#i'm coming back to work next week so this is probably my last project from 2024

[sandsstorms]

new year. new family picture Kim Legacy. 2025

thank you so much @welcometowillowsworld for the pose, it was more than perfect! 🧡

[thezombieprostitute]

Just for You

Summary: When moving from Steve fails because of proximity, you decide to make some changes in your life.

Follow up to Unrequited.

Word Count: ~1.8k

A/N: Reader is female. No other physical descriptors used.

Warnings: Angst. Please let me know if I missed any.

You settled in to your new office. After trying and failing to get over your crush on Steve, you asked for a switch in office partners. Barnes and Steve had projects that were more in line with each other so making them office-mates made sense.

"Trying to get rid of me?" Steve teased when you told him about the move.

"Steve, let's be serious here." His smile drops at your tone. "I asked you out, you said you weren't interested and I continued to try to flirt. I refused to take 'no' for an answer. I even went so far as to try to push you into a dance with me but you probably picked up on that so you danced with everyone else."

Steve's nods in memory of that night.

"Since then, I've tried my damnedest to be professional. To kill the crush. But I can't do that if I'm sitting across from you every single day. Yeah, down the hall isn't much better, but it's something."

"If you ever need a friend--"

"I know, Steve. I promise, I know." You put up a fake smile as you finish packing up your things to trade offices with Barnes.

The next month goes by a lot easier for you. There's still some lingering sadness, but that's the norm for being rejected, right? Every time you see Steve is easier than the last. Nothing but nods shared between the two of you.

A departmental meeting is called by the Department Dean. It's in a small board room but the Dean promises it'll be quick so no one gets too claustrophobic.

"We're going to have a guest in the department next week," he announces. "A famous author who's looking to get some historical accuracy for his next book."

There were some murmurings in the crowded room, comments wondering who the author was.

"His family has donated a lot f money to our university, including our department, so I expect everyone to be polite."

The murmurings become grumblings. If the Dean has to warn you like this, you're not sure this author is worth knowing.

He points to you, "the book he's writing is centered in the period of history you're studying so expect him to be around you more than others. I've told him to respect office hours, but we'll see how that goes."

You nod in understanding as the Dean points to a few others who might be visited. You're not looking forward to this.

There's a single knock at your office door before the visitor comes in and sits across from you. He looks vaguely familiar and has the air of someone who's used to doing what he wants.

"You must be the author I was told was visiting," you say with a customer service smile.

He smiles in return, his less forced. "Yup," he replies, making the "p" pop. "Do you know me? Have you read my works?"

"You look familiar, but I can't place you," you admit.

He smirks and removes his sunglasses. "How about now?"

"Oh! Drysdale!" your eyes widen. "You wrote the Clint Barton Series of urban fantasy mystery novels!"

"You're a fan," he says with a wink. "I think I'm going to like working with you."

"We'll see," you chuckle. "I do have classes to teach, papers to grade and research of my own to do so, going forward, would it be possible to schedule meetings instead of having you drop in unannounced?"

"I prefer to come and go as I please," he purrs. "But I suppose I can make an exception. Just for you." He winks and heat rushes to your face.

As the semester continues Ransom ends up spending more and more time with you, in and out of your office. Sure, he could put on airs and act like an ass, but he was never like that towards you. He even pulled back on his asshole nature when he saw how it could upset you. He kept his mouth shut when your students showed up asking for extensions because they "forgot there was even a paper assigned." Instead he'd joke about it with you afterwards.

It was Ransom's idea to continue your discussion at a restaurant off campus. You were legitimately enjoying talking with him so you agreed. He even offered to drive you there in his BMW that you were scared to touch in case you somehow damaged it.

On the way you asked, "do you always take fans out to dinner?"

Ransom smirks, "I'm making an exception. Just for you."

"I'm honored," you smile as you look away nervously.

"Did you let your boyfriend know where we're going?"

"Oh, I'm not seeing anyone," you're quick to correct him.

He raises an eyebrow. "How the hell are you single? Too busy with work and school or something?"

You shrug. "It just...didn't work out. He wasn't interested."

Ransom scoffs and shakes his head. "Then he's an idiot."

"Or I'm just not his type. I have to accept that."

"No you don't," Ransom counters. "You are allowed to be super petty. You're gorgeous, intelligent and a good person. How is that not someone's type? Is he some bitch boy who needs to be the smart one in the relationship? I'll bet he's an asshole and you're better off."

"He's a good guy," you argue. "Maybe he's gay? Maybe he prefers someone with different interests? It doesn't matter because he's not interested and I've been working hard to move on."

"So you got yourself a rebound? Nice."

"What? No! I'm not that kind of person." You cross your arms, suddenly wondering if this dinner was a good idea.

"That's fair," he backs down. "Though I still maintain you should let yourself be at least a little petty if you interact with him again."

A small smile forms on your face. "I did let myself get more pedantic when he asked for help with his thesis."

Ransom smirks, "very nice."

After that first dinner, Ransom started offering to take you out more often claiming he enjoyed the conversation. You can't deny that you enjoy it as well. Ransom has the ability to make you feel like you're the most important person in the room. At first it made you feel shy, having someone so focused on you. But as you continued to meet for his book, as you continued the conversations outside of your office, you became more and more comfortable around him.

For his part, Ransom continued to soften when he was around you. And only you. When it was just the two of you, he was able to drop the mask of haughtiness and disinterest completely. Even if someone interrupted, he wasn't as mean about it as he once had been.

And then there were the gifts. The end of the semester brought with it final exams for yourself and your students. Ransom promised he was okay with not meeting up for a bit, that he'd use this as time to focus on writing, "using all of the lessons learned from our talks." And while he didn't show up to your office, there were regular food deliveries with a note from him reminding you to take care of yourself. He also bought your department a couple electric kettles so you wouldn't have to microwave water to make your tea as well as a keurig machine. The Dean had made sure to pull you aside to thank you for all the time you put in with Ransom.

But it's not like it was all that difficult for you. Once you worked past his icy, better-than-you exterior, he was actually pretty pleasant to be around. During the time apart, when you'd message him to thank him for the food, you'd sometimes get up the courage to say you missed chatting with him. He really knew how to make you feel special, listened to, appreciated. You didn't realize how much you needed that. And it really helped when you felt like you were drowning in papers to read, grade, research and write!

When things finally died down enough to meet again, Ransom apparently dropped everything so he could visit you. You messaged him that your schedule was now more open and after only an hour he was knocking on your door.

