yoongi cannot be serious. Does he really not know? 

No. He knows. With a shift of your jaw, you realize he’s just fucking with you, purposefully not in the way you want. “You’re being difficult.” 

“You woke me up.”

Ah. That’s fair. 

“So tell me.” 

Well. If you’re gonna have to spell things out for him, he’s gonna be waiting for awhile. Because the more you stand here not doing anything, the harder it is to gather a little thing called courage. Courage to meet the beast in his den, and madness to let him devour you whole. Now you have neither. Neither, neither, neither.

Awkwardness sticks to your throat until it’s jammed, and you can barely mush your lips together to form sounds. The courage you speak of flees before you can wrangle it, and what’s left of your answer tumbles out like boulders, “This is.. I don’t.. I can’t.” 

“You can.” 

“It’s,” you huff, noting that you don’t like this horrible mix of hesitation and anger, “It’s… I’m—” 

Your vision jolts as you feel a quick tug shit you’re spinning fuck your back just hit a wall—

“Of all things today,” Yoongi murmurs with slits for eyes, “This is what gets you to shut up?” 

Damn it. 

You don’t even have a rebuttal. Because he’s right. Yoongi’s sharp discernment is millimeters from your face and you have no intention to move nor speak. Only quick breaths. Only shaky exhales. 

But you do swallow.

Which brings out a sound you will never admit you like: a breathy, condescending laugh, as coarse and as soft as his touch. 

“You mean to tell me,” he observes, tilting your chin while his irises blaze dark, “You came all the way in here for nothing?”

“No, I—”

“All that talk, and for what.” 

Defend yourself. Say something. Say just one word two words any words—

Did Yoongi just pat your cheek? ..Twice? 

Why did you kinda like that—

“Makes no sense,” he ponders aloud, lolling his head and staring down your crumpled lips. “Who even are you..” 

Now that's an easy one. You always have the answer to that question. 

“No one,” you whisper. “Sorry to disappoint you.” 

Seems like the people back home aren’t the only ones you’ll let down. If Yoongi keeps that question loaded in the chamber, he’s gonna keep shooting the same target. Over, and over, and over. 

But you don’t have to worry. Because he drops it, caging you in with a hand near your stiff, risen shoulder, “So what are you here for.” 

This is a mistake. Either Yoongi doesn’t want this, or he’s being frustrating on purpose and your fire is both stoked and quelled. “Now I don’t know for sure.” 

“The more you stall the harder it gets,” he goads with a lick of teasing. And for a split, minuscule second, you wonder if that meant more than one thing.

Goddamn, he’s annoying. He’s outright savoring this. 

Maybe you shouldn’t be surprised. You woke him up for god’s sake. If someone did this same thing to you after the day you’ve had, you wouldn’t have even let them in. 

Unfortunately for you, Yoongi’s version of dealing with a midnight inconvenience is whittling them down until they leave— 

“So you can tell my bellhop off but I get nothing, huh.” 

Oh, shit. 

Oh, shit. 

You’re so taken aback that you can only ask, “What?” 

Mercifully, the dragon gives you air, straightening before leaving your personal space. 

Your focus should be on his words. You know this. But he uses this moment to rake his hair, and words are no match for the sleeve cascading down his inked forearm. 

Even as his hair flows in waves, you still cling to his tattoos as he looks downward in thought. “You think I wouldn’t check who the fuck was coming up here?” 

It takes you a second to process. 

But you realize what this means and you fall silent again.

Yoongi saw that? All of that? You acted without much thought, and if he really did see and hear everything that went down, there’s a chance he thinks a lot differently about you now. No wonder he’s so thrown by this switch in behavior. 

But on the other hand.. The way he touched you in the living room. Was all that because of what he saw? Is that side of you the one that pulled him close? 

You thought his parting would allow you room to breathe. How very wrong you were. 

Shoving all contemplation aside, you decide to coat the room with concern, your assertion making a brief comeback, “He said a lot of shit, Yoongi. What was that about?” 

He languidly approaches the long table at your side—one you faintly noticed while leaving the room the first time. Unbothered, he slides unhurried fingers over a gun, stopping on the barrel before reaching for something less lethal. 

A decanter, it seems. Liquid flows from the container into a smaller glass, and you assume it’s whisky from the deep amber tones and luscious pour.

When you wonder where else Yoongi litters his weapons, he cuts through your surveying, 

“You really wanna know?” 

Looking up, you nod. 

He sets the bottle down with a dull clink. “He took his chances.” 

“His.. What?” 

Now what the hell could this man mean by that? You were clearly being coaxed into leaving the premises, vaguely feeling like something seemed off. How is he being so dismissive about all this? 

Slowly, Yoongi shakes his head, looking out into the night while taking his initial sip. “I don’t come here often. But when I do, I come alone.” Long fingers nestle his cup perfectly as he explains further, “It’s been awhile, so. Had to feel out the staff.” 

The staff. Is that why Yoongi held your hand? To weasel someone out? You really thought he meant it when he said he just wanted to… 

How naive. 

“His plan could’ve been solid.” 

“But what?” You ask, newfound frustration clipping your tone. 

Yoongi slides you a look over the rim of his glass. “He didn’t know who he’d be dealing with.” 

Your eyes roll so far they strain.

But this begs a question. Does he mean dealing with you? Or him? Surely he meant your little show at the elevator but he could very well mean himself. 

Facts are facts. Would Yoongi really trade il-don for you? Absolutely not. So you have to assume he’s mostly talking about the latter. 

Your scoff is pitched to the side, “Of course. You wouldn’t trade il-don for anything.” 

Yoongi pauses, not acknowledging your comment in the slightest as he strolls back your way. “Something I am curious about..” As he leans in, musk and whisky invade both your space and senses. And you hate, hate, hate that you need more of it. “Who was he talking to?” 

“Someone he royally pissed off.” 

“Mm.” 

“You’re not gonna punish him?” 

“Me? Nah.” Leaning on the sideboard, he stares out the windows across the room. Your vision follows suit. “Not until I have to.”

If what happened wasn’t enough to warrant a punishment, you’re morbidly curious about what ticks the box. “I figured he’d be dead by now. At least for trespassing.”

Yoongi only shrugs. “Grey zones aren’t just amnesty for the clans. Anything goes here, too, so a ransom attempt isn’t surprising.” 

This man really doesn’t stand on black or white. Here you are with eggs for brains discovering you were almost taken instead of saved, and he’s chalking it up to, what, just another Tuesday? Or is it still Monday? You don’t even know anymore. 

Your question leaves you a little scuffed. Because you feel exactly like leftover goods. The fruit at the back. “Are you always this heartless?”

“So I’ve been told.” 

Great. 

So much for being… Safe up… here… 

You glance at the touch on your hip, and your eyes traverse up his arm as he toys with your belt again. 

Shouldn’t you feel disgusted? Shouldn’t you be walking away? It’s crystal clear how little this man thinks of you, or anyone for that matter. He probably brought you along just to be a shield for his precious il-don. So why can’t you bring yourself to leave? 

Your knot starts to loosen.

His voice begins to flow.

“But if you’re gonna go for what’s mine, don’t be an idiot.” 

Wait.

No. Nope. Stop thinking about what that could mean. Because if you think too hard, it will only leave you disappointed. 

But there’s something you won’t stop doing. And Yoongi knows you won’t. So as he keeps playing at your waist, your words come out in shudders, 

“Can’t believe you used me.” 

Yoongi hums, and it makes you shiver when his touch leaves you to rest against wood counters. “You’re about to use me, too.” 

Fucking hell, he’s right. 

“Gotta say I didn’t expect it, but..” Damn him and his head tilts. “I’m impressed.” 

You’re too empty-headed that you can’t even process his words as genuine praise. His touches already feel like pops of lights in the night sky.

It’s a given. You aren’t prepared for him in the slightest.

“Come here.” 

Lightly pulling your hand, Yoongi brings you to stand in front of him. And from this point of view, you become even more ensnared. 

His robe flows down his taut build so beautifully, painting him like dark water over rolling hills. At his peak, the hair you’ve come to miss frames his face like artwork. Mesmerizing. Your downfall. 

“You get one more chance. Tell me why I’m awake.” 

Your brow lift is only a front. The rest of you is shaking, trembling, howling. “You clearly know.”

“Tell me anyway.” 

Relentless. Will you shame yourself for wanting to see him use this same strategy on other people? Most likely. But will that stop you from thinking about it anyway? Absolutely, positively not. 

But there’s another side of you that’s being comforted. And it’s the side that realizes how much he’s spoken, how much time you’ve spent without needing to watch behind your back. 

Yoongi talking this much? It’s making things easier. And it’s strangely making you feel a little better, even if the subject matter isn’t the greatest topic in the universe. 

After you steal a glance at the other whisky glass, you look into his eyes. Determined and decisive. Knowing exactly what you want at this very moment, because you just need a little more time. 

“Tell me more. About grey zones.” 

Something in the air freezes. And Yoongi’s brows crease so comically you almost laugh. “That’s it?” 

“Yes.” 

His nod is slow as he sets down his glass.

And you’re quickly hauled back so fast that you don’t have time to react. 

A rush of air. The world topples. Soft sheets. 

Dangerously, a thin chain sways above as Yoongi shrouds your body in silk and lingering smoke. A gasp escapes you as he peers into your eyes, and your senses fire as a commanding hand slides up your thigh. 

“Final answer?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck you know you want him and you still do but also talking to him isn’t half bad and maybe you’re just tired of being lonely— 

Musk. Alcohol. Breathing hard, you take it all in. Slowly nodding because you can’t function otherwise, which makes a dragon flash teeth. 

But he obliges without moving a muscle, so you’re left underneath a demon—robe dangerously close to opening and exposing everything once again.

A man of conviction, Yoongi does exactly as you ask. Eyes drooped, he continues his explanations, as if he didn’t just shove you into his enormous bed and tangle you under his legs, 

“They started awhile ago, back when all the high-powers got locked in a grudge match. Took half the city with them.” 

Immediately, your shoulders start to sink into his tale. “Half is a lot.” 

“Everything went to shit,” he agrees. “Not even the Politicol could stop it all.” 

“Bullshit.”

His level expression is enough to refute.  

Now that’s a shock to learn. For as long as you can remember, the Politicol have always held more power than any force should ever have. If they weren’t able to keep this under control, the high-powers used to be ungodly. 

Staring at the slippage on Yoongi’s shoulder, you wonder if those ink lines are to immortalize the ones that came before him. The history he must’ve grown up memorizing. 

Still.. Why does he have them all? There’s no way he doesn’t know how disrespectful that is to all three clans. 

But then again. He said he didn’t choose them himself. Which leads you nowhere in this unending maze. 

Head disheveled; robe coming undone. To outsiders, you’d be at Yoongi’s mercy. 

But in reality, you’re laser focused on him and his explanations. Especially when his voice scratches every itch just right. “So…” You watch his gaze slowly slide down your face. “What happened?”

Even now, Yoongi’s hands stay exactly where they are. The only thing that moves is the tinkling swing of his silver above your warming neck. “Deals were made, stripping power from all of them in certain sectors so that none could completely take over.” 

“Why only in certain ones?” 

A corner of his mouth quirks up. “Let’s just say the negotiations went how you think they did.” 

Your eyes roll yet again. But another question pings into your mind as quick as the first one, knitting your brows. “Wait… Deals with the Politicol? Or each other? No way they would’ve let cowards put them all on a leash.” 

At this, something interesting passes over Yoongi’s face.

But it flits away before you can snatch it for further inspection, and the shift of his leg against your thighs resets your brain. 

“Any of the clans could’ve monopolized if they had the right resource, but. They weren’t ever gonna let outsiders get a piece. Called a truce and kept their mouths shut.” 

Makes sense. You know exactly what resource he’s referring to. “The il-don.” 

“That’s part of it.” He shifts again, but this time, your legs have more room to move. “But grey zones have priority infrastructure. The ones that keep the lights on. If you had the money, you had the people. And people are the best resource there is.” 

It’s at this moment that a lot of things click into place. 

And one of those is figuring out that you may have been a little wrong about the man above you. 

Is he heartless? To a high degree. But that comes with being calculating. Patient. Smart. Everything that Yoongi has been this entire time you’ve tagged along. 

He’s not keeping the il-don safe because he treasures it. It’s because the money is a tool. A tool to help him get what he wants whenever he needs. And leverage it for value instead of frivolous decisions and material things. 

Yoongi must have really, really enjoyed your tangerines.

A stray touch finally makes its way inside your thigh. And you flare between your legs. Shivering. Aching. You’re sparkling inside but won’t allow yourself to fully explode. Not when he’s revealing so much without telling. Not when you’re starting to see things from his angle. 

“Keep talking,” you rush out, gripping his robe and squeezing his pelvis. 

Though his fingers still light flares on your skin, Yoongi stops in his daring quest, observing your face without judgment. 

“I like it,” you shakily admit. Because screw it, since you’ll never see him again. “Learning about all this.” 

You sigh at his weight. His beautiful, strangely calming weight. “About you, too.” 

Stopping all movements, Yoongi coats your skin with gravel. “What good will knowing all this do.” 

He’s got a point. And it hammers home exactly what you were just thinking. “Nothing, maybe,” you answer, squeezing his robe a little longer. 

Fuck, you really are this deprived. This lonely. Is bedding a dangerous man—this dangerous man—really better than being alone right now? A mental reset is outstandingly in order throughout the coming abysmal months.

You finish your weak explanation, hoping it’s enough to convince him, 

“But it’s helping.” 

Yoongi lifts his head to watch your eyes. And you observe how dark his are in return. How cold. 

But yet.. Why do you also see…?

With a slight huff, you tack on, “And you aren’t so annoying to talk to right now.” 

There it is. That spark you’ve seen before in dusty, tinkering streets. “Don’t push your luck.” 

“I might.” 

He exhales, shifting himself into a sitting position and facing the door. “The thing about grey zones.. No affiliation, no rules. You can be anyone here.” 

When you lift your upper body to sit, you watch his side profile as you repeat, “Anyone?” 

Yoongi turns to look at your lips. 

You know there’s a question you want to ask. But for some reason, it’s difficult to say. 

But eventually, you can’t help it. Because you’re intrigued. You’re haunted. And you really, really need this. 

“Then who do you want me to be.”

He lets out a cross between a scoff and a laugh. Looking into your eyes, he asks in disbelief, “You?”

“I’m pretty good at pretending.” 

“Sure you are.” He gives you another small grin before resting forearms on his knees. “But you don’t want my answer to that.” 

Swallowing is proving too difficult. What the hell does he mean by that? Is it one big bluff or a real opinion? “You’re just being a pussy.” 

All you get is the side of his cheek rising high.

Yeah. He’s not gonna tell you a damn thing. 

“Forget about me then. Who are you right now?” You wait as his expression falls back to earth. “Agust? Or Yoongi?” 

When you end with silence, you’re met with an approaching shadowed visage. And even in this moment, you sense static in the air, both of you poised and locked in a dangerous, thrilling dance. 

“You tell me.” 

Your breath cuts as he slips a finger inside your robe, and you dare not breathe when he pulls—slow, unhurried, intoxicating. 

You’ve never felt quite like this. 

Are you supposed to do something, too? Is there something that usually happens here? Your experience isn’t zero but it is clearly leagues below where it should be. 

Before you can blink a third time, your garment is ever, ever so slightly off your shoulder.

And you haven’t uttered a damn thing.

So he keeps going, sliding it lower, and lower, until he reveals a part of you that you didn’t mean to reveal so suddenly before. 

This time, it’s deliberate. And that makes it terrifying. 

This is the point of no return. The slope of your chest barely keeps your robe from dipping any farther. It’s happening, and life between you will never be the same when it’s over. 

And yet. 

Your nerves speak up at the worst time.

“Get me a drink,” you whisper, “Then maybe I will.”

Yoongi flicks up an eyebrow before obliging, and you silently mourn the loss of his heated touch. 

He walks over to pour you something neat, taking his time bringing both glasses to the bed. When you sit up properly, you habitually adjust your robe, scoffing at his hum. 

“Thanks,” you whisper, taking the glass and smelling the piercing aroma. “Maybe this is what I needed all along.”

“You ever had sex before?”

The question is so sudden and blunt that you cough up a burning sip. “Ow, fuck..” Wincing, you wipe your mouth before breathing in scratchy inhales. “If you must know, I have.”

“Maybe you are good at pretending then,” Yoongi drawls. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Don’t get me wrong. This situation is new to me.”

His brow raises are definitely talking a lot for him. 

“I’ve just never.. I dunno. Never had just one night.” Taking a more cautious sip, you continue. “Much less with someone like you.”

“Like me?”

“With a.. You know.” You fiddle with your glass. “A customer.” 

When you hear his reaction, you stare at his raised cheek, stomach fluttering when he sighs downward,

“You can’t just say shit like that.” 

“I can say whatever I want,” you counter. “Especially since I…”

You don’t wanna finish that. It helps that Yoongi doesn’t look your way still, taking a sip of his whisky instead. His locks swing forward as he leans, and you almost reach out to feel them. Maybe you’ll get to very soon. When you finally get over this final hurdle of outright shyness. 

Why are you so timid right now? Why can’t you just tell him what you very obviously came in here for and get on with it? You’ve been decisive as fuck the rest of today, so what’s got your tongue pressed this time? Is it really your abysmal level of experience?

Or is it because you’re gravitating to more sides of him with each passing second? 

“Since you what.” 

“Since I don’t like you,” you snip. 

Yoongi flashes teeth in amusement. “Keep telling yourself that.” 

“Oh, shut up.” You take another drink, feeling the burn down your throat. “I don’t have to if it’s true.” 

Both of you keep drinking in silence after that. Which makes things a weird mix of calm and awkward, considering what your original mission was. 

Going over the events of today, it’s a wonder why you aren’t crashing into a dreamless sleep. You’ve been up and having the most exhausting day ever, and yet, you can’t imagine shutting your eyes. 

Think of something else to talk about. Anything. Any topic you could possibly hold a conversation with Yoongi over. 

What did he respond to before? No small talk, since the plantains thing from months ago was a bust. And when you conversed over ramyeon it was more of him angering you on purpose—wait a minute. 

There was something you never circled back to. 

And as soon as you ask him about it, he appears impressed you remembered, 

“Were you bluffing when you said you knew what I was shopping for?” 

“No,” he responds immediately. “And I know I’m right.” 

“Prove it.” 

Mouth curved at an annoying angle, Yoongi shoots you a look before placing his drink down, getting up to walk to a tall armoire. 

Your eyes follow his every movement, even the way his ass moves under that damned robe. But soon, your jaw goes slack not because of his assets. 

But because the motherfucker was right on the money. 

How the… How the fuck did Yoongi know? 

In front of your face lies exactly what you were searching for. Sleek. Minimal. Lightweight and visibly balanced. You don’t even want to keep shopping around because this is the only one you want. 

How did he know you were shopping for daggers based on one single line of questioning? 

“I wasn’t gonna show you until you asked,” he divulges. “Honestly, I was hoping you’d forget. This one was hard as fuck to track down.” 

Eyes flicking up to his, you ask in wonder, “Can I…?” 

He lifts it slightly, signaling that you can indeed hold it yourself. 

And it’s perfect. 

“Wow,” you breathe out, feeling along its edges and hilt. It’s all one continuous line, with metal so black and matted that you almost moan. “I don’t have much on me, but.. I’ll give you whatever you want for this.” 

“Keep it.” 

What? 

“It’s yours.” 

There’s no way he’s just gonna gift this to you. It’s perfectly crafted in material you can’t even find in Crane. And they have almost every class of ore in existence. 

Who even is this man? 

“Yoongi, this is…” You shake your head while extending it back. “I can’t just take this.” 

“You can.” He fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist. “I did.”

Oh. Charming. The weapon you’re being gifted is stolen goods. “Well, in that case, I really can’t accept it.” 

But goddamn, this is more than perfect. You can’t even pluck one finger off the handle. And you can’t change the fact that it was already taken, right? Right?

“At least…” Scowling at your own crumbling morals, you mumble, “Not without good reason.”  

He looks at you over his shoulder. “Do I need a reason?” 

“No,” you reply. “But I’d like one.” 

Yoongi sighs long before moving his fingers. “I lied to you back there in the lobby.” Looking up at a clock instead of you, he works his jaw. “But this time, it really is just that.” 

“You expect me to believe you?” 

Fuck, the veins in his hands are so prominent when he laces them together. “No. But it’s better than those chopsticks you’re saving in the bathroom.”

Oh. So he saw those, too.

“Thank you,” is what you wave in white. Because that’s exactly how you feel and this one gesture does excuse some of his faults. Maybe. Or your standards have plummeted to the gutters. “I, umm. I usually keep one for self-defence. Just in case.” 

Turning it over and back again, you marvel at its light but solid weight. “But I lost mine in the last rough raid before they suddenly stopped.”

“Don’t sweat it.” 

“K.” Placing it on the closest nightstand, you go back to holding your glass between your hands. “One day I’ll pay you back somehow.” 

Yoongi shoots that down on sight. “No need.” 

“But I want to.” 

He glares before picking up his alcohol. “Anyone that owes me shit gets treated a lot different.” The drink rests in his hand like a liquid gem. “So just accept it as a gift, doll.” 

You’d laugh if you knew he was kidding. But you know he’s dead serious, so you only nod. 

It’s quiet again as you both retreat into your minds. 

Yoongi has the mental fortitude of a fortress it seems. Because he really is set on waiting until you tell him what you woke him up for, and it’s been awhile since this all started. 

But being in his presence while the night is quiet is somewhat comforting. You’re finding it easy to think about other things now, especially after he gave you so much to mull over. 

Like grey zones and how they came to be. It’s fascinating how you had no clue even though you should. Even though this whole conflict affected half the city. 

Wanting to gain more insight, you blurt your curiosity, “How long ago were the grey zones fought over? Before everything was decided?” 

“Years. Decades, at this point,” Yoongi answers, his gaze locked as you think about this timeline. “Most people don’t even bother knowing, though.”

“Why? This sounds like a big part of our history.” 

“No one cares if a Crane kills a Dragon.” His tone shifts slightly. And you wouldn’t have caught it if not for his subtle sulk. “They only resent the blood they have to wipe from the street.” 

Your lids lower all the same. Because that resonates deep within your chest, so much so that you feel your heart bend in its aching. “No one cares about us, either.” 

When Yoongi catches your look, you give a sad excuse of a smile. “Being a vendor? Especially where I am? You quickly figure out how little you matter. You as a person, I mean.” 

You slide fingers along the tiny rim of your glass, lost in the fibers of his rug more than anything else. 

Maybe you’re just a loose fiber in the rug of this city. One that will pretend to run only to be swept back into the folds. “The only things that people remember are what you offer. Anything other than that isn’t worth their time.” 

Lifting your chin, you save face. “Can’t say I won’t miss you.” May as well admit it all if you aren’t ever gonna see him again. “You were the only one that ever let me bother them.” 

“You never bothered me.” 

You look up to see him staring. Lip curled upward, you huff. “With all the looks you gave me? I find that hard to believe.” 

Yoongi doesn’t laugh in return. “What would I gain from lying?” 

Mm. That’s an interesting question. But the alcohol starts to talk for you as you have the balls to flirt. “People lie to get laid, for one.” 

“Mm.” He takes a measured sip of his glass, the last dredges of it swaying at the bottom. “Can’t say I’ve ever needed to.” 

“Shocker,” you drawl, sipping to match his pace. And it’s after this drink that you loosely admit, “This is really good, by the way.” 

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.” Lifting the glass to peer inside, you swirl it around before divulging a past you don’t talk about—ever. But what are rules of conversation when you want to stall? “My uncle got me into whisky a long time ago. But fruit stands don’t pay for top shelf alcohol.” 

“Where’s he at now?” 

“Uhh.” You look away. “Gone.” 

“Sorry to hear that.” 

He gets up, and you watch in silence as he makes his way to the sideboard. Stuff shifts around before he appears to pour another glass. And he stays there for a bit, black robe blending into all the dark decor. 

“Yoongi?” 

He turns. 

“Can you keep talking?” You keep your drink steady between your robed legs. Buzzed and vulnerable, you offer an explanation, “Turns out there’s a lot I wanna forget right now.”

Like endings. And future endless days without your most frustrating, most dangerous, most favorite customer. 

Yoongi pauses before walking back to the bed. When his thighs settle next to yours, he asks without much heart, “What do you wanna know.”

“You.”

His jaw shifts, and you feel a slight tug in your chest. 

Was that too forward? Probably. But you’ll take what you can get, like a last meal chosen to hit every one of your desires. “Anything you wanna tell me, of course.”

Yoongi remains quiet. Which isn’t unexpected but still a little letdown. 

“Not much to tell.” 

Ah. Just more lies then. Maybe you should stick to the original plan. “Nothing at all?”

He looks at you, planting a hand on the bed to lean a little closer. “Nothing you’d wanna hear.”

You shift between his eyes. Wondering if it’s better not knowing or if you really do wanna give in. 

Perhaps his eyes will speak for him instead. Glowing dark. Hints of ember and smoke. Years and years squeezed into those irises. 

“What if I do,” you quietly question, catching the light on his alcohol-tainted lips. 

Reaching out, you boldly place a thumb over one side, slowly brushing off excess liquid and marveling at how soft he is there. Tender, just like his name. “What if I don’t care.”

Yoongi waits for a moment before holding your wrist, the atmosphere trembling and buzzing around your shoulders. Oxygen depletes as he leans in close, his beautiful features almost touching yours. 

You feel something locking into place. Something beautiful and terrifying. And it holds you down as you feel his hair, his warmth, his—

A noise blares into the room before you can feel yourself rushing upward, your body reacting on survival instinct alone. Glasses spill onto the rug and you don’t know what’s happening but lack of sleep lack of comfort lack of everything has you ready for—

Time stops. 

Sounds muffle. 

And your eyes flash wide as you see the tip of your blade pointed straight at Yoongi’s side. 

Just as he’s poised with a gun pointed towards the door. 

It’s a phone ringing. 

A fucking. Telephone. 

What have you done?

As Yoongi slowly shifts his gaze to your outstretched hand, you tremble in severe regret. Regret that you pulled this on him with the very weapon he gave you. Regret that he knows all there is to know about how you still feel about him. 

But you didn’t mean to… You didn’t even think. And you abhor how you directed your fear at the one person that kept you alive. The one person you fucking saved. 

When Yoongi lowers his gun, he doesn’t acknowledge the guilt on your face. But as he walks away to grab his device, his gaze flicks back to you before he answers across the room. 

Shit. 

You fucked up you fucked up you fucked up. 

You weren’t lying when you said you wouldn’t care. You really weren’t. But who knows what Yoongi will think of you after that shock of a face off. 

Coming into his room was most definitely a mistake. Now you can’t wrangle your emotions for shit, head pounding with feelings and outcomes and adrenaline to the brim. 

Yoongi’s close to the wide bathroom stairs, so you can’t hear what’s being said. He does keep looking at you, though, which keeps your fingers pressed against a hilt. 

Are you in danger? Will Yoongi not want anything to do with you anymore? Is it alarming that you can’t decide which one is worse? 

The call doesn’t last long.

And as soon as he hangs up, you’re sputtering like a broken fountain, dagger still wielded as he stalks forward—phone clunking to the ground. “Who was that.” 

“No one.”

“What’s gonna happen to me.” 

“Nothing.” 

Fuck. You really did fuck everything up. Your brain is so battered that you’re gonna be skittish and paranoid for a long, long time. “Yoongi, I’m so—I didn’t mean to—It just happened—”

Forget it. It’s over. Your last interaction will haunt you forever and the only way you’ll experience what could’ve happened between you will be in your wildest darkest sweetest illest—

Burns flare at your eyes when Yoongi’s chest meets the quivering tip of your blade. 

“Stop,” you wince out, a damning tear pinging to your feet. “Just stop.” 

He starts to walk forward, which alarms you enough to step back because what the fuck is he doing! Why can’t your arms move? Why can’t you lower the fucking dagger? 

“I can’t,” you croak. “I can’t move.”

You’ve been firing on all fronts the whole day. Even in your dreams, you’re in survival mode. You can’t unlock your arms because they fight for the rest of you. Your legs propel you when the rest of you wants to give up. 

But that still doesn’t stop your heart from aching. It burns, it burns, it burns. 

When Yoongi grips your wrist, you choke on a sob. When he calls you smart, you squeeze your eyes shut in shame. And when he whispers to drop the fucking blade or he’ll do it for you, you do so after a maddening pause. 

It clunks to the ground when a gun does, and you’re suddenly spun until the backs of your knees hit something solid. 

Immediately, you’re thrust back onto dark sheets again, tears now rolling into your ears as you instinctively let Yoongi smother you whole. 

His hand slides to your inner thigh, and your mind reels when you start feeling a hardness on your stomach. Breath whooshes out of your mouth before you're covered in silk and muscle, and pleasure bursts from where he quickly devours your neck fuck.

Hands are quick to untie your robe as fire stokes your throat. 

“I won’t ask again,” he vows with a voice that rumbles. “Tell me what you fuckin’ want.” 

“Yoongi—” 

“Say it and it’s yours.” 

“Make me forget,” you shove through your teeth. “Just make me fucking forget.” 

“How.” 

Fuck lack of experience. Fuck being shy. You aren’t wasting another damn second and your emotions need all the release they can get. Loose lips, loose tongue, looser inhibitions.

The monster inside of you yanks at its chain, claws and claws at its confines screaming at you to give in. You need this. You want this, especially if Yoongi himself is gonna give it so willingly.

Just say it. Just say it.

“If this really is the last time I’ll see you…” 

Yoongi stills as your eyes lock unblinking. 

Tell him. Four words. 

“Fuck me like it.”

A proverbial chain snaps as Yoongi dives into your neck, ravishing you and sucking hard on your vein. When you yelp, your clenched legs seem to encourage, and he thrusts forward to launch you up the bed with a purpose. With intention.

All to let you know what you just got yourself into.

His fingers light little fires along your skin, burning everything in their paths up your arms, your sides, squeezing into your imperfections and latching down. His lips set your being ablaze as he keeps feasting, causing your breaths to get shorter, and shorter, and shorter. 

“So sensitive..” 

When you feel the warm swipe of a tongue, your eyes scrunch shut as you shudder. Which makes the whole thing worse for you when Yoongi chuckles dark in return. 

“I don’t think you’re ready for this.” 

“Shut up,” you huff out, grasping for his robe and raking at his sleeves. “Of course I am—Fuck.”

His thumb rolls across your exposed nipple, pinching it to make you arch right up into his chest. “You sure?” 

When the hell did he even open your robe? How did he do that so quick without you knowing? 

You bite down on your lip to keep from screaming, nodding in determination while your brows almost kiss. 

Watching your expression, Yoongi pinches again, biting his own lip while slowly spreading that shit grin. Your moan comes out more like a muted hum, which seems to displease. 

“Uh uh,” he orders. “You’re gonna be loud for me.”  

“But what if someone—” 

“They won’t.” 

He continues in his control, sliding a hand under your thigh to hitch it up before shoving it to the side. 

And you know where he’s going. But it still shocks you all the same when his fingers make contact with your slick. 

Your very, very wet slick. 

Many, many things will haunt you for life. Your experiences. Your choices. 

But right now? The only thing that will follow you to your grave is this distinct, biting, staccato batch of laughter. “You shouldn’t’ve ever come in here.” 

Breath ragged, you watch as Yoongi concentrates, exploring your cunt with his long digits and hitting every nerve with perfection. When you rub against him, he growls, lifting shiny fingers to insert right into his mouth. 

Sucking. 

Licking. 

And your eyes mirror his at once—as black and pulsing as fallen stars. 

He swoops down at the same moment you tug on his clothing, his mouth latching onto the side of your neck he hasn’t ravaged. Impatient, his hand yanks the bottom of your robe to the side, fully exposing your legs and leaking folds while you grapple with your own obstacles. 

It’s messy. It’s jilted. It’s exactly what you want. 

As soon as you find the slit in his robe, you take a brave leap and reach for his cock, not knowing what you’re gonna find but having a vague idea based on his—

Oh. What.

Fuck, he’s gonna split you in two. 

You’ve held one before. You know what they feel like. But this cannot be possible and you’re already mentally preparing yourself for your breaking point. 

“You good?” 

You snap your head right up, realizing how stunned you must be if he’s asking. “I… You’re fucking huge.” 

Yoongi doesn’t react, but that somehow makes it more attractive. Like he knows. And he doesn’t deny a thing. “That a problem?” 

“I mean… I think I’ve lived a good enough life.” 

To your surprise, the man above breaks completely as you keep blabbering, shoulders shaking alongside those stupid dimples. Those beautiful, elusive dimples. Too bad this is the last time you’ll ever see them. “Did what I wanted.. Not everything, but most of my list.” 

Yoongi’s still chuckling. And for a brief moment, you’re brought back to the days he was just a patron. Back to when you would think about him before bed, delighted to see him stop by. 

This is him. This is Yoongi with you now. 

Where was he this whole time? Was he really waiting until you answered him for real? 

You went so far into your head that you missed the change in position. So it makes you jump like hell when you realize where his teal mop of hair resides. “Wait, wait, wait. What are you doing?” 

Between your thighs, Yoongi lifts a brow, locking your legs with tough arms before you can even move. 

“Yoongi, you don’t have to—oh, fuck!” 

The first contact of his tongue on your folds makes your eyes burst, your legs effectively being pinned down in their tensing. Jolts of lust spiral from your core as he licks, sucks, twirls around your clit like it’s second nature, and you feel yourself welcoming his every thrust.

This is happening. This is happening? You’ve never done this before, not that you’ll admit it. Whatever Yoongi’s doing is completely new territory for you and you don’t ever think you’ll leave. Permanent residence. No other land to discover. 

Whines echoes throughout the room before you slap a hand over your mouth. Because the whole world will hear his name if you don’t. Especially when he adds fingers and curls them just right what the fuck! 

He makes you forget. And forget. And forget. You even forget your own name. Only his. Saying it into your palm over and over and clawing his sheets with the other. 

A low growl rumbles between your legs before you hear him purr, “Just like I fucking thought.” 

What’d he say? He didn’t say that. You’re hearing things, you’re sure of it. There’s absolutely no way Yoongi’s imagined anything about you, much less what you taste like. 

And the words keep coming as he whispers how tight you feel. How hot. How perfect you’re gonna fit him. 

While all you can utter in return is gibberish mixed with the syllables of his name. 

Pleasure rolls in waves as he learns every inch of your cunt, fingers drenched in your slick and the curves of his cheeks lathered in your scent. When he reaches beneath you to grope your ass, he gives a rough squeeze. 

“Move your fucking hand.” 

Your eyes fling wide. 

“I wanna hear you.” 

“No, I’m—there could be people—”

He clambers over you, robe wide open and revealing a body that rips your soul clean out. When he seizes your palm to shove it to the side, another monster starts to wake within your chest. 

And this one takes treacherous pleasure in those slitted eyes. 

“You’re gonna scream for me.” 

“Or else what.” 

The dark rumble. The rolling thunder. 

Your other monster is starting to match his glint. “You don’t wanna do that with me, doll.” 

“Do what?” you ask with flitting eyes. 

When all you get is a sharp smirk in return, your stomach flips in desire and excitement. So when he slaps the side of your breast, you hum high with a delighted flinch.

“Don’t say that I didn’t warn you.” 

Yes. This is what you came in here for. Your shyness will have to be comfortable with the unknown, but it’s also helping seeing Yoongi much more relaxed. 

Like a normal person. 

Especially when he leans over to open his bedside drawer, hair swaying as he grabs for what you think are condoms. 

Your hunch is right when he rights himself again, teeth nicking a wrapper before tearing it in one sweep. When you start to clench your legs together in response, he shoves them back open with a thigh, robe parting to show exactly what’s going to splice you in half. 

You’ll gladly take his amusement at your jaw unhinging. Because what you see is heaven sent. 

Yoongi says nothing as he wraps himself fully, and he continues to be silent as you whisper, 

“I wanna see you.” 

It doesn’t take long for him to understand. As his length presses against your core, he slips off his dark robe, letting it slide down equally dark sheets before pouring onto the floor. 

You’re just as quiet as he situates himself above your beating heart. Which is for the best. Your thoughts are better left unsaid. 

All you can do is grip his arm, sliding your hand up until you can finally, finally brush his hair with your own fingers. Exhaling when you discover how soft it feels. How comfort can be found in something as trivial as tendrils.

“This is helping, too,” you murmur to his lips, inhaling what you realize is your own scent. 

When he cradles your chin, your breath cuts. “Things happen when you say what you want.” 

“If only it was always that easy.”

“It is with me.” 

Your heart skips twice before tripping on itself, and you instinctively curl your palm against his head. “Everyone around you must be so lucky.” 

An eyebrow lifts before he huffs. “Not talking about just anyone, love.” 

…Huh? 

What does he mean by that because shit you’re getting tugged forward he’s so strong—

“Now, if you’re gonna be difficult,” Yoongi warns. “Let’s give you enough time to reconsider.” 

Your thighs widen as he positions himself at your entrance, cockhead rubbing along your folds as you tense. 

“Uh uh.” He hums. “This is what you want, yeah?”

“It’s been awhile,” you spat, rolling your eyes when he shoots you a knowing look. “Just… give me a second.” 

Obliging, Yoongi starts slow, making your head roll into the pillow as you accommodate his girth. Holy fuck, he’s big. But he’s sliding in easy after his little feast down there, which you piece together as one big prep for the main course. 

“Fuck,” he groans, resisting every urge to plow straight into you. At least, from what you can decipher in his pinched features. If this feels amazing for you, you can’t even imagine what he must be feeling now. It only gives you butterflies knowing he’s following through with his word. “So fucking tight.” 

“Not my fault you take up… so much space,” you grit through your teeth, neck straining as you blow air to the ceiling. 

Fully sheathed, Yoongi rests inside until your muscles relax. And you only peel your eyes open when you start to slip into more pleasure than anything else. 

Okay. You can do this. You can fit him surprisingly well—maybe too well—and you’re okay to keep going without restraint. 

When you peer down your body, you expect him to look bored or indifferent. Like he’s wasting time dealing with you. 

So it makes you shiver when Yoongi looks ready to ruin. 

Toned arms flex at his sides, hands keeping your thighs held in their place. When a strand of vibrant hair falls, his chains spark in the moonlight streaming in from the windows. A dragon that waits. And waits.

You’re ready. Your demise will be your reward. 

“I’m good,” you assure him. “You can move now—”

A second invisible chain snaps with a clink, and Yoongi launches into a thrust that has you seeing stars. You tumble through the dark as he thrusts again, mouth open with silent yells before you gnaw right into your lip. 

“Relax for me,” he commands. “Just like that.” 

Your cunt hugs him tight as you bounce even harder, his little grunts of praise making you mewl and whimper in bursts. 

Fucking hell, this feels good. 

You cannot wait to find out how it’ll feel when you piss him off. 

His hands grip your hips, hosting you up onto his thighs as he thrusts hard into your cunt. Your body rocks in an arch, limp and at his mercy—which there is very little of. Enchanted, your  lip tightens with the pull of your teeth, eyes squeezing shut as he feels so fucking good and hitting. Just. Right. 

It all carries you so far gone that as soon as you feel a rush of air, the sting on your ass makes you react—piercing moan making both of you freeze.

And Yoongi’s eyes deepen a shade as he slowly grins. “There you go.” 

“Don’t act like you—fuck!” His second swat has you grunting through your teeth, and his thrust forward at the same time he does it again has you whining. Monosyllabic, his name shoves out of your lungs, with each part more chipped than the next. 

“What’s that, love?”

“Yoongi, please—”

“That’s right.” He clutches your sides so damn rough. “Say my fuckin’ name.” 

And his pace pitches you into the sun, rocking so hard you won’t be surprised if the bed frame snaps in half. In thirds. In sevenths. Your legs go completely limp as he drives in, filling you and hitting a spot that pierces your eyes with stars and light and lust. Down down down you spiral, up up up you go. It’s only you and him now, with Yoongi plowing into you like his life ends come morning. 

There’s nothing in the world that feels like this. Burdened by the dangerous weight of a man—this man—while feeling so light you could float? Absolutely nothing can compare. 

Your body finally rests as he stops, but you get no breather as he flips you over with strong arms. Disoriented, you squeak as he tugs you backward, your ass rising in the air as your head is shoved into luxury cotton. 

Sweet pain sears your ass again, and you gasp with wide eyes as you feel his cock at your entrance. “What are you—”

“Lift up. Higher.” He slides his dick up your folds. “You’re gonna like this.” 

“You don’t speak for me—”

He thrusts into you as soon as you get accustomed to his length and size. And the place his thumb presses makes you scream into your pillow. His pillow. A hotel suite pillow that you’re biting to stay afloat. 

How the fuck does that feel so good? How does all of this feel so good? His thumb on your asshole already has you melting, but the smacking of his sack against your clit makes you want to repent.

“So fucking—fuck.”

Drool strings from your mouth as your arms are tugged at the elbows, your whole upper body coming up for air. Precious precious air that’s cut off when Yoongi chokes you from behind.

“Yoo—!”

His strength slams your chest into the headboard, right at the edge of the bed before you feel the force of his palm hit the wall. 

“What did I fucking say.”

“A lot.”

“I’m gonna hear you.”

“But—”

He shoves you flush against dark wood, your cheek smushing hard and your lips curling. “Let them hear you, too.” 

You keep your moans muted until fingers are shoved down your throat. And you gargle until he yanks them out. 

“That’s it. I know you can take it.”

“You’re easier…” Gritting your teeth in a smug grin, you taunt in a bold-faced lie, “Easier to take than I thought.”  

His laughter is not lighthearted. “You’re still gonna go there, huh.” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” you pout, eyes drooping from the euphoric shocks his thrusts provide. Sweat rolls down your arms as you slip on the wall, but it gives your chest a cool surface to rest. “Go where?” 

Suddenly, the grinding stops. And your cunt feels abandoned as he pulls out so fast. When you think to spin around, he spanks your ass with a harsh, “Don’t move.” 

Do you want to disobey? Yes. But you’re more curious than anything, so do as he says.

And your eyes light up when you realize what he comes back with. 

“Now… I could use this,,” he warns, pressing a silky smooth robe tie along your neck. “Since you don’t wanna behave.”

“Do it,” you taunt, wishing like hell that he does. Yes, yes, yes. You’re drunk on lust and volcanic want and you will fight for nothing more. “You won’t.” 

Your neck is rocked back before you feel him slap your ass. “Then stay still.” 

And you obey as you feel your belt—or his, either one—wrap loosely around your column before it’s tied. 

Gently, your chin is turned, and you’re surprised when you’re met with stern eyes. “Can you breathe.” 

Blinking, you nod. “Yeah, I can.” 

“Two taps if you’re out, understand?” 

“Yes.” 

A swift pat to your cheek. “What’d I say.” 

“Two taps,” you repeat, figuring out fast that you’re liking this development a little too much. “If I’m out.” 

Holy fuck the yank you feel is exhilarating, your body bending back as shock overcomes your senses. 

Lidded eyes staring down at yours, he vows, “You better make them count or we never do this again.” 

“I will, I will,” you rasp out, breath still coming to you fine albeit a little more harshly. “I promise.” 

“Good girl.”  

Wait, did he say again? 

As he slips right back inside, you lose all passing trains of thought. Cunt filled while his fingers clog your mouth makes you traverse to another plane. Every part of you, at his mercy—

Then he yanks you backward and all that mercy burns in the flames of heaven. Flocks to the clouds of hell.

The belt is completely taut as you succumb to his thrusts. Hard. Fast. Rough thrusts make you cry out as he toys with you, gravelly hums tumbling down your back as you arch for him. All the sounds you make echo throughout the room, a symphony of mewls and moans as Yoongi controls your every move. 

“Take it.”

“Hmm?”

“You want it,” he repeats. “So take it.”

Oh. Oh, he wants you to—Oh.

You start moving back and forth, doing exactly as he says. Taking what’s yours for the night and shamefully not forever.

But it turns out it’s not enough because he tugs. 

“Like you fucking mean it.”

Fuck.

Groaning, you move with more intention, sliding up and down his cock and feeling full every time. It feels good having control, you muse, and imagining him watching your debauchery turns you on that much more.

Your thrusts turn to rough slams, friction running fast while you chase it with all your strength. The groans you hear sound primal, hissed taunts egging you on.

“Guess you can listen after all.” 

“Fuck you.”

Another hard yank. 

Your laugh only spurns him on. 

Slaps to your ass, grabs to your breasts. Yoongi is worshipping every inch of you and you won’t even notice this until nights later when you’re alone. You’ll remember the way he squeezes just right, the way he fits so well, the places he hits with no hesitation nor guesswork. It’s pure experience strangling you with passion and you don’t even know how to embrace it all.

But then you start to feel it. Your breath tapering. It’s getting harder and harder to suck in air and you’re starting to see stars across your eyes. 

When you reach an alarming point, you quickly slap his leg twice, oxygen gushing into your lungs right as he lets go. 

You almost come on that exhilaration alone. Adrenaline pumps pumps pumps into your veins, eyes blowing black as he spins you around.

Hot, open mouth kisses pepper your burning throat, and you have the nerve to catapult him all the way back onto the bed. 

Yoongi lets you top him with a laugh, and you immediately use this opportunity to pin him down with a chokehold. Wanting him to feel the same way you just did. Knowing deep in your soul that he wants it, too.

“Cute.”

“You asshole.” 

Holy fuck, you can’t even recognize your own voice. It’s hoarse. It’s rugged. 

It’s salacious.

He cocks a brow while peering down his nose. “You done?”

“What?” You blink. Slowly releasing his neck, you admit with a rasp, “No, that’s not what I.. I’m not done with you.” 

Yoongi slides into a smirk, and you attempt to scoff with a burning throat. 

You wanna tell him how good he is. How stupidly attentive he is. But all you settle for is something neutral. Safe. And maybe a little forward. 

“Just felt like calling you that.” 

Yoongi’s smile mellows into a line, and if you weren’t in such an evocative position, you would have thought it was genuine contemplation. But he slides hands up your thighs before slapping the side of your ass. “Get on.” 

Fuck. You don’t really know how. At least, you don’t know how to do it without showing him you aren’t used to it. 

So the confidence will keep getting faked. With a little help of your quick wit and tongue as you grab his length. “Didn’t hear a please.” 

Yoongi huffs out amusement. “I don’t say that.” 

His tip goes in fine. Fuck. Okay. You can do this you can do this. “Why am I not surprised—!” 

He shoves you down as soon as you give him enough leeway, and you groan out as you catch yourself with hands on his chest. 

“This is where you’re gonna live,” he says with confidence, laughing in condescension when you scowl. “Fuckin’ love it.” 

He can’t say stuff like that. 

You ride until you find a rhythm, rolling your body and finding the friction you want. It’s there for the taking. And he’s encouraging you with gravelly words and hums, with hands up your stomach and grasping your chest. 

After a single swirl of your hips, he throws his bed back until his neck strains. “Fuck.”

So you take that cue, rotating between rides and swirls. When he tweaks and rolls thumbs around your nipples, you clench hard around him, and he does it until you moan to the ceiling. 

A slap to your breast makes you whine, and you keep going before leaning forward, placing hands against his shoulders and bouncing your hips on his cock. 

“—a fucking natural,” Yoongi praises, chuckling to himself as he toys with the silk streaming down your neck. 

“Maybe I’ve just practiced.” 

“Show me more then.” 

Quickly, he tugs you down flush against him before grabbing your ass, slamming you down and pistoning up until you scream.

You start biting his shoulder to quell your shouts, which makes him moan loud enough to make you possessive. Wildly possessive. Before long, you feel yourself going limp on him, only for him, solely for his pleasure and yours. 

“Just like that. There you go.” 

You mewl into his skin as he grabs you, holding you down as he slams into you again and again and again. Drunk with power, you begin to mark his throat, devouring and feasting with reckless abandon.

Growling ragged, Yoongi flips your position and pins you face down, shoving up hard into your cunt before plowing. You fully lean into the yells now, saying his name and inching over the goddamn edge of the bed.

It’s there. Your release. It’s potent and it’s visceral and it’s everything you need need need—

“Yoongi, I’m close—”

He penetrates so far that you can taste him, and you come so harshly that you convulse. Squeezing like hell and quivering in a full body fold.

Holy shit, the screams. Is that you? 

The sinister laughs of pride prove you right. “That’s my girl. Fucking scream.”

You can’t stop. All you know is extreme pleasure coursing through your veins, pulsing beautiful colors and making you arch like mad. 

But you have more to handle. Yoongi prolongs your euphoria by yanking you back only to sink into you again, hands rubbing both nipples and tongue speaking deadly sins in your ear.

“You aren’t done,” he growls. “Lemme hear you again.” 

“I can’t—”

“Liar.”

His name rips from your mouth as you surprise yourself, gushing around his length and squeezing in powerful pulses. Nothing exists. Nothing at all. Everything you know is a feeling, as vibrant and shimmering as the sun above your street back home. 

All the heat you’ve ever felt coalesces along your skin, and the words whispered in your ear slide right down with your sweat. You aren’t quite sure what you hear. But judging by your preening, it has to be praise. Dirty, dirty, sinful praise. 

When your limp weight is flipped, you allow your legs to be hoisted up with no resistance. Looking upward, you peel open lids to the equivalent of a king. A god. And your outright awe blocks your ears from catching what your dragon swears. 

“—perfect,” he grits, inserting himself into your squelching folds. “Again.” 

No fucking way you have more left in you. You’re already floating in the ether, buzzing in pleasure and sweat and ecstasy. If you come one more time you’ll be an empty shell. 

“Earn it,” you boldly rasp out, grappling a bit of your spirit and reining it back one last time. “Take it, you bi—”

Your heart leaps up your throat as you’re pitched upward, groan serrated and high as you grin in triumph because it feels so fucking rewarding when he gives gives gives. 

Letting everything go relaxes your folds, causing Yoongi to rock into you with pride and without resistance. His chain smacks against his pecs at the same pace as your bouncing chest, and you’re more than sure you’re gonna feel bruises on your legs where he sinks his claws.

Skin slapping skin. Mewls and gritted curses. Heady scent covers them all in a thick layer and you feel the light grow closer and closer, stronger this time than all the others before it. Why? Why do you know this one will pitch you over the edge for good? 

Both of you may feel the same. 

Because Yoongi suddenly shoves himself so far into you and presses his body flush against your shuddering shaking screaming form.

You pulse frantically around him, throat sore and ragged from your final cry as tears stream down your face. It feels so fucking gorgeous that it hurts, and you enter a plane so mystical it’s completely separate from your earthly vessel. The two of you become closer than one, and you feel Yoongi stutter in his groan before yanking out and ripping the condom off.

Hot spurts paint your skin—a sweaty, spent canvas that dips slow with your labored breaths. His own breathing is rough but not exhausted, and you chalk that up to the mountain of stamina and experience he has on you. 

It’s done. 

Thoroughly spent.

All the pent up emotions dissipate in a slow descent. The chaos of today finally lowers its head, your monsters making their ways back into their cages. Moonlight shines brighter. Fuller. 

Illuminating a man in silver as he slowly heads into the bathroom. 

Holy fuck. You just slept with a gangster. With a Dragon.

With Yoongi.

There’s no way you can forget this. No way you can see yourself moving past this moment, even years and lifetimes from now. It doesn’t matter if Yoongi never thinks about you again, because something transpired in this room that you’ll keep locked away in your soul forever. 

As he brings back a towel to wipe his essence from your skin, you wonder. 

Was it all worth it? 

Or will this torture you in every dream you’ll ever have? 

A palm digs into the mattress before you feel weight and jewelry. The silk around your throat is carefully undone, and lazy, heated lips descend on your neck once more.

Bliss.

Sighing, you utter his name much softer now, telling him please without knowing what for. 

“What do you want,” he whispers.

“I don’t know,” you admit in a wisp. 

Yoongi keeps worshipping your throat, and you mewl when he reaches to rub your breast in a slow squeeze. When you drag your hand down to grip his cock, he tenses with a gritty hum. 

“Careful, love,” he rumbles. “There’s a lot more I can do with you.” 

“Tell me.” Your breath starts shorting in anticipation. “Tell me everything.” 

“Nah.” When he slides forward, the bare tip of him meets your cunt, causing you to flinch with a bitten lip. “You’re just gonna have to wonder. Day, after day, after day.”

Fuck this guy with the spite of a thousand lives. You’re the one holding his cock, so how the fuck is he still being this sure of himself? 

“Put it in,” you blurt, earning his gaze of utter confusion. 

“What?” 

“Just for a second.” You stroke him, feeling slick velvet and wetness coating your fingers. “That’s the last thing I want.” 

His eyes search yours, and for the first time tonight, he’s the one that looks hesitant. “You sure…?” 

“We’ll never do this again,” you whisper. “And I know you want it, too.” 

His gaze holds yours for a moment, searching your eyes for any sense of doubt. 

When he finds none, Yoongi positions himself at your entrance, and you feel his knuckles brush your folds before he sinks in. Slowly, cautiously, extraordinarily. 

And both of you groan so full. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi glowers, teeth sharp as he grounds them hard. His arm veins strain, shifting all his ink in pretty ebbs and flows. All his stomach snaps taut, and you can’t look away from his sheer look of concentration and lust. “Fuck.” 

“Feels so good,” you gasp, enjoying the way he’s slowly grinding against your walls. All the slick from your releases allows smooth strokes, and you already feel close for yet another time. An unbelievable amount of orgasm in such a short span. You’ll never reach this peak. Not with anyone else. “What the fuck, I’m close again—”

“Shit—”

It happens in a snap. But more of a mellowed, drawn-out river flow than a full waterfall. Your eyes slowly roll before closing, and your chest arches slow as you rock back and forth on his cock. The squeezes are harder. The pulses are fuller. You’re milking him for all he’s worth, like your cunt won’t let go until it’s pumped him dry. 

Which makes Yoongi lose his absolute mind, hissing as he pulls out quick before spilling onto you all over again. Again? 

Holy fuck, again? 

As he groans up above, his eyes are wiped dark completely. Which makes you wonder how you can still see stars embedded inside. 

Was it all worth it? 

You’ve never been more achingly sure.

It’s a long shot to know if he feels the same. And an even longer one for that to truly be the case. 

But it’s okay. 

This is the first, the last, the only time you have. And it was more than you could’ve ever asked for. 

As he falls into the sheets next to you, both of you exhale harsh, hearts pounding and pounding into the bed and to the ceiling. 

You can’t even move. Every single limb is sore from base to tip, and the door looks so, so far away. 

When you whisper his name, you get a little acknowledgement at your side. Gathering all the strength you have left, you whisper, 

“I know this is when I’d be kicked out, but.. I can’t move.” 

The small puff of air you get in return sounds like a yes. But you aren’t sure until Yoongi verbally gives you a real answer, 

“S’ok.” 

All you can do is hum, noticing with a sharp pang that you feel soft towel wipes before the smooth slide of sheets up your bare skin. 

“Just stay on your side.” 

Ah. 

Well. At least you aren’t alone for a night. 

“And you.. Stay on yours,” you murmur, darkness seeping into your peripherals. 

“Mm.”

Yoongi can be as cold and heartless and calculating as he wants. But you know he’s more than what he shows. 

Because with a second sharp hit to the chest, you also realize the side you’re on is the side he was on before. He’s not gonna make you move just to keep his preference. 

Don’t think too much about it. Do not. 

“I wish everything was different,” you whisper, drifting into a dreamless sea. “I don’t want to hate you...” 

Your forehead is swept by a warm hand. You cannot lift your lids any longer, but your ears still hang onto their efforts. 

And the last thing you hear before succumbing to the dark is a lighter flick and a fact. A cold, expected, damning fact. 

“You’ll always hate me.” 

When you wake, you’re greeted by the same room you fell asleep in. 

Sunlight cuts through grey skies to shine every surface, and you breathe in a musky, comforting scent as you stretch your limbs. 

Did last night really happen? 

The soreness between your bare legs is more than enough to prove so. 

Slowly turning, you whisper to Yoongi that you’re ready to go when he is. 

Only to find out that you’re talking to no one. 

Shit.

Shooting up, you start to panic. Maybe he’s in the living room already? Getting ready to call someone to bring you back home? 

Glancing at the nightstand on his side, you don’t spot the dagger he gifted you, brain grappling with what that could possibly mean. 

Your ribs crackle when you bite back emotion. It’s all over. 

Shifting back to swing your feet onto cold fibers, you pause with swimming eyes. 

Because the blade rests ready on your nightstand, propped on a set of plain clothes in the perfect position you would need it to be.

Teeth clenched and eyes burning, you swipe it before rushing out of bed, head pulsing and a dull ache between your legs. “Fuck..” 

The shirt and pants you’re given don’t exactly fit, but you’ll take what you can get as you punch limbs through long sleeves and high pants. 

Yoongi isn’t here. 

You feel it in your whole being, and you have no fucking clue why it hurts. 

But if he’s not here…

Who do you start to hear outside the door? 

You freeze, lungs expanding as you hold multiple breaths. 

It sounds like talking. But also a myriad of sounds? 

Heading into the bathroom, you silently glide across the floor before swiping up the chopsticks. Because yes, you’re still gonna save them. For defence. For keepsakes. For a grave reminder. 

Tucking them in a pocket, you ready your dagger under your garment, pressing it flat against your skin like you were trained to do. 

Slipping out into the hallway, you hear the sounds clearer. Movement. Slides of furniture. 

What the hell is going on? 

You’re about to retreat back into the room when a man crosses in front of the hall. 

And his hair is strikingly… 

Orange?

As he catches you in his vision, he stops on a dime, hand outstretched in greeting. “Hello!” 

Your step back makes him laugh. But you’re not laughing in the slightest as you question, 

“Where’s.. Where’s Agust?” 

“Gone.” The smile spreading makes you squint. “Need to see him?” 

Your answer is immediate.

“I’d rather die.”

-

-

⟶ what do we feel! | 🥢 join the taglist 🥢 | masterlist

a/n: alright before i say anything else: use the bathroom after sex, and especially after doing it unprotected!! i normally include it so this is a rare exception. but yes. please use the bathroom after, and practice safe sex always! a/n 2: WHO COULD THAT BE AT THE END THERE... ahahah but seriously, i for one am still swirly eyed just thinking about what's coming for these two.. they have no idea what's in store and i'm itching to get the next part done! a/n 3: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ minted masterlist

[goldengleams]

hiii pookie 😙 i've never requested anything so, feel free to do anything you want but w matt rempe pls? 🩷 ily!

come back to bed | m. rempe

hope you enjoy sof!!! love you my cutie!

You rolled over in bed, having just woke up from a dream and wanting to reposition yourself in Matt’s arms. You let out a soft whine when you realized he wasn’t next to you in bed.

“Matt?” You whispered. You lifted yourself up on your elbows to squint at the alarm clock on your bedside table. 3:29 AM.

Reluctantly arising from your warm bed, you quietly walked down the hallway. You carried a blanket for Matt in case he was asleep on the couch, which wasn’t uncommon if he was watching hockey. The bathroom light wasn’t on, nor was the light near your television. In your sleepy haze, you heard a glass clinking as it was set down. Bingo.

Finally, you spotted Matt sitting on a stool by the kitchen island. His hunched figure was shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by the candle that was lit in front of him. The scent of vanilla entered your nose as you drew closer.

“Matt, why are you up? It’s three in the morning,” You called in a whisper. He whipped his head towards you, startled by your presence.

“Geez, you scared me Y/N,” he chuckled softly. Matt’s hair was strewn about, the product of him running his hands through it incessantly and his leg bounced up and down.

“Sorry,” you mumbled sheepishly, stepping closer to him to wrap him up in the blanket. “I woke up and you weren’t there.”

“Yeah, just couldn’t stop thinking about today,” he sighed, mumbling a soft thank you. He was looking at you with an expression you couldn’t read. Your sleep-addled brain was not ready to comprehend big feelings, but you wanted to be there for him.

“It’s finally happening,” you said, smiling. “I’m so excited for you.”

Matt nodded, focusing his attention on the cup in front of him. He traced the rim with his finger, lost in thought once again.

You were overwhelmed with a sense of deja vu as you watched him in the ambient light. You and Matt had met two years ago. At the time, you were a college student in Connecticut and Matt was playing hockey in Hartford. You had met through a dating app and while it didn’t seem like you had anything in common, Matt had won you over pretty easily. Both of you were set on living in New York City-you wanted to do more schooling and Matt was hoping to be called up by the New York Rangers. After many date nights, hockey games, and one graduation, you were both closer to living your dreams. You had been waiting for the day that Matt came and stayed at your apartment while preparing to play for the Rangers.

But, it was never without some bumps in the road.

You knew you’d never understand what Matt went through as a hockey player, but for the past two weeks, you had tried to be there for him. He’d received the call from the Rangers in the beginning of February to play, but he hadn’t gotten any playing time. That would change today when he made his debut.

“Your family is so excited too, I can’t wait to sit next to Steph and Alley and cheer you on,” you tried again. It was true, in a few hours, you would be driving with Matt’s family to MetLife Stadium to watch his NHL debut. You couldn’t be happier for him.

“I can’t believe it,” he muttered. “It’s everything I’ve ever wanted and it’s, like, here. Feel like I’ve waited for so long and I just want it to go well. Especially today.”

“It’ll go well, babe. You know that,” you said. You made your way to sit next to him at the other stool. Matt and his family had been thinking of his Dad who had passed away and you knew that it would be a huge deal for him to make his debut on his anniversary. You reached out for his hand and gently traced a pattern onto his palm.

“You’re going to make your family so proud, Matt. Especially your Dad.”

Matt released a shuddering breath he had been holding in for far too long. He pulled the blanket tighter around his broad shoulders, a chill running through him from the seasonal February weather.

“What if I’m nobody?” Matt whispered it so quietly you’re not sure you would’ve heard it if it wasn’t silent. The doubts of not being good enough swarmed in his mind.

“First of all, you won’t be nobody, Matt. And I know that the people in your circle wouldn’t care if you scored a hundred goals or zero, or ever played with the Rangers. You’ll always be somebody to us,” you said softly. “You’ll always be someone to me.”

You brought his knuckles to your lips and gave a soft kiss. You watched the tension leave his shoulders and he quickly reached over to give you a kiss. He leaned into you easily.

“There’s my boy,” you said against his lips.

“Thank you,” Matt said. “And thanks for listening to me at 3 in the morning.”

You chuckled. “Technically it’s 4 now, so you should come back to bed and cuddle me until your stupid alarm goes off at 7.”

Matt blew out the candle and stood up from the stool. You made grabby hands at Matt, which he quickly took and led the two of you back to bed. You both climbed in bed and Matt wrapped the blanket around both of you to keep warm.

“Love you baby,” he mumbled, already drifting off. His hair tickled your ear as he moved closer to you. “Gonna score for you tonight.”

“Yeah and you better not get in any fights, Rempe.”

“Mmm, no promises.”

——————————————————————

Enjoy this Matt Rempe blurb and go request more in my inbox! 😋😋

[jenoslutie]

nct reaction: how nct dream jerks off (m)

warnings: usage of toys, jerking off in the shower, edging, overstimulation, use of lubricants (mentioned: lube, lotion and spit), talking through orgasms kinda, hyuck biased cuz i cant stop thinking about him lately hehe.

a/n: big thanks to @jasminexox5 for inspiring this LMAOAO u made me feral today bestie. also big thanks to @thetypingpup @hall0ween-twn and @mrkis for helping me come up with ideas when i was stuck ily all. ENJOY PLS.

MARK

I feel like Mark would be really impatient, when he gets horny, the only thing he can think of is how bad he needs to fucking cum. Being too impatient to even take off his clothes properly, he’d pull his shorts down enough so he could take his cock out and get to work. Mark would use his own spit to lube up his cock and if he's feeling fancy he’d take out the lotion. Do expect a shit ton of groaning from Mark. He’s just so desperate to cum he jerks himself off as fast as he can, even bringing his other hand down to fondle his balls to add to the stimulation. Mark’s so fucked out that only after he finishes, he realizes he just got his shirt all stained with cum. Poor baby just wanted to cum but now he has to do laundry sooner than he'd hoped :(((

RENJUN

Renjun…he’s a pretty sight. He would be a sight to see, the way he looks so fucking pretty when he jerks off. Renjun likes neat things so he’d definitely use his own spit as lube but he also loves using lube with pretty scents. He wouldn’t be as messy but he’s so fucking hard and horny, he’s arching his back with his other hand gripping onto his pretty silk sheets. He’s fucking into his fist so fast just to finally cum. As horny as he gets, he doesn’t like to spend too much time jerking off so he tries to be fast about it. Not that it takes him long in the first place. 

JENO

When he’s horny...he’s horny. Fucking into his fist like his life depends on it. He lubes himself up like crazy, lube dripping all around his crotch, some even getting on his abs. It’s all so messy and he fucking loves it. He loves the way his cock feels sliding through the slippery mess on his hands. That man is vocal. His groans and grunts fill up the room as he nears his climax. The feeling is so overwhelming and powerful for him that he has to bite down on his hand, sometimes his pillow to keep himself from being too loud. When he cums, he comes hard. Head lolling back and jaw dropping as he paints his abs white. 

HAECHAN

God am I excited for this one… He’d like literally be sobbing while he has his lubed up cock in one hand and the other rubbing his nipples while he literally shakes from the simulation and he's so fucking loud and whiny too. Maybe he’ll even have a lil vibrator and everytime he uses it he overstimulates the fuck out of himself to the point theres cum everywhere. Staining his shirt, his sheets, his covers, everything, His cum painting his pretty tan skin. The way he'd be too fucked out to even realize that he's gonna have to clean up all his sticky mess. His legs feel weak as he catches his breath after edging and overstimulating himself for an hour. Even after he'd be so fucked out and dumb to even get up to clean up his mess so he whines about it to himself for so long while he waits for the feeling in his legs to come back. Hyuck is the messy kind. We all know he is. He doesn’t care about the aesthetics of him masturbating, he’ll use spit, he’ll use lotion (he has lots of lotion) and if no one’s home maybe he’ll sneak into someone’s room and borrow their lube. God…another thing, Hyuck would definitely talk himself through his orgasms. 

“Just a little more” He’d reassure himself in a faint whisper as he made himself cum for the nth time that night. His cock screamed from the overstimulation but he just felt too good to stop. 

JAEMIN

Jaemin... .Jaemin's an edger for sure. Much like he’d do to any girl he fucks, he likes to tease. Whether it be himself or someone else, he loves to make them want it. When he jerks off it's no different, he’d edge himself until he’s squirming and can’t take it anymore. Maybe he’d even add in a fleshlight if he’s feeling really fucking desperate. The feeling of the silicone pussy wrapped around him making him cum faster than he usually would. 

CHENLE

Chenle is one big complainer. He likes feeling good, he likes jerking off but he hates the part where he has to clean up after himself. And as much as he dislikes taking showers, he prefers to jerk off in the shower than on his bed. He’s another member who likes to be quick with it. Chenle isn’t too loud, he’s more on the quieter side and plus, the sound of the water would definitely drown out any noise he does make. I also think Chenle would use a fleshlight if he’s really feeling needy, fucking into the silicone pussy would make him cum really fucking hard but when post nut clarity hits he just stares at himself in the mirror like “Did I just do that?”

JISUNG

Jisung is probably as down bad as it gets tbh. He’s insatiable, probably jerks off multiple times a day because he made the mistake of downloading Twitter on his phone and now everytime he gets a notification he has to click on it only to be shown yet another porn link and he can’t deny that he loves it. He might even have a little bit of an obsession with jerking off but no one needed to know that right? But also due to the numerous times a day he jacks off, he’s super fucking sensitive and he can almost cum untouched but like Jaemin, he likes to torture and tease himself so he will beat his dick no matter what. He’s also very vocal :(( whimpers a lot and groans loudly especially when he brings a hand down to play with his balls. All the stimulation feels too much for him but that's what he loves most about it. 

[ducktoo]

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

Side 2. Rina, Rocket Puncher

Note: someone pls tell her to stop punching the phone-

This took place between Chapter 35 & 36

The Smash Room was not the type of place Y/n had expected to visit that day. The walls were covered in padding, and an impressive assortment of “smashable” items—plates, bottles, electronics—lined the shelves like some dystopian buffet. Karina stood beside him, grinning from ear to ear, holding a bat like it was the best gift she’d ever received.

“Are you… sure about this?” Y/n asked, eyeing a particularly delicate-looking lamp.

Karina rolled her eyes, thrusting a bat into his hands. “Yes, I’m sure. Trust me; you’ll thank me later.”

“But smashing things on purpose… it feels wrong,” he admitted, staring down at the bat.

Karina laughed, already cracking her knuckles in anticipation. “It’s supposed to feel wrong! That’s the point. I needed a place to blow off steam, and I thought it’d be way more fun if you came along to try it out.”

"…I don't really have anything to blow off steam, though?" Y/n questioned.

"Lies." Karina deadpanned. "You're dating Minjeong. Surely there is something you find annoying about her."

"Oi, you're trying to rat me out now?" Y/n widened his eyes.

"It's between us." Karina giggled. "…unless?"

Y/n gulped, but Karina’s enthusiasm was infectious. “Fine… let’s do this.”

-

When they finally suited up, helmets secure and armed with a stack of plates, old electronics, and an assortment of glass bottles in the centre of the room, Y/n couldn’t shake a lingering sense of hesitation. He’d been dragged here, no doubt, by Karina’s insistence that “everyone needs to smash something every once in a while.” She practically glowed with energy as she scanned the items around them, clearly fired up for what was about to go down.

“Ready to blow off some steam?” Karina asked, eyeing a nearby plate with a devilish grin. She picked it up and weighed it in her hands like a pro, already looking to him for the go-ahead.

“Uh, as ready as I’ll ever be,” Y/n replied, still clutching his bat with a mix of curiosity and trepidation. “You seem a little too excited about this.”

“Oh, trust me, I am,” Karina laughed. “You don’t know how badly I’ve needed this!”

With a wild swing, she sent the first plate crashing against the wall, bits of ceramic scattering in every direction. She let out a triumphant yell, her face lighting up.

“Jeez,” Y/n said, raising an eyebrow. “Is that plate supposed to be someone in particular?”

Karina grinned, winding up for the next throw. “That one was for all the times I’ve had to work late for a last-minute meeting. And—” She smashed another plate. “—for every time I had to remind everyone to be on time, especially NINGNING!”

Y/n snorted, gripping his own plate. “Ning just use her aespa time….a bit too much, huh?”

“Oh, and don’t get me started on the stress of managing appearances and, like, fifty different social media expectations!” Karina vented, smashing another plate with gusto. “Not everything needs to be perfect, but the pressure is still there! SO DAMN ANNOYING!”

“YES!” Y/n said with feeling, setting up his own bottle to smash. He hesitated for a moment, thinking back on his recent frustrations with Winter, from her infamous ‘kiss prank’ to the slightly overwhelming reality of actually dating her…which came with some undisclosed baggage. He swung, and the bottle exploded in a satisfying burst.

“OHHH SHT! That felt good!”

From the bottom of his heart, he loved Winter, but that was liberating.

Karina, catching his thoughtful look, nudged him with a knowing smile. “That looked personal. Care to share?”

He grinned, a little sheepishly. “It’s just… Jeong. There’s so much about her that’s awesome, but dating her is a whole new experience. I mean, she’s perfect, but also impossible. She just, like, invades my space EVERYWHERE, which sounds great…"

"Uhuh" Karina was intrigued.

"…until she messes with all my stuff and stole my oreo stashes I kept for myself.”

“Oh, I get it. Minjeong does have that… selective attention to detail,” Karina laughed, setting up another bottle. “She’ll memorise every outfit in her closet but will still ‘forget’ to tell you she invited the whole group over to your place.”

Y/n laughed, nodding. “Exactly! And it’s like the more time we spend together, the more I realize she’s just as rowdy as the rest of you—if not more. But… it’s hard to stay annoyed when she gives me that look, you know?”

Karina grinned as she grabbed a plate, holding it up like it was a prized possession. “This one? This is for every time a schedule’s changed last minute, throwing off everything we’ve worked on!” She wound up, smashed it, and let out a satisfied sigh.

Y/n found himself nodding along. “You know, Jeong has this habit of casually dropping huge things at the last possible moment. Like, ‘Oh, by the way, I promised my mom I’d come by for dinner’—while we’re already on our way somewhere else.”

“Oh, she finally did that to you!” Karina laughed, taking a quick swing at another bottle, the glass shattering on impact. She turned back to him with a playful glint in her eye. “Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”

“Tell me about it.” Y/n lined up another bottle and smashed it with a swing that was a little more enthusiastic than he’d intended. “I love her for how she is, but…those will kill my sanity.”

They both shared a laugh, the cathartic smashing of objects somehow loosening up more than just physical tension.

-

“Alright, Rina, use Rocket Punch!” Y/n challenged, feeling his earlier nervousness fade as he grabbed another plate and handed it to her.

"Ya, I'm not a Pokemon!" She took it, eyeing him with a mock-serious expression.

"Whatever, do it!" Y/n cheered.

“This one is for all the choreography changes we go through in the middle of a tour,” she muttered with feigned gravity, before smashing it so hard that tiny ceramic pieces ricocheted off the wall.

"Perfect shot." Y/n winced and gave a low whistle. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Honestly, I think all of us need this every once in a while. You can’t keep everything bottled up without it exploding, right?”

He nodded, a grin spreading on his face. “Speaking of which, I think it’s time for the grand finale.” He held up an old radio, raising its high for dramatic effect.

“Ohhh, nice choice!” Karina cheered, standing back to give him space.

"KIM MINJEONG! STOP DOODLING ON MY FACE!"

With a loud yell, Y/n hurled the radio against the wall, bits of plastic and metal scattering everywhere as they both burst into laughter.

Breathless, Y/n leaned back against the wall, shaking his head. “Holy….I seriously didn’t think this would be so… satisfying.”

Karina nodded, grinning at him. “I knew you’d come around. It’s not just about breaking things; it’s about letting go, you know?”

He looked at her, her usual serious leader demeanour replaced with a relaxed, genuine smile. “You know, I think we all see you as this powerhouse who just handles everything. It’s easy to forget that you need to punch things.”

Karina’s smile softened. “I guess I do. It’s just… hard sometimes. When you’re the leader, there’s this pressure to always be ‘on’ and ‘perfect.’ But, it’s nice to have these moments where I can just be myself. Not ‘Karina the leader,’ just Karina.”

“Well, for the record, you’re pretty cool Rina, leader or not,” Y/n said, giving her a sincere look. “I think we’d all be a little lost without you, to be honest.”

“Cool? Not cute?”

“Erm. Sorry, I have a Minjeong.” Y/n denied.

She let out a soft chuckle, bumping his shoulder. “Thanks, Y/n. It’s nice to hear that, especially from someone who has to put up with us 24/7.”

"You're welcome." Y/n grinned. "Now, please stop punching the camera."

-

Exhausted and a little breathless, they finally put down their bats, slumping onto a bench in the lounge area. Bits of dust and tiny shards clung to their protective gear, but they looked thoroughly exhilarated.

Y/n turned to her with a smile. “You’re living up to the name Rocket Puncher, you know that?”

Karina shrugged, though her eyes sparkled. “I guess I just have a habit of punching things.”

Y/n laughed. “Just don’t go overboard. We can’t have you smashing plates left and right during practice, alright?”

She laughed, nodding. “Fair enough. I’ll keep it contained to smash rooms.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes before Karina pointed toward the photo booth in the corner, her eyes lighting up. “Hey! Before we go, we should take a picture. Just, you know, to remember today.”

Y/n followed her gaze and groaned. “Are you serious? We look like we just walked out of a war!”

“Exactly! That’s the point!” Karina insisted, practically dragging him over. “C’mon, tough guy, one picture won’t kill you.”

As the camera flashed, Karina made a series of increasingly ridiculous faces, pulling Y/n into the antics with her. By the last frame, he was laughing so hard he barely noticed the camera snapping.

When the photos printed, Karina held up the strip with pride. “This is definitely going up on the fridge. Maybe I’ll even show Minjeong.”

Y/n’s eyes widened. “Please don't. She’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

Karina just smirked, pocketing the photos. “Consider it payback for letting me rant today. And don’t worry—I’ll only tease you a little.”

“Tsk.” Y/n sighed. “ But thanks for this, Rina. I think I needed it more than I realised.”

She smiled, looping her arm over his shoulder. “Anytime, Y/n. A little smash helps wonder.”

They sat in comfortable silence, the weight of the conversation lingering, but in a way that felt comforting rather than heavy.

-

Karina’s usual habit was quickly taken up by a notch in the dorm. No one could resist teasing her after each new incident, and her reactions—half-defensive, half-mortified—only added to the fun.

Which happened sooner than expected.

One evening, everyone was gathered around the dinner table for takeout night. Y/n watched with an amused grin as Karina grabbed her chopsticks with a little too much enthusiasm, causing her plate to slip and crack against the table.

“Welp, another one bites the dust,” Y/n quipped, leaning back with a smirk.

Karina gave him a narrowed look, cheeks flushed. “You know what? Maybe plates these days just aren’t made to last!”

Winter snorted. “Or maybe you’re just turning into some kind of superhero with ‘smash’ as your only superpower.”

“Sooo…Hulk?” Giselle questioned.

Karina huffed, crossing her arms. “Well, I didn’t ask for this power.”

Ningning leaned in, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Yeah, but if you keep breaking things, people might actually believe you’re the leader of a super-powered girl group.”

Giselle clapped her hands, laughing. “Imagine if they replaced our choreo with you smashing props on stage!”

Y/n’s eyes lit up with mock seriousness. “Rina, think of the fan meetings. You’d just need to sign autographs on concrete blocks with a sledgehammer or something.”

Karina tried to stifle her laugh but couldn’t. She finally gave in, laughing as she tossed a crumpled napkin at Y/n. “You’re all just jealous of my raw strength.”

-

The next morning, Y/n and Karina found themselves in the kitchen, prepping for a long day ahead. Karina was trying to work the espresso machine, but it seemed to be giving her trouble. As she pulled the handle, the coffee machine sputtered and stopped working entirely.

“Did it just…?” Karina blinked, staring at the lifeless machine.

Y/n, stifling a laugh, leaned in to inspect. “Hmmmm, let’s see, it was perfectly fine this morning, and now it’s dead. Who could possibly be responsible?”

Karina swatted his arm. “Hey! I didn’t even touch it that hard! I just… pulled the lever with a bit of confidence.”

“Oh, ‘confidence,’” Y/n said with a grin. “That’s a nice way of putting it. You know, you’re like a coffee machine whisperer… except in reverse.”

Karina glared at him, then let out a laugh. “Fine, maybe I got a little too eager. But you’re making the coffee, then.”

Y/n shook his head, feigning exasperation as he grabbed his phone to put in a delivery order for iced lattes instead. “I’ll be sending this bill to the SM. You know, at this rate, you’re going to single-handedly ruin every appliance in the dorm.”

“Then maybe you should start getting unbreakable appliances,” Karina shot back, grinning as she took a seat at the counter.

Winter wandered into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. She looked between the two and yawned. “What happened now?”

“Coffee machine casualty,” Y/n explained, waving a hand at the machine. “She claimed another victim.”

Winter shook her head with a small laugh. “Great….another funeral?”

Karina shrugged, holding up her hands in surrender. “Apparently, I’ve just… developed an ult.”

-

A few days later, Karina and Y/n were shopping for some supplies when they wandered into the electronics section. They’d been joking about her newfound “habit” all morning, and Karina couldn’t resist poking fun at herself.

“Ya, Y/n, think they sell smash-proof headphones?” she asked with a grin, picking up a sleek pair.

He laughed. “If they did, you’d be their first customer.”

Karina nodded thoughtfully, pretending to examine the headphones. “Maybe we should just go all out and buy everything in metal. Like, imagine an indestructible blender or a phone that can survive anything.”

Y/n snorted, crossing his arms. “What, you’re planning on hurling your phone across the room?”

Karina gave him a playful nudge. “Not *intentionally*. But you never know.”

She picked up a ceramic mug, examining it thoughtfully. “Hmm. You think this one would survive me?”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you try holding it like a normal human, and we’ll see?”

Karina broke into laughter, the two of them gathering curious stares from other shoppers. “Fine, fine, I’ll keep my grip to a minimum.”

-

That night, back at the dorm, the members were lounging around after a busy day. Y/n was tidying up the living room when he heard a familiar *crack* from the kitchen. He didn’t even have to look to know who the culprit was.

“YOO JIMIN!” he called, trying to sound stern but barely hiding his amusement.

Karina peeked around the corner, looking sheepish. “It was just a spoon…”

Winter groaned dramatically. “Do we even have spoons left at this point?”

Ningning held up a plastic spoon with a grin. “These are the only safe ones left. And I’m not taking any chances.”

Giselle couldn’t resist piling on. “At this rate, we’re going to have to wrap everything in bubble wrap. Including you, unnie.”

Karina laughed, her face flushing pink. “It’s not my fault! Everything’s so fragile!”

Y/n rolled his eyes, though he was smiling. “Okay, you and I are making a pact. Once a month, smash room therapy. But no more ‘practicing’ in the dorm, got it?”

Karina raised her hand in mock seriousness, nodding. “Fine, deal. Monthly smashing sessions only in the smash room. But only if you join me.”

The others burst into laughter as Y/n sighed, defeated. “Alright, alright. As long as you promise to keep your ‘smashing’ in the smash room.”

Winter nudged Karina, grinning. “This is really gonna be a thing, isn’t it?”

Karina shrugged, laughing. “Guess so. Let’s just hope I don’t smash anything important, like, I dunno… the door.”

“Or my boyfriend” Winter instantly glared at her leader while hugging Y/n. “Only he can deal with our rowdiness here.”

The entire group laughed, shaking their heads. Despite the accidental destruction, they couldn’t help but enjoy every minute of it. Karina’s “habit” had become an endless source of entertainment, and Y/n knew he’d never look at a coffee machine—or a remote—the same way again.

-

The next month rolled around, and true to their agreement, Y/n and Karina made another trip to the smash room. Karina was fired up, armed with a bat and practically bouncing on her heels as she looked at the new array of breakables.

“Oh, you’re going down this time,” she taunted, tossing Y/n a helmet. “Get ready to lose, mister.”

Y/n scoffed, slipping on his helmet and giving her a playful glare. “Is that so? We’ll see about that. Just don’t go breaking anything else when we get back to the dorm, okay?”

With that, the smash room countdown started, and they both went at it. Plates shattered, vases exploded, and Karina laughed wildly with every hit. They were neck and neck, neither one letting up as they plowed through piles of items. But just as they were about to swing at the last piece—a towering stack of old electronics—they paused, catching their breath.

Karina raised her bat, grinning. “Alright, let’s end this. Whoever smashes it first is the ultimate champ.”

Y/n, equally competitive now, rolled his shoulders, raising his bat. “Prepare to lose, Rocket Puncher.”

“Three… two… one!” They both swung, aiming straight for the top of the stack.

But just as they were about to hit, Karina’s bat connected a split second sooner, sending pieces flying—and her bat continued on its path, grazing Y/n’s arm as he tried to dodge.

“Ow!” he yelped, dropping his bat and clutching his arm, though a grin tugged at his lips.

Karina gasped, immediately dropping her bat. “Oh my gosh, Y/n! I’m so sorry!” She rushed over, her hands hovering as if she wanted to check on him but didn’t want to make it worse.

Y/n burst into laughter, holding his “injured” arm dramatically. “You actually smashed me, Karina! I didn’t know I’d signed up for *full-contact smashing.*”

She smacked his shoulder playfully, though she was still red-faced with embarrassment. “You were in my way! And stop laughing—I thought I broke your arm!”

He couldn’t help grinning. “Next time, we’re putting a strict no beating your manager rule in place. I barely survived.”

Karina laughed, shaking her head as she helped him up. “Guess I did win the smashing contest, though,” she teased, flashing him a victorious grin.

Y/n chuckled, rubbing his arm with a smile. “Yeah, yeah, Rocket Puncher… but the prize is definitely on you. Because from now on, I’m giving you a permanent smash ban.”

She pouted, though she couldn’t hold back her smile. “Fine. But don’t be surprised if I accidentally ‘smash’ something again. Just… try not to stand in my way next time?”

“That sounds wron-“

“Finish that and you will eat this bat.” Karina glared.

“Yes ma’am”

With a shared stifled laugh, they both left the smash room, Karina proudly claiming her “victory” and Y/n mentally preparing to dodge any “unintentional” smash attacks back at the dorm.

As they finished their monthly agreement and left the smash room, a renewed sense of camaraderie between them, both feeling lighter than they had in a long time. There was certainly mild hostility between the two of them when first met, but things changed for the better.

It wasn’t just the smashing or the laughs—it was the reminder that they had each other, through all the chaos, and that was a pretty solid foundation to lean on.

[innies-goth-gf]

Things aren’t what they seem

Things aren’t always what they seem - Ch 1

Pairing : Ot8 🗝️ x Reader Genre : Supernatural 🦇, Romance 💌, Angst 🌧️, Fluff 🪽, Smut 🥀, Crack 🪿 W/C : 1.4K Notes : I haven’t been writing that long so please leave any constructive criticism or corrections if you have any! (English isn’t my first language either) Pls enjoy! !!! Read prologue first !!! (Ao3 : Seungmins_goth_gf. Wattpad : hansgothgirlfriend) [Master list] [Things aren’t what they seem -Series]

‘Am I really doing this?’ You thought, staring out the plane window.

It’d now been a week since you’d gotten that letter. It all still felt like some dream.

Not much has happened since you received it. That same day you had packed a bag for two weeks, not knowing how long you’d be there.

You felt puzzled about the whole thing. On the one hand, you were excited and nervous to see him again. But on the other hand, you felt a bit scared and anxious. Since the letter, you’ve thought of a million scenarios that could occur. The uncertainty of it all was what got you the most.

Nonetheless, you tried to push through it. You knew if you didn’t do this you’d regret it for the rest of your life.

Before you could even realize it, you had started to drift off to sleep. Sumbcumming to a deep slumber only to be awakened by the end of the plane ride.

୨ৎ ˚ /) /) ༉ ‧ ₊˚

After unboarding the plane and getting all your belongings you ordered a cab to take you to the address you were given. Which is where you are now.

The closer you got to your destination the more you started to feel uneasy. Your stomach was doing somersaults and your heart was almost beating out of your chest.

You looked out the window, only seeing trees upon trees. You were in the middle of a forest, the trees so tall they almost looked like they were touching the quiet and gloomy sky. Although many would find this sort of atmosphere off-putting, it helped ease your anxiety a little, something about a quiet sky helped you.

Being so lost in thought you almost missed the car slowing down and then finally coming to a halt.

“This is it, miss,” The old cab driver said, smiling at you through the car mirror. “Nice house you got there.” He complimented. “Ah thank you but it's not mine,” You said, thanking him. Quickly you paying him for the ride and giving him a nice tip, it was a long ride after all.

Once you had gotten all your stuff out of the car the cab driver took off but not before wishing you a good day.

‘Ok, no turning back now. You can do this.’ You thought as you stood in the long driveway. You stared at the big house in front of you. The cab driver was right, this was a very nice and very big house. You were amazed.

The house seemed to be at least 3 stories high excluding the attic and a assumed basement. It looked to be some type of old Victorian mansion. The house was fenced off by tall brick and iron fences with old metal lamps on top. The fences met at an archway over the driveway with a big black gate blocking the entrance. Inside you could see all sorts of plants, bushes, trees, and decorations adorning the yard, driveway, and path walk.

Wondering just how you were gonna get past the gate you noticed a little black speaker box with a few buttons on it. Curious, you decided to press the call button.

You heard some static and an unfamiliar voice spoke “Please state your business.” Not sure how to reply, you just said the first thing that popped up into your mind. “Uh, I’m here to see Christopher. Christopher Bahng.” You said, your voice sounding uncertain .

“And your name miss?” Right, of course, you have to introduce yourself. You gave the man your full name. “Alright, give me a moment please.” He said before you heard the call cut off. Not long after you heard a small buzz and a very loud creak as the gate doors opened automatically.

“Well, that was rather easy.” You thought, grabbing your things and walking up the driveway. ‘Damn rich people and their big long driveways.’

As you neared the end you noticed some cars outside, a few seemed old and fancy but well-kept. The rest seemed like everyday modern cars, for the rich that was.

Before you even knew it you found yourself standing in front of the doorway entrance. You noticed to your left a black box, similar to the one by the gate. This time, however, it wasn't a speaker box. It seemed like it needed some sort of code. You stood there, puzzled for a moment before you pulled out the paper that had the address written down. You turned it around to find a 6-digit code written on it. “How convenient…’’

As soon as you finished putting in the code, a loud creek was heard behind you. You jumped a bit, the sudden noise startling you.

Staring at the tall dark oak double doors opening you took a deep breath, stepping through the doors and into the main entrance. As soon as you stepped inside with all your belongings the doors slammed shut behind you.

“Oh fuck!” you exclaimed looking behind you. You took a moment to take in your surroundings. The inside of the house was no less beautiful than the outside. The entrance connected to a dimly lit hallway. Past the entrance to the left, there were two staircases, the one on the left going down and the one on the right going up. ‘So they still have a basement despite how ridiculously big this house is, huh.’ To your right, there was what seemed to be a dining room. There seemed to be more down the hall but you didn’t dare step into the house any further.

You kinda just stood there, still at the entrance unsure what to do. It seemed awfully quiet inside. Maybe you should say something. “Hello!?” You shouted, your voice wavered. Soon enough you heard some steps coming from upstairs, you quickly started to internally panic. You realized you weren’t as ready to see Chris again as you’d thought you were.

As you waited nervously for him to come down your mind filled itself with a million questions. What would he be like? Was it the right choice to come here? Why did he need you to come here–

However, your thoughts were cut off when you realized the person who was now at the bottom of the stairs, was in fact, not Chris. Instead, there stood a man with short black hair. His facial features were sharp, almost cat-like. He seemed decently tall, nothing impressive tho. He slowly approached you, stopping right in front of you.

The room suddenly got awkward, neither of you daring to look away but not daring to speak either. Did you get the wrong house? What should you do?

Just as you were about to speak up the man in front of you spoke. “You’re that girl aren’t you?” He said, looking you up and down with his arms crossed. He put you on edge a bit. “Pardon?” You replied, a bit confused.

Right as he was about to speak again, someone else emerged from the stairs, this time, they came from downstairs. “Oh! Hey, isn’t this the girl Chan told us about Minho?” A blue-haired male said, stepping close to the other man he referred to as “Minho”. He had a completely different vibe from his friend.

“It's nice to meet you, y/n right?” He extended his hand to you. “Yeah, that's me. Nice to meet you too, uh-” you trailed off, waiting for him to give his name.

“My name is Han, and this is Minho. We’re Chris's friends.” He said with a smile on his face. His friend seemed to soften up a little and also shook your hand.

“Ah not to be rude but, where is Chris?” You said looking at the two of them. “I think he's out by the patio, said he needed a breather.” Answered Han.

“In that case, I can take her stuff upstairs to the spare room while you give her a little tour of the first floor, and then we can take her to him together.” Minho walked over, grabbed your things, and started walking towards the stairs. “Oh, no wait! I can do it later–” Your protests were very much ignored by Minho as he kept walking up the stairs.

“Y/n-nie you’re our guest. Chan would smack us upside down if we let you do that,” Han said behind you. “C’mon let me show you around.” He placed his hand on the small of your back and pushed you down the hall.

“Guess I have no other choice huh.”

“No, you don’t.”

[auspicioustidings]

Fixer Upper

Summary: Request for some fluffy established relationship PricexReaderxSoap for @bunnyreaper (pls be advised I am working through my ask box and the next one is this throuple but horny :D)

Words: 1.3k

“It's a fixer upper love!”

It was the first thing John had said to you when you had emerged from the trees and seen the cottage that was now yours and he was not lying. The place was falling apart.

“Och come on bunny, going tae have tae see the vision!”

Ah, Johnny could always read your face and right now your scepticism must be written all over it. He used bunny when he wanted to wind you up a little. The first time you and the two of them had really sat down and spoken about your relationship, turned it into something formal, he had joked you were their barracks bunny. John had laughed but smacked him upside the head for that.

“Sure thing Sergeant John, let me just get my rose tinted glasses. Now where did I put those things?”

He stuck his tongue out at you. You had your own nickname ready to wind him up. Usually you'd differentiate by calling him Johnny but if he was misbehaving then you differentiated by rank. John always liked that though, even if he did tell you in private all the time how Johnny would definitely make Captain one day and take over the 141 so he could retire and just have fat babies with you.

“Come on love, Captain John will take you through it” John laughed, scooping you up easily into his arms with Johnny rolling his eyes.

“Traitor, bonnie wee bunny bats her eyelashes and it's all Captain John this and Captain John that.”

Still, John placated him by leaning over with you still in his arms and planting a kiss to the side of his head. God you loved when they were soft and tender with one another. Even before you were all together you had loved just watching how they took care of one another. It was a solid sort of affection, the kind that had become instinct to them over conscious effort.

They both fell into an easy rhythm around one another when you crossed the threshold (twice you crossed it because Johnny had watched John carry you like a bride over it and then stolen you to do the same before you were finally put down). John would point out something to be fixed and how to fix it, Johnny would wax poetic about what it would be like when done.

It took you two rooms before you couldn't help but see it, could not resist getting drawn into their warm excitement. You joined in even, arguing with Johnny over where the Christmas tree would go, going on tip toes to give John kisses when he agreed he would teach you how to tile properly so you could help with his vision for the kitchen.

You knew them and you knew they'd want to do it all themselves, but they were away so often and it was so important that when they got home they actually had downtime. Of course they disagreed, but they had come to learn that while on the field they took care of everyone, here in the peaceful warmth of home it was you who took care of them. So they grumbled and sat down with you to go over tradespeople who you could bring in to help. You only had to smack John once when he refused someone on the basis that they had an attractive sounding name and he wasn't about to let their bunny wind up in a porn plot. Honestly it was probably the best you could have hoped for.

–

The soft glow of the lights made your cottage seem like something out of a cosy dream. It had taken time and effort and love but here you were with the perfect home all ready for the holidays.

There was a soft festive tune playing as John danced with you, holding you close with your head tucked into him. Johnny had braved the snow to walk down to the village and post your cards for the rest of their team. Well partially, mostly he was probably going in to say hi to all the old dears so they could fuss over him as always. You and John always teased him for being their favourite, but it was sweet to watch.

“I love you” you sighed against him, no reason for the words really other than knowing it made him smile to hear them.

“I know, everybody loves me, it's the beard I think.”

You laughed and leaned back, giving him a light tap on the nose in chastisement.

“That'll be it John, if you ever shave I'm out of here.”

“I love you too, more than I could ever put into words.”

Sometimes you couldn't believe you were so content, but softly being kissed by one of the men you loved in the home you had made together made everything just feel right.

“I spoke with Kate.”

You tilted your head at him, encouraging him to continue. It was always a struggle to try and not worry whenever he said something like that. Were they getting shipped out again? Was something dangerous coming?

“This is my last Christmas in active duty love” he said, smiling fondly at the tears already forming in your eyes. “Not told Soap yet, but I've recommended him for Captain. Simon is pushing for it too, don't think he'd accept anyone else as his CO.”

You knew it was always what John had wanted, for Johnny to take over. He spoke with you about it sometimes, explained how it would be tricky moving him from Sergeant to Captain, but with the Lieutenant backing him it would work.

It always seemed such a far off thing and now here it was, less than a year away. You were definitely crying, so happy for him and for Johnny and for yourself.

“Let's do a winter wedding.”

“You- you're supposed to propose first!” you half laughed, half sobbed.

He chuckled at the sorry state you found yourself in and smothered your face in kisses as he apologised for going about it all wrong. You heard the door open and turned to see Johnny shaking off the dusting of snow that had settled on him. He took in the situation and grinned, coming barrelling over to crush both you and John in a hug even though he was cold and wet from outside.

“Cannae believe it, ye went and asked her to marry ye without me here didn't ye?”

“Don't worry Soap, you'll get your turn. Got something to ask you later as well.”

Something about the fact it was clear they had discussed marriage before made you sob even harder, ugly crying about how happy it all made you.

“Love you bunny, love you Captain.”

You got to watch a few months later when John finally told Johnny about the promotion, all confirmed with the higher ups. You got to cry all over again when John actually did get down on one knee in the summer, proposing properly. Johnny had proposed not 2 days later.

You did have a winter wedding right in your garden. They bound your hands together in a strip of tartan cloth as you declared that this was forever. Gaz got drunk and wound up giving Farah the raunchiest lap dance you had ever seen. Simon deadpanned that it was allergies anytime someone tried to tease him for crying during the ceremony.

John retired from active duty before Christmas as promised. As Johnny kissed you both goodbye and left to go lead his team to save the world once again he only laughed when you flustered horribly at his parting words.

“Mind and get started on those fat bairnies while I'm gone, cannae wait tae meet them.”

[namyejuns]

Can I request a Noah x Fem!Reader where she’s a member of PLAVE (the typical only girl in boy group scenario ;) ) and she’s getting shipped with Bamby, and he sees all those comments about her and Bamby and gets jealous of their interactions? Reader reassures him and it can be fluff or smut (you choose) 👁️ —🩷 anon.

hey!! thank u so much for my first ever plave request, i was so so excited to write this!!! i'll keep this fluff for now but i wouldn't mind expanding on it later with some smut........ just lmk if you'd be interested hehehe.. i kinda struggled with characterization so pls be kind!! // divider by @/adornedwithlight // requests open!!

"Noah, sweetheart, please calm down," you pout, following him to the breakroom of your studio. Despite trying his best to keep it together, tears are tugging at his eyes - he's always been more of the melodramatic type.

Shutting the door behind the both of you, you lock it so no one else can barge in - they can think whatever they want to think is going on. The blonde refuses to face you, instead plops down in a chair with his back to you as he sips from his water bottle. Practice had been vigorous today, followed by another two hour broadcast, and it had definitely worn everyone out - likely why tensions and stress were a little higher than normal.

"Han Noah," you repeat, using his surname to convey that you're serious. This needs to be discussed.

"Go talk to Bonggu about it instead," he finally replies, crossing his arms and legs with a hmph.

"Excuse me?" you raise a brow.

"The whole world thinks you two belong together, right?" he scoffs. "Just go be with him already."

You sigh and roll your eyes. Drama queen, as always.

"Every comment on the lives is about how perfect the two of you are together," he sniffles. "Maybe it's true."

Coming up behind him, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and plant a kiss on his cheek.

"It's true that I love Bonggu very much," you start, etching a deeper frown into the blonde's face. "But not the way I love you, Noah. I don't dream about Bonggu every night, I don't count down the seconds until practice and lives are over so I can get my hand on Bonggu. Not the way I do with you, baby."

He grumbles but still stays silent, though you know you've already won him over again.

"You know the world doesn't know about us, Noah, and we have to live with that. We have to live with the fact that fans might fabricate things between me and Bamby, and with any other member they see fit that day. But I will never love them like I love you, okay?"

At this point, you think Noah is just smugly enjoying you waxing poetic about how much you love and adore him, but if it makes him happy, you'll do it. You'll do anything.

"Fine," your boyfriend finally gives in, and you sigh with a smile.

"Good," you giggle, making your way around his chair to plop in his lap and throw your arms around his neck, his hands settling on your hips. "My beautiful fairy princess." He guffaws and rolls his eyes.

"Your beautiful fairy princess who loves you very, very much," he replies, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. "Thank you. And... sorry. That I got jealous."

"It's okay, sweetheart," you assure with a shake of your head. "I'm here for you, to reassure you, always. I'll never get tired of telling my adorable Noah how in love with him I am."

With that, you hear a loud banging on the door, and the groans of multiple tired men.

A voice that sounds remarkably like a man with gray and black hair pipes up. "You lovebirds done in there?"

[witchezandwonderz]

Shadows of the Past

Pairing: Finan x Reader

Request: 18 from the prompt list with Finan pls

Prompt request quote: “Every glance you give me makes it hard to breathe, let alone think."

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The mead tasted sour on Finan’s tongue, or maybe it was the day weighing heavy on his chest. The fires crackled around the camp, and laughter filled the air as Uhtred and the others shared stories of their latest raid. He should have been laughing too, but his mood had soured hours ago, and he couldn’t put his finger on why.

That was when Uhtred appeared, he had been gone for hours and Finan has started to wonder where he had got too. He knew not to worry though, for the camp was swamped with hundreds of their men, and women. Uhtred seemed more chipper than usual, which is strange for him on such a late, cold night. Finan assumed that it was due to the excitement from their successes, but asked anyway.

“You look happy lord.” He commented, letting out a large belch before taking yet another sip of the harsh liquid he gripped in his hand. Uhtred smiled. “I am happy indeed, I have found another great warrior and have convinced her to join us.”

Finan let out a laugh. “Her, aye? Is she pretty?”

Uhtred rolled his eyes in amusement. “Yes, she is very pretty but more importantly, she is the best female warrior I think I have ever witnessed.” He gushed, also taking a large swig from the cup in front of him before continuing. “Her name is Y/N.”

Finan smiled at the name, he knew a Y/N once. He loved a Y/N once. Well, he never stopped loving her. In his slightly drunken haze, he shook his head in an attempt to stop his thoughts, as if that would work. He shifted in his seat by the fire, shaking his head as if the motion alone could shake her from his mind. Foolish. Nothing ever could. Not the years, not the battles, not the bottle. She lingered like a ghost, haunting the edges of his thoughts when he was too tired—or too drunk—to hold her at bay.

There was no way it would be her, after all, Y/N is just a name- quite a common one at that. He sniffled, before raising his cup in the hair and muttering to himself. “To ghosts.” Before gulping down the remainder.

Uhtred looked at Finan, concern in his eyes, wanting to ask him what the hell that was all about, but he could see the woman in question approaching them, so decided to focus his attention on her instead.

“Here she is, Finan, this is Y/N, Y/N, this is Finan.”

Finan looked up, although it was dark, he could make out her features. He looked at her, then looked away at the fire, focusing on the flames for a brief moment. With a sharp intake of breath, he pushed himself to his feet, the sudden movement drawing a few curious glances from the others. He squinted, almost comically, as if that would change what he saw. As if it would erase her.

“Y/N?” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

Her expression, which had been calm and composed was now altered. For her mouth opened and her breath hitched. The two stared at each other, neither of them knowing what to say, both as shocked as the other.

Sihtric nudged his good friend, Finan, and whispered. “You look like you have seen a ghost.” Finan turned his attention from her and whispered back to Sihtric. “I have.”

“Finan.” Y/N murmured, taking a sharp breath in and then exhaling, in an obvious attempt to calm her nerves.

“Is this a dream, or am I drunker than I thought?” Finan said, his voice shaking. Y/N rolled her eyes at him. “Well, if it were a dream, I can imagine I would be a lot kinder to you right now.” Her words escaped her mouth in an icy tone, which is absolutely how she had intended.

Her words stung more than he cared to admit, and his face hardened. “Aye, sounds about right.”

The two retorted back to staring at one another, the difference being that before, they were surprised, and now, they appeared to be extremely angry.

Uhtred finally broke the tension. “Ok, there is clearly something going on here that I am sure in time you can tell me about. I do not care for your History. You will fight alongside each other and that is that.” He reasoned.

Both Finan and Y/Ns gaze remained on each other. “Fine by me.” Finan muttered. Y/N nodded. “It is not me you need to worry about lord. Finan is the one who makes a habit of promising and then leaving without a word.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, but he didn’t let it show. His jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened, but he said nothing.

The camp fell silent, every pair of eyes darting between them. Even Uhtred, who was usually quick to intervene, seemed caught off guard by the venom in her voice.

Y/N didn’t wait for a response. She turned sharply on her heel, and stormed off into the shadows. She was truly heartbroken, still to this day, he is the only man she has ever loved. Deeply. Well and truly.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, letting out a low, frustrated sigh. She had every right to hate him, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. He thought back, back to a time where her eyes sparkled from looking at him, before it was pure hatred that solidified within them.

Sihtric shot Finan an awkward look, and then raised his hand, giving him a strong pat on the shoulder. “It will be alright, brother. You both need to sleep.”

Finan nodded at him, not being able to focus on his words as he was too focused on his own thoughts and memories- they clouded his brain.

The next day, Uhtred woke Finan, ordering him to meet him outside as soon as possible. Finan, who had only had a mere hours sleep, squinted at Uhtred through tired eyes, muttering a quick “yes, lord.”

Finan stumbled his way outside, and wished that he had not. In front of him stood Y/N. She was just as beautiful as he had remembered, in fact she was even more beautiful than before. Her hair was no longer in a tight braid, but down and loose, just how he remembered. She was no longer covered by the darkness; the sun exposed every feature, every freckle, every crease. His eyes softened as he saw her smiling and laughing, but his soft expression quickly faded when he saw that she was laughing with Osferth.

Finan stood frozen for a moment, watching the scene play out before him. Every laugh Y/N shared with Osferth sent another jab straight to his chest. He’d had enough. His legs moved before his brain caught up, and before he knew it, he was standing just a few feet away from them.

“What’s this about then?” Finan snarled, gesturing his hands between the two of them. Osferth immediately and instinctively stepped back from Y/N, but Y/N stood fixed in her spot, glaring at Finan.

“What?” She spat, her face screwed up in confusion as to why he was so angry.

Finan took a long, deep breath and tried to relax himself. He placed one hand on his sword and the other on the back of his head.

“You two, flirting and laughing like we don’t have work to be doing.”

Y/N laughed. “And what work should I be doing then? Go on boss, tell me.” She stepped closer to him, so close that their faces were a mere inches apart. “Don’t you dare come over here and speak to ME like that. Not ever.” Her voice remained calm and steady, despite her growing anger.

Finan couldn’t help but stare at her lips while she spoke, he kept telling himself to look in her eyes but he could not resist.

“Don’t tell me how to speak to you. You think just because someone taught you how to fight now you’re a big man? Well you’re not Y/N.” His eyes flickered to her lips once again. “Don’t think you can flirt with other men in front of me, I don’t care what has happened. You do not.” He seethed, using a finger to point towards Osferth.

Y/N let out a sarcastic, slightly erratic laugh. “Wow, wow, wow, wow. I can’t believe you. This is typical you, you leave without a word, you break my heart and then think that you can still tell me what to do?”

Nearby, groups of people stopped to watch the interaction. Osferth had now joined both Sihtric and Uhtred, who both erupted into laughter when Osferth said, very innocently, “it’s almost like they are arguing so that they can stop themselves from kissing each other.”

Enough,” Uhtred said, striding over with an exasperated look. “If you two are going to tear into each other, do it properly.”

They both turned to him, confusion flickering across their faces.

“What do you mean, Lord?” Y/N asked, her tone suspicious.

“I mean fight,” Uhtred said simply. “Take it to the ring. Spar it out. Gods know, I’m tired of the bickering.”

Finan’s brows furrowed. “Lord, I can’t fight her. I will hurt her!”

“Finan, when was the last time you saw Y/N fight?” Uhtred asked, an amused smile playing on his face. Y/N stood with her arms crossed, looking like a toddler who had lost their toy.

Finan shrugged. “I don’t know, years ago, when I last saw her.”

Uhtred’s smile became wider. “Well then. There will be no more discussion, you will fight. Now.” He replied, his tone leaving no room for any arguments.

Y/N shrugged off her cloak, rolling her shoulders as she unsheathed her blade. Finan did the same, his grip tight around his hilt.

“First one to yield,” Uhtred called out, his voice ringing over the crowd.

Y/N moved first, her strikes fast and precise, forcing Finan to stay on the defensive. She was quick—quicker than he remembered—and every blow she landed made his frustration grow.

“You’ve gotten better,” he grunted, blocking her blade with his own.

“I’ve had plenty of practice,” she replied smoothly, ducking under his swing and landing a sharp kick to his side that sent him stumbling.

Finan jumped to his feet, attempting to completely ignore the soaring pain that travelled through him. “Trained by who?” He asked as they danced around each other once again. Y/N ignored his question, in turn landing another jab, but this time to his leg. Finan growled with anger. “I asked who?” He shouted.

“No one that you know.” She responded, moving out of the way just in time as he attempted to strike her.

“A man?” He asked. Y/N smirked, “perhaps.” Finan lost focus in that moment, for all he could think about was her tumbling around with another man. Y/N took advantage of this moment to finally disarm him with a well-placed strike and knocked him flat on his back, the crowd erupted in cheers.

Y/N stood over him, her blade pointed at his chest, a triumphant smirk playing on her lips. “Yield.”

Finan glared up at her, his chest heaving, his pride battered and bruised. But gods help him, she looked incredible—strong, confident, every bit the warrior she claimed to be.

“I forgot how flexible you were.” Finan muttered, not really intending her to hear him. But, she had. “Oh I didn’t think you would ever be able to forget that.” She winked, and then laughed and walked away, leaving him sat on the floor dumb founded, and slightly turned on.

Later on that evening, everyone sat plotted around the camp searching for warmth, for this winter had been particularly cruel. Y/N sat huddled by the fire, every so often putting her hands as close as she could to the flame before she got burned. There was only one thing on her mind, Finan. She was used to this, though; she had thought about him daily and nightly, ever since he had left her.

Lost in her own thoughts, she sighed. She couldn’t feel sorry for herself forever. But if she didn’t then who would?

She felt someone sit next to her, it shocked her how close the person had decided to sit. Turning her head, her eyes widened when she saw that it was Finan. His hair was longer now, a little wilder, the firelight catching the streaks of gold in his dark locks. That scar on his cheek, the one she remembered tracing with her fingertips in softer times, was more pronounced in the flickering light. He looked the same, and yet entirely different—hardened, wearied, and still maddeningly familiar.

“Y/N.” He breathed, exasperated. “I don’t want to argue, please, can we talk?” She pondered his question, she didn’t want to argue either but she was still so unbelievably angry with him. She nodded. “We can talk Finan, but you need to think before you speak.”

Finan glared his eyes slightly, and then looked at her. For the first time since they have met again, he really looked at her, in her eyes.

“Every glance you give me makes it hard to breathe, let alone think."

Y/N was shocked by his words, she wanted to reply but she seemed to not be able too. Finan took a deep breath before continuing.

“I can’t stand how angry you are with me.” His words came out quieter than he had intended. Y/N rubbed her face in frustration, she wanted to cry but fought back her tears.

“Finan. You didn’t even try to come back for me. The fact is, if I never came here, you never would have spoke to me again.” He couldn’t help but smile, not at her words but her tone. This was the first time that she had spoken to him normally, sweetly-herself.

“That’s not true, love, I wanted too. It’s all I have thought about, but I thought you would have built another life now.” He admitted, staring at the side of her face. She could not look him, her eyes lay intensely at the fire in front of them.

“Look at me.” He touched her shoulder. Once the words left his mouth, Y/N immediately burst into tears, not being able to hold them back any longer.

Instinctively, Finan leapt closer towards her, embracing her in a hug that they had both been longing for since he had left.

“How could I build a life? I waited for you. Day and night I waited,” she paused, her words muffled from the embrace. “But you never came.”

His heart broke in that instant, he thought it couldn’t have been broken further, for it had been time after time- whenever he thought of her, whenever he looked at her. But hearing her say that, hearing that she waited for him, smashed his heart into a million pieces.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He kissed her head, over and over again.

“Why did you leave me, Finan?” Her words were more coherent now that she looked up at him, removing her mouth from his clothing.

Finan sighed. “I had too. I was captured, and then by the time I escaped, I didn’t want to ruin what you had going on by coming back.” He tightened his grip around her, his hands remembering how he used to hold her.

He met her gaze, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I loved you then, and I will always love you. No matter where I go, no matter what happens, it’s you, Y/N. It’s always been you.”

Her heart twisted and soared at his words- she had been longing to hear them for years. She had convinced herself that there would never be an opportunity for forgiveness, or even an opportunity to see him again. But fate had brought them here.

“Finan,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He reached up, his calloused hand brushing a strand of hair from her face. His touch was so gentle, so familiar, that it sent a shiver down her spine. “I know I hurt you,” he said softly. “And I’ll carry that with me for the rest of my life. But if you’ll let me, I want to make it right. I want to fight for you, for us. I should’ve done it before, and I’m sorry I didn’t.”

Y/N leaned up, tugging his bottom lip with hers. Almost shyly, like she was asking his permission- which she most definitely did not need. Finan froze for a heartbeat, his eyes fluttering shut as though savoring the sensation. She pulled away just enough to be able to look into his eyes.

“If you want me show me.”

That was all he needed. Gone was the hesitation, the doubt that had held him back for so long. His lips captured hers with a sudden urgency, his kiss filled with all the love, longing, and regret he’d carried for years. Not breaking the kiss even once, he lifted her up and set her on his lap.

Her hands slid up to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic as she let herself fall into him, into the warmth and familiarity of his embrace. His lips were rough but tender, moving against hers like he was rediscovering something precious.

When they finally pulled apart, Finan rested his forehead against hers. “I will never leave you, ever again.”

[leavesfallensparse]

Cigarettes & Wine | M. Healy | 1

'I want a photo of you in my bed, to carry with me when I go out west.'

In which Sadie and Matty have a very brief, very awkward, and very anxious encounter, Sadie gets very flustered but quickly finds herself fitting in with the group of rowdy boys and too many feelings are felt for her teenage brain.

warnings: drug use, implied alcoholism, implied parental neglect, my sweet angel sadie being a sweet angel.

word count: 8.5k

a/n: soo .. hiiii! i am juniper and im begging you guys bear with me i have Never posted on here before. BUUUUTT i am vvvv nervous and excited to be posting this but it's been in the works for tooooo long. begging and screaming to be let out of the word doc its been confined to. so here we are i guess. pls enjoy sadie and matty they are my Children. if the title wasn't hint enough.. this is only part one.

Sadie has had the most stressful morning of her entire life. Her tie is untied around her neck and the only thing she cares to grab hold of is her camera. Her entire life is on that thing, and although she may be merely 14, her camera is her child. She hears her mother huffing at the bottom of the stairs and straightens up to catch a look of herself in the mirror, a mess, as she suspected. Her shirt is buttoned up wrong, her skirt is half tucked into her tights, she has on one Mary Jane and her backpack’s contents are strewn messily across her bedroom floor. With some swear words muttered along the way she is in the car within five minutes and her mum is chewing her out for being late to her first day of Year 10, which she couldn’t really care less for.

“I’ll see you tonight, mum! Love you!” Sadie slams the car door before she can hear her mums reply and heads into the school she’s grown to know quite well. She’s fallen into a friend group with some girls that she thinks will do for her high school endeavours, but Sadie already knows she’s destined for bigger than the small town of Wilmslow. Somebody else who thinks this way is Matty Healy, the boy who’s just gone into Year 11. Sadie has noticed him before, they both tend to frequent the music department, Sadie finds it visually appealing for her photo collection, whereas Matty finds it appealing to the ears, especially his own guitar strumming. Any time their paths cross Sadie bows her head and pretty much runs in the opposite direction, face as red as the wine her mum drinks when the sky gets dark.

As Sadie enters the front of the school she signs in late at the front and heads to her class, putting her camera in her backpack as she approaches her English class. She sighs and opens the door with stuttered apologies for being late, Sadie might be confident and come across as such but that doesn’t mean her 14 year old brain isn’t scared of high school teachers and their strictness. She stumbles to her seat and sits down, accidentally throwing her bag at her feet once she gets out the book the class are in the middle of silently reading. Even though she doesn’t know why the class is reading on the first day she’s thankful for it because it lets her mind wander, her dreams of being a famous photographer is what her mind favours over ‘A Tale Of Two Cities’, Sadie finds Dickens to be boring. She prefers the Brontë sisters.

When lunchtime finally rolls around Sadie is where she can normally be found, the music department. Her camera is lazily slung around her neck, her backpack having been left with her friends in the library. She favours avoiding the gossip for finding inspiration in the usual practice rooms, the ones she hasn’t found inspiration in for a while now. She spent every day before the Summer holidays begging whoever might be looking down on her for something to take a photo of. Somebody else had been wandering the same corridors as Sadie. Everyone in her year talks about Matty Healy, “the boy in the year above with a natural affinity for the guitar he’s always carrying around the school carried a naturally mysterious air.” Sadie can’t think of a single girl in her year who wasn’t utterly obsessed with every move of Matty Healy. Including herself, even if she’s very hesitant to admit it, an admirer from afar per se. She likes to think of him more in the sense of ‘his appearance is inspiring to her camera’.  Sadie was looking down at her feet, frowning at the scuffed shoes she wore for the entirety of Year 9 when she felt a larger figure bump into her. As she looks up and sees Matty with a guitar case in his hand she can’t help the pink tint that rises on her cheeks.

“Oh! Erm, sorry!” Sadie somehow manages to force the words out of her mouth. She seems to have the same shyness about her when talking to Matty that she does when looking her English teacher in the eye. An interesting discovery. She loses herself in overthinking the tone she just took with Matty when she hears him reply to her, something she wasn’t expecting in the slightest.

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t paying attention, my bad.” He meets her eyes and genuinely seems like he couldn’t care less about her mistake, he seems to take more notice of her camera, his head tilts and his eyes squint in the direction of it hanging limply on her neck. She seems to grow more confident in herself when she realises he’s looking at her camera, she knows she’s good at photography, that’s something she could talk about endlessly. Matty lifts a finger and points to said camera. “You any good?”

Her eyes widen slightly at the question, and she clears her throat at the same time her head begins incessantly nodding, she is acting crazy. She then begins to overthink her nodding. Why is she overthinking so much? Maybe she’s just having an off-day. She decides that she nodded like that because she knows she’s a great photographer, why would she not be overconfident about it? Seems normal enough.

“Cool. Can I see any?” This is when Sadie’s heart rate picks up. She doesn’t know why; she doesn’t want to know why. She also does not want to know why he is asking her this. Matty’s question has sent her brain into full blown panic mode, maybe she does want to know why he’d like to see her photos. What could possibly intrigue him about her? The squint tie around her neck? Her incredibly dirty Mary Janes? In her 14-year-old brain she decides he fancies her. She’d come to find out in many, many years that she was, in fact, right.

“If you want? I’m bringing my hard drive tomorrow for my art class, they’re letting me use my photos this year, meet me at the library?” She says this with a coy smile on her face, in her head she is feeling a lot less coy because of the way Matty is smirking at her. What she doesn’t know is that he is looking down at her with a smirk because her face is so red that he thinks there’s something wrong, maybe it was something he’d said? After a beat of silence, he blinks down at her with a nod, and they bid their goodbyes. Once Sadie is sure Matty has turned the corner she lets out a silent squeal before quickly bolting to the school’s library and sitting down at the table her friends are at, she might not view them in any light, but they do love gossip. She takes a moment to catch her breath before turning to her friend sat beside her, “Matty Healy wants to see my photos. I have no idea why.”

Suffice to say Sadie didn’t sleep a wink that night. She sneaked through to her dad’s office to edit photos on the family computer at midnight when she was sure everyone was sleeping and when she was sure the photos were on her hard drive she went back to bed and tried to sleep. Unsuccessfully. She then had to drag herself to school the next morning, early, to meet Matty before classes. She had no energy to even be nervous, the eyebags on her face spoke for themselves. She all but flopped down on the seat next to the boy who held in his laugh at the sight of her. “Don’t laugh! I had to edit some of these photos before you saw them, and my bloody dad wouldn’t get off the computer last night, so I had to do it after he was sleeping! Anyways, wanna see?” When Matty nods with a smile she rifles through her backpack for her hard drive.

After silently looking through her photos for, like, three whole minutes, Matty turns to Sadie with a single nod. “So, I’m in a band. I think they’d love these. How about you come to our next practice and take some photos of us? See if they like what you do?” Sadie is now a mere puddle in her computer chair. She doesn’t speak in fear of her mouth betraying her, what would she even say? She nods for a while; she doesn’t know how long she nods for, but she knows it’s been a while.

“Yup, sounds good. Yeah, cool. Cool. Where do you guys practice?” Sadie doesn’t know what the fuck is coming out of her mouth. She is word vomiting all over Matty’s shoes. She wants to apologise but she isn’t sure she remembers the English language. Why is she so nervous? Oh, probably just because the guy that every single one of her peers fawns over is currently asking her to make him and his bandmates her next subject of inspiration. Her next muse. What even is her life.

“At my house. I’ll write the address down for you, hang on.” Sadie’s mouth has gone dry. Now she’s truly forgotten the English language. This can’t be real, and this certainly can’t be happening to Sadie. Matty Healy is writing down his home address for her to have. Not to even mention his literal famous mum and dad. She reaches her hand under the computer desk and pinches her thigh over her wool tights, it doesn’t hurt but she’s now sure this is actually happening. Sadie takes the paper from Matty and tries to process the date and time he’s reciting at her. They’re interrupted by the morning bell and when Matty holds the library door open for her she waves goodbye, bows her head and speedwalks away from him.

Sadie really tries to focus in her classes that day but it doesn’t work in the slightest, all she can think about is Matty Healy and she curses him for it. She tries to read some romance novel when she gets home but she starts picturing the characters as her and Matty and has to put it down. He has unknowingly taken over her brain, and she resents him for it. Can’t a girl even read in peace?! She took pride in being the only girl in her year who didn’t have a crush on Matty, now she can’t even hold that above his head.

By the time Friday rolls around Sadie is already over school, she never tended to like school, but she already knows that Year 10 is going to be dreadful. The one saving grace might come in the form of a boy in the year above. She leaves school and runs home to get changed before she heads to Matty’s address. She has cherished the crumpled piece of paper that held his address since she got it on Tuesday morning, she taped it to her mirror and that is where it will stay. It isn’t like she hasn’t come home every night from school and studied it, she knows exactly where she’s going.

Her shaky hand knocks on the door of said address about an hour later, she biked over from her house and actually enjoyed the ride, the early September sun was shining on her face and lighting up the bumpy country road she took to get here. Her thoughts are interrupted by a lively woman, quite aggressively, swinging the front door open. Sadie smiles up at her with squint eyes because of the sun attacking them, making the blue of her irises look probably insane. “Um, hi? I’m Sadie, Matty invited me to watch his band practice and take some photos of them.” Sadie lazily points to the camera around her neck with an awkward smile. She is coming across very poorly. But alas the woman opens the door wider.

“Oh! He never mentioned, he doesn’t tend to tell me these things though, typical teenager! I’m Matty’s mum, just call me Denise though, sweetheart. They should be in the garage.” Denise walks Sadie to the garage door where she can hear the loud laughter of teenage boys and obnoxious drumbeats. She smirks slightly and thanks Denise, accepting her offer of a can of coke. Once she takes it she enters the garage, and the laughter dies down. “Sadie’s here, boys, she’s very lovely so I don’t want to hear of any teasing or making fun.”

Sadie looks down at her feet as Denise defends her, even though the boys haven’t yet uttered a word. She hears the garage door close behind her and Matty gestures her over to him. He very casually, like it’s nothing, throws an arm over her shoulder and begins introducing her to the three other boys in his garage. She already knows George from a couple of her classes due to them being in the same year, but she lets Matty speak at her anyways. “So, Sades, this is Adam, he plays guitar and he's in the year above me, basically he’s old. That’s Ross, he does the bass, but I think he just pretends to know what he’s doing. And that’s George, obviously he plays the drums, but he just makes a fucking racket.” Sadie flushes at how casually he gestures, how casually his arm is around her, how casually he swears, and how casually he calls her ‘Sades’. That’s a new one.

“Um, hi, I’m Sadie it’s nice to meet you guys. Matty was singing your guys’ praise on Tuesday morning. Been looking forward to this since.” Sadie’s forearm has suddenly become very itchy, and she busies herself in looking around the garage in an attempt to avoid eye contact with any of the aforementioned boys. She notices a few posters on the exposed walls and a couple of guitar cases strewn across the floor, the last thing she notices is a battered leather couch against the wall, facing all of the boys and their many instruments and poor cable management. Sadie leaves Matty’s side and takes a seat on it, placing her coke on the floor and taking the lens cap off her camera.

The practice is well under way and Sadie’s mind has been racing with thoughts of how she’d shoot the band at an actual show. She finally gains the courage to stand up and has failed to notice Matty’s eyes on her the entire time he’s been singing. None of the other boys seem to notice either, Matty doesn’t even realise what he’s doing. When they finish up the last song they wanted to practice (for probably the tenth time), they start chatting about things they should do differently, and Sadie busies herself by looking at her photos on the couch. She gets caught up in them and doesn’t feel the sofa sink next to her, she looks up and sees George looking over her shoulder. “Any good photos of me?”

Sadie can’t help the pink on her face as she nods and turns her camera to him, showing him the few photos she got of him. She found it difficult to get good angles of George considering the size of the garage they were practising in, him being shoved into the back corner. As George was flicking through photos Sadie couldn’t help but study his face, his brows were slightly furrowed as he fiddled with the buttons on her camera, not knowing how to work it. He smirked at a few photos and his eyes scanned over the rest, when he looked up Sadie was suddenly very interested in the opening of her can of coke. She has no idea why she can’t look at any of the boys without her heart rate picking up and her face going bright pink. Maybe because she thinks they’re actually quite cool and she has no idea why she would possibly be sitting in Matty’s garage with them all. But she is.

The next time she has a run in with the band is a week and a half later when they all spot her in the lunch hall and wildly gesture her over. She had spotted them first and tried to look around to avoid them. She really wishes she knew why her subconscious was forcing her away from the boys. (She’s terrified she’ll embarrass herself. That’s why). She gets herself together and heads over to the table they’re sat at, awkwardly placing her bag at her feet. She murmurs something that could be perceived as a “hi” but honestly it could have been anything. “Have you edited the photos yet? We are highly anticipating them.” Sadie nods her head excitedly, glad that the topic is on her photos, something she actually is passionate about.

“Yeah! Yeah, they’re on a hard drive that you guys can have, I forgot to bring it with me today though. I’ll bring it tomorrow?” Matty nods and falls into conversation with the boys, who also include Sadie, sitting there helpless, unsure if she should get up and go to her friends. She dares to glance in their direction and when she sees them blowing fake kisses because of the curly haired boy she’s sat with she rolls her eyes and turns back around. She reminds herself that they are her surface level friends, they have nothing in common whatsoever, they’re too caught up in gossip. Sadie is too caught up in her camera. They don’t gel.

Sadie manages to fall into a conversation with Ross about English and their mutual enjoyment for the subject, she finds it incredibly random but she’s glad to have something in common with one of the boys. She relished in the conversation not being surface level drama that brought a yawn out of her throat, she also relishes in her slight ranting about her passions actually being listened to. Sadie likes Ross and his listening skills. When the bell rings she finds herself bewildered at the fact she doesn’t want to get up from the table, she’d quite like to stay and timidly laugh at the boys’ jokes and general noisiness. But, alas, she must head to the aforementioned English class, she makes a joke to Ross about how she’d rather go anywhere else. They share a hatred for Sadie’s teacher, him having had her for the previous school year. She finds herself falling into step with George, they’re already five minutes late.

They wave a goodbye to the rest of the boys who all disperse into different classes and walks silently with George. They pass by a few people that make them share glances to each other, grimaces present on their faces. Anytime this happens they both laugh and shove into one another until they reach the fated English hallway and George reaches into his bag and pulls out two sheets of handwritten papers. Sadie’s face basically turns into a question mark. “What? It’s the homework?” Upon seeing Sadie’s heart basically fall to her toes George can’t help but let out a baffled laugh. “Don’t tell me you haven’t done it.”

“Shit, George.”

The colder the weather gets the more Sadie begins to feel like an integral member of the group. She’s the one to tell the boys to shut up when they’re talking too loudly. She’s the one to shove Matty anytime he makes another member of the group the butt of his jokes. She’s also the one to tell him when his singing sounds shit. Sadie has been quite the talk of the town recently because of this, her old friends are spreading all kinds of rumours due to her gradually dropping them in favour of the boys. Although anytime Ross catches wind of these in the school corridors he’s quick to shut it down, whether it be defending her or physically getting involved… at least he's there!

The band are meeting up for their last practice before Christmas Day and Sadie is beside herself with excitement, she hasn’t seen the boys since the school broke off for the holidays on the 17th. She wakes up that morning already excited but when she opens her curtains and sees snow she swears under her breath, she couldn’t possibly drag her bikes weak tyres through the thick snowfall. So, she slides her panda slippers onto her feet and heads downstairs, finding her mum in the kitchen with a cup of tea and a cigarette in hand. “Morning, mum! Would you be able to give me a lift to Matty’s later? I was gonna bike over, but it must’ve snowed pretty hard last night.” When she hears the sigh escape her mum’s mouth and the slight thud of her palm on the counter she knows she’s not getting a lift.

Denise was expecting Sadie, she’d grown to expect the young girl’s presence around the house at any given time. But what Denise wasn’t expecting was to open up the door to Sadie, bike in hand, tears staining her bright red cheeks, and no hat on her head. This just wouldn’t do. “Oh! Sadie, sweetheart, what happened? Come in, out of the cold now, just dump the bike, that’s fine. Why did you bike here?” Sadie tries to speak but her brain seems to think that letting a sob rack her body is the smarter way to go about this.

“Mum wouldn’t give me a lift, said she had more important things to be seeing to. Had no choice.” Denise immediately puts the kettle on and wraps the girl up in a blanket, rubbing her shoulders after forcing her to take a seat at the kitchen island. Sadie can hear the boys upstairs and is glad of Denise calming her down and talking to her before she has to face them. After Denise gives her a telling off for not, at least, putting on a scarf, she turns to Sadie with an eyebrow raised. She just sighs. “She does this all the time. Feel like a nuisance at that house. Always in the way.”

Upon hearing this Denise circles the kitchen island and crowds her into a hug which she can’t help but accept. After a beat of silence occasionally broken up by Sadie’s sniffles, the two part, Denise keeping her at arm’s length. “You shouldn’t feel like a nuisance. Listen, any time you come here I’m delighted, probably because you balance the testosterone levels a bit, but not just that, you’re the kindest young lady I’ve ever gotten to meet, and it’s always a pleasure to have you at the house, you keep my boys in check. Now, if you ever feel like this again, phone my number from your house phone, and I’ll come pick you up, can’t have you biking in the snow anymore.”

Sadie nods her head at Denise’s words, letting out a slightly weepy laugh anytime she makes a dig at the boys. She feels strangely warm inside, despite the subzero temperatures she was just faced with, and she doesn’t know why. She’s never felt safer than when Denise took her hand on the kitchen island. Matty’s house is now her safe space she’s decided. Speak of the devil, Sadie hears a clatter from the stairs behind her and when she turns she sees Matty’s eyes light up. “Sades! You made it! I thought you weren’t gonna come because of this snow, glad to see you though, George is chatting shit about your English teacher again. Something about holiday homework, help me take some juice up?”

Sadie takes the blanket with her and with a smile in Denise’s direction she waddles over to the fridge. She makes sure to finish her tea before grabbing a can of coke. Another thing she likes about the Healy house is the constantly stocked fridge, anytime she needs a drink there seems to be one on hand. Almost akin to Mary Poppins handbag. She takes one of the cans Matty is juggling with a giggle and bids goodbye to Denise before heading up the stairs. Matty entertains this journey by telling her that his dad had taken Louis, his younger brother, out to build a snowman a half hour ago and Sadie laughs at the image of his rosy cheeks and tiny hands grasping at snowflakes. She dotes on Louis, always having wanted a younger sibling, she treats him like her own brother.

When the door to Matty’s bedroom opens she smiles at the sight, three boys strewn across the room in one big, lazy mess. They all seem to perk up at the sight of Sadie, George especially. “Thank fuck you’re here, need help with this homework, my mum told me to have it finished before Christmas. And Ross, miserable bastard, is refusing to help me. Have you done it?” Sadie sets down Adam’s can of coke on the desk, cracking her own open before sitting criss-cross on the floor beside George. She nods at him over the can, and he can’t help but cheer and push it towards her, struggling on the carpet. “You’re so much better than me at English. Read what I have.” She sets down her can and skims over what George has written.

“Oh dear, I’ll help you after practice.” At this the boys all glance at each other and the room falls silent. Did she say something? I mean, they’re here for practice, right? Right. Sadie has just missed it, her treacherous journey to the Healy house took longer than usual, and she left late. “Have you already practiced?” When faced with four nodding boys, Sadie sighs and nods too. “That’s okay, we can just hang out, then.” Matty looks at her with a sympathetic grimace. He overheard more of her conversation with his mum than he originally let on.

Matty decides that changing the subject entirely is the best thing he can do in this situation, he doesn’t want to force her to talk about why she was crying to his mum. “We liked the most recent photos you took, really cool. Think you left some of your ones for art on the hard drive, there was a random shot of some leaf in the middle of Ross’ closeups.” Sadie shakes her head, feeling her eyes roll involuntarily. “I mean it was a good leaf photo, I just don’t think it’s our vibe.” Her head is thrown back in a giggle as she takes another sip of her coke.

“You should consider yourself lucky, getting to see my leaf photos. They are very close to my heart.” All Matty can do at this is scoff, he is now the one rolling his eyes. Sadie’s attention is diverted by a sheet of paper being waved in her face. She turns to George with a slight glare, and he backs into himself a bit. “Fine. What do you not understand? It’s just English.”

“I just don’t get it. English doesn’t make sense, I think you’ve forgotten that I am a well-travelled man, Sadie. I’ve been all over the place.” Sadie fixes the boy with a sigh, a straight-faced sigh. She lets his sentence linger in the air as she readjusts on the bedroom floor. She lays on her front as she reads what George has written. It’s not bad, but it’s also not great. And so, she tells him such.

“I mean, it’s not bad, but it’s not great. You could maybe, I don’t know, sprinkle in an adjective here or there, don’t think that would hurt.” Is all she manages to get out before a pillow is lobbed, quite forcefully, at her head. In retaliation she throws the paper back at George. “Well, you can do it yourself then, can’t you?”

“No, no, no! Sadie I didn’t mean it! My hand slipped!”

As the day turned to night the boys gradually left until it was just Matty and Sadie left sitting on his floor, sharing chips that Denise had cooked for them. Sadie put one in her mouth and glanced out the window, noticing it was snowing again, the sigh that came out of her mouth wasn’t meant to sound quite as pathetic as it did. Matty stopped strumming on his guitar and turned to her with furrowed brows, at the sudden silence she met his eyes. “I can’t bike home in this weather.”

“Why did you even bike here in the first place? And why were you crying?” Sadie shakes her head and breaths out a laugh. How does she even answer this? She could be honest, lay her cards on the table, and tell him all about her mum. Or she could be partially honest and tell him that her mum just doesn’t make time for her. Or she could blatantly lie, she’s on her period or something like that. As she weighs up her options she lets out a barely audible hum and Matty cocks his head at her.

“It’s just my mum. She never makes time for me. Refused to give me a lift and I didn’t want to cancel so I biked here. That’s all, I’m okay now, spending time with you guys makes me okay.” Matty’s head falls to rest on Sadie’s shoulder silently. He doesn’t know what to say to her, so he just starts strumming the guitar again. A smile rests on Sadie’s slightly pink cheeks as she hums along to the song Matty is playing, she doesn’t know it to name, but she definitely knows it. “I didn’t think I’d actually make friends in high school.” Matty doesn’t say anything for a minute, processing Sadie’s words.

“Of course you were gonna make friends. I think you’re too good to just be our friend, frankly I’m shocked you put up with our bullshit.” Another beat of silence falls upon the pair. “Just come here if your mum’s being a pain, we’ll cheer you right up.” Sadie smiles at this and feels tears brimming her eyes, and she doesn’t know why. At the sudden sound of the door opening Matty lifts her head and Sadie rubs at her eyes.

“Right, Sadie, I’ve just tried phoning your house phone three times to no answer, so the spare room is set up for you, let me know when you pair decide to sleep.” Sadie doesn’t hear much of what Denise said after hearing that her house was phoned three times, and nobody answered. What if something had happened to her? She sighs and smiles up at Denise from the floor, thanking her before picking at the loose pieces of carpet on the floor. When the door shuts, the tears flow. Matty has never been more panicked in his entire life, he thinks. How the fuck do you comfort your crying best friend?!

“Hey, hey. Come here.” He wraps an arm around her shoulder and all she can do is sigh. She knows if she speaks it’ll end in even more tears, her voice will refuse to work. She gives in and leans into Matty’s touch, the weather outside is a stark contrast to how she feels under his arm. After a few minutes of her silently crying, she dares a glance up at him and sees him staring at the wall across from him with slightly widened eyes, the sight makes her giggle, breaking him from his trance. He looks down at her and joins in the laughter, not knowing why they’re laughing but glad she’s not crying as hard anymore. Yet his eyes widen again when she stops laughing and opens her mouth.

“I want to know why they don’t care about me. I haven’t done anything.” Matty sighs at this, a sick part of his brain wishes he could relate just so he’d know what to say. He looks down at Sadie who is now lying on his floor, upside down from where he sits. He lays down next to her, top and tail, both teenagers looking up at the ceiling, feeling things too big for them to even comprehend, things they shouldn’t have to feel. “Sorry, I feel like the mood is ruined.”

“What mood? You’ve been off all day, making me feel sad. I wish I could make it better.”

“I wish you could, too.”

Sadie has no desire to celebrate her 15th birthday that following Summer. But she’s been faced with no choice. In George’s words they “had to because you only turn 15 once.” George had turned 15 earlier that year and didn’t seem to share that sentiment on his birthday, all they did was go to Matty’s house after school and sit in his living room for six hours. But he was insistent that the group had to go out for dinner, he’d gotten Denise on his side which ultimately led to Sadie agreeing. Her mother wasn’t best pleased, but she’d grown to not care, and her mothers grown to know she can’t fight her anymore.

She got dressed in rapid speed, desperate to get out of the house and reunite with her best friends. She hadn’t even gotten as much as a card from her parents and that says more to her than any words could have, she isn’t even sure they know her birthday is today. Pulling on her jeans, probably quicker than the speed of light, she grabs her jacket and runs down the stairs, she shouts a bye to anyone who cares and hops on her bike to Matty’s house. They’re all meeting there for some big surprise before they go out to dinner.

The August sun is beaming down on her face, she pauses and squints up at the sky and notices how blue it is, she smiles and looks back down at her bike. She decides that draping her jacket over the handlebars is a better idea, her backpack is half on her back because she was in such a rush. When she bikes the familiar back road she takes note of how the trees have turned from pathetic twigs to bright green scenery, she shuts her eyes for a second and let the Summer air infiltrate her lungs. She is grateful to be alive.

When she biked round the corner at the end of Matty’s road she could see all the boys engaged in a water fight, her urge to turn right back around grows stronger the closer she gets, George’s pathetic screams and Matty’s maniacal laughter grow louder, and she can’t help but laugh to herself. She hears Denise scolding Ross for going too rough and shakes her head as she throws her bike down on the driveway, climbing off and running away from all the boys who immediately turn on her with their water attacks. “Hey!! Stop, it’s my birthday!”

George laughs louder than Sadie had ever heard someone laugh before, probably because the boys weren’t targeting him anymore. She squeals and tries to run into the house, but Adam blocks the door, and she feels more water shooting at the back of her head. She hits his chest and tells him to move at least fifty times, but he doesn’t budge so she runs. She runs round the house to the back garden where she knows Matty keeps the water guns, just as she suspected there’s a pile of them, half-full, on the grass. Sure, they’re the shit ones, but they’ll do the job.

She hears a gasp behind her. “She’s found the pile, run.” She laughs and whips herself around, gun in each hand, to the pathetic squeals of four boys who run back around to the front of the house. There’s a knock on the kitchen window which distracts Sadie for a second, she sees Denise waving wildly at her, she waves back and sees her saying “Happy Birthday!” She laughs and runs round the house to get the boys back.

A half hour later Denise calls out the front door for them to come in. They all race into the house, Matty being shoved by George and Sadie laughing so hard she stops in her tracks. She gets stopped in her tracks even further when she sees the pile of gifts under the TV. She gasps quietly and barely hears everyone wishing her a happy birthday in unison, the tears pricking her eyes are stinging the back of her throat. This is the most anyone’s done for her birthday. George puts an arm round her shoulder and shakes her slightly, then slightly shoves her to the presents. “Save the one with the pink wrapping paper for last.”

Sadie’s bottom lip wobbles and she lets out an exasperated laugh. “Guys, this is too much. I don’t even know what to say.” She moves towards the gifts as if they’re going to jump out and scare her. She sees the three cards on the top and picks them up, sitting down on the floor in front of the TV. The boys, Denise, Tim, and Louis are all scattered across the couches and the floor too, just watching. She opens the one from Denise, Tim, and Louis first and smiles through teary eyes at the kind words written on the page. She has the same reaction to the other two cards, one from all the boys, one from just Matty.

After a while Sadie’s face is wet with tears, she’d laughed at some of the funny gifts, and with her new necklace round her neck she looked at the last gift, the pink one, cautiously. “Is it alive? Am I gonna be scared?” Matty laughs and shakes his head. She lifts it into her lap and looks at the tag, it reads that it’s from the boys. Before she opens it Denise cuts in.

“They all saved up for this on their own. Came up with the idea and everything.” Sadie looks to the group of boys on the other couch who all look very smug, she rolls her eyes at their faces and turns back to the gift. She carefully unwraps it and can’t help the sob that comes out of her mouth. The new Sony camera is sitting in front of her. When she gets hold of herself she opens the box and gasps at the sight of it. “Guys, oh my god. I can’t take this, you’re kidding.”

“Well, none of us know how to use it.” Sadie tackles the four of them into her arms, jumping on top of them all on the couch, muttering a hundred thank yous under her breath. She doesn’t even know how the boys managed to afford it, maybe some of Matty’s odd jobs he was doing helped, or Ross’ job down at the shop. She didn’t know, but she knew she would never forget this. Sadie felt that same feeling again from earlier. She was grateful to be alive.

By the time Matty’s 18th rolls around, the rest of the group have a plan. They’ve all saved up enough money to buy tickets to Leeds festival, and they’ve all chipped in to get one for Matty’s birthday. Sadie wasn’t allowed to go before, but Denise gave in this year and let her tag along with the group. She makes all of the parental decisions for Sadie now, since she pretty much lives at the Healy’s house. Denise’s reasoning was that it would be after her 17th birthday, deeming her old enough to go. Matty, Ross, Adam and Jamie had gone last year but all they had talked about when they came back to Sadie and George was how excited they were to go next year, the full group.

Ross, George and Sadie were currently sat in Matty’s back garden, waiting for Matty and Adam to get home from work. Sadie and Ross were sharing a cigarette and talking about the lineup for Leeds. More like arguing. George was observing with a cigarette of his own, he’d only spared one to the duo because he’s stingy. “No, Sadie. Nine Inch Nails are more exciting than the fucking Smashing Pumpkins. Think of it, you’re in a muddy field what would you rather listen to.”

Sadie looks at him like he’d grown a second head. “The Smashing Pumpkins.” Ross just groans, George laughs loudly. “What?! I would!”

“You’re actually fucked in the head, Sadie. George, please back me up.” He passes the cig back to Sadie who takes it and looks at George with a raised eyebrow. He takes a sip of his coke and looks away from the pair, whistling at the sky. Sadie laughs and passes the cigarette back to Ross. He tells her to finish it, so she does.

“No, to be fair to both of you, I’d rather be at Paramore. If I had to choose.” Sadie and Ross both share a look and collapse into each other laughing.

“Okay, one, Paramore is on Sunday, we’re talking about Friday. And two, they weren’t even in the equation to begin with.” Ross nods at Sadie’s words and George just sticks his middle finger up at the pair, who laugh at him again. They hear the back door opening and turn to see Matty, they shut up about their prior argument quite quickly. The trio share a look and have to hide their laughs.

“Hello boys. And Sadie.” They nod up at Matty who cracks open his coke and pours it over the ice in his glass. He looks at the three that have gone silent and squints his eyes slightly before taking a sip of his coke and lighting a cig. Sadie looks at the other two who are giving her looks as if to say, “Say something.”

She turns back to Matty, who turns to her. “How was work?” George lets out a barely audible groan and she looks at him incredulously. Matty nods around his glass and then kind of shakes his head.

“It was okay, not busy, boring. I like it there, though.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome for getting you that job. I’ve been there for like a year now. Remember when I walked in one day and George was just standing in the kitchen? That was stupid.” George laughs at her and she turns to him. “No, I was so confused.”

“I was working, where did you want me to stand?”

“It would’ve been nice to know you were working at the fucking place?” George shakes his head.

“Wanted to surprise you.”

“Some surprise that is, George!” He, yet again, sticks his middle finger up at her. This time she does it back. Matty scoffs and leans his head back with a sigh, he stretches his arms and one of them comes to rest on the back of the bench behind Sadie.

She points up at the sky, the sun is setting behind the clouds which cast a pink hue down on the group of four. They stay outside until the sun is probably in the middle of the sky in Australia. Adam arrives not long after Matty and Sadie gives him a subtle nod and thumbs up, trying to tell him that they got the Leeds tickets today. He looks confused at first, but he gets it after a minute. When Matty goes inside the four speak in whispers about how they have to tell Matty, because George is unable to keep it a secret. The back door swings open again and the four sit up straight. “Right, you guys are hiding something from me.” Sadie can’t help herself.

“We’re going to Leeds.”

Leeds was a fucking nightmare. Everyone fought. Everyone made up. Then they fought again. They all got so high they probably couldn’t see. Ross and Sadie ended up seeing Nine Inch Nails together after losing everyone else, and despite being in the clouds, Sadie remembered to act like she didn’t want to be there. Until she actually started enjoying herself. And George got to see Paramore. Almost. He passed out and Sadie shouted at him in the medical tent after he just came to because she was missing out, she was forced to take him to the medical tent.

Sadie was sick on some girl’s shoes at the Kings of Leon set. It was her, George and Adam having the time of their lives until some older girl started flirting with George, obviously he was loving it, but Sadie was already having a bad high and when she saw the way that girl was looking at George she just couldn’t help it! It all kicked off when George and the girl teamed up and tried to fight her. George was forced to take her to medical and as she was thrown over his shoulder he was yelling about how she’d ruined the weekend.

Safe to say the drive home was silent. Matty had the biggest hangover behind the wheel and Ross was cradling Sadie in the backseat as if she were his child, George was practically hanging out the window on the other side of Sadie. The one memory she has in the car is when they were all sat on the grass, ages away from any music, when Matty turned to the boys and said, “Reckon we’ll be on one of these stages soon?” The question was ringing through Sadie’s mind.

A few days later the group were all sat in Matty’s garden (like usual) with drinks in hand, reminiscing on the festival after they’d all taken some much needed time away from each other. Anytime Matty’s eyes caught hers she felt her heart stop. She isn’t sure he remembers but the day after they got back Sadie jolted awake with a vision of her kissing Matty. She doesn’t know when or if it actually happened, but it seemed too real to be something she conjured up in the middle of the night. Ever since, she’ll wake up in a cold sweat with visions of Matty’s lips on hers. She remembers it being a life-changing kiss, though, so there’s that at least.     

Sadie makes a point to be the last to leave Matty’s house, she’ll probably end up sleeping here tonight, like usual. It’s a rare sight to see Sadie sleeping in her own bed these days, it probably occurs once a month at most. When Adam shuts the door behind him, Sadie feels her heart fall out of her ass, the silence is less than comfortable. If she can feel the shift in energy surely Matty can. He sits down beside her and turns to her. “Do you remember?”

Sadie feels like she’s died in her seat. Her eyes have practically fallen out onto the dining table. She spins her glass on the table awkwardly, thinking of what to say. What would he say if she lied? Would he pretend it never happened? She decides not to lie, because when his face is as close to hers as it is right now, she thinks she’d like to kiss him again. “Yeah… Do you?”

“Wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t, hmm?” Sadie feels like her 14 year old self, meeting him for the first time. Her face is flushed pink, she’s picking at the tracksuit bottoms on her thighs, and she’s avoiding eye contact. She wishes the ground would eat her alive, because one thing about Sadie is she doesn’t know how to flirt. “Hurt me seeing you kiss that other guy the next day.” As he says this his hand has come up to play with the loose strand of hair that had fallen out of the front of her ponytail. She looks up at him through her eyelashes. Her voice is no louder than a mutter.

“Sorry, didn’t know what I was doing, don’t even think I knew where I was.” Matty laughs softly at this and looks down at his lap, but his eyes catch Sadie’s nervously picking at the loose thread on the seam of her tracksuit. He feels his heart skip a beat as he grabs it. This makes her face him, looking into his eyes. The silence around them is suffocating and Sadie feels like she might pass out on the floor. When he makes the move to shuffle slightly closer, she smirks at his face. She doesn’t know where she grew the confidence but when she mutters, “Just do it.” He breaks the distance.

The butterflies in her stomach feel cliché, the way the kiss picks up in pace feels even more so. His lips on hers feels like coming home to your own bed after you’ve been abroad for a week. It feels like the smell of your own house after being away for a while. She knows that when her hand comes up to the back of his neck that it holds an ulterior motive, this is confirmed by his hand on her hip, guiding her closer. She wants to consume him in this moment. When they break away for a breather, Sadie doesn’t open her eyes, she doesn’t want to face this moment, but when she feels a squeeze on her hip she can’t help but open one eye. Matty laughs and leans his forehead to hers.

“Sleep in my room tonight.” That’s all that Sadie has ever wanted to hear.

The slight fling between Sadie and Matty didn’t really last for very long. The group all moved into a flat together and the flame between them just kind of flickered out. George noticed the change in Sadie’s demeanour ever since. He was the only other person who knew about Matty and Sadie, but because he was the best friend of both he had to be there for both. It was eating him alive. He was laying in Sadie’s bedroom, joint between his lips. They were sharing it.

“He fucks anything with legs. But I can’t move on. What’s with that?” Sadie plucked the joint from George’s mouth, and he rubs his eyes his face with a groan. He watches the smoke leaving Sadie’s lips intensely, staring at the way it clouds up in the air and dissipates into nothingness, this is how Sadie and Matty’s relationship felt. He sits up slightly on the bed with an indignant sigh.

“His way of coping, I suppose. He didn’t exactly get an explanation as to why you stopped sleeping in his room. Now he just needs someone sleeping there to fill that void for him.” It’s Sadie’s turn to sigh now. She knows George is right, but she doesn’t like the answer and she doesn’t want to hear that he’s suffering. He’s being a bitch and he should just come and speak to her. Silence falls over the duo and George stubs out the joint gently before opening his arms for Sadie.

She isn’t feeling very grateful to be alive.

[cialovesklopp]

chapter one — mercedes amg

summary — contract signed, license accepted and off we go — it should have been that easy but the transition wasn’t. and now all hopes were resting on her. she truly hopes she won’t disappoint.

song — dead man walking [ brent faiyaz ]

warnings — none ( however if there is something that should have been, pls tell me )

word counts — 3.1k

cia’s quick rambles — so sorry for the long wait, so many things were happening and i completely forgot it with all the exams also coming up. however I got ahead of myself and finished the first two chapters. hope i have part three finished by next week. enjoy, this is just the beginning 🫶🏾

( masterlist / navigation / previous / next )

— august 2023

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌

princessaaliyah

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princessaaliyah first day of work, wish me luck

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evamueller already miss you so much, it’s so boring here ⤷ princessaaliyah now you know how i felt when you did a month in greece  ⤷ evamueller taking the family jet now to come see you ⤷ princessaaliyah letting you know now that i’m broke and can’t bail you out this time ⤷ evamueller 😕

username i already love her ⤷username fr she seems to funny and sarcastic

susiewolff excited to meet you aaliyah, always nice to see a new female face ⤷ princessaaliyah thx susie, i’ve also heard so much about you ⤷ princessaaliyah think i’m hyperventilating 

username predicting it now, she’s gonna build a rocket ship

username i really hope she’s gonna be the female adrian newey and have lewis win his eighth ⤷ username never with the way mercedes has been for the past two seasons

username there’s something promising about her

username am i the only one who finds it weird that she just appeared in the middle of the season ⤷ username it’s called silly season for a reason

f1 welcome to the sport aaliyah  princessaaliyah liked this comment

username but why is there nothing about her? like her wikipedia page is almost blank, as if it’s been created yesterday ⤷ username maybe because she likes her privacy like normal people? ⤷ username apparently she’s still a student  ⤷ username how do u know? ⤷ username my cousin used to go to the same university, she also has a phd in physics and a bachelor in engineering already ⤷ username and she’s only 26

username this is gonna be a funny second part of the season

username just begging that she can finally give lewis his eighth ⤷ username and george his second win 

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄

to say she was amazed was an understatement. standing in front of the official mercedes amg quarters had her star struck. even though it wasn’t her actual dream workplace, the place reeked of excellence. and it felt good to be part of that.  

just as expected it was raining in england which had her stepping out with an umbrella in her hand as she walked towards the modern complex. it was seven o’clock in the morning and the building's modern, metallic facade gleamed under the morning sun which had her breath hitch. it was beautiful and yet terrifying. 

she was doing this for him, she reminded herself. this was all for him— a gesture toward redemption, a way to ease the guilt that gnawed at her in the quiet of the night.

aaliyah smiled when she saw toto personally waiting for her at the entrance in a black team rain jacket. it fit his darth toto vibe perfectly. 

and how did she know about that? well, one good thing in her life was being an overachiever. she did not go anywhere unprepared and it was the same for her new job. between getting the offer and actually signing the work contract, she had done a full research into the world of f1 and all the lore that came with it. 

and how did she know about that? simple: overachievers like her never went anywhere unprepared. she had a knack for digging into the details, and when the job offer came, she didn't waste a second. between getting the call and signing the contract, she plunged into the world of F1, reading herself into all the lore that came with it.

she could call herself a brocedes expert now. 

“i’m happy to see that you made it.” he greeted her and the two walked inside. they passed teams of engineers and technicians moving with a synchronized efficiency that spoke volumes about their skill and dedication. 

the hum of activity, the whir of robotic arms, and the occasional rev of an engine being tested filled the air with an electric energy. he would have loved this, she thought and a small smile appeared on her face. 

this was her world, her area where she would excel. she had promised him that much and even though she was way out of her comfort zone, this was where everything came together and that created a new kind of comfort. the perfect mix of engineering and luxury cars. 

“this is bigger than i expected,” she mumbled, still feeling starstruck as they continued. many walls were decorated by massive tvs and pictures displaying the latest amg models in action, zooming through picturesque landscapes and roaring down racetracks.

toto laughed. “well, the best for the best right?”

“so what’s the plan for today? it’s seven thirty now and the only thing we’ve been doing is walk.”

“well the next race is soon so today, you’re going to see the car in its full glory for the first time. lewis and george should be arriving here soon so they can tell you a bit more about it.” 

of course, the two mercedes drivers she would meet for the first time today. she had read about them, instantly taking a liking to lewis. and she had found george to be very likable from what she had seen and heard of him. but meeting them in real life was always something else. 

it was crazy for her when she thought back that two months ago, she had just been aaliyah prince. engineering student at munich university. and now she could add the title of chef technical engineer to her resumé. her life had gone from zero to 180 in the span of a month and there was no going back. 

everything was already official, she had gotten her badge, she had signed her contract and the official f1 account had publicly announced the change. she was all in now. 

after a quick tour of the factory that had been specially arranged for her, she and toto entered a huge gallery where all of the previous race cars had been stored. she stopped in front of the famous w11, cautiously touching its rear wing while her heart started beating quicker. 

“impressive, huh?” 

she turned around and found toto smirking at her. 

“it’s definitely something. i think this was the most perfect car in f1 history, it did give lewis his seventh championship.”

there was something spark-like in toto’s eyes. “nice to know that you did your homework. and with you, i’m sure we’re going to get his eighth.”

she opened her mouth, wanting to say something before closing it again. she didn’t want it to sound wrong but she had to know. she needed assurance that her secret and past stayed hidden and buried six feet underground. 

“didn’t they ask questions? why you suddenly chose to recruit a twenty-something student from university?”

“i’m the boss, i get to do everything.” 

“i just mean, people will want to know where i am from, look me up. and that’s what scares me.”

“aaliyah, if this is about what I think it is — i’m the only person that knows about it and should know about it,” he began and closed the door to make sure no one could overhear them. “ we both talked about it, i handled it, don’t worry.”

“i just don’t want anything to come out,” said aaliyah, her voice much quieter. “and with me being a public person now—”

“you don’t want anyone to know that you have an iq of 171 and are a certified genius.”

she snorted sarcastically. “175 and believe me, my brain has been more of a curse than a gift to me.”

toto softly put a hand on her shoulder. “and i’m here for you now. i may be your boss but i’m also your friend. so if anything, and i really mean anything,” he emphasized, both knowing what they were referring to, “comes up, you tell me. call, or even come to my hotel room. there’s always a solution.”

the tour neared the end and toto led her to a special section with lots of computers and graphics. there were sketches and designs with specific attention to detail that amazed her in one way. aaliyah could feel a deep sense of admiration for the talent and dedication of her new colleagues.

and in the middle, in all its black beauty and glory stood two w14, one with a certain green-yellowish embroidering while the other had a blue one. she felt more than fascinated with them — this could become an obsession for her. staring at the car in front of her should have made her back out, maybe even run for the hills if the reports that she had read about mercedes and their w14 were true. 

but instead it sent her brain into overdrive. 

in her head she was already going over all the things she could experiment, of course under regulation of the other mechanics. this was the car she had to turn into a rocket ship and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t excited. 

maybe that's why she sometimes viewed her brain as a curse. it was a relentless force, endlessly questioning and analyzing, never quiet. it burdened her with insights and thoughts that felt overwhelming, leaving her longing for peace she rarely found.

she edged closer to the car, her fingers brushing against its surface, the sensation almost dreamlike. the touch brought back memories of those old sundays, when life felt simpler. she recalled sitting with her father on the couch, watching the races when the cable worked, and how he loved to point out the drivers to little aaliyah, who only understood the allure of the cars.

it made her miss her dad so much. 

the car itself was at first sight a masterpiece of combining aerodynamics and engineering with the law of physics. she could practically feel all the effort and research that had gone into developing it. her finger graciously traced the carbon fiber bodywork along, the coolness of the material sending a shiver down her spine.

her thoughts darted ahead, a whirlwind of possibilities for the car's transformation. she could already pinpoint some areas ready for modifications, envisioning tweaks and upgrades that might unlock new speeds, each idea a wave crashing against the limits of her own imagination.

aaliyah found herself so mesmerized by the car, she did not notice the two other persons enter the room. lewis and george were clearly surprised when instead of the expected elderly man, they found a young black woman standing in front of them, completely lost in her thoughts as she played with the car. they were clearly curious because except for her name, they didn’t know anything about her. 

“you must be aaliyah,” said lewis in a warm tone and she turned around, nearly jumping because of the two new presences in the room.

great, she had already ruined her first impression and and it was lewis hamilton standing in front of her. 

thank god she couldn’t spot a blush or else her face would have matched a ferrari car. “yes, that’s me, aaliyah. the new chief technical engineer. and for the record, in my head this went way better.”

they all laughed. 

george took a step forward and held out his hand. “george russell, a pleasure to work with you from now on.”

damn, he’s tall. was height a requirement to work here? 

lewis snorted. “believe me, i asked myself the same thing. 

again, thank the lord her skin was too dark to blush. “i didn’t mean to say that out loud.” 

she suddenly felt small, smaller than she already was in company of the three men. lewis hamilton was beautiful, ethereal even — his iconic dreadlocks were neatly styled in a typical bun, he had beige trousers matched with the black team merch on and his fingers were adorned with all types of rings. but it was his smile that made him probably the most beautiful man she had ever seen. 

in other words, lewis reminded her of him. 

then there was george, whose tall frame and youthful energy were equally compelling and kind of attractive. she knew they would get along well, his smile was warm and genuine as they shook hands. it really did feel as if she could find her place here. 

“i’ll start again and just say, it’s an honor to be here. i can’t wait to work with you,” said aaliyah, smiling. 

“it’s great to meet you too, aaliyah,” george said, his handshake firm. “toto didn’t tell us much but looking forward to working with you.”

“it’s always great to see another female face working in this environment,” added lewis, a warm smile on his face. “and your hair looks amazing by the way. i love the afro.”

was she about to cry because the lewis hamilton complimented her hair? never. but was she about to have an allergic reaction because of that? perhaps. 

she passed a hand through her hair, untangling a few curls. “thank you, lewis. i appreciate the compliment.”

“always here if you need one, sweetheart,” he winked at her which had her laugh. 

they continued their small get-to-know-each-other as they discussed various aspects of the car and how the last races had gone for each of them. some of them were good, others horrible and manageable. the two drivers told her where they thought was the most to work on and the challenges they encountered concerning the speed. 

but as hopeful as they sounded, aaliyah knew she had to set limits to their dreams before she gave them too much and they would fall flat down on their arses. 

“boys, let me just say something,” her tone became a bit more serious, “from what i heard about the rules concerning changes, certain can give you penalties. the current setup is good, i already see some things i can change but i can’t do much for now because i need to see it in action.”

lewis nodded. “you’ll travel with us for the next races, won’t you? or will you work from the factory?”

“i think both, like i said, i need to see the car in action. so the next race, i’ll be there,” she explained. “also, i need to note that there may be several areas i believe that need significant changes from the reports i’ve been able to read. and not only will this take time but there’s a high likelihood we might need to take some grid penalties for those changed. i just want to make sure you’re both on board with this before we go any further with this.”

they exchanged a glance, both drivers listening thoroughly to what she had to say. they were already struggling and in a hard battle with the ferraris concerning the second place in the constructor’s championship. but on second thought, a few grid places lower were definitely manageable if it meant fighting at the top again. 

lewis was the first to nod again, this time towards her. “we’ll handle a few grid places. at this point, it’s anything to give those red bulls in front a fight and show them they’re not invincible,” he said firmly, determination clear in his tone. “we’ve been struggling with this car for a while now, the bumping may be gone but it’s still so slow. if you believe these changes will help us get back to the front, then we’re with you.”

“yeah, i absolutely agree. not going to lie, it’s been horrible driving this thing as it is. we trust your expertise, aaliyah. and if you think we need to take a step back to move forward, then that’s what we’ll do.”

aaliyah clapped her hands together. “that’s brilliant to hear. i promise i’ll do my best to give those red bulls a fight and make sure we come back as the famous silver arrows.”

she knew she could fix it—find the mistake and redo the equation. and if not for herself, then for him. there was no question in her mind; she was determined. she had never backed down from a challenge before.

[noramthe]

Book 7 thoughts(spoilers ofc👀)

God i finally caught up with this book i have been putting it off because lilia is one of my favorite characters I couldn’t handle seeing the implication that he’s going to die and the diasomnia family's reaction to it

But i finally recovered and steeled myself to be able to continue this chapter

God poor silver he definitely was going through it this whole book please give this man a break.

I teared up (and even cried) at all the moments he was crying on🥹 PLS NO MORE I HAVE NO MORE TEARS TO GIVE

gotta say i enjoyed knowing more about silver and sebek and how they get to know each other and how their relationship is like

They feel like such opposite but have a little of similarities? If this makes sense lol

I loved sebek's confrontation to silver when silver discovered the truth! It shows how much he cared. And honestly it was kinda funny silver crying and saying that lilia must have hated him and then sebek just goes

“…

…

BAKA MONOOOOOOOOOOO”

I was so emotional and then when sebek screamed it cracked me up LMAOO😭😭 never change sebek lol

Also someone said this and it always makes me cry that what set off malleus to overblot is when silver cried on front of him. That’s when he thought to let everyone sleep and make them dream of their ideal life. Just how much everyone in this dorm cares about each other💔💔 it hurts sm aghh

Gotta say tho diasomnia fans winning we get to know SO MUCH about them. I especially enjoyed getting all these chapters about lilia's past I’m so glad we get to see the things he went through!! The fact that he was involved in everyone's (from diasomnia) childhood and how he grew and changed his mindset on certain things🥺 i want to hug him he didn’t deserve all the hardships😔😔

I cried sm here holy shi-

I can’t. Way to break my heart💔💔

It’s so intense that this is the moment he was the most happiest after everything holy hell🫠 (don’t get me started that he gave him some of his magic AND lifespan to hatch and how malleus got pissed when he knew about it AGHH)

That reminded me when lilia screamed malleus’s name right before he overbloted. That gave me the chills god I can’t get over it. It’s the fact that he couldn’t do anything about it..💔

I’m so excited for the next part and what they’re cooking up. Seeing lilia, malleus and baby silver intreaction were so precious🥹🥹 the fact that the accessory we see in lilia's room in the beginning was amade by silver when he was young??? And how much lilia treasured it?? JDJSJJSJDSJKSDJJDSJ

Even though i cried multiple times i still enjoyed these parts of the book a lot and it showed me that there is still hope that things will get better. Looking forward for the next part(which will release this month) to see ignihyde's involvement on this book? Maybe?

Things I screenshoted

ACE AND DEUCE BEING SO CONSIDERATE AND CARING FOR YUU AGAHAHHAH I CANNOT☹️☹️ EVERY DAY MY LOVE FOR HEARTSLABYUL GROWS STRONGER

💔💔💔🥺

God please stop hurting me🥺🥺

The voice actor did a good job here i still can’t get his scream out of my mind omg

Maleanor casually makes me cry on her first appearance. Thanks queen🫠

Do i even need to talk🥺🥺🥺

Silver deserves all the hugs🫂🫂 babyy i feel so bad for him🥹

And that’s it!

I am sure I probably have more to say but forgot lol

[familyvideostevie]

ahem omw with a request for you <33

can I request a rainy day with bradley bradshaw pls? likee all their plans get cancelled and he's way more excited than he should just because he can spend the whole day with his gf playing board/card games, watching movies, cuddling, cooking or whatever he wants (aka whatever you, the amazing writer, have in mind)

oh baby you are speaking my language! i love this! he's so on the go i think he'd love a day to relax and he'd be quite good at it if given the space to. this is maybe a bit simpler than you wanted, but hope you enjoy anyway! | fluff, 0.7k

You're having a really nice dream. Bradley's voice is soft, gentle as he says your name, sings it, laughs around it. His lips trail a line of gentle kisses from your ear to your nose, over both eyes and finally down to your lips --

"Baby," he says, thick with sleep. "Wake up. It's raining."

As if on cue, thunder rumbles and Bradley's hold on you tightens. It takes great effort to open your eyes but you manage and twist in his arms until you find his face. He smiles at you and kisses your nose, his mustache tickling your skin.

"Hello," you mumble.

"Hi," he says back. You take a few moments to process what he's said before finding the words.

"Does that mean no hike?" He nods, his hand sliding beneath your sleep shirt to rest on your lower back. He's so warm.

"No hike," he says. You rub your eyes.

"You got a plan B, Lieutenant?"

Today was meant to be a date organized by Bradley. A drive through somewhere beautiful to a hike that would take you somewhere even more beautiful and then lunch. He's been excited about it all week and as your brain catches up with what's happening you're a bit disappointed on his behalf.

"Not as exciting as plan A, but I do."

Your eyes slide closed and you sandwich your knee between his legs. "Tell me more."

Bradley traces the lines of your face with one long finger as he talks. "We can play cards," he murmurs. "I need to reclaim my gin rummy title." You huff a laugh. He's a sore loser. "I'll make you breakfast or we can order from that bagel place."

"And make some poor teenager bike it over in the rain?"

"I'll tip a lot." You can't see him but you can hear his smile. It's a gorgeous smile, a soft one, one that drew you to him the very first time you met. Bradley is loud, he's good at being the center of attention, he's intense, he's magnetic. But there's a softness, a tenderness to him that takes your breath away.

"What else?"

"We can just relax. Nap on the couch, watch a whole season of a TV show. Hey, don't fall asleep again --"

"I'm not," you huff. You open your eyes and twist your body so that you're on top of him. He grunts but allows it as you straddle him lightly. "Are you suggesting we have a relaxing day?"

There's that grin again. "I guess I am." You bury your face in his neck.

"Never thought I'd see the day." He's all go go go, your boyfriend. He's always planning for something, worrying about something, spinning about ten plates in the air. But you know that given the chance he really does enjoy slowing down and letting all of that cease for even just a day.

Thunder rumbles again. He wraps his arms around you and you sink impossibly further into him. "I'm sorry we don't have days like this often," he says softly.

"The day hasn't even started yet." He squeezes your hip. "But don't apologize, Bradley. I'll take you any way I can get you."

"I know," he says. "I do want us to go on that hike sometime, by the way." You groan. "No, listen, it's because I can't die without seeing you see that view for the first time. It's really amazing."

You pull away from him and smooth the hair from his face, trace the lines at the corners of his eyes. So much hardship, so much tragedy, and he's still got smile lines. "This view is pretty amazing, too."

He flushes. Confident as he is, soft words in your bedroom seem to undo him. He's told you that he feels most himself when you're looking at him because you see him. You feel the same.

"Tell me about it." He cups the back of your neck and pulls you down for a proper kiss, slotting his lips with yours and tracing the seam with his tongue. "I love you," he says. "Thank you for dealing with me."

You huff. As if it's a hardship. "I love you back. Let's go order bagels."

He springs out of bed without another word, you in his arms, and laughs as you yelp all the way to the kitchen.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[sorrowsofsilence]

Faster II • Karlsson

Pairing: Jolly Karlsson x Fem!Reader

Words: 1.1k

Warnings: Smut (18+, unprotected PnV pls wrap it b4 u tap it), choking.

Prompt: you know what they say, guitarists finger faster.

PART ONE HERE

Author note: come here for a smooch my love @gretaswhore28 <3 This is just a small part 2 of the jolly oneshot ! (sorry its short I just wanted to get something out quickly today before work!) <3

THIS IS A FANFIC USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THAT THIS PERSON WOULD DO THIS IRL OR ACT LIKE THIS! ITS FICTION!

Tags: (just keeping the same tags as on part 1 in case anyone else is interested <3) @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @th4t-em0-k1d  @lans-angels @dsireland86 @whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking

With hasty hands, Jolly unlocked the door to his townhouse, immediately attaching his lips to yours as his hands roamed across your torso again.

His inked fingers danced up your body towards your neck, gripping the skin as he held you, pinned against the wall within the entryway, rutting his hips against your own.

You moaned as his fingers squeezed, Jolly’s mouth breathing into your own, before a loud cough sounded from behind the two of you.

Jolly pulled away, whipping around to glare daggers at the man whose eyes smiled behind the coffee cup placed against his lips.

“Ahem,” Noah coughed, taking a sip before placing the cup down on the living room table, “It’s about goddamn time.”

Your face warmed as he watched with curious eyes before you rested your forehead on Jolly’s shoulder in embarrassment, laughing into his leather jacket.

“Leave,” Jolly muttered as he gripped your wrist, pulling you behind him as he led you up the stairs.

You smiled at Noah briefly and he flashed you a double thumbs up, before grabbing his keys.

“Yeah I’m on it, I don’t want to hear this,” He laughed, slipping on his shoes.

Jolly tugged you along, and as soon as the front door closed you were shoved into his room, his door slamming.

“Clothes off,” He mumbled against you, tugging at your skirt, as you lifted your shirt over your head, throwing it carelessly as your hands pulled against his face. You were left in your underwear.

“On the bed, ass up,” He pulled away, nodding toward the sheets. You obeyed, crawling all fours onto the fabric before bowing down, leaving your body shivering. Goosebumps ran across your skin in anticipation.

You watched as Jolly swiftly removed his jacket, tossing it to the floor in a form of desperation you’ve never seen. He was already showing against his jeans, the idea of pounding into you leaving him almost frothing from the mouth in desire.

Jolly needed you.

And finally, he got the chance to fuck you senselessly, exploring your body in all the ways he’s dreamed of.

His eyes bore into you as he watched you exposed on his bed in devotion to him, licking his lips in hunger. With his jeans still on Jolly approached you from behind, his hands worshiping your skin as they ran across your bare body, fingers hovering over your need.

He slapped the sensitive skin firmly and a gentle yelp left your throat as your stomach clenched in excitement.

“You’re so wet already,” Jolly chuckled lowly, his fingers gliding between your folds before he pushed them into you.

You relished in the feeling of his fingers, but your body craved his, needing to be full.

“Jolly,” You moaned, “Please just fuck me. I need you.”

You heard him groan at your words, your confession pushing him over the edge as he unbuckled his belt, freeing himself from the hem of his jeans. Jolly leaned over, spitting on your body before running himself along your anticipation.

Your breath quickened as you closed your eyes, absorbing his touch as he teased you, satisfied as he pushed against you, before pulling away.

“I want this to last forever,” Jolly shivered, “I have waited so fucking long that I want to remember everything.”

“Please Jolly,” You cried, pushing back into him as your knees ached.

He pushed your ass up with his free hand, the other positioning himself before sliding inside. Jolly immediately exhaled deeply, sighing in complete lust as he thrust into you slowly, both hands gripping your hips.

“Fuck you’re so tight,” It took everything in him to resist throwing his head back; he wanted to watch himself slide into you, your slick coating him completely.

You pushed into him, meeting his ruts as you craved him to go faster. Jolly’s pace picked up, fingers digging into the dip of your waist.

Jolly’s breath quickened as he began to fold over you, hands sliding down your back towards your head. He gripped your hair, pulling you up onto your arms as well, complete euphoria taking over as he watched the scene ahead of him.

"Faster," You pleaded.

Your lips fell open in ecstasy as inhumane sounds transpired from your tongue, the feeling of Jolly fucking you hastily leaving you speechless.

“On your back,” He commanded, and you flipped as he positioned you into missionary. You pulled your thighs to your chest, opening yourself fully towards him. Jolly’s fingers gripped your throat again, pushing you into the mattress as his hips pulled in and out, eyes dark with infatuation.

You closed your eyes but Jolly’s other hand gripped your chin, your gaze snapping open, “Eyes on me.”

Your brows furrowed as you obliged, succumbing to his need, and refusing to break eye contact.

Jolly fucked you in this position for a moment longer before flipping you back over, desperate to watch himself fuck you once again.

He leaned over your back, biting kisses along your skin, hips pounding you from behind.

You cried in pleasure as Jolly’s hands gripped both your wrists as he pulled them behind you, using his fingers as makeshift cuffs, refusing to let you go.

“Fuck,” You moaned, your orgasm climbing as your abdomen clenched in excitement.

“I need you to come around me,” He begged you, wanting anything you could offer.

The room was filled with a string of curses and erotic moans, the two of you completely indulging in one another. Your body could only handle a few more pumps of Jolly’s senseless fucking before you collapsed around him.

“Come inside me Jolly,” you pleaded as his hands pushed the side of your face into the mattress, his animalistic movements leaving you hungry and yearning.

“Fuck,” Jolly spoke through gritted teeth as you watched him absorbed in your body, his fingers gripping your wrists in a painful bind as his nails attacked your skin.

Within seconds Jolly’s body twitched within yours and you squeezed against him. Jolly’s head flew back in yearning, his body overcame with lust as he released into you, the guttural moan heaving from his chest causing your stomach to stir in admiration.

“Shit,” Jolly breathed quickly as he pulled out, satisfied as your mixed creation dripped from your desire, the smile on Jolly’s face prideful.

You sighed in contentment as you sat up, watching the man in front of you hover over your body as he attached his lips to your own, kissing you deeply.

Your lips moved entwined, completely fulfilled yet still hungry for one another.

“I just want to fuck you all day,” Jolly whined, pulling your body into his as you lay next to each other, engulfed by the moment.

“You can fuck me anytime you want,” you smiled, kissing him desperately again as his hands gripped your skin, ready to devour you again.

[aimfor-theheart]

my cicicielo💛 for your writing game: western au + vash pls? :3

amira you love me fr for giving me this one!!!! <3333 THANK YOU!!!

western au

vash x reader

cw: none...soft....lil touch of angst....

∘₊✧───────────────────✧₊∘

a sea of endless green, the hills rolling as far as you can see, meeting the mountains somewhere in the distance like old friends. the sun is a honey melt in the sky, ripening to a deep blue. the flowers, bursts of red and pink and orange and white, scatter over the fields before you.

a figure in the distance. silhouetted against the setting sun. standing there, lonesome against the sky.

you'd know the slope of his shoulders anywhere.

"vash!" you crow to the heavens happily, a bird crying out. "vash the stampede!"

that figure turns, but you're already running for him, running down the slopes and bends of the earth and towards him.

and he runs for you, too. shouting your name into the sky.

when you collide, its like reckless stars.

he laughs as he catches you, as he turns to take the brunt of the fall, arms around you tight and secure. with all the momentum, you both roll over each other a few times in the flowers, down the slope of the hill.

when you both finally still, you're on top of him again, still laughing. you pick yourself up, hands flattening against his stomach to lift yourself up. your legs are straddled on either side of his waist.

when your giggles subside, you're left looking at each other, breathing hard. petals caught in his hair, his hat missing somewhere, shirt a little open underneath your hands.

"hey, cowboy," you say slowly, taking him in like you can't believe it's really him, breathless with your excitement, aching with your joy. you breathe it through your smile;

"you came back."

"heya, cowgirl," he says back and his hands twitch, reaching up to pluck petals from your own hair, to take you in, too, "course i came back—i told'ya i would."

his smile is wide and brimming, but you can see that touch of sadness in his eyes—that creeping melancholy, like it's own vine that overtakes and chokes out the flowers of his happiness. you touch at the corner of his eyes as if to chase it away.

"i wasn't sure you'd make it back to me." you admit, smile waning.

he reaches up and covers your hand with his. catches it. presses his lips to your open palm in a reverent kiss. his brow furrows for just a moment.

"i did my best." he says, "i made you a promise."

you pull your hand away to fist both in the front of his shirt. "almost makes up for how you left me, vash the stampede—damn criminal that you are."

he smiles sheepishly, "i am sorry, sweetheart, i knew you'd be mad—"

"damn right i was!" you say, shaking him a little, baring your teeth.

but then you take him in again, underneath you. alive and breathing. heart kicking beneath your hands, beneath all those scars and wounds. back in your life like he'd never left. back on these hills and under the same sky. tears prick your eyes.

you could cry having him back—it's like a dream you thought you'd never have again.

"you better not ever do that to me again—" you say, voice breaking, trying to be angry and tough but so, so lovesick, "you hear me, vash?"

"loud and clear," he says, his starry eyes suddenly welling with their own tears, smiling fond and soft at your anger that isn't really anger at all. he swallows around it all, "i got a lifetime to make up for it, huh?"

you grip the front of his shirt, hauling him up to you, and he yelps a little, laughing.

"you better, cowboy."

he kisses you hard, kisses you desperate and sorry and aching. his hands, one cool and metal, and the other warm and flesh, all over you suddenly. around you. hitching you tighter to him, mouth warm and soft and stubble scraping up against your lips like it had so long ago.

when you pull away, breathless, he says, "let me start now," and suddenly rolls you onto your back in a field of flowers. the sun sinks in the sky, bruising blue and soft, stars winking to life above you both. the moon's curve is a soft smile, shining down on a lovelorn earth.

"let me show you how sorry i really am, cowgirl."

when he kisses you again, you taste the curve of his smile, and yours fits against it like an old, worn key coming up against it's homelock.

in another universe writing game!

[l0stfoster]

butterfly anon yet again, bc why have I just finally processed something…to speak in memes once more, imagine the megamind ‘no bitches’ meme but instead its ‘more death designs?!’

the potential…..symbolism…..

(I’m such a nerd this is ridiculous how excited I am for metaphor potential)

aNyway, in the death design post I noticed Johnny refers to Death as she, so (as you’ve said death is they / them) was this just retconning/change of mind, or did Johnny not know/perceived death more feminine? (Coughmotherissuescough)

also, even though that post said Johnny’s perception changes, would his be the most accurate? (As Death can mess w/ his death tingle (take that Peter tingle) does that potentially mean Johnny sees Death how they desire to be perceived?

WOAH WAIT HOLD THE DING DANG PHONE

DOTS HAVE BEEN CONNECTED

wait I can’t find the post I might have made this up, dots unconnected thrown in incinerator

Moving on to similar dots, Paul’s ancestor, curse creator, would they not have met death? Wait wait would there have been a discussion? Cause like Death big powerful and this witch just made big curse? Is this in relation to why Death is featureless for Paul?????

(Paul anon if you have thoughts pls join in theorizing, Paul is your blorbo you probably know more)

I love watching you realize things it's so awesome I noticed that Johnny refers to Death as she, so (as you’ve said, death is they/them) was this just retconning/change of mind, or did Johnny not know/perceive death as more feminine? (Coughmotherissuescough)

- Although I personally use they/them when referring to Death, I do feel that they can be referred to with, quite literally anything! It's a matter of a person's own perception, and I also felt like it was better to use a proper set of pronouns for Death rather than calling them it, which takes some of the human nature out of them. I also didn't want to use she/her or he/him at the time because that might make people automatically gender Death as male or female. They're beyond gender, that's a whole-ass borderline god. - Death uses any/all pronouns, call them whatever you'd like! I do they/them for writing's sake; since switching up actively might confuse people. - Johnny usually uses she/her for Death, it's mostly the mother issues. In this AU his mother's the one who 'killed' him, hence his meeting Death.

Also, even though that post said Johnny’s perception changes, would his be the most accurate? Does that potentially mean Johnny sees Death how they desire to be perceived?

- You could argue that Johnny holds the most accurate perception of Death, yes, as the first time they appeared to him was the form they specifically chose to appear to him in. (Novva made a comic for it, but Death appeared very motherly to him) - His perception of Death usually abides by that, but sometimes they're more masculine, or sometimes they don't have identifiable features. Sometimes they're just a void of darkness; something that can surround him and provide a sense of security when he really needs it. He sees Death in his dreams on occasion, so there are multiple instances where she'll change.

Moving on to similar dots, Paul’s ancestor, the curse creator, would they not have met death? Wait wait would there have been a discussion? Cause like Death, big powerful, and this witch just made big curse? Is this in relation to why Death is featureless for Paul?????

- You're pretty close!! The Witch did meet Death once, yes; likely at the end of their life. Usually, you only meet Death when you're in limbo, but I think they can choose to change that. There wasn't much discussion; Death absolutely thought the curse was overkill (we discussed the idea that maybe the witches' partner was killed and the curse was set as a kind of revenge, but it's not canon right now) and unnecessarily made things so much more difficult,, but then Death claimed Johnny, and suddenly they knew the lengths a person would go for those they love. - Death is featureless for Paul because he's never truly thought of them as anything; save for the obvious association of butterflies with her. Once he starts to associate Death with Johnny, Death would likey to change to hold some of his features as well; similar to the way that Dally views Death.