#i’m so confused he seemed satisfied with me when we met

[theresa-of-liechtenstein]

the epic highs (successful conference presentation today) and lows (did not get a perfect score on my honors project progress report) of the life of em

[boy-cow000]

Nervous

Newt x gn!Reader

A/N: This is technically my first real fanfic so pretty exited to share! Too bad its kinda for a dead fandom. Inspired by that one audio

Word count: 692

———————————————————————————

“Do I make you nervous?"

He said. As if it were the easiest thing in the world to say. As if that sentence alone couldn’t just end you right where you stood. As if you weren’t already head over heels for him. So pliable, he could just look at you, and you would bend to his command.

Part of you thought that Newt must’ve known what he was doing to you. It almost felt a little planned on his part. The mellowness of the hastily put-up fairy lights, the bumbling atmosphere of people getting a little more than tipsy off of Gally’s special drink, and the way he was dressed—it must’ve been all just to poke fun at you, right? As he spoke, you couldn’t help but look him up and down. His white cotton shirt draped across his collarbones with a gap, giving you a slight view of his chest and stomach. Too close, you thought.

An awkward silence hit the both of you as you realized that you probably needed to answer. All you could muster was a curt no with a slightly offended intonation.

Newt laughed.

He shifted back into his previous position, a little further from you. You couldn’t really tell whether or not he was satisfied with your answer. His half-decent attempt at continuing the conversation only confused you further. What you hadn’t known was that that question hadn’t come out of nowhere. In reality, Newt was genuinely nervous about the way you acted around him. He hadn’t meant to sound like an overconfident douche, but he didn’t know how else to introduce it into the conversation. From the moment he met you, you had always been kind of avoidant of him. Always staying behind other people when talking to a large group or running off when you two were finally alone. You never really interacted with him directly, and when you did speak, he was usually the one talking.

Newt just wanted to know.

He often compared how you talked with others to the way you talked to him. You were strong, reliable, and kind. You were also relatively social, which is what baffled him the most. So then, why were you so uncomfortable around him? Was he that repulsive?

Tonight was probably the first time in a long time that you didn’t find a lame excuse to run away from him with. He was determined to get his answer. He couldn’t keep letting it eat him alive the way it did. He spent too much of his waking hours thinking about his effect on you.

"No, but really, I know I’m being a bit repetitive, but do I make you nervous?"

“No?! Why would you make me nervous?”

“Well… You keep running away every time I enter the same room as you. Not to mention how you can't seem to look me in the eyes when we are talking.” Newt reassured you that if you weren't comfortable with eye contact or just didn’t like him, then that was totally fine; he just needed to know.

Your heart tore at that. How could he ever assume that you didn’t like him? You knew that your actions had been less than pleasurable towards him, but that was in no way a means to make him feel bad. You couldn’t keep it in longer.

"You do make me nervous.”

Newt’s face tensed, his shoulders perked up, and he readjusted himself to be facing you. The more you explained yourself, however, the more his expression softened. You confessed as quickly as you could, words cascading out as if they were unwanted to begin with. By the time you finished, you were staring at the floor so intensely that you could burn a hole through it.

You didn’t see it, but Newt was beaming. He was more than happy to know that you didn’t have a real issue with him. And after all this time spent thinking nonstop about you, he wasn’t against keeping you in his mind a bit longer.

He had gotten his answer, and now there was nothing holding him back from developing feelings of his own.

[cr4yolaas]

mezzo forte — non-confrontational

track 7: pity party | masterlist | track 9: homesick v.2

heavy, purple bags weigh his eyes down. it's the first thing she notices when she swings open the door with a little too much force. he's exhausted, that much made obvious by the droopiness on his face and the unkempt nature of his hair. for a moment, she forgets why she came there.

he doesn't make a move to let her in. instead, he rests the entirety of his weight on the doorframe, the old painted wood creaking ever so slightly beneath the pressure. it's as if her presence is a hindrance to him. her feet plant themselves on the floor in retaliation to his foreign detachment, and slowly, the confusion and anger that motivated her visit come crawling back in the form of pinpricks clinging onto her spine.

"hajime," she mutters, and the forgoing of his usual nickname makes him falter just a bit. "what happened that night? at the reunion party?"

he shifts his stance from one leg to the other. he doesn't know what to say.

"you and tooru have ignored me since, and it- i don't know, i just feel lost. i don't know what happened. and i hate that both of you are hiding it from me," she rambles, and he can tell she's upset.

truthfully, he's horrified. he doesn't want to tell her the truth -- if it even is the truth -- but he knows that nothing will happen if he doesn't say anything.

"who have your songs been for this whole time?" he asks, his voice cracking and his hands shaky. the creases on her forehead only increase tenfold, and he's scared. a heavy sigh falls from her lips.

"it's always been you, haji," she heaves out, unloading a burden that had hung heavy on her shoulders for years upon years. "they were all for you. i don't- i don't understand how you didn't see it. and i feel stupid for not making it more obvious."

he pauses. his mouth hangs agape and with every shallow breath he takes, a bit of his pride and confidence seeps out. disbelief weighs heavily in his heart and overpowers every other rational sense that's kept him going for so long.

"it can't be me. it really, really can't."

it comes out as a whisper, his words nearly lost to the gentle summer breeze. she hears it as a rejection -- an admission that she cannot write syrupy, silly melodies for him, because he cannot satisfy the sickly sweet sensation rotting her heart. she loathes how aloof he seems to be about it.

something bubbles up within her throat. she's scared that, if she so much as breathes another breath, she'll say something she doesn't mean. so, instead, with an ache in her chest and a pounding in her head, she walks away -- because she cannot bear to face the end of the road that she's been running on for so long.

he doesn't chase after her, nor does he depart from the scene. hajime maintains his posture against the door. guilt gnaws violently at the sinew between his bones and every ligament that ensures his stability, and he swears he can feel the pitter-patter of his heart diminish into something slow and scattered.

hajime is terribly non-confrontational when it comes to her -- that much had been a consistent truth since they met, in their little suburban neighborhood at the unripe age of 7 -- and he curses his own weakness for destroying what he'd been holding onto so desperately.

♪ i’m lowk rushing thru this bc i’m too eager to end mezzo forte i’m sorry 😭😭 i love it but i canr wait for it to end if that makes sense

♪ yn got nothing done in the whole week of no contact with the other two. she was quite literally paralyzed with fear she couldn’t finish any of her work

♪ yachi thrives on severe retail therapy habits if u couldnt tell

♪ msby 4 was lowk listening from the hallway they love the chismis but also they r actually invested in this relationship

♪ i think we might get the triple update tn 😭😭

taglist: @zumicho @causenessus @guitarstringed-scars @yuminako @chemiru @sunnyskiezzzz @httpsivy @itsdragonius @theycallmenanamisgirl @wyrcan @19calicos @hunnies4bunnies @mawenskiblue @diorzs @loverlunaire @mfcherry @solaqes @myromanempiree @brithedemonspawn @corvid007 @lilchubbyyy

[jimblejamblewritings]

love letters and second sons | part 6.

Summary: The princess is finally ready to debut in society. But before she does, she decides to disguise herself and see the true faces of the ton.

Warnings for the Series: light sexism in line with the times, light classism in line with the times, mental health stigma, shitty doctor care, smut, suicide attempt (will get it's own warning when the time comes),

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x princess!reader

Warnings for this part: none

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Sorry this is more of a blurb than full chapter.

Previous Part | Series Masterlist

Dear Sophie, 

What can I say about Mister Bridgerton? Colin is kind and smart and seems to have a love of adventure that I cannot help but to admire. I do wish he was ready to propose. Whether smart or not, I will continue my correspondence with him until the inevitable. On a brighter matter, I think I’ve scared off that foul old man for good. I will tell you more later. 

Best regards, 

Marina 

Dear Sophie, 

Our license has been revoked. I don’t know what we are to do. I have let Friedrich go for my sake and hos but it seems the Queen is not satisfied nor convinced. Lady Danbury insisted we take counsel with the Queen and convince her to allow the license. But Simon and I do not know how to prove we are in love. It is just something one knows, is it not? I know there is nothing you can do. I just thought I would write and inform you of the situation. 

Best regards, 

Daphne 

You found whatever cloak was clean and put it on in a haste. Reynolds and Pandora barely got to ask you a question before you were in the carriage and requesting the driver stop at the Bridgertons. Admittedly, you were a bit confused. You could have sworn just a few days ago Daphne and Friedrich were about to be engaged. But you also believed in true love so you would help your friend. 

Your eyes went wide as you entered the Bridgerton house, coming face to face with Lady Danbury. A string of curses ran through your head. It was only a matter of time before someone saw you but you were hoping for a guard. Or at least anybody easier to bribe. Lady Danbury began to open her mouth when Daphne ran towards you, embracing you. 

“Oh, Sophie, I’m so glad you came… Oh, have you met Lady Danbury?” 

The older woman approached you. “I don’t believe we have Miss…” 

“Beckett.” 

“Hmm. Miss Beckett.” 

You took her hand in yours, giving it a nice shake. Agatha made a face but didn’t say anything further. Daphne explained to you the situation as she took you, Lady Danbury, and Simon into a spare office. You sat on top of the desk, letting Agatha take the last chair in the room. 

“Ok, hold hands… Your grip isn’t even nice.” 

“This is comfortable,” Simon insisted. 

“You two are hopeless.” 

Lady Danbury sat back, laughing, as she watched you try to help the couple all morning. For two people who insisted they were in love, they were very awkward looking. A sigh escaped you as you thanked the maid for bringing in lemonade. Your mother loved love. She needed a story to praise root for. A love of epic proportions. You set down the glass. 

“There is nothing I can do.” 

“Sophie.” 

“Miss Beckett, please.” 

You smiled. “Simon, you may call me Sophie. And it isn’t that I won’t help or don’t want to but there is nothing I can do. The Queen wants to believe in love. She wants to feel that you two care for each other. That is something I cannot teach and that is something that you two can’t fake. So you must speak from the heart. What I can do is request counsel for you. It won’t be denied.” 

“Thank you so much.” 

While you were upset that you couldn’t attend the wedding or reception, you did hope to hear about it from all your friends. Currently, you were listening to two of them tell it. You and Penelope sat on Marina’s bed, watching her pace back and forth as she told you about Colin and her. She looked like she was keeping a particular secret but you assumed it was a surprise. 

“Have you seen him with the smaller Bridgertons? The perfect father. He could be the perfect father.” 

“Surely he is a bit young for marriage?” Penelope asked. 

She wasn’t as thrilled as you. Now, you couldn’t lie. Tricking Colin or anyone wasn’t exactly something you liked. But Marina truly seemed to care about him. Because they were both in love, you’d allow it. Marina shook her head at Pen’s thought.

“He’s perfect. Very kind and funny and surprisingly a good dancer.” 

That made you giggle. It was nice to see Marina move on from George. You were shocked that the letter hadn’t been sent to you before reaching your friend. From what Marina and Pen wrote, she was absolutely devastated at him pretending to not know her. 

Marina sat on the bed, taking both of your hands. “Colin isn’t like the other young men in the ton. He’s serious and mature.” 

Penelope yawned rather loudly. You and Marina stood up. The last thing you meant to do was keep her up too late, especially because the Bridgertons were hosting a picnic tomorrow. It’s very important to get proper sleep. 

“Pen, if I’m not back in ten minutes, go to bed, my carriage has come. Alright?” 

She nodded. 

“I’m so sorry for keeping you up.” 

“It is no bother. We’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“The princess has given me the day off. I assure you, I will be here.” 

You bid them a final goodnight, all three of you with wide smiles. Putting your cloak back on, you took the back stairs that Penelope had pointed out. Just in case you ran into Varley anyway, you put your hood up. No one was on the street when you reached outside. Quickly, you scurried around the corner. It was nice to not have to climb the back gate of the Bridgerton house. 

Benedict smiled as you approached, opening the door for you. He backed up a little when you pointed an accusatory finger at him. 

“We are not staying up late. I would like to attend the picnic tomorrow bright-eyed.” 

“Understood.” 

You felt like a kid sneaking through the palace halls as you followed Benedict to his room. The other servants seeing you wasn’t a problem, nor most of the Bridgertons. You were a palace girl as far as they were concerned. You could do anything with anyone and it wouldn’t bring scandal or ruin as long as you didn’t try to publicize it. Being with a known rake wasn’t exactly strange. But you didn’t want Anthony to find you. Surely, he’d make Benedict marry you right then and there because he cared for your honor. A sweet gesture but one you couldn’t afford. 

Benedict barely let the door close before kissing you. You laughed as he didn’t stop even as you walked to the washroom. He only stopped to look at you through the mirror. 

“I thought I said we aren’t staying up late.” 

“We aren’t.” He lifted up your skirts. “You are getting ready for bed. I am merely assisting.” 

You felt your underdrawers get pulled down and breath fanned across your body. It was very hard to concentrate on washing your face, let alone the rest of your body, as Benedict went to town on you. He made good on his promise. After giving you a rest to wash his body and change, he made you come undone two times before changing into his own sleepwear. 

“Which side?” 

“The window.” 

“That’s not a side.” 

“Shut up.” 

You both took your respective sides. It took all of two minutes before embracing each other. Benedict bended his body around yours, one hand above your head and one over your body. He took your hand in his and kissed your cheek. 

“Sleep well.” Benedict looked down, laughing. You were already asleep. 

(part 7)....

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@fredsbetch @cherrylovers-world @chrystinaamanda @grassclippers @flyestvenustrap @spookystitchery @lovelyygirl8 @ben-has-arrived @tragically-hipp @cherrysxuya @alowint @jackierose902109 @boojaynaqueen @thesparkling-diamond27 @intothesoul @tremendousstarlighttragedy @rosewritesitout @briskesby @tulipatheticee @intothesoul @bdudette @luna-loves08

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[maharlika]

spouse

a little arranged marriage halstarion ficlet for some folks over on the halstarion discord! tw for implied abuse, blood mention and miscarriage in this one. there's also mpreg.

—

Astarion tumbled off his husband with a satisfied sigh, sinking into the plush nest of feathers and fur, legs askew and thighs still trembling from exertion.

He watched, eyes half-lidded, as Halsin rose from the bed, then returned with a soft cloth and a wooden cup full of cold water, the latter of which he placed on the floor next to their bed. 

“Do you think it will take?” Astarion asked, as Halsin gently cleaned him. Always so gentle, Astarion’s bear of a husband. Mate, Halsin called him, though Astarion did not quite believe it. Would not quite believe it until the child was seeded in his womb, rooted deep enough to cast aside any doubts of his place by Halsin’s side. 

“It may or it may not,” Halsin said, seemingly indifferent to the possibility of siring a child. It had been baffling to Astarion the first time they’d consummated their union—it was baffling to him still, months into this endeavor. 

Astarion swallowed down his worries with a nod, and told himself this was enough for now: to be wed to a man who had not once struck him, who had never raised his voice at him, and who did not seem to consider him a mere broodmare, as his father had raised him to be. 

Still, fear lingered in his chest. If he could not bear Halsin a child, then he would be cast aside. Cazador would punish him for that, he was certain. But beyond that—losing Halsin would be a new sort of pain, one he had not anticipated, and one for which he had no one to blame but himself.

After all, it was his fault he had fallen in love.

—

Three months later, Astarion woke up to blood. 

As his head spun with terror, Astarion could only think of one thing: not Cazador’s ire, not the breaching of the marriage contract, not even the horror of returning to the cold, bitter palace he had been raised in.

No—as Astarion limped to the healer’s, blood trickling down his thighs, he could only think: Halsin will hate me for losing his child.

—

Astarion sat quietly as the healer spoke to his husband. He wondered if he could still call Halsin that at all, given how much of a failure he had been as his spouse. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, as Halsin approached his bedside. His hands were twisted together in deep anxiety on his lap, and he looked down at them as he continued, “I—I have no excuse. I’m sorry.”

“Astarion,” Halsin murmured. He placed one large hand on top of both of Astarion’s. “Why are you apologizing, my heart?”

“Why are you still calling me that?” Astarion asked, his head jerking up in surprise. He met Halsin’s confused and sorrowful gaze, and tears spilled down his cheeks as he blinked. His mouth trembled, and a sob burst from his chest before he could stop it. “I heard what the healer said—that I might not—that I might never—”

“It matters not,” Halsin said swiftly. “You are my heart, child or no, Astarion.”

“You can’t mean that!” Astarion cried, eyes squeezing tight. “I am useless to you now!”

Halsin’s hand stiffened atop his, and despite the silence, Astarion could feel his shock. Astarion had never raised his voice at him before, had never been anything but a charming, pliant vessel. 

He shuddered in fear and misery. Apologies would not save him now, he knew.

“Astarion, please look at me,” Halsin said. When Astarion did not obey, Halsin continued, “I am not so cruel to cast you aside for something so—so utterly beyond your control. When we were wed, I promised to care for you. I mean to keep my promise. There is nothing you could do that would make me stop.”

“I—but I—what am I for? If not to bear your young, to serve your House with my body—I don’t understand.”

“Is that what you think you're for? When I find the person who has put these awful thoughts into your head, I will tear them apart myself,” Halsin said, in a menacing tone that Astarion had never heard before. 

He shivered, not entirely displeased to hear it.

“Oh,” he whispered. “You truly…you truly mean to keep me?”

Halsin lifted Astarion’s limp hands to his lips and kissed his fingers, one by one. 

“Yes,” he said. "For as long as you would like to be kept."

Astarion nodded, his mind still reeling. This changed everything—and somehow, it changed nothing at all. Halsin still cared for him. Halsin still would not harm him. Halsin still did not care whether Astarion bore him a child or not. 

“Rest,” Halsin murmured, as Astarion listed sideways and crumpled against him, overwhelmed with relief. “I will be here when you wake. I will always be here, my heart.”

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

Satisfied

James Wilson x reader

description - Y/n reveals some of her...hobbies.

word count - 800

Masterlist

REQUESTS OPEN - request here

(my fave Wilson picture!)

*your pov*

“Wait!” I came running in to see Cameron and Foreman attempting to pry the woman off the man she was ‘strangling’. I managed to pull them off of her, both equally surprised by my actions in stopping them. I also held my hand out to stop the woman from doing anything that would incriminate her further.

“This isn’t what you think it is.” I directed towards the two doctors, I then turned to face the woman who stood ashamed. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

**********************************************************************

“She’s his dominatrix.”

I announced to House and his minions. I stood front and centre as they looked at me in disbelief.

“They both participate in BDSM, I’m assuming a classic dom and sub relationship. Harvey clearly takes pleasure in masochism and she indulges this as his dom. Hence the strangling which I think she did to calm him down.”

The open mouths around the room could have caught flies. I was confused by their reaction so merely stood kicking my feet waiting for them to regain their ability to speak.

“I’m sorry, how do you know this?” Foreman questioned his face betraying his complete shock at my statements.

“I wasn’t sure at first but there was something in the way they related to each other and their stances around the other. Also I’ve seen her at a few parties.” I simply stated in response.

“Your life is amazing!” House excitedly added. “Now at these parties did you do any girl on girl action? Medically speaking.” He questioned me with a mischevious glint.

“I don’t know how answering that is relevant to the case at hand.” I teased back at him knowing he would understand the affirmation in my tone.

House stood up and came to my side before whining out. “Wilson is so lucky!” Like a child who was jealous of their friends new bike. I smiled at the mention of my boyfriend and then rolled my eyes at his playful quips.

“Anyways, that’s what I came to offer.” I skipped out of the room to leave them to their diagnosis.

**********************************************************************

“Hands up who’s turned on.” House asked the room once Y/n had left. He shot his hand up and was quickly joined by Chase. Cameron glared at him.

“What?” He innocently asked. She jutted her chin out and collected up her papers to leave in a huff. Glaring at House as well as she left.

“What a square.” House announced to Chase and Foreman.

**********************************************************************

*your pov*

I was flicking through my files at the nurses station when I felt a pair of strong arms embrace me from behind. James had his head buried in my neck and gave the skin a quick kiss. We were never ones for extreme PDA in the office, so the exchange lasted less than a second before he was around at my side to properly converse with me.

“You on House’s stroke case now? I saw you in the room.” James inquired.

“No, just had to offer some specialist assistance.” I sing songed back.

“And what specialist assistance would that be, my darling?” He indulged in my evasive responses. Leaning in close so our lips were ever so close.

“It merely involved one of the patients…specific hobbies.” I pretended to think hard about my word choice. I winked at him on the last word.

He took my full meaning and struggled to hide his grin at the beautiful and exciting girl he’d managed to get.

There was a tap on my shoulder and I whipped around and was met with Chase.

“Dr Y/l/n, may I speak with you for a moment.” He seemed cocky and looked between James and I. I decided to coddle his intentions and agreed. He directed me a few feet a way. James watched my retreating form and kept an eye on the conversation, not liking the look in Chase’s eye.

“I just wanted to say, y/n, that I have also from time to time indulged in the pleasurable acts you described to House.” He flirtingly stated, his voice a low whisper. He placed his hand on the wall next to us and used it as leverage to lean in.

“I see.” I could barely contain my giggle at where I suspected the line of questioning was going.

“So, if things ever get too boring with grandpa over there,” He jutted his chin towards James. “I’m always up for a bit of alone time.” He winked at me.

I let out a small giggle but quickly righted myself. I stalked closer towards him and I saw him shrink at my intimidating movement.

“Oh believe me,” I placed my lips directly next to his ear. “I am plenty satisfied.”

I strutted away relishing in his flustered state. I once again was in front of James.

“What was that a—” I pulled him into a deep kiss by his collar.

[malebodyexhibit]

To Break in New Clothing

The guy paid me $50 to wear this jockstrap everyday when I went to the gym. He asked that they get exceptionally sweaty. I’m not one to turn down money for dignity, so I agreed.

I had a suspicion of what he was doing with my jockstrap when I gave it back to him, but that just made me more turned on. I took a drink as I rested between sets. With the 3-inch inseam shorts, I could feel the summer breeze airing my puckered hole. I took a breath and rubbed my hand along my hairy chest, smearing the sweat down my abs toward my dick and balls. Speaking of balls, I adjusted them, rubbing the jockstrap cloth deeper into the swampy groin. I guessed I like the thought of the guy inhaling my stench while he jerked off. He wasn’t attractive, but the fact he wanted to breathe in my man musk was enough to make me precum, and maybe I should charge him more for how much of my precum I soaked the dirty jockstrap with.

When I met the guy again, he handed me the money and I made a show of slipping off my shorts, then pulling off the jockstrap. The rush of cool air caused an immediate reaction to my sweaty cock, but I tossed the strap to the guy and dressed myself again. I was hoping for a bit more, but the guy thanked me and left. I was a bit disappointed. I was hoping for some begging, some desperate attempt to check me out, but nope. It was suspicious, so I decided to follow the guy. What was his deal?

It took a while, but I found the guy in the hills out of the city limits. I hid myself behind some rocks, peeking from the corner, conspicuous as I was with no underwear in running shorts. Then what I saw was impossible.

The guy placed the jockstrap on the ground and uttered some words then... the jockstrap transformed into a cute twink. His hair was messy; he was nude; he was drenched in sweat; and he gave a relaxed, content grin to the guy. He looked beyond satisfied. He pulled on some shorts, and it looked as if he had just completed a run. He was so sweaty.

“God, you stink,” the guy said to the nude twink. “Did you enjoy your day out? I can’t imagine why you like it.”

“I enjoyed it,” the twink said. He slurred his words as he was buzzed. A lazy smile melted on his lips. “He was a sweaty boy today. We worked out and he messaged me against his cock. He was getting hard and I drank his precum. I think he likes it just as much as I do.” The twink started to walk towards the guy.

“Hey, stay away. Take a shower first, then pay me.”

“Why would I shower? I wish I could smell like this forever. Maybe you could make me his gym sock, but I would miss his dick. He finally broke me in, but I’m gonna be broke at this rate.”

I could’t believe what I was hearing. This whole time, the jockstrap I wore and abused with my sweat was actually a person. The thought was hot. With this info, I imagined all the ways I could play with this gay guy--make his dreams come true. I stepped from behind the rocks. Both men glanced at me with wide eyes.

“Hey, I’m gonna need my jockstrap back,” I said. I walked closer to the twink. He smelled absolutely ripe. He smelled like my gym bag, and he needed to get back there.

The twink gave a nervous smile and backed away. “Look man, there must be some misunderstanding.”

“No no, I don’t think I missed understood anything. I want my jockstrap back. I’m not finished with it yet.” I stared him in the eye. “Maybe I want gym socks instead or even a cum rag.” I turned to the other guy, “How much to get what I want?”

The guy stammered and settled on $500. “You say these words to change him.” He spoke something in another language. “And if you want him to become something else, just say it also. But make sure you change him human every once in a while.”

“Why?”

“So he can eat.” The guy seemed confused at my question. “And shower and live his life.”

I stared them both in the eye. “He eats when I tell him to and his life is over. My cum rag shouldn’t worry about his life.” I spoke the word and watched the twink shrunk and fell into the street as a piece of clothing. I swear I saw him smiling, and I had smiled back.

[mrcaptainrex]

When We Are Worms.

Pre-Order-66!Crosshair x F!Reader (No Y/N)

Warnings: Swearing, because Crosshair. Sleepy-Grumpy Crosshair. I can't imagine Crosshair being a lovey-dovey guy, so he's awkward and kind of a grumpy bitch. Sorry not sorry.

Summary: Crosshair and his lover talk about their theoretical life as worms instead of getting much needed sleep.

A/N: Yes I did just write a one-shot where worm-life is a metaphor for freedom. I hate how proud I am of this.

_________________________

Being a clone was a shitty way to live. Being an experiment was even worse. From the moment Crosshair was "born", he was raised on the expectation to be perfect. He was never allowed privacy, or a good meal, or even the chance to choose his own passions. He hated it. He hated that no matter how much he hated it, he couldn't imagine what else he could do. He wasn't exactly fit to be a cook, or a mechanic, or any other boring civie job. He had come to accept that no matter how much he wished, he could never be anything but a clone. A soldier. Property.

But not to her. To her, he was everything. A loving man who was good, smart, and funny. A man who she could imagine loving in any galaxy. A man who, if not for their unfortunate circumstances, she would have already married and taken far from this war.

Moments like this made it all worth it. Moments where his brothers were out, and it was just the two of them alone on the Marauder on a cool night. Where she lay next to him with her head on his chest, resting quietly while his hand stroked her bare arm. Moments where, for a second, they could be a normal couple. No war, no politics, no intruding-brothers. They were just two lovers, enjoying the presence of each other and the comfort their silence provided.

They were both beginning to drift into much-needed sleep when she broke the quiet.

“I just thought of something.” She said, lifting her head off his chest as if she had reached a brilliant conclusion.

“How unfortunate.” Crosshair mumbled. He didn’t even bother to open his eyes.

She thought for a moment, and then settled back onto his chest to look into his eyes. “Cross?” She asked quietly.

She only received a sleepy hum in response.

“You love me right? No matter what?” This finally got some of his attention. His eyes opened and met her own with confusion.

After a moment to come up with a sarcastic comment, he settled for, “It would appear that way, mesh’la.” He seemed satisfied with his nonchalant answer and laid his head back on the pillow, allowing his eyes to close once again.

“What if I was a worm?”

By now he accepted that he wasn’t going to sleep for a while. His eyes snapped open, with a furrowed brow and confused look in his eye. “What?”

“Would you love me if I was a worm?”

“Why the fuck would you be a worm?”

She couldn't help but giggle at his response to the illogical question.

“I dunno, weirder things have happened.” She thinks for a minute, trying to imagine a plausible scenario that involves turning her into a slithering creature. “What if one day I’m cursed by an evil witch, and I’m condemned to worm-dom for the rest of my life?”

Crosshair hums sarcastically, as if what she’d suggested was just as likely as getting an ingrown toenail. “Depends. Am I a worm too? It’d feel kind of zoophilist if I were still human.”

Despite the absurdity of the conversation, his words made her heart swell. She lifted her head from his chest and propped herself up on her elbows. “You’d want to be a worm with me?” She gasped.

He found it odd that such a conversation could still leave her enamored with him. He swore he could say anything and she’d still find the sweetest meaning behind it. Then again, she saw the good in everyone.

“I mean.. I would prefer it to being a human in love with a worm. What if I stepped on you?” She was sure she’d never been more in love with him.

“That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said.” She whispered, placing a kiss to his nose.

“Clearly I need to step up my game, then.” She settled back onto his chest and continued imagining their lives as a squiggly object. As Crosshair finally allowed his eyes to drift shut..

“Where would we dig our hole?”

A sigh. “Seriously?”

“I’d want to dig it by the lakes on Naboo. Peaceful, moist..” While she was in dreamland, he grimaced at the repulsive ‘m’ word.

“Naboo would be a horrible idea. Tech told me Gungans use worms as garnishes. Alderaan would be better. It’s easier to raise wormlets when they’re not being eaten.”

She could have sworn she felt her heart stop beating for a few moments. "Wormlets?"

He shrugged. "I dunno, whatever the fuck baby worms are called."

He turned his eyes from the ceiling to look at her. To his surprise, he could spot tears in her eyes. Immediately, he thought he had overstepped. "I-I'm sorry. I know kids aren't.. can't happen for us."

She shook her head and blinked her tears away. "No! No, I'd love that. I just.. Well, I didn't know that was something you wanted.. Do you?"

A sorrowful sigh escaped his lips. "Maybe one day." He stretched his neck to place a chaste kiss to her hair. With as much love as he could muster after the exhausting events of the day, he whispered to her, "When we're worms."

He never thought he would say that to his lover..

"When we're worms." She repeated with a smile on her face. Satisfied, she snuggled closer to his chest and allowed herself to sleep.

Crosshair, on the other hand, found himself too pleased with the thought of the future to allow him to sleep.

One day, when the war had ceased to exist, or at least ceased to involve them, they would become worms, and dig their happy hole, in the softest of dirt, and safest of fields. Someplace where they could have as many wormlets as they want, and where no crow or gungan could disrupt their peace. One day, when they become worms, they would live as the happiest worms that ever squiggled. He was sure of it.

[lemonnsss]

Moral of the Story pt. 3

Warnings: cheating, illusions to sex, angst, not BETA'D we die like men.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

Taglist: @vicmc624, @mostlymarvelgirl, @yvonneeeee, @beetlejuicesupremacy, @moonlightreader649, @whattheduckisupkyle, @chrisevans-realwife, @nekoannie-chan, @mrsbarnes32557038, @imyourbratzdoll

Word count: 2.1k

“Oh, so soon?” he leaned in, obviously interested in my request, “And what might your boon be?”

“As you can probably guess, I need a job. I have an interview tomorrow morning for the role of your PA. If that doesn’t pan out -because of anyone's request outside of your own- I still want a good-paying job with decent benefits. Okay?”

“Okay, I’ll cut it short, you’re hired.”

“Please, I don’t need your pity.”

"Oh, don't worry, I wouldn't hire you out of pity. It's because of what you did just now. I gave you barely any details, and you came up with a sub-par solution." Satisfied with his answer, he reaches over and takes a sip of my coffee. 

"Sub-par says I go out, find your bodyguard, and drag him back here." He visibly aspirates, coughing into a napkin for a minute or so. I got up, got a straw, and returned. By the time I sat down, he had regained most of his composure.

"You had a good plan that led to a good solution," gesturing to himself, "I'm a rich asshole. Are we happy?” A slight rasp remained in his voice.

“Sufficiently. I accept the role of your PA, Mr. Stark. When should I start?"

"After your interview with Ms. Potts. You did say that if anyone aside from me was against you as my PA, you'd be fine with it."

I leaned back, covering my eyes with my hand, ”Yeah, I did."

"Don't try denying it. JARVIS has been recording- I'm sorry, what did you just say?"

"I fully acknowledge and stand by my previous statement. And, did you just admit to illegally recording our conversation?” My other hand raised pointing at him, “If so, that would be quite unfortunate for you and Stark Industries.” I separated my fingers to see his shocked yet slightly confused expression.

"Well, shit.”

I lowered my hand to the arm of the chair, tilting my head slightly, “Did you think I wouldn’t own up to my word? Please, Tony -can I call you Tony? I’m going to call you Tony- I do have morals, they’re a bitch, but they’re there. When I make promises, I follow through with them.” I look down at my lap, my hands wrapped around my stomach, “I hate people who break their promises. They are the worst kind of people. All that does is hurt those around them, but they’re too self-centered to realize that until it’s too late- sometimes even then it doesn’t click.” I glance up, he’s leaning closer to me, a worried look plastered across his face.

I straighten, collect my things, and move to get up, “I suppose I’ll see you at my interview tomorrow, Mr. Stark.” I walk away and out of the café, hearing the bell ring as I walk out.

I fell face down into my bed, arms spread out. “I just met THE Anthony Edward Stark and acted like it was no big deal. What is wrong with me?” I grabbed a pillow, held it to my chest, curled up into the fetal position, and screamed. “How could I have acted like it was nothing? He’s an A-list celebrity and I just brushed it off!” I prop up onto my elbows, my hands extending forward.

I spent the afternoon and evening just watching TV and reading. While I didn’t typically read graphic books, Hemingway and Remarque’s book had been sitting in my collection untouched for far too long, and it wasn’t necessarily a horrible way to finish the day. About halfway through “All Quiet On The Western Front” I realized just how depressing this book was and how glad I hadn't gone over it with my high school classes. The case remained much the same for “A Farewell to Arms”.

My phone alarm went off, signaling it was time to start getting ready for bed. I got up to grab it, shutting off the tone. I stood up, went to the bathroom, completed my nightly routine, and set out my clothes for my interview, although it seemed I had been hired in all but formalities.

I woke up the next day with a slight ache in my bones but, nothing like the previous day. I got ready and headed out to the Stark Industries headquarters. When I arrived I wasn’t necessarily shocked. The lobby was sleek and modern, bustling with the morning rush. I walked up to the receptionist, an older woman, and told her that I was there for the interview for the role of Mr. Stark’s assistant. I confirmed she looked me up and down before saying my name aloud. She handed me a card, stating it was a single use and would be deactivated once I left the building before pointing me to the elevator, guarded by the head of security, Mr. Stark’s bodyguard, Happy Hogan.

I walked over he looked at me slightly puzzled as I walked up to the elevator, sliding the activated card. It took a moment or two before the door opened and I could not be happier. I walked in and the doors shut. 

“Crap, I didn’t get the floor.” I placed my face in my hand, aggravated at my forgetfulness.

An electronic voice rang out, “I believe I can be of some assistance, Mx.”.

I screamed, “What the fuck?” I backed into a corner, grabbing the rails.

“Apologies, I seem to have startled you. I’m JARVIS, Mr. Stark’s AI.”

“O-okay? Can you send me up to Mrs. Potts’ floor?”

“Of course.”

The elevator ride passes quickly thanks to Stark’s AI. As the doors open JARVIS informs me that the door on the right leads to Ms. Potts’ office. I walk up to the door and knock, ”Come in!” A voice calls out. I open the door and introduce myself.

Ms. Potts was a taller woman with blonde hair. She ran around frantically, “I’m so sorry, an urgent business meeting just came up. Would it be okay to reschedule your interview?”

“Yes, yes, of course. These things happen, I understand. Is there anything I can do to help?” I move close to her desk.

The look on her face shows she didn't expect my reaction. "Um, yes. In one of the piles over there. There should be twelve documents with the keywords Stark v. Hammer." She points over the corner where there are three medium-sized piles of papers

"Oh, is that all?"

"Yes, thank you. My assistant has been on sick leave for two weeks and my office has become an absolute mess." I hear the clink of metal on the ground. She squats down, looking for whatever it was that had fallen.

"Really, it's no problem. I've worked in worse offices, this is nothing."

"What do you mean?"

"The lawyer I worked for in college. He was a mess. He wouldn't let anyone move his things, so it just stayed that way until he needed a specific paper or file, and then he would send me looking. Apparently, he did that to all of his assistants after one of them, about five years before me, lost one of the major papers in a big case for the firm. He fired her immediately." I rifled through the paperwork, quickly finding a handful of the documents.

"That sounds horrible, although, from a business person's perspective I can somewhat understand." 

"Yeah, it was crazy. I worked for him for four years and almost feel bad for leaving. He finally adjusted and was comfortable with me going through the records." I had found all but one of the papers at this point and had looked through all three piles with no luck.

"Ms. Potts?"

She stands up, bumping her head on the edge of her desk, "Yes?"

"Sorry, um, are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm fine." She grasps the back of her head, wincing. She's clearly not.

"Are you sure? You hit your head pretty hard."

"Yes, really. What were you asking about?"

"Okay, are you sure all of the papers are over here? There's one missing. I've gone over the stacks at least three times." 

"Yes, of course. They're all there, I could've sworn." She walks over, or at least attempts to as about halfway she grasps her head, a small groan accompanying the action. I run over, offering my arm. She takes my arm, and I lower her to the ground, a quiet 'thank you' thrown in the midst.

There was a small cut on the back of her head, a small amount of blood flowing out. I place my fingers on the cut, using my powers to heal it. A sharp pain found its way to the back of my head for a moment before it fades.

"Thank you. I think I just needed to sit down for a moment. But, yes, all of the papers should be over here. It's odd that there's one missing."

"Could it be in a different stack?"

"It shouldn't be, then again, I haven't exactly been keeping this place clean enough to say. Crap! The meeting's supposed to start in a few minutes."

"How far into the meeting do you need the papers, and how long do you expect this meeting will be?"

"Maybe two-thirds of the way through and half an hour at the shortest. Why?"

"I'm gonna buy you some time, obviously. I'll look through the rest of the papers to find the missing page. Once I find it I'll head over to your meeting room and deliver the papers as if you'd asked for them just before the meeting began. How does that sound?"

She walks up to me and hugs me. As she pulls away she says, "You are a lifesaver! Thank you." She grabs her papers and walks out of her office, presumably to the meeting room as I stand there stunned, unmoving as a stone.

When her trance breaks, I start moving around the room, quickly checking each pile for the missing paper. I tried to stay in the general area she originally pointed me to with no luck. I slowly moved towards the desk, it was the only place I hadn't checked yet.

I went through the different stacks before finding the paper in the third, guess it really was the charm. I collected all of the papers in a manilla folder, finishing it off with a paperclip -just as a precaution. As I went to grab the door handle JARVIS told me which meeting room they were on.

I walked out to the small foyer between the two offices and entered the elevator. JARVIS took me to the correct floor.

I walked up to the door of the meeting room Ms. Potts was in and knocked on the door before entering. I looked inside to see a variety of old, white businessmen and Ms. Potts in front of a projector explaining something I wasn't about to pretend I understood. She looked relieved. 

I walked in just enough to where I could close the door, "Apologies, Ms. Potts, is this a bad time? I have the paperwork you requested."

"Oh no, not at all." She walked over to me, taking the folder from my hands. "Thank you." She whispered.

"It was no problem at all, Ma'am. Would you like me to continue working in your office, or go home for the day?"

"Please, wait in my office." She tipped her head slightly, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed.

I excused myself and headed back to Ms. Potts office. I waited for her in one of the armchairs at her desk. I checked my phone and realized I hadn't read the e-mail from Scott yet. I opened his message, the contents shocking me.

'Hi, I know it's been a while since we've talked, I mean really talked. I'm sorry, I chose a girl who saw me as the second choice over the person who's been my best friend practically since we met. I'm leaving the mansion too. Things have been crazy here. The professor is making Jean and Logan sub for all the classes you used to teach, and he'll be doing so for every teacher who leaves because of what happened. I'm planning on moving back to Anchorage. My parents left the house to Alex, but he gave everything to me in his will, making it mine. That house has to be 80 or so years old now, it's going to need a lot of repairs. I'll send you the address once it's all fixed up, maybe have some tea and catch up. 

See you someday,

Scott.'

[haithamuse]

☆ 06.47 AM ─── FT. ALHAITHAM

another alhaitham repost in celebration for him finally coming home ♡

cw. none, sfw ! 0.9k wc

“We’ll need to hurry up if we want to reach Port Ormos by mid day”, Alhaitham spoke his thoughts out loud with his eyes trained on the pocket watch in his hand. Earlier this morning, he stirred awake only to find the bedside empty. Uncharacteristically you had woken up before him for once, ready to go out at the crack of dawn.

“Why are you awake?”, he had asked you with his voice still groggy from sleep. He thought he must be dreaming, as you’d usually throw a fit should you be required to wake up at the same time as him. Much to the Scribe’s surprise, he was met with your unusually cheerful demeanour as you replied, “I’m gonna join you on your trip today.”

Alhaitham rose an eyebrow and his suspicion grew. What were you up to?

Silence.

“No.”

He sighed at the memory, because you had straight up ignored his words and followed him on his journey anyway. Reluctantly he then finally agreed to take you with him, because he’d rather be there to protect you if he couldn’t fight your stubbornness.

It wasn’t like he disliked travelling with you, but he didn’t like to involve you in his work. As much as he loved you, he despised how work seemed to progress slower when you were there to distract him. He didn’t like how he couldn’t say no to you, but he’d hate it even more if anything were to happen to you because of him.

Which is why despite the soft grass underneath your feet, Alhaitham immediately noticed when he didn’t hear your footsteps behind him. There was a slight edge to his voice when he turned around and called out your name.

He felt relief wash over him when he saw that you had merely stopped, though his concern resurfaced when you didn’t reply to his call. Your back was turned towards him, your figure simply overlooking the cliff before you.

“What’s the matter, love?”, he softly inquired as he approached you. As much as he disliked wasting time, all of that mattered little in comparison to your safety and well-being. You let out a sound of surprised, caught off-guard to see him standing next to you. Though quickly, your expression morphed into a smile once you spotted the figure of your partner. “Let’s stay here for a bit”, you decided, leaving his question unanswered in the process.

“Why?”, the frown on his face deepened − you’ve told him numerous times that he’ll grow wrinkles soon if he kept doing that. “Are you tired?”

Once again, you didn’t answer his question. With a giggle you shook your head and finally turned around to face your lover. “Just for a few minutes”, you pleaded. “For me, please?”

Silence ensued as Alhaitham wasn’t sure how to react. He was confused and wanted to ask more questions, but upon seeing the pleading look on your face he finally relented with a sigh. “Alright, what are you up to this time?”

You feigned offense, “Usually, I should be the one asking that!”

Your response elicited a chuckle from the man and before you could push him away in a teasing manner, he was once again a step ahead of you. In the blink of an eye you were pulled flush against his chest, a yelp escaping your throat as you grew bashful from the sudden proximity.

You stood steadfast in his grip and Alhaitham smirked down at you, seemingly satisfied with turning the tables. “Well, are you gonna tell me or not?” His voice was barely above a whisper, yet his words were crystal clear to you as you felt his hot breath on your cheeks.

You loathed how he never failed to catch you off-guard, always keeping you on your toes despite being devoted to each other. Almost as if it was second nature, your eyes flickered down towards his lips and you could swear that you saw his shit-eating grin growing further. It was way too tempting to lean down and connect your lips with his, though you didn’t relent. You were not going to let him sway you so easily.

In an instant, Alhaitham’s smirk dropped from his lips and his expression morphed into a frown once again when you pressed two fingers against his lips. “Just.. watch, okay?”, you bid him. Your voice matched the volume of his own, but his teasing tone was replaced by your soft one.

Taking advantage of the Scribe’s confusion, you wriggled in his grasp and turned around in his arms just in time to see the first rays of sunshine. You didn’t have to see the look on his face when he lifted his head to look to the horizon, as the slight hitch of breath from his throat was enough for you to know.

And suddenly, Alhaitham realised why you had insisted to come with him. He recalled a conversation you’ve had in the early stages of knowing each other − how exasperated, yet charmed you were with his demeanour.

‘You know’, the memory was etched into his brain, as if the exchange had only happened yesterday. ‘You should really stop for a second and appreciate the small things in life.’

wanna be notified of when i post? click here.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Can I get a poly!yandere alpha werewolf pack where we are an omega and we don't know it, as omega are very precious and rarely found the pack takes it upon them to keep us safe , sound and satisfyed and breeded full with pups....I love ur works very much author-nim🥰❤

😳

Thank you nim🥰 ❤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

A hundred years ago this would probably be a lot harder for you 

Probably them seeing you on a chance encounter

Before dragging you to their den in the forest before smothering and stuffing you in an insane and aggressive dogpile

But nowadays they’ve mellowed 

Or at least some of them have and lucky for you you have whole pack just like that

Consisting of 2 alphas and 2 (special case) betas 

Typically considered head-Alpha is Nero Nakamura

Who also happens to be a silent billionaire that runs his company with an iron-fist

He’d like to run his home life the same way but that couldn’t ever be a possibility when you have characters like Rori Tongs in control

Rori is a world-reknowned model and coach for Olympic swimmers

He’s sly he’s domineering and he loves nothing more than to make his fellow alpha squirm

His alphaness is more like a switch he chooses to turn on rather than a constant agenda but any of his betas or omega on the line and he’s an absolute villain

Next tier in their relationship Suki Nakamura the beta with alpha like tendencies that can woo even Nero into submission

He’s Nero’s number one assistant or was until he politely asked pummeled Nero into giving him a smaller role in the company, a manager position

He’s often called during business emergencies or whenever his Ceo is feeling peckish so he’s not above calling in his own favors

And last on the hierarchy until you come along is Eve Tongs

A shy and quiet beta with omega tendencies

Who’s constantly fighting off being bred because

“It’d be weird if I looked pregnant all the time!”

He says his worry is about being discovered but really he doesn’t want to close his shop to be heavily pregnant all alone

But now that you’re in the picture it won’t nearly be as bad: 

“Aww darling, no need to cry Suki’ll be back from the store with your craving snack.”

Rori cooed rubbing your swollen belly as he peppered your neck with kisses. You were crying again and while part of it was your craving for your typical low-priced meals it was a side-effect of your absolute confusion. Whoever you met at work or on your daily commute somehow goaded you into their trap of a penthouse. Which sooner than you could gather had you plump and at the whim to the multiple men who claimed to be werewolves. 

“I-I d-don’t understand, w-why is this happening?”

You continued to sob as Nero only seemed to pull you closer to him. Nero who had been in the room over came in sensing your distress cuddled on your other side to massage your head. 

“Love, I’m sure it's hard to realize this but as werewolves there's an order that we live by. I’m sure you’ll adapt as we go through our life together.”

“Yeah baby, you’ll get used to it!” 

You shook your head, resisting the weird calm that was being brought over you as the two men cuddled up against you. More tears fell from your eyes and you pushed away their affections unsuccessfully.

“Uhm m-maybe they don’t believe us about the…uh…werewolf thing…”

A silence formed as everyone had realized they never really did show you. Eve spoke from experience, he too was especially skeptical when Rori first came to him. Rori immediately perked up.

“Oh well that's an easy fix!” 

Immediately a pair of wolf-ears flicked out from his head and a tail from his lower back. Nero did the same and so did Eve. Stunned to silence you immediately stopped crying to just take in the strange sight. Hearing the door open Suki returns with store bags hanging from his arms.

“Oh! You guys are having a tails and ear party without me?!” 

He too flicks his own ears and tails out as he begins preparing the snack he just fetched. Still stunned you just sat still as Eve kneeled in front of you laying his head on your stomach before knowingly whispering. 

“After this liter is born you’ll turn into one too.”

[danandphillussy]

Boygenius, meet Boygenius.

Erm a really really short Spencer blurb that i thought of the other day. I wanna be able to show him new things and force him to listen to my music... sigh. Probably will do a part 2 of his reaction, if only to feed my own delusions. Anyways :3

Word count: 672

Warnings: Just tooth-rotting fluff and my horrible writing!

“So boygenius, you ever heard of Boygenius?” 

It was a paperwork day; quiet, boring (and quite frankly miserable). Even cool FBI profilers had paperwork, and it was just as tedious as finding a needle in a stack of other needles. Hotch was locked away in his office and the rest of the team were all working at their desks. 

But you, you’ve had enough. It’s been hours since you’ve heard anyone's voice other than the one in your head repeatedly screaming at how boring this is. As Reid is the one closest to you, sharing an opposite desk, you decide to annoy him for at least a little fun. He looks up from the stack of papers he was working on-

 “Huh?” 

“I know your head is buried 6 ft under a rock when it comes to pop culture, but surely the boygenius has heard of Boygenius.” 

You smirked knowing how the gears in his head were probably spinning crazy right now. He never understood a damn thing you were saying, it was endearing really, the way he would look at you and tilt his head in confusion. When you had first met him, you truly didn’t understand the magnitude of his gap in knowledge. He was the smartest person in every room, surely he’ll understand this niche reference… nope. He just stared at you blankly when you tried to make a joke about the latest internet drama and you very quickly learnt that this man only had a phone to text people. Not even a private instagram account to stalk people on. At first, you found it strange and wondered how the hell he kept up with the world. When you found out he still reads the daily newspaper you had to excuse yourself from the room and take a walk before you exploded. So adorable. His confused voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“I’m assuming you may be talking about a musical artist, in which case no… you know that.” 

He sounded embarrassed, as he always did when he failed to understand your references or miss a joke. You never intended to make him feel that way, it was just so easy to tease him when most of it went over his head. 

“Well, we indeed must fix this issue as soon as humanly possible… you free tonight?” 

You have to muster up more courage than you have when talking to Reid, knowing he’s far too awkward or nervous to say anything ever. So you put on an act in hopes that he or the rest of the team can't see right through you. But it seems to be working when he is much too busy trying to hide the blush creeping onto his cheeks and act casual. 

“Uh… yes I am not doing anything of importance tonight. Why exactly?”

“Because you are coming over to my place and I am introducing you to Boygenius aka the best band to ever exist.” 

You trail off before remembering yourself…

“Only if you want… of course.” 

You begin to think he’s trying to find a way to kindly refuse your offer, the way his eyes are darting around the bullpen with his fingers nervously twisting together before he blurts out-

“That would be great! I mean, yeah sounds good. Do you want me to come straight from work or…”

“You can just come home with me, probably easier. You’re gonna love them, don't worry.”

Satisfied with your conversation, you turn back to your computer and try to ignore the racing of your heart. The work is still as boring as it was before but now you have something to look forward to. The shine in Spencer's eyes when he discovers something new and the part of his lips as he immerses himself in whatever music you’re forcing him to listen to. You have to force the smile off of your face before anyone notices and god forbid puts two and two together…

You are hopelessly in love with the BAU’s boygenius.

[darsynia]

Hand(s) Off (Complete) | Ch 6: Fantasy

(Steve Rogers/f!Reader sex pollen-esque multichapter)

STORY MASTERLIST | STEVE MASTERLIST | SERIES | PREV

Summary: You and Steve have to navigate the aftermath of the overexposure to Mistress, and something tells you that your mood swings and inability to self-satisfy is directly related to the drug…

Length | Warnings: 4,030 | masturbation MINORS DNI

Fill: Adoptable ‘Pheremones’ from @allcapsbingo

Tags (please request!): @starryeyes2000 @munstysmind @ronearoundblindly @chickensarentcheap @themaradaniels @tiny-anne @deepbatched @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @wolfstar-marvelsfan @icequeen1371 @chibijusstuff @nekoannie-chan @brooke0297 @caplanreads @mrsevans90 @hails270105 @venusfalling @zzz000eee

Fantasy

Steve doesn’t take sex lightly. He doesn’t take attraction lightly either, and that’s what makes everything so confusing, because he likes you. Most of what he knows about you comes from Bucky, despite the time you two have spent near each other, and while these positive, protective things he’s feeling seem logical, there’s no way they’re natural.

Bottom line: Steve doesn’t think he can trust his gut when it comes to you. His gut says you’re exactly the sort of girl he wants to get to know. He wants to bring you flowers, take you to a baseball game, maybe hold your hand as he walks you back from a date. All things he’s skipped right past, thanks to Mistress. All things he might not have wanted, if it weren’t for the way the two of you met.

All things he maybe shouldn’t want at all, if Bucky wants them too.

Steve levers himself off of you with a hand on the wall and one on your shoulder, careful to project as much respect as he can, despite what’s just happened. He can still feel the echo of your satin-smooth skirt on his fingers, and that’s private enough, given the other after-effects of the explosive kiss you've just shared. Backing away quietly, he stops after just a few steps to watch you, telling himself it’s not to admire the way the deep breaths you’re taking accentuate your breasts. No, he’s watching your closed-eyed expression shift between secretly pleased and embarrassed.

“Did you take out the earpiece?” you ask quietly.

“I threw it,” he admits, and your eyes open to look at him first in shock, then in amusement, and then both of you fully crack up. The laughter is such a release, such a relief, that he’s wiping amused tears from the corners of his eyes when the door opens.

Bruce sends you both giggling again when he says, in an Annoyed Dad Voice, “The preliminary test results are in.’

“So let me see if I have this right,” you say fifteen minutes later, folding your hands on the conference table in front of you. “You detected pheromones in the enclosure, an unusually high level of them.” Banner nods. “They’re recognizably pheromones but not anything you’ve seen before, and there’s two kinds?”

“Three,” Steve says in a stunned voice, trying to be helpful even now.

“Well, technically the third one is a combination of the other two, one from each of you, and it’s so complex I’m not sure I can call it a pherom--” Banner cuts off as Dr. Lyonne clears her throat beside him. “Sort of, yes.”

You and Steve are on one side of the long table, with the two doctors at the other. It feels like you’re at a hostile takeover meeting, where two sides negotiate how much freedom the defeated company will have-- except you and Steve are the ones who have been taken over, and the answer on freedom is as yet unclear.

“Okay, setting aside the third one, then.” You pull in a deep breath and let it out. There will be time to freak out about everything they’re telling you another time, when you’re not in the middle of learning about it. “You’re saying we were both hot and horny for an unnaturally long time with Mistress in our systems, and that made the drug… teach our bodies to create these pheromones? Are you sure you don’t want to go get the Ancient Aliens guy to deliver this news?”

Banner does a wince-chuckle and looks down at the table. When he looks up, his expression is the same bleak, apologetic one he’d started with. “Yeah, I know it sounds ridiculous, but this is clearly alien biology. I doubt it helps at all, but if it hadn’t been for what happened to you two, we’d be a lot more in the dark about this.”

“You’ll need to study us to figure out how to reverse it,” Steve breaks in. You look over at him, note that his back isn’t touching the chair. If there’s an ‘official’ way to sit in a chair as a military man, that’s what he’s doing.

“If it helps, my husband and I are also submitting samples. I imagine we’ll need to come in and have you check to see if we give off any pheromones?” Dr. Lyonne says, looking to Banner.

He’s nodding gravely. “Yes. Without the accompanying symptoms, I doubt there are any, particularly not this long since the incident. At the level that we detected them from you two, though…” He gestures to your side of the table. “You say you were about forty, fifty feet apart at the performance, but both of you felt better last night, and even better today?”

You feel Steve’s eyes on you as you nod, and you can tell by Banner’s look of satisfaction that you’ve both responded in the affirmative; he pushes back from the table, obviously uncomfortable with the boardroom setting.

“Ok, we have an imperfect two-week sample, I’d like to have both of you come in every day for two weeks. Obviously I can’t take blood every day, but I’ll set up something to detect the pheromones.”

Dr. Lyonne swivels to face Banner as he paces the windows. “How about we split a lab in three, have each of them enter separately, meet in the middle after we get their individual resul--”

“We’d compensate you both for this, of course,” Banner breaks in. You see Dr. Lyonne’s wry smile and wonder if she’s used to having ideas so good her boss wants to move on before she’s fully articulated them. She seems like a strong enough personality to handle it, at least.

“I’m happy to help, but I can’t take any money. It wouldn’t be right.”

“We’re not paying you for sex, Rogers,” Lyonne says, a challenging look on her face.

Even though you’re not looking at him, you can feel Steve’s dismay. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t need to be paid for something I’d be--”

He cuts himself off, and there’s enough unsated lust simmering in your system to enjoy the possibilities of that sentence. I don’t need to be paid for something I’d be doing anyway.  

“Steve, you have to understand, it’s unethical for me not to pay you for this. The city, the planet needs the information we’ll be collecting, and I hate that it’ll take so long, given what we’re learning,” Banner says, walking over to grip his abandoned chair. He looks agitated but not angry. “Ideally you’ll both be anonymous, but how do you think anyone’s going to take my results studying an aphrodisiac if they realize that one of the subjects aren’t compensated for their time? No one will believe the results are genuine!”

“All right, but if we’re going to mention ethics, I want to point out that it’s not ethical to force Dee to participate in this at all, paid or not.”

Banner pulls in a breath, but you turn your chair and say, “Wait. Steve, I get it. You chose the serum-- but Tony Stark didn’t choose the magnet in his chest. Bucky didn’t choose--”

“Okay, I hear you,” Steve says, reaching out to put his hand over yours where you’d been holding on to the edge of the table. The immediate calming effect is almost annoying, and you glare at him for a second, sending his eyebrows skyward.

“You don’t feel that? It’s like a mini injection of Xanax or something,” you grouse.

A notebook slides across the table, followed by a pen you have to spin your chair around and pull free of Steve to grab before it falls to the floor.

“Write that down?” Dr. Lyonne’s scarlet lipstick’d grin is almost predatory.

“I feel it,” Steve belatedly answers under his breath to you as Lyonne and Banner confer across the room in urgent voices. You pause your writing  mid-sentence, biting your lip. This turns Steve bashful adorable, like that helps any, saying, “Shoot, sorry. I’ll just--” and getting up.

“I assume you want me to keep away from Steve except during the tests, but what about Bucky?” you ask aloud, covering for everything that’s chaotic inside your body and your mind right now.

Steve speaks up, quick and gruff. “That’s right, if the two of them want to start dating, how will that--”

“Steve! That’s not--” Your body is tuned for pleasure today, and this sends you images of Bucky you’ve never pictured with your waking mind before. A challenging smile, his arm held out in expectation that you’ll of course take it, the sexy fit of his leather jacket and your secret knowledge of what’s underneath… 

You press your eyes closed and open them to see three very interested pairs of eyes focused on you.

“Bucky is my friend,” you say, a twinge of guilt at the boundaries you’d just mentally crossed making your tone more brittle than necessary. “I was asking because the two of them live together. Are you expecting me to stay away from anywhere Steve could be, to avoid contaminated pheromone test results?”

Dr. Lyonne leans close to Banner to say something you don’t catch, and he nods before saying, “To be honest, I haven’t thought through all of the logistics. How about the two of you figure out a good time of day to stop by for testing, so there’s at least 22 hours between each, and I’ll get back to you on that question? Say, this weekend?”

“Four days,” Steve says. “Do you want us to stay apart in that time?”

You have no idea how you want that question to be answered.

“I uh, hmm.” Banner puts his hands on his hips and scrunches up his face, clearly thinking. “Better start the habit of once a day, so it’s easier, come Monday?”

“Phrasing!” Dr. Lyonne groans, waving Banner off with one hand and gesturing at the two of you frantically. “Run! Shoo! Before he starts getting more descriptive!”

You get home at lunch time and lean up against the apartment door after you lock it. Your roommate won’t be home for hours, and now that you’re alone, all you can think about is Steve Rogers’ frantic lips on yours.

Closing your eyes, you go through the motions of stripping off your ‘outside armor’ as you relive those heady moments. Toeing one shoe off leads to a few seconds of remembering the way his fingers dragged along the nape of your neck before he asked to kiss you. On your way to your bedroom, you drop your bag on the back of the couch, then steady yourself on it, thinking about that first exquisite swipe of his tongue against yours.

You almost turn your ankle in the hallway because you forgot to take off your other shoe.

The heat of embarrassment quickly shifts back to arousal when you’re finally in your bedroom, with the door locked behind you. That’s when you realize your keys are still in your hand. You usually hang them up on a hook, or at the very least, put them in your bag.

“Completely wrecked for Steve Rogers,” you say aloud.

Fuck, even his name sounds different to you. Instead of living in your memory banks as Bucky’s childhood friend, someone decent and good and loyal, he’s… well, right now he’s a taste in your mouth. One you can’t get enough of.

You leave your skirt in the middle of the floor.

Shirt and bra go flying in the general direction of your dresser. Something in the back of your mind tells you that it’s a terrible idea to associate that particular paragon of values and virtue with hedonistic, desperate pleasure, but you cannot possibly bring yourself to care. Not with the memory of Steve Rogers’ lips latched to your neck. Not with his need-distorted sounds of assent vibrating through you.

Your fingers feel clumsy as you rush your device from the drawer, accidentally striking the button that starts the pulsating rhythm you love most. Grateful for the privacy of a silent, empty apartment, you throw yourself diagonally on your bed. The toy in your hand sounds far too loud to be decent, and god, the ghost of Steve Rogers is invading every inch of you today, isn’t he?

There are places on you he hasn’t been, your mind supplies as you settle into the silky indulgence of your sheets. Setting the vibrator next to your head but not turning it off, you slide your hand down to slip the tips of your fingers past the waistband of your panties. Don’t touch your breasts. Pretend he wants to, but he won’t let himself.

That thought has you arching your hips up, your eyes clenched shut. God, your naughty mind is turning the taboos of this whole situation into something delicious, and you can’t be fucked to care.

Honestly, given the taboos of this whole situation, ‘can’t be fucked’ is likely to be true, and is that fair? No.

Grabbing your blanket, you throw the edge over your eyes and let yourself picture Steve Rogers trapped in the room, able to see you, unsure of whether to participate. Your nipples tighten at the thought, and you push your fingers down, finding your folds wet with the wanting of him. Shit, you’re in it now, because you used to let yourself imagine a faceless man, someone who wanted everything you had to give. Now all you can imagine is Steve, as though his broad shoulders have taken up the entire doorway in your mind, intimidating anyone else who might have designs on you.

“Oh, fuck!” you voice, grabbing the toy-- because the thought of a jealous Steve has ramped you up to Mistress levels of desire. You’d told yourself the whole journey home that the first thing you needed to do was try to come. Sure, you’d orgasmed today and it had been glorious, but this-- As you fit the toy exactly where you like it most (panties on for your imaginary guest), an outrageous thought occurs, and you're already indulging yourself, so why not keep going? “For science,” you gasp aloud, rocking your hips.

Would Steve disapprove of this display? Would he watch, or stop you?

Would he join you?

With your eyes tightly closed and the weight of the blanket preventing you from seeing anything, you can feel Steve's presence in the room, even though you know he isn’t there. The thought that your desire is linked with his, that maybe right now it belongs to him in a twisted, dangerous way heightens every buzz and touch, and your orgasm rolls over you with powerful certainty.

Bruce and Dr. Lyonne are deep in discussions of their plans when you leave, and Steve doesn’t want to interrupt. Truthfully, he’s glad he can be a help with these tests. As he rides up in the elevator to his apartment, the reassuring thought strikes him that few users are likely to resist the aphrodisiac pull of the drug. He hopes that means not many people are caught up in this strange cycle of desire and proximity.

Bucky’s in the living room watching a movie when Steve lets himself in. There are no messages for JARVIS to inform him about, and he grabs some water before walking over to see what film it is. Bucky’s face is wary, confused, even concerned, enough so that he doesn’t notice Steve until he sits down.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. This--” Buck hits pause on a scene that looks so similar to the torture he’d described under HYDRA that Steve grabs the remote and shuts the whole thing off. “You don’t have to do that. I’ve got a--” Bucky feels his pocket, the surface of the couch beside him, lifts up a book Steve’s been reading to get to sleep over on the table. “Lost it already, that figures. Dee wrote out the scenes I should skip. It’s The Matrix.”

Steve hasn’t heard of it, but he knows what his friend is like. “This one of the ones you’re supposed to skip?”

“Yeah,” Bucky grins. “She’ll probably yell at me.”

“Only if watching it messes you up,” Steve says, shoving the rim of his glass to his lips for a sip, so he doesn’t say anything stupid about you. The secret that he’d touched you again burns his mouth like bourbon.

Bucky gets up and stretches, backing away from the couch so the movements don’t hit Steve. “You get those tests done?”

“You could have warned me you were planning to send her over,” Steve says. His voice sounds more unhappy than he’d meant to show, so he frowns, which makes things worse.

“Would you have gone?”

Steve tries to think of an answer that isn’t a lie, and when he can’t, he looks down and shakes his head. “What if I tell you Bruce wasn’t ready?”

“Banner was like a kid in a candy store, I can tell you that without even being there,” Bucky says. “You figure anything out?”

The array of ‘yes’ answers to that aren’t safe to say aloud, Steve decides. “He thinks it’s changed us, taught our bodies to make some kind of chemical that messes us up until we’re close enough to swap our individual versions, I guess. He wants us to meet up once a day for two weeks to test it, starting Monday.”

Bucky sets a firm hand of reassurance on his shoulder from behind the couch, and Steve lets out a sigh he didn’t realize he was holding in.

“That’s good-- the part where he figures it out, I mean. The two of you haven’t been yourselves.”

“She doesn’t deserve this, Buck.”

“Good thing it’s you, then.”

Steve reaches up, squeezes his friend’s hand, and then gets up. “That’s not the message your fist sent me,” he teases. It’s a risky thing to say; the punch had been thrown after Steve’s low-ebb, frustrated, self-flagellating comment that Bucky was just mad it wasn’t him in the room with her.

“If you didn’t get the message, I’d be happy to send it again,” Bucky shrugs. “Your room’s ready, by the way. All new furniture put in this morning, while you were gone.”

It’s an out, and Steve takes it, grabbing the laundry basket of his clean clothes and heading into the hallway. As reported, his room is completely redone. He stands in the doorway and blinks at it for a few minutes, then asks JARVIS to dial up a number. He could do it on his phone, but this feels more appropriate.

“Hey, Cap,” Tony says on the second ring. “Guessing you saw the room.”

“This is too much, Tony,” Steve says, walking over to touch the clearly antique dresser. It looks exactly like the one in his parents’ bedroom, so much so that he wouldn’t put it past Stark to have done the research to find out the exact model, rather than making a lucky guess.

“Don’t chew through your sense of obligation, Steve, it’s not all vintage. There have been much-needed improvements to mattress design and bed construction in those middle decades.” There’s a pause, and then Tony says, “You wouldn’t have stayed in there at all if I’d have done it starting out, admit it.”

He’s got a point, but Steve can’t let it go. “This had to cost--”

“Well, yeah!” Tony sounds amused, not annoyed. “Would you rather I spend that money on weapons? Tell you what, you try it out with your girl, and I’ll--”

“Tony!” Steve had specifically wanted to avoid thinking about you and his bed in the same mental breath, and Tony Stark had just blown those good intentions all to hell within five minutes of walking into his remodeled bedroom. That thought had come before the objection that you’re not ‘his girl,’ actually, and Steve’s stunned speechless with that realization.

“I saw you called with the room speaker, figured I’d rile up Barnes if he was around,” Tony says, completely undeterred. “Anyway, you’re worth it, end of conversation.”

The phone call cuts out without even an apology from JARVIS.

Steve looks around the room again. Every piece of his new furniture is familiar, not to mention entirely different from the utilitarian set up that had come with the room. He sets the basket down, noting that the blanket you’d covered yourself with that day is neatly folded and laid across the foot of the bed. Oddly, that helps with his qualms; just like the room, he’s been remodeled after a crisis, and things have been added against his better judgment. Even with all the same furniture back, things would remind him of you. The solution isn’t to change everything. It’s to adapt.

Just thinking about you is sending his heartbeat racing, but Steve tries to tamp back the impure thoughts and gets on with the task of putting away his clothes. 

The bottom drawer sticks as he pushes it back in. He has to blink a few times to regulate his emotions-- and then, a thought occurs.

Steve’s knock on Bucky’s bedroom door is loud and insistent.

“All right, hold on!”

When the door opens, Bucky’s in a tank top and shorts, and some of his long hair is stuck to his face with sweat. The image hits Steve in a place he hasn’t considered in years, in decades, really, but that’s not why he’s here. He shoves that all away and cranes his neck to see into the room.

“I knew it!” Bucky crows. “You wanted to see if they gave me 40’s stuff too, didn’t you? They did.” He backs up to let Steve in.

It’s the suite’s ‘master’ bedroom, and Steve sees that there’s a pull-up bar installed in the doorway to the private bathroom. Just like in his room, the furniture is achingly familiar, right down to the four poster bed and the color light shining from the lamp. He walks over to peer under the shade.

“I guess they can color them, now, ‘cause the old bulbs are illegal,” Bucky supplies. “You gonna be okay?”

“Tony said I was worth it.”

“You are.”

“Well, so are you,” Steve says, his voice thick. “I’m so sorry she was caught up in--”

Bucky punches his shoulder, derailing his apology, but then tugs him into a brief hug. “As long as I can have the two of you back, do whatever you have to. Now, get out of here, I have fifty more of these things to do.”

Steve nods and heads for the door. As he goes, he sees that there’s a rubber grip on the pull-up bar so Bucky doesn’t have to worry about damaging the thing with his metal hand.

Everything about his life in the tower seems to be tuned to his happiness, made for his comfort, encouraging him to feel safe and needed. The only thing missing from the life he used to picture back before the serum is someone to share it with.

Unbidden, he’s struck with an image of you in that gorgeous skirt looking up at him with obvious happiness and desire in your eyes. He can still hear the lovely, expert tones of your voice singing a song he’d loved hearing on the radio. You’ve challenged him, stood up for him, pleased him-- but most of that hadn’t been your choice, not really. Is there a way through this mess that leads to all of you at peace and happy, Bucky included? Or is that completely unrealistic, a fantasy borne out of his need to make decent a situation that is anything but?

Something deep inside him rebels, at this.

You’re a good person, that much is clear. You could have-- heck, you could have filed charges. You could have refused to have anything to do with him. Instead, you’d looked on him with warmth at the performance, and then participated in Banner’s tests in good faith, right up until you realized that the data would be deceptive. You are worth the stress and temptation that it will take to salvage this.

Steve can’t wait to try.

THE END

Next in the series...

mini note: it occurs to me that I should say, that gap in time between the mutual orgasm from last chapter and the chat at the boardroom involves some time for Steve to clean up, hah 💚

[suga-kookiemonster]

satisfy 05 (teaser)

summary⇢ “listen,” taehyung says, eyes wide and eager as he smiles at you. “i figure we can just help each other out. i scratch your back, you scratch mine.” but when you find yourself suddenly in need of a massive favor, exactly how much scratching are you willing to do? pairing⇢ kimline/reader teaser word count⇢ 1k estimated chapter word count⇢ 13k+ rating⇢ 18+ genre⇢ smut | escort!au | ceo!au (kinda)

a/n⇢ HELLO!!! i've been slowly working on this for what feels like forever and i can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel 😭 fingers crossed i can post in the next few weeks, but for now i wanted to share a little snippet. as always, subject to change until i do my final edit--HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS IS GONNA BE A DOOZY 😈

You were even planning on putting on a little makeup, on properly doing your hair for the first time in weeks and giving the bun you had been sporting a rest. However, all it took was a knock on your door to put an end to all those extras.

You frowned at the sound and padded over to your front door, happy you had already thrown on a hoodie to keep yourself warm until the festivities properly started. The sight of a familiar man through the peephole, hands resting comfortably in his slacks, threw you off.

Automatically, your hands were disengaging all the locks, were swinging the door open. “You’re early—”

Whatever words you had next immediately dissipated on your tongue. Taehyung was there, but he apparently came with company. Your mind whirred, trying to come up with a perfectly logical reason for why all three Kim brothers were at your doorstep right now.  

“Your hair,” you blurted, your scrambled brain latching onto the easiest subject first.

“Hmm?” Taehyung ruffled his newly dyed locks, the onyx hue a stark difference from the silver you were used to. “Oh yeah, I guess I haven’t seen you all week. My dad wanted me to dye it to a more ‘appropriate’ color before the conference. But whatever. It was time for a change, anyway. And this will be easier to upkeep.”

You could only continue to stare at him as he spoke, your eyes naturally drifting over his shoulder at your additional visitors. 

All three of them were dressed pretty casually, which was normal for Taehyung and Namjoon, but less so for Seokjin when not in the comfort of his own home. The soft pink of his sweatsuit was a stark contrast to the sharp intelligence of his eyes. He met your gaze for only a few seconds before he was turning to meet Namjoon’s instead, a pinch in his brow. 

Taehyung spoke again before either of them could say anything. “You gonna keep us out here?” he teased, casually leaning against the doorframe.

That finally jumpstarted you out of your haze, scrambling to move out of the way and gesture them inside. “Yes, of course. Come in!” Before your nosy neighbor caught them and assumed you were slutting it up.

(She would technically be right, but still. It was the principle. Your life was none of that judgy shrew’s business.) 

Tae strolled in like he always did—like he owned the place—but you noticed his brothers’ strides seemed a bit more hesitant than the confidence you usually got to witness. Namjoon’s mouth was slightly pursed in the way you’d long learned meant he was thinking. Why did they seem as confused as you did?

“Hi,” you hedged anyway, a small, puzzled smile on your lips. “It’s been a while. Sorry if I’m acting weird—I just wasn’t expecting you, so I’m a little thrown off.”

Understanding immediately crossed Seokjin’s features, but you only got a second to see it before he was whipping towards his youngest brother, appalled. 

Namjoon was looking at him too, clearly irritated. “Are you serious, Taehyung?”

“What?” you asked, gaze flitting between the three of them in hope of finding some clarity. 

“You never asked her?” Seokjin snapped.

Namjoon shook his head. “You know that’s not cool, man.”

“Never asked me what?” you cut in, bemused. 

Taehyung, for his part, looked properly contrite. “I’m sorry,” he told the room, before solidly placing his attention back on you. His eyes were soft and sincere. “It truly slipped my mind, and I’m sorry, _____. I didn’t think.”

“When do you ever?” Seokjin snarked, but you ignored him, focused solely on Taehyung.

“What, Tae?” you encouraged gently. “What are you sorry for?”

It was clear from the hunch of his shoulders that he felt bad. “Um…”

“He invited us to come with him to meet you today,” Namjoon supplied. He gave his little brother a disappointed shake of his head. “But that’s not a decision for him to make. Is it, Tae.”

“I just knew that none of us have seen her in a while,” Tae whined. “And _____, when you reached out yesterday, I figured it would be the perfect opportunity since we’re leaving the country for a few weeks.”

“I should have known better,” Seokjin muttered with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry about this, _____. You never marked group activities as a no and I thought Taehyung actually asked you like an adult, so I just assumed you were on board. I can leave.”

You blinked, still trying to grasp what was going on. “You were…trying to share your time?” you asked Taehyung slowly.

He nodded meekly. “I don’t mind sharing,” came his honest answer.

“But does she,” Seokjin scoffed, eyes narrowing in irritation. “That’s the only thing that matters. And to think otherwise is just selfish, Taehyung.”

“No, no, it’s okay.” The words left your lips before your brain could even register them, likely spurred on by how chastened Taehyung looked. The three of them looked at you in surprise.

“It’s okay?” Namjoon parroted, an eyebrow raised in question.

You swallowed, then gave a nod of confirmation. Because you knew Taehyung had never been trying to trap you. One of the qualities that simply made him him was his spontaneity, and while that made him fun and interesting to be around, it also was a double-edged sword that could end up with situations like this.

Tae knew none of them had seen you in a while, he knew they were soon going to jet out of the country, and had simply been trying to be nice in inviting his brothers along. He didn’t mean any harm.

“It’s okay,” you repeated, giving him a reassuring smile that visibly loosened some of the tension in his body. “You can all stay.”

The words settled between the four of you, heavy in the resulting quiet. Teeming with implication. You still weren’t completely sure what you were agreeing to, but what you did know was that you were going to need something to help stave off the nerves slowly bubbling beneath your skin. You cleared your throat, turning to make your way to the kitchen. “I think I need a drink.”

[peachjagiya]

So I have a question but please don’t take this as an attack and go ham on me, just asking because I am genuinely curious.

Why is it that everytime or almost everytime someone asks a question about somethings which could possibly debunk the idea that taekook are a couple, some tkkrs either answer sarcastically or come up with excuses about how people do not understand subtleties but I see you take every other interaction with every other pairs very literally even though you refuse to do that with taekook. Why? Don’t get me wrong, I understand that some interactions and words do have subtleties that people could easily miss and take very literally but my issue is that I don’t see you treat interactions of other pairs like this. The previous anon who asked about Tae not knowing Jk’s room is what I am talking about. There has been more than one instance of Tae directly stating that he didn’t know Jk’s room and i’m sure that if it was Jimin who ever made a statement like that about Jk, you wouldn’t have tried to find the subtleties but would have taken it quite literally and argued that he did say that so we cannot go arguing with him or calling him a liar. Another good example is how Jk made it quiet clear who he saw during a particularly break and who he didn’t but I have seen some tkkrs make arguments about that trying to say that he obviously couldn’t say everything, which could be true but would you have used that same reasoning if Jk had mentioned not seeing Jimin? Like now, you make arguments against Jikook by saying that Jimin made it clear who he saw and who he didn’t and you see no reason why he would lie but why don’t you make this same argument when taekook also make certain things clear? Like in this case, Tae clearly said he went to Jimin’s room and thought it was Jk’s because Jk was the one who answered the door and greeted him and what this means is that he didn’t know Jk’s room because if he did, he wouldn’t have been confused if it was Jimin’s room or Jk’s room and most especially if Jk is his boyfriend and he visits Jk’s room quiet often.

I just feel like everytime someone brings up some questions about a few things which don’t make sense if taekook are a couple, they are met with sarcastic responses or excuses about how we don’t know everything (which we don’t) but I don’t see you apply this logic to other ships when you argue against them. See the way in the AYS trailer yesterday after Jk said he missed the members, some taekookers already started getting shady with it claiming that he wasn’t satisfied being with Jimin even though during the solo era where everyone knows that Jk was seen hanging out with Tae the most, we still had him on vlives talking about how much he missed his members. Would it have been fair then to say that he said that because he wasn’t satisfied with hanging out only with Tae? What does him missing the rest of his members have to do with the one he is with at that moment? And then your statements about “knowing those who are close irl” always amazes me because there is no way you really believe that Jk is not close to any of his members irl and especially not Jimin whom he is currently enlisted with right now and you could say anything you want to say about enlistment and how he didn’t have a choice or this and that but I think deep down you know that Jk will not enlist with someone he isn’t close to irl and all this subtle jabs you constantly take at Jk’s relationship with Jimin just to prove how “real” taekook is just makes you seem a little insecure because if you really didn’t think anything of jikook you wouldn’t feel the need to try to make statements like “we know who is close irl”

And then your statements about “knowing those who are close irl” always amazes me because there is no way you really believe that Jk is not close to any of his members irl and especially not Jimin

I don't see this as an attack but I do see this for what it is: A jikooker who has simply not read my blog or the blogs of any other tumblr tkkr and is projecting HARD.

No I think you'll find every Taekooker - on tumblr at least - has zero doubt about JK and Jimin's closeness. In fact, I think most army would say they were close. Certainly there have been times when jikookers will say "See? He always chooses Jimin!" and some of us might reply, "Uh does he?"

If you see someone pointing out times JK prioritised others as "jabs" at Jikook, that's a problem I simply can't help you with.

The only doubts about closeness that the TKKRs share is how close jkkrs think they are. Jimin is an exception for JK. Jimin is his priority. Jimin is the one he's closest too. We fundamentally disagree on that.

Jikook have only ever had their closeness celebrated. The same can't be said for Taekook. They have a proven history of company mistruths that never stand up to scrutiny and usually get proven to be lies by JK or Tae themselves. So yeah. I do believe there is lies and truth-twisting when it comes to TKK and not when it comes to JKK. Because what have JKK ever had to hide?

While Taehyung cannot move in JK's direction or breathe a syllable of his name without people saying he's a clout chaser and a liar, and while some groups just point blank refuse to acknowledge any time JK confirms closeness with Tae, I'll continue to believe a company narrative has you fooled.

Insecurity is coming to taekook blogs to extol the virtues of Jikook. Jimin and JK are close and valuable to each other. That fact doesn't threaten me in the slightest. End of story.

(It was anon who said "it's very obvious which people are close irl" not me.)

[thousandfourhundreddays]

Almost Yours, part 1

A/n heyyy, reposting this because I’m wanting to do a part two and it flopped the first time :’)

Part two coming soon ❤️‍🔥

Can you come over? we need to talk

Sending.

Delivered.

Read.

The words had been typed out for hours, never quite bringing yourself to press send. You felt sick, wether it was the nerves or fear, you weren’t sure. Guilt, probably, you thought to yourself. The guilt of having a three month affair, whilst your boyfriend went about life completely oblivious.

Typing.

On my way xx

Unable to even think of a response, you threw your phone down to the side of you, trying to figure out how you were going to break the news to him, and in turn, probably break his heart.

Memories of the past three months raced through your head; the first time you met, the first kiss, the first time you had the most mind blowing sex of your life. But it wasn’t just the sex, maybe it started that way, Mason filling the role of your actual boyfriend who didn’t seem to be able to satisfy you, and definitely didn’t care enough to even try, but it had soon turned into long, heated, passionate nights filled with careful touches and long conversations about anything and everything. You could argue it was perfect, if you forgot about the man waiting at home for you, of course.

I’m outside xx

Before you knew it, 15 minutes had passed and you were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard your phone go off. Letting out a heavy sigh, you stood from the sofa, making your way towards the door. The sight of Masons car in your driveway was a sight you’d seen countless times, that was part of the agreement, never in your house, it was too much of a risk. But the butterflies that usually erupted in your stomach didn’t feel so strong this time, now all you felt was sick as you stepped out into the cold.

You could see him looking at you from the drivers seat, clearly trying to read you, unsure what was to come following your cryptic text.

Wordlessly, you sat in the passenger seat, something that once felt so familiar, made you feel so uneasy.

“Hi” he spoke gently, confusion laced within his voice.

“Hey” you replied, trying your best to smile at him.

He reached for your hands which rested in your lap, his neck craned to try and read your face as your eyes remained firmly trained on your fingers as you anxiously picked at the skin around your nails. You’d planned this conversation so many times in your head, yet now, your mind went completely blank as silence filled the car.

“Y/n? Are you-”

“I can’t do this anymore” you blurted out, trying to keep your voice from wavering.

The silence that followed was painful, your teeth bit harshly into your bottom lip, eyes clamped tightly shut as you tried desperately not to cry; again.

He let go of your hands, the warmth of his skin no longer providing you any comfort as he sat back in his seat, yet his eyes never left you once. You heard him let out a shaky breath, neither of you quite knowing what to say.

“W-what?”

“I said I can’t-”

“I know what you said, y/n” he snapped, and if you didn’t know him so well, you’d think he was angry, but the sadness in his eyes broke your heart more than you thought possible.

“I’m sorry, Mase, I’m so sorry” your words cracked as tears began to spill down your cheeks. “I just can’t do this anymore” you cried desperately. “God- this isn’t me, Mase, I’m not the sort of girl who cheats!”

But you were.

“I hate this! I hate what I’m doing to you, and I hate what I’m doing to him” words poured from your lips after months of being trapped in your mind, desperate to make him not hate you. He never could, of course, but it didn’t feel like that.

“Leave him then” he stated blankly,

“Mason” you warned “you know I can’t”

“Please” tears were now spilling down his own skin, those eyes that had completely captivated you pleading with you not to let him go.

“Please, y/n” his voice was almost silent, almost hopeless as he pulled you closer, his forehead coming to rest against your own. “Please don’t push me away.” he spoke through broken sobs. “We can make this work, I promise. Leave him and come live with me, I don’t care what anyone else thinks… I just want you”

“Mason-” you tried to pull away as you pleaded with him to not make this any harder, but before you could, he pulled you close, holding your cheeks as he pulled you into the most passionate kiss he could manage. And as always, he made you feel alive again, the undeniable spark you shared present, even now. You couldn’t help but kiss him back, your hands coming up to hold his arms, as if if you let go, he’d slip away completely, both of you pouring everything you had into the kiss.

“I love you”

You breath caught in your throat when you heard his words, but somehow it wasn’t a shock. You were both doubtlessly head over heels for each other, it was a bittersweet feeling hearing those words. But you couldn’t help but shake your head,

“I’m sorry” you apologize, for what felt like the one hundredth time, trying your best to stay set on your decision. You felt like you needed to go before you would give into him, so before he could protest, you pulled away, opening the door, but not before taking one last look at him,

“I do” you nodded, looking deep into those eyes that could hold your heart forever,

“love you” you confirmed “but I can’t do this Mase”

And with that, you left the car, walking back to your front door as you realized that he would only ever be almost yours.