"You look exhausted," he states. "How about a spa treatment? On me."

You chuckle as your face heats up, "that does sound lovely but I've still got things to do. How have you been?"

"Honestly? Miserable." Your eyes soften in sympathy and concern. "I've missed you, too. And, at the risk of making an idiot of myself, I'd like to be more than work partners, more than friends."

"I'd love to date you, Ransom," you state.

"But?"

"But what?" you shake your head, confused. "I really enjoy your company. You're good to me. You make me feel like I matter. There's no 'but' here."

Ransom's expression switches to one of relief as his shoulders relax. "I can't tell you how good it is to hear that."

He closes the space between you, puts a hand behind your head and brings you in for a kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck and eagerly return his affection.

There's a knock and a polite cough at the door, making you break the kiss, irritation written all over your face and Ransom's at the interruption.

"What?"

In the doorway stands Steve, holding a flyer. Taken aback at the attitude he backs up a step. "Um...I just...There's another themed dance to celebrate the end of the school year. Just thought...maybe you'd want to know about it."

He hands you the flyer and quickly walks out.

"You like dancing?" Ransom asks, glancing at the flyer.

"I did," you pout.

"What happened?"

With a sigh you tell Ransom the story of the New Year's Eve disaster. He coos, reassures, and comforts as you recount your pain and embarrassment, finally pulling you in for a hug as his hand gently rubs up and down your back.

When you finish the story, Ransom pulls away just enough to look you in the eyes. "You remember what I said about your right to be petty?"

"Yeah?"

"We're gonna get you that spa treatment, a brand new dress, just for the dance, and I'll make sure you don't have to worry about sitting out for any dance because I'll be on your arm all night. He's gonna realize what he could have had and you're going to feel good about yourself, as you deserve."

"You dance?"

"Not really," he admits. "But I'll make an exception. Just for you."

Tagging: @alicedopey; @darsynia; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @kmc1989; @lokislady82; @peaches1958; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[remlionheart]

Sex, Money, Feelings, Die (part two)

* ˚ ✦ MDNI ✦˚ *

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ask and you shall receive ~ you guys wanted more, so here it is! 𓆩♡𓆪 thank u so much for all the love on this ♡ i didn't expect my first shot at Chuuya to gain so much traction but i'm really glad it did (he's just soooo ♡‿♡ u know?) hope you like a good slowburn bc buckle up, heavy "we shouldn't be doing this" vibes, Chuuya would honestly be the most arrogant yet easy to break dom because of how badly he wants to please you and you can't convince me otherwise, porn with a plot, 5.6k words. this fic once again had me swooning and gnawing at the bars of my enclosure writing it so pls lemme know whatcha think, also big shoutout to @bratbby333 for helping me edit this ღ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ♡ here's part one if you're new here ♡

You stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror with a sigh, tugging at the neck of your shirt. It was late August, 90 degrees outside, and you were on day three of wearing a turtleneck.

You felt like you were attending a funeral in your black top, black heels, and black tennis skirt - but it was all you had left. You'd already worn your other patterned and pleated options earlier in the week. Already paired each stifling hot sweater with the nicest necklaces you had to make them look more business casual than walk-of-shame.

But no matter how nonchalant you'd tried to seem about your sudden change in wardrobe, it was impossible to ignore the curious stares you'd been getting. The suspicious glances from Akutagawa who just a few days ago could barely even look in your direction without tripping over his own feet. There was a palpable sense of skepticism that followed you and it only seemed to get worse with each high-collared shirt you wore.

You let out another sharp exhale, surveying yourself one last time before heading back to your office. You were busy trying to decide on which expletive you were going to spend the next 7 hours cross-stitching when you rounded the corner, a sudden rush of warmth spreading across your face as a pair of cerulean eyes locked with yours.

Out of all the looks you'd gotten recently, his were by far the hardest to avoid.

Time seemed to slow as you passed him. A subtle but taunting smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth while he continued his conversation with Mori. Something about his upcoming assignment in Osaka and how it'd require him to be gone for at least two weeks.

You disappeared into your office, closing the door behind you as you took a seat and diligently began working on a new project.

Your thread kit had become invaluable over the last few days. It wasn't just a way to pass time anymore - it was an escape. A tool you used to steer your thoughts away from the one place that they kept relentlessly trying to wander back to.

Since the announcement of his solo mission, there'd hardly been a chance for you to see Chuuya outside of the lingering glances you'd exchange in passing. Mori had been keeping close tabs on him, constantly barging in and out of his office to go over the details of his assignment. You tried to remind yourself that it was probably for the best. That the safest thing you could do was keep what had happened between the two of you a onetime fling and nothing more.

It hadn't mattered in the moment how careless you'd both been when you assumed that you'd never see him again, but now that your time here had been extended, you were quickly realizing how critical it was to keep your wits about you. Up until arriving at Port Mafia, you'd barely been skating by. Living off of a dwindling savings account and more often than not having to choose between dinner or rent.

The first check you received from Mori alone was more than you made all of last year working as a barista. You knew that this sort of opportunity would never come again. That it was absolutely fleeting and subject to change at any given moment, but that's what made keeping it for as long as you could so important. The money you were making now would put you through college. It would grant you a future that didn't involve debt. A sense of stability that you never would've had otherwise.

You had no choice but to lay low, for real this time.

You moved your tapestry needle with ease, adding small, strategically placed hearts around the words, "choke me" as you stretched out your legs with a yawn.

The coffee they had here wasn't nearly as good as the coffee you'd usually get from the cafe down the street, but you decided it was better than nothing as you set your cross-stitch pad on your desk and ventured down the hallway.

For as dangerous as this place was, there was still an odd allure of normalcy about it. There were mundane things like work meetings and fax machines and a breakroom that stayed stocked with beverages and snacks. If it weren't for the people that worked here, this truly would be just another business building in downtown Yokohama.

Your suede pumps tapped against the tile as you entered the breakroom, grabbing a k-cup out of the drawer and popping it into the machine before walking over to the cabinet. Despite the three-inch heels you were wearing, you still had to resort to using your tiptoes to reach the mug you wanted.

Your waist leaned into the counter, your arm reaching as high as it could go when your entire body suddenly froze.

You felt him before you heard him, a pair of gloved hands stealthily gripping around your hips. He rested his head on your shoulder, his breath sending chills along your skin as it broke through the barrier of your shirt and danced across the nape of your neck. He pulled you in closer, your ass meeting the firmness of his growing bulge while his palm slowly drifted up past your skirt and brushed against your inner thigh.

"You know you can't ignore me forever, right?" It was posed as a question but held the weight of a threat with the tantalizing way he touched you.

Your pulse raced, heat gathering at your center as he began to toy with the lacy outline of your underwear. His fingers were dangerously close to where you wanted them and where you knew they shouldn't be. Where they couldn't be if you wanted to stay here.

It was cruel irony that just last week it had been him who was trying so hard to keep himself together and now you were somehow the one struggling to maintain your composure. Failing to stop yourself from arching your back against him. Nearly whining when he abruptly pulled away from you and disappeared without another word.

You swallowed hard, looking down at yourself while you straightened out the hem of your skirt, your body still aching from the disappearance of his touch. It was only then that you realized just how fitting your outfit for today actually was.

You were attending a funeral, mourning the loss of your dignity that had died so easily at the hands of Chuuya Nakahara.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Two days had passed since your run-in with the redhead and you'd barely seen him since. You knew he was set to leave for Osaka tomorrow morning from the conversations you'd overheard while wandering the hall and you knew he wasn’t looking forward to it.

Maybe it would've been easier to not care about what he was doing if you weren't forced to be here every day, but there was no such thing as a break when working for Port Mafia. No weekends. No time off. Even as arguably their most useless member, you were still expected to show up day in and day out without complaint.

You didn't like to admit it, but his assignment had been weighing on you since you'd first found out about it. You didn't understand why he was being asked to go alone. Why he'd have to be there for two weeks. Why you even cared to begin with.

It'd been bleeding into everything you touched, your embroidery going from mindless patterns to things you couldn't possibly bring yourself to say out loud.

Your fingers moved with precision, adding dainty purple flowers around the words "please be safe" when the landline on your desk let out a shrill, unexpected ring.

You paused, staring at the phone with hesitant curiosity. You'd assumed up until now that it was a decorative prop. A piece of outdated technology to help add to the illusion that you had a real office rather than just an empty room to keep hidden away in for 9 hours. You were floored that it actually worked.

On the fourth ring, you finally caved, answering it with a reluctant, "Hello...?"

"You'd make a terrible receptionist, y'know that?"

You hated the smile that crept across your face as you twirled the phone cord around your index finger. "Don't you have anything better to do besides bother the help?"

"Nah, not really." You could hear the smirk in his voice. "Mori's finally out of my hair for a bit. Somethin' about needing to go check the status of one of our bases out in Tokyo so he should be gone the rest of the day."

"Hmm," You hummed, still fidgeting with the tangled wire. "Guess you'll have plenty of time to clean your office before you leave then."

He let out a semblance of a laugh, his tone still riddled with salacious arrogance as he said, "Get your ass in here." and hung up.

You drew in a shallow breath, mentally kicking yourself yet again for how little self-control you had as you stood up and made your way down the hall. Your skin had just healed from the marks he'd left on you and here you were, flirting with the possibility of getting more.

The door opened seconds after you'd knocked, a set of narrowed blue eyes and tousled red hair greeting you as you stepped into his dimly lit workplace.

You took a seat on the leather couch he had in the corner of the room, pretending not to notice as he locked the door behind you.

"Does Mori not pay you enough to have more than one lamp in here?"

He stood in front of you with his arms folded over his chest, a cocky grin breaking through his nonchalant demeanor. “Sorry, where does he have you working again? That tiny ass room that used to be the broom closet? Yeah, I bet the fluorescent lighting is way better in there.”

You bit back your own dumb smile, rolling your eyes as you crossed one leg over the other. "Did you drag me in here to just insult me or do you actually need something?"

"Depends, do you like being insulted?"

You could feel your body betray you, a telling shade of pink decorating your cheeks as you averted your gaze from his.

"Really?"

You didn't have to look at him to know how much it’d piqued his interest.

"Why are you going to Osaka?" You asked, eager to change the subject.

There was a subtle wave of seriousness that washed over him. His voice losing its playful edge as he rolled his shoulders with a sigh. "I can't really go into too much detail without making you a liability. The less you know about the shit that goes on around here, the better."

Your mouth open and then closed, the objection you had lined up dying on the tip of your tongue as you quietly nodded back at him. Even if you didn't want to accept his answer, you knew he was right.

"Aw, don't tell me you're actually worried about me?" He tilted his head at you, his stare softening when he caught the sincerity in your eyes as you looked back at him. "I'll be fine. Trust me, compared to the other missions I've had to go on, this is nothin'."

You had no choice but to trust him, you knew he was blunt enough to tell you the truth and if he wasn't stressed about leaving, then you couldn't be either. As easy as it was to forget, he wasn't just another member of Port Mafia, he was an executive. There was no way Mori would send him alone if he didn't think it was something he could handle.

"Honestly, I'm more worried about you." He said, breaking your train of thought by nudging your leg with his foot. "What're you gonna do for two whole weeks while I'm gone?"

You buried the rest of your concern with a shrug, uncrossing your legs as you shot him a small smile. "I don't know. Guess I'll have to start fooling around with Akutagawa to pass the time."

He nearly snorted he laughed so hard.

"What? You don't think I could have him if I wanted to?” It was infuriating how easy it was to banter back and forth with him like this. How effortless it was for you to both volley off one another without missing a beat.

He shook his head, trying not to burst into laughter again from the thought of you and his perpetually flustered coworker. "Nah, you could. Just think you'd be disappointed is all. Akutagawa wouldn't know what the fuck to do with a girl like you."

There was something about the way he said it that made the blood dance in your veins.

"Fine." You pressed, still wearing the same slight smile. "Tachihara then."

It was becoming a real problem, the way you loved toying with him as much as he loved toying with you.

"He wouldn't."

"I bet he would."

He bent down to become eye-level with you, butterflies flooding your stomach as he reached out to rest his hand under your chin, a gentle but firm grasp holding you in place. "You can try," he said, his thumb lightly dragging across your bottom lip. "But I don't think you'll have much luck."

"Why?" It was barely a whisper let alone an actual question.

You knew him well enough to know where this was more than likely going, but there was a depraved part of you that wanted to hear him say it. Needed to hear him say it.

"'Cause," His eyes glazed over as he leaned in, closing the already small gap between you so that you were forced to share the same breath. "Tachihara isn't dumb enough to touch things that belong to me."

Your heart was threatening to beat straight out of your chest. A week's worth of pent-up arousal nearly dripping onto his couch as you looked back at him without the faintest bit of restraint left in you.

All of the reasons why you'd been trying so hard to stay away from him suddenly held no real merit. They were lost to his touch. Completely eviscerated the moment his lips finally caught yours and his tongue swirled against you with the same tender urgency you'd been daydreaming about for the last five days. The future didn’t seem so pressing when the present was this heavenly.

Your legs parted without him having to ask, inviting his body to come between them while your hands travelled to the back of his neck. Desperate fingertips sinking into his skin in a feverish attempt to somehow pull him even closer.

"'Take it you're finally done ignorin' me?"

You nodded as you watched him push your skirt up, briefly pausing to take his gloves off with the same toothy method he’d used the last time you were in his office. You could tell it was a seldom act for him. Something he had to consciously remind himself to do, but only when he was with you.

"Good."

His mouth attentively returned back to yours, calloused but gentle fingers digging into the softness of your thigh while his thumb swiped your underwear to the side, granting him access to your weakest point.

"Fuck," he groaned, drawing light circles against you, reveling in the way your hips thrusted up for more.

As eager for a challenge as he was, he secretly loved how easy you were to please. How little it took to rob you of your composure and have your legs shaking around him. How pitiful you looked from only two of his digits slipping in and out of you. How your pupils would dilate in this delirious way each time he went deeper, but how you were still submissive enough to never break eye contact no matter how much you writhed and squirmed beneath him.

"Chuuya -"

"What is it baby?"

He could feel how close you were. Knew it wouldn't take much more to have you soaking him, but he couldn't leave for two weeks without making you cum on more than just his fingers. He needed to know what your walls felt like wrapped around him. What absolutely fucking dazed out noises you would make once he was inside of you.

He undid his belt with his freehand, not letting up on you as you grabbed onto the collar of his shirt.

"Fuck, yes. P - please." You whimpered, watching him stroke himself as he carefully lined up with your center. "Please, Chuuya, ohmygod, please."

"Jesus Christ." He choked out, reeling in how pretty you sounded begging for him. Almost not being able to stop himself as he watched you come completely undone, still pleading for his dick.

He moaned against you, forehead pressed to yours as he finally found the willpower to pull his fingers out of you. His tip had just barely made it past your entrance when a loud knock brought both of you to an insanely cruel and abrupt pause.

His hand flew over your mouth, fire flickering across his blue eyes as he drew in a sharp breath.

"What?" he called out through gritted teeth.

"Plan's changed." It was Tachihara. "Mori's back. He wants you to leave now instead of tomorrow."

"Now?" The anger in his voice was palpable. "Like, right now?"

"Yeah, he's waiting in the jet."

"You can't be fuckin' serious." He grumbled, a pained expression taking hold of him as he looked back down at you, removing his hand from your mouth.

"Gimme a minute." He yelled, silently trying to ration what he was supposed to do with your body still splayed so beautifully under his.

He wanted to fuck you. God damn, he wanted to ignore everything else in the entire world and fuck you into oblivion at this point, but he knew it wouldn't be fair to either of you to have to rush through it or be stressed about the fact that someone might barge in at any second.

It needed to be the right time because you both deserved it. Especially with how many mutual pent-up emotions there now were between you.

Pulling out of you was torture, but he didn't have a choice.

You could've cried, your heart and pussy both grieving the loss of something they'd never even had.

"I swear," He said, forehead back against yours, "As soon as I get back, it's me and you, okay?"

You nodded, doing your best to swallow down your emotions.

"Okay." You finally agreed, eyes still locked with his, a faint smile poking through your frustration. "But if you're not back in two weeks, don't be surprised when you see me and Akutagawa holding hands in the hallway."

He let out a half-hearted laugh as his lips met yours, kissing you in a way that he hadn't before. Soft, lingering... affectionate.

"Hey," you whispered seriously this time, "Please be safe."

"Promise."

And with that, you began redoing the buttons on your blouse and smoothing down your skirt while you watched him grab a jacket out of his armoire, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket.

"You smoke?"

"Only when I really need one."

He shot you a wink, wrapping his arm around your waist as he walked you out of his office, not caring at all who saw.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You knew it would be awkward without him around, but you hadn't anticipated just how slow the next week would go by. You were tired. Out of ideas for cross-stitch patterns and nearly positive that your curled fingers weren't capable of creating anything else even if you wanted to.

You read manga to keep yourself busy. Looked up recipes on your phone. Took naps at your desk that left kinks in your neck. Called your friends from back home, trying to keep the conversation going long after there was nothing left to say. You were bored. Grateful to still be here, but ready for a day off that you knew wouldn't come.

The check you received on Friday was enough of a reason to stay though. It made the long days of staring at a wall worth it. You reminded yourself again and again that there would never be another job like this. That you might actually miss it one day.

You had no idea, however, just how quickly that day would actually come until you were rounding the corner back to your office and ran into Kyoto. She was the same peach-haired woman who had recruited you from the bar, only she was standing with a fresh face. A girl who looked to be about your age with big brown eyes, flowy blonde hair, and a skirt that was somehow even shorter than yours.

When you had first started, they'd told you that there would be other 'administrative assistants' coming eventually, but you'd almost forgotten about it until now.

Your eyes drifted from her to Kyoto, thinking there was surely no way you'd both be expected to share the same office with how small it was.

You started to extend a hand out to the blonde, ready to introduce yourself when you were promptly cut off by Kyoto.

"Your time here is up." She said curtly. "If there's anything you need to get out of your workstation, I suggest you do it now."

A vicious mix of anger and embarrassment churned in your stomach. "My time here is up?" You repeated blankly. "Why?"

"Mori's decided you're a distraction." She shot you a pointed look. "Especially to that of Nakahara. Now, get your things before I have you escorted out."

Your ears were ringing, your vision blurred by tears at how cold and sterile this all felt.

You went into your office for the last time, grabbing the thread kit and books out of your drawer as you made your way down the hall, looking back to see your replacement excitedly taking over the spot that was once yours.

Goodbye college, goodbye easy money, goodbye Chuuya.

You were able to hold yourself together on the train ride home and on the walk back, but the minute you made it into your apartment and closed the door behind you, everything all spilled out at once. Your crafts and manga falling from your hands as you sank down to the floor and sobbed.

You thought nothing could've been as mortifying as your first day with Port Mafia, but your last day had proved to be far worse. You were right back at square one and it felt terrible.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The next few days were a blur of filling out online job applications and revamping your resume. You'd hardly eaten. Hardly showered. Hardly done anything that involved getting out of bed.

It was Sunday and rent was due tomorrow. You'd done the math in your head - you had enough money in your savings account to live here comfortably for the next three months without any additional income. If you really pushed yourself and lived uncomfortably, you could probably even skate by for four.

But no matter how much you tried to remind yourself that there was time, you still couldn't shake the feeling of failure that you'd been left with. If you'd been fired for other reasons, it might not have hurt as bad, but the fact that it really was your fault haunted you.

You took a breath, looking over yourself in the bathroom mirror. A combination of three-day old clothes and a knotted side-bun staring back at you. You decided if you were going to continue to sulk, you could at least do it in some fresh pajamas and washed hair.

The hot water felt good beading across your skin as you scrubbed off the grime and regret that had been stuck on you since the day you’d been let go. The air filling with the smell of vanilla as you exfoliated your legs and ran a conditioning treatment through your tangled locks.

You still didn't feel great, but you felt better and that was a start.

You threw on a white tank-top with a pair of oversized grey sweatpants, running a brush through your hair when you heard the buzz of your doorbell. You froze, looking down at your phone to see the time 11:11 flash across your screen.

You hadn't had a visitor since you'd moved here, let alone had someone stop by at almost midnight.

Your footsteps were light as you crept down your hallway, cautiously peeking through the slit in your door watching him impatiently ring the buzzer again, running a hand along the back of his neck while he waited.

"Chuuya?"

"You'd make a terrible doorman, y'know that?"

It was the first time you'd laughed in the last six days, your arms wrapping around him before you even had the chance to think about what you were doing.

He didn't seem to mind though, his hands locking around your waist as you both pulled each other closer. "How did you -" Your thoughts were everywhere. "How did you find my address?"

He let out a slight laugh, his breath fanning across your neck. “I told you it'd be me and you when I got back.”

There was something so sincere about the way he said it. Something so overwhelming about the way he was looking at you. Out of all the things you'd lost recently, you were incredibly thankful he wasn't one of them.

You let him in, locking the door as he followed you down the hall.

“Sorry," you said sheepishly, realizing that you were about to bring him into the messiest part of your apartment. "It's not always like this."

He took a moment to look over your bedroom. The thumb-tacked pictures of you and your friends that decorated the space above your bed. The string lights and cloud-patterned tapestry adorning the walls. The matching baby-pink sheets and comforter set.

It looked like you. It smelled like you. And no matter how many clothes there might've been scattered across the floor or mugs piled up on your nightstand, it was still way cozier than the hotels he'd been staying at over the last two weeks.

"Looks fine to me." He shrugged, taking off his jacket and tossing it onto a velvet chair next to your dresser. "How've things been since I've been gone?" he asked, taking a seat next to you on the bed with a small smirk. "You and Akutagawa official yet?"

Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared back at him, "Mori didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"I, um..." Your gaze was suddenly on the hem of your shirt as you began to fidget with it instead of looking at him. "I got fired."

"Mori fired you?" There was a sobering sharpness to his voice as he repeated it. "For what?"

You knew he'd find out one way or another, but it was still embarrassing having to relive your conversation with Kyoto. "For 'being a distraction.'" you sighed, your eyes hesitantly dragging up to his. "To you."

There was a brief moment of silence and then, a laugh.

“Huh,” he mused. “Well they're gonna be in for a real fuckin' surprise when you come in tomorrow then.”

You shook your head at him in quiet confusion. "Chuuya, I can't just show back up. Kyoto threatened to have me escorted out when I took more than five minutes to get my stuff out of my office."

His brow arched in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

"Did she?" The question was somehow calm despite the scornful undertone it carried. "Well," he breathed, gently tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "She's gonna really hate it when the entire building has to hear me fucking you. Every. Single. Day."

A sudden warmth washed over you, beginning at your cheeks and ending at your core as you blinked back at him cluelessly. "What are you talking about?"

"You're gonna be my personal assistant." The smirk he was wearing was lethal. "And I'll pay you more than that asshole ever did. Weekends off. Full benefits. Alla that."

"Are you -" He'd never lied to you before and you weren't sure why he'd start now, but you were struggling to wrap your mind around the fact that you'd just gone from being unemployed to promoted in a matter of minutes. "Are you serious?"

"Well yeah," He said simply, his grin softening a bit. "I mean, who else is gonna clean my office before I go on trips?"

You both smiled this time before your lips were immediately back on his. Eager, unreserved, bliss.

He fell back into the bed with you on top of him, his hands gliding along your curves while you straddled him. The flimsy straps of your tank-top slipping down your arms as you hovered over him, kissing and nipping at his neck.

He didn't care if you left marks on him. Didn't care if he showed up tomorrow smelling like your perfume with blatantly obvious bites covering his collarbone. He wanted everyone to know if they didn't already. Wanted them to stare and whisper and drop fucking dead at the sight of the two of you walking in together. It made him feral just thinking about it.

Your hips were rocking against him, your center aligned perfectly with his as you moaned at the friction your movements were creating. You could feel him growing hard beneath you, his fingers tugging at the waistband of your sweats.

"Here." he said in-between breaths, helping you out of them and tossing them onto the floor.

You started to pick up where you left off, but he stopped you, swiftly undoing his belt and adding his pants and boxers into the sea of discarded clothing too. You hadn't even been able to see it until now. Hadn't been able to fully appreciate the length and fucking girth of his cock up until this very moment.

You left another kiss on his neck and then on his chest and then on his torso, meticulously leaving them all over while making your descent down to the one place you so desperately wanted to be.

He watched you with wide eyes, your hand wrapping perfectly around him as you looked up and slowly ran your tongue along the side of his base.

"Fuuuck." His voice was heady, his hands tangling into your hair as you made your way up to his tip.

You opened your mouth wider, almost wondering how it was going to fit, but you managed. Taking him inch by inch, going down further each time until you developed a steady rhythm.

You understood why he liked going down on you so much. The noises he was making were gorgeous. Groaning out sweet little nothings the faster you went. "Doin' so fucking good for me, baby." "God, you're so pretty, y'know that?"

You kept one hand on him, gliding him in out of your mouth as the other trailed down to your clit. Feeling your own slick between your fingers only made you all the more blitzed out. You were sucking and moaning and watching him stare down at you like you had put the stars in the sky as you fingered yourself while somehow still staying focused on him.

"C'mere." It was the first coherent thing he'd said since your tongue had so lavishly graced him.

He gave your hair a gentle tug, pulling you back up so that you were almost sitting on top of him.

"I need to feel you so fuckin' bad, you have no idea." he breathed, lining himself up with you, feeling how wet you were before you'd even lowered yourself onto him.

His hands rested on your hips, your grip back around his base as you centered yourself over him.

It’d been so much just to take in your mouth, you were almost afraid of how bad this would hurt, but he was aware of his size. Letting you go at your own pace as he helped keep you steady.

The stretch he provided you with from the first couple of inches alone was noticeable, but heavenly. Your eyebrows knitting together as you looked back at him. A dazed, poutiness taking over you the further down you went.

You took him in deeper and deeper until finally, you were fully riding him.

"There you go, fuck - just like that."

He watched your head lull back, your hand reaching for his as you continued to grind against him. Both of you losing control as he began to thrust into you.

Your eyes went wide, his name echoing across the room while your walls spasmed around him.

"Sucha good girl."

His praises only made you go faster, one of your hands still locked around his and the other now palming at your chest. Squeezing your nipple between your index and ring finger as you looked back down at him. "Chuuya - 'm -"

It was hard to tell where his moans stopped and yours began, the carnal sounds synchronizing the deeper he plunged into you.

He felt another clench, and then, he was suddenly drowning in you. Completely unable to hold himself together anymore as you soaked him.

"Cum inside me." you whimpered, "Please, Chuuya. I wanna feel it. Please, please - fuck, baby, please.”

It didn't take you begging to convince him, but it certainly made it happen faster.

His ocean eyes rolled back as he thrusted into you, absolutely enamored by the sounds you were making. The way you were pleading and pouting as he filled you.

It somehow made every daydream he’d had about you seem lackluster in comparison. You were beautiful you were his.

You both stilled for a moment, trying to catch your breath before looking back at each other with the same exhausted smile.

He pulled out of you slowly, letting you collapse onto his chest as he ran light fingers through your hair. "You should probably set an alarm for tomorrow." He exhaled. "I heard your new boss is a real asshole."

"Oh yeah," You mused, leaning up so that your lips were ghosting his. "He's the worst."

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

[floridecuts]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Epilogue

And here's finally the loooong last part of this comic project! It's a weird feeling to finally reach the end, after all these months. But I'm especially proud of how these pages turned out! ^.^ They somehow look so much better compared to all the others! As I already mentioned this is a collaboration with my friend MoonflowerSong. Actually, it is thanks to her that this part even exists, as she was the one to got me into this shipping with her wonderful Yashita Fanfictions! She helped me immensely with this part when I was struggling (I'm better at dramatic stuff than fluff tbh ^^'). So, while the art was done by me, the whole script behind this part is her work, apart from some tiny adjustments/additions. So I want to thank her one more time for that, and give another shoutout for her works! I'm gonna put a link to her AO3 profile at the bottom, go check her works out if you're interested, they're super sweet! Also again, and sadly for the last time, I want to express my gratitude to everyone reading, liking and/or reblogging this project, especially the ones who left comments!! I don't think I would have come this far without the motivational boost from you, as usually my motivation to work on longer project drains very quickly. So, thank you so much for joining and supporting me on this ride! <3 <3 I am glad that there is some people who enjoyed this random story idea! Though, this will not be my last post for Death Mark for sure! I will draw more art for this fandom, just no comic anytime soon, I need a break after this one. xD

Sooo, after all this rambling, about this part: Yashiki and Mashita have finally become a couple, hooray!! I think the comic explains it all, but to be sure here's a quick summary: Yashiki has had feelings for Mashita for a while, but wasn't aware of them. Though, when he was under the Departed's curse, locked inside his own thoughts in some kind of semi-conscious state, he had a lot of time to think about himself and his life. After he started sensing the emotions of his friends around him when they visited him in the hospital - especially Mashita's - Yashiki became aware of these feelings and finally figured out their meaning, while also realizing how similar they felt to what he picked up from Mashita. After yashiki woke from the coma and was recovered enough, he felt the need to talk about it with Mashita as soon as possible. After all this time he had spent thinking about how to confess to him, Yashiki wanted to get these words out before he'd loose his confidence.

In the end, neither of them realized they had been watched the whole time by two nosy teenagers. Keeping the change in their relationship a secret will be impossible now, as I'm sure the news will spread quickly among the Mark Bearers. xD I actually had planned to give Daimon a last appearance here, catching the girls spying and shooing them off. But this part already got longer than anticipated and this actually seemed to be a good point to end it on, so I left it there.

Thank you again for reading! Hope you all have a nice week! I will be back, probably next weekend, with new Death Mark art.

Thanks for taking a look! :)

Link: MoonflowerSong on AO3

[Personal thoughts/review on this project: I am amazed how much drawing this comic has helped me improve my art skills in several fields! It might not be visible for some, but I clearly feel the change. I can really recommend to give it a try, especially artists who are struggling to improve! Not only does it keep you in a drawing routine, but it also forces you to go out of your comfort zone for some poses or perspectives you want to depict. And lastly it is also very fun and satisfying to get a story idea onto paper and see the results! ^^]

[savingcrxws]

EYES ON FIRE | maybe someday

[ prev chap ] [ next chap ]

synopsis. you and carmen just keep bumping into each other.

word count. 4.3k (gah damn)

warnings. language, hardly proofread again i'm sorry its an addiction

authors note. thank u guys so much for the support in these previous chapters! it’s really amazing to me that u guys enjoyed it so much! i would recommend listening to maybe someday by the cure for this chapter!

“Yeah, Sugar. The appointment is booked for Thursday, the reps will probably be coming in at like…three o’clock,” you mutter, flipping through the manila folder absolutely stuffed with documents and sticky notes. 

You pursue your lips at all you had to get done within this week alone–sign installation permit, permit to replace the hot water heater, permit to fix the ventilation systems, reapply for occupancy capacity signs because of the restaurants lack of other permits, and holy shit…

You completely forgot to schedule the follow-up appointment with the BACP consultant. 

You groan, slamming the thick folder into your forehead, the papers thwacking against your skull. Natalie sounds startled on the other end of the phone, no doubt hearing the sound on her end of the call. She questions if you’re okay, and you only respond with a gentle hum before tossing the folder back down on the office table. 

“Hey, Suge, do you think I can call you back later? I need to schedule a follow-up consultation with Raquel before another rep hops on my ass about the boiler replacement.” 

“Of course, hun, call me back whenever you can,” Sugar starts and you can hear some papers flicking in her side of the call as well.

You had managed to convince her to work from home more often, worried that all the stress from the demolition inside would affect her pregnancy and her overall wellbeing. After some back and forth, she had begrudgingly agreed to spend two days working on the project from the comfort of her own couch. 

And even though she complains still, you know she appreciates she has a little bit more time off of her feet. 

“Don’t work yourself too hard, okay, Bug?” 

You nod, even though you know she can’t see you. “Same for you, Bear.” Sugar hums once again before you both give your goodbyes and end the call. 

You expel all of the air out of your chest in a large puff as you slide down the office chair.

After signing onto Team Bear, your new home-away-from-home had been this tiny office in the back of the restaurant. For the most part, no one came in and disrupted your work, which allowed you to have your head shoved into piles of paperwork, be stuck on phone calls, and be forced to reread legal jargon for hours on end with little interruption. 

Well, as little interruption as there could be with the restaurant quite literally falling apart around you. 

Thankfully, everyone was very respectful of your work in helping the developing business. You were practically putting every ounce of knowledge that you learned from both college and the real-world experience (including connections within the industry) to help push the restaurant closer to the deadline. All the while still dealing with your other commitments to other businesses that you had prior to signing on to this project.

Staying at The Bear for eight hours a day had its benefits, though.

For example, there was always something entertaining going on in the background. Like last Tuesday, when Fak had decided to send a sledgehammer directly into the only remaining wall of the office–sending bits and pieces of drywall onto your clothes.

Another benefit of being stuck in that office chair is that you had an excuse to ignore everyone around you. And by everyone, you really mean Carmen.

After the awkward office run-in last week, the two of you hardly spoke to each other. Sure, there was the ‘hellos’ and ‘goodbyes’ that you threw to each other and the words you exchanged when you caught him up on the status of licensing, but you two had yet to have an actual conversation.

It was clear that the both of you were still walking on eggshells around each other—and everyone could see it. But you had an inkling feeling that Carmen had been wanting to say something, judging by the short glances you sometimes catch him throwing in your direction.

Kinda similar to the one that he’s giving you right now.

You feel the heat of his stare on your face before you see it. He’d been staring at you for a couple moments now, long enough for you to no longer consider it an inquisitive glance.

You peek up from the folder and make solid eye contact with Carmen through the hole in the wall. The man flushes almost immediately, the red color sinking past his collar. You purse your lips and give a small nod of acknowledgment and he stutters in his spot.

And then he’s turning away.

Like he wasn’t the one just staring at you a moment ago.

You roll your eyes and turn back to your original position in the seat. Picking the folder up again, you flick to the papers listing the requirements for the next fire suppression test.

“Men,” you mutter, before picking up your phone and making a phone call.

Three days later, the office is completely demolished and your work revolving around The Bear has been moved to a family-owned coffee shop two blocks over.

In the short span of time, all of the walls in the store had been busted down and the restaurant had practically turned into a hazardous wasteland. And since construction was too far out of your pay grade, you decided to leave the heavy lifting up to everyone else.

“Alright, permit done!” You throw your hands up in the air, your theatrics catching the attention of a couple next to you. You could hardly care for the stares, though, you had been working on getting that permit for the past four days straight. Slamming your laptop shut, you pack up your bags and head off to the cash register to buy another coffee before you go.

While you wait for your drink, you decide to scroll aimlessly through your phone to kill some time.

“Oh shit,” you hear a voice utter behind you, and you barely have time to process the word before something ice cold is running down your back. “Fuck, I’m fucking sorry, I didn’t even see you—“

You gasp on reflex, taking a step forward and shivering. The person who spilled their drink on you is stuttering out apologies. The liquid seeps into the jacket you were wearing and you pull it off immediately.

“Yo, what the fuck, dude,” you curse, watching the large stain of coffee spread even farther across your jacket. “Watch where the hell you’re walking—”

In the middle of trying to give the perpetrator a piece of your mind, you failed to recognize the familiar sound of the voice that was spewing apology out of apology. But in a second, your eyes met a recognizable set of blue and you halted your words.

In front of you stands Carmen Berzatto. In his signature colored sweater and a half-spilled cup of coffee in his hand.

And he looks petrified.

It seems he didn’t realize just who was the unlucky victim to his americano attack either until you turned around. His mouth agape, he utters out a jumbled apology, glancing back at you, your stained jacket, and the cup in his hand like his brain was still trying to understand what just happened.

“Uh-uh, fuck, sorry, I swear this wasn’t on purpose,” he rambles, placing his cup on the counter behind you and grabbing some napkins right after. He steps back towards you and shoves his hand of napkins to you. “Here, shit, I’m so sorry.”

You sigh, taking the napkins from him, noting the slight tremor that persisted in his hands as you did so. Taking in a slow breath, you close your eyes and count to ten before responding. “It’s okay, Carmen. Don’t worry about it.”

And even though you tried to maintain your peace, you can hear the annoyance seeping out of your words. Carmen glances around the counter before looking back at you and your soaked jacket. You know he probably wants to apologize some more, but honestly, one more apology might land him with a punch to the gut. 

Just as he opens his mouth, you raise your free hand, silencing him immediately. You shake your head in dismissal before taking the napkins offered to you and blotting the coffee out of the fabric of your jacket. Carmen simply stood in his place, watching you, seeing if he could do anything to redeem himself in this situation. 

However, after they called your name for your drink order, you dumped the used napkins in the trash, took your drink and hightailed it out of the café without one more word to the man. 

After the coffee shop incident, you swear that you started to see Carmen everywhere. 

You needed a quiet place to plan outside of your house so you went to one of the local libraries. Guess who’s walking outside the building?

You need a late night snack and decide to hit up the corner store. Guess who’s in the refrigerated section?

Hell, you decide to stay late at The Bear for some last minute checkups? Guess who forgot to grab a few things before leaving that night?

You swear that before you hopped on The Bear train, you never even saw a glimpse of the man. Sure, you lived relatively near the restaurant, but Chicago is fucking huge, there’s no way you would run into one of the few people that you’re trying to avoid. 

Absolutely not, apparently. 

Finally finishing up the weekly budget report and estimate for the following weeks till open, you decide to take a step away from work for a second and give your brain some time to breath. 

“Hey, Syd, if anyone needs me, I’m outside taking a smoke break, ‘kay,” you yell across the restaurant, receiving a thumbs up from her from the other side of the room. “Be back in 15!”

Reaching into your bag, you pull out a pack of cigs and a lighter before heading to the back entrance of the restaurant. You place the cigarette between your lips and head to the backdoor. Stepping out and around the alley to the designated smoke corner, you fiddle with the lighter switch, hearing the light sizzle but seeing no flames emerge. 

You groan, flicking the lighter again and again and still no lig–

“Umm, uh, you need a light?”

You scream, your heart almost skipping a beat and falling out on the concrete below you. In your alarm, both your cigarette and the lighter drop on to the ground. "Shit," you mutter and throw a glance over at whoever had scared the living shit out of you and, surprise suprise . . .

There was Carmen, standing in the alley a few feet away from the door. One leg was kicked up to rest his foot against the wall behind him and a cigarette hung loosely between his fingers. His eyes trailed across you for a second, then he glanced at the cigarette on the ground before taking another draw from his own and staring out the wall in front of him.

If you had half of the energy, you would tell him off for scaring the shit out of you and book it out of the enclosed space.

Lucky for Carmen, however, you really needed that cigarette.

Reaching back into your bag once more, you pull out another cig and walk slowly over to the man. Your steps gain his attention once again and when your eyes met you gestured to the lighter hanging out of his cooking apron.

He grabs the lighter and hands it to you. As you reach out to grab it, your fingers brush against his knuckles. Some quick thought in the back of your head wishes that that physical interaction lasted a little longer, but you're quick to shoo that away into the deep recesses of your mind.

Lighting your cigarette, you hand the lighter back to him before taking a drag. Blowing the smoke out, you slid down the wall until you could lean back into a squat against it.

The two of you just stand there, in complete silence aside from the occasional cough from an improper pull. This quiet isn't nearly as awkward as the first run-in the two of you had. Maybe it's because of the nicotine or maybe it's because continuously running into Carmen over these past days had subconsciously made you a little more comfortable with his presence.

. . .

Nah, it definitely had to be the nicotine.

You glance up at Carmen, who continues to smoke even though his stick had turned into a bud a while ago. You make note of the new tattoos that run down his arms and hands, eyes stopping at the rose flower tattoo on his left hand.

You remember when he got that one done with you at the parlor for his eighteenth birthday.

Subconsciously, you rub at the matching rose on your thigh before sighing and focusing back on your cigarette. Young, dumb decisions, you think.

Above you, Carmen watches your focus retreat back and purses his lips. In all honesty, Carmen usually never finishes a whole cigarette, but he really needed an excuse to stay out here longer with you.

These past couple of days had been tormenting him just as much as it had been you, albeit for different reasons. Everytime Carmen ran into you, whether it be in that cafe or that random grocery store that one early morning, he was plagued with memories of everything that he had fucked up.

Not just the relationship that he had fucked, but the happiness that he had stolen from the both of you.

And he had so desperately been trying to apologize, but every time you saw his face, you would get that look on your own. That dread, the anxiousness, that annoyance. That anger.

Whenever he saw that expression on your face, he would get too choked up to say anything of significance. A simple 'hey" would be all that would leave his mouth. Either that or he would stutter like he was a fucking kid again and embarrass himself in front of you like he seems to be doing constantly lately.

Carmen sighs, taking a final hit from his cigarette before stomping it out on the ground. By all previous experience, Carmen would book it out of the area by now, but something in his gut was telling him to stay this time.

Glancing down at you once more, he sees that you have taken to scrolling through your phone to kill the time. He bites the corner of his lip and decides to sit against the wall like you.

Instinctively, you toss him a questioning glance but when he didn't make any move to speak or gesture towards you, you shook your head and went back to whatever video had popped up on your feed.

Fuck it, he thought.

"I'm sorry."

You halt in the middle of your smoke, nearly coughing on the fumes but managing to swallow it. You look over at Carmen inquisitively, wondering where the hell that apology came from. The dirty blonde was wringing his hands, mouth opening and shutting as if he was trying to get the words out.

"Sorry for the, uh," he mutters, casting a quick glance in your direction to assure himself that you were listening. "Sorry for the, for uh-You know I didn't-I don't know how-"

"Yo, Carmen," you interrupt the world vomit that he was spewing, tossing your cigarette down before snuffing out the light with your shoe. You center your focus back on the man next to you, who seemed to only have you in his attention. "Just say what you want to say. No bullshit."

Your blunt words seem to ground Carmen long enough for him to gather his thoughts. He nods his head rapidly in that way he does when he's clearly overwhelmed before he clears his throat. He takes in a large inhale and clears his throat, ready to speak again.

"I want to apologize. For everything. For how much of an jackoff I was back then, and for how much I am right now," Carmen stars, eyes staring solidly into yours to show just how serious he is. "I didn't deserve you, and you did nothing to deserve the way that we ended."

You feel something burn the back of your throat at the mention of the end of your relationship. The total radio silence from him for the days prior, and just when you had managed to gather the courage to ask the question of just what the hell are we doing, Carmy, you were cast aside like nothing.

He was right, you didn’t deserve that.

Pushing back the feelings bubbling up in your chest, you nod your head to signal that you were listening.

"I-I, it's no excuse, but I was really going through some serious shit. And I really felt that if I cut everyone out of my life, I could actually get a second to breathe you know," Carmen pauses and you open your mouth to speak, but he continues. "I-I just know you deserved-you deserve better. But seeing you in this restaurant day-in and day-out, working away to help my sister, my crew--help me? I just felt even more like a piece of shit."

He turns fully towards you now and you can see his eyes turning red from the emotion he was clearly holding behind his words. "You didn't deserve what I did, and you definitely don't deserve to be cleaning up my messes now."

"You deserved the world, and I'm sorry I couldn't give it to you."

His last words send a sharp pang into your chest. Here you two sat, sitting next to each other, the distance between you two seemed to be filled with words unsaid. You stare into his eyes a little longer, at a loss for what to say completely.

On one hand, you wanted to reject his apology, tell him to fuck off and leave him alone in this alleyway. He would deserve it after everything.

But he has that familiar kicked puppy-dog look in his eyes and he's chewed his lip red, and he's actually sorry.

You sigh, leaning your head back to rest against the wall behind you. Staring up at the sky, you trace the shapes of the clouds above as you collect your thoughts.

"Yeah," you start, nodding your head to yourself. Carmen tenses up at the ambiguity behind both your words and your tone. He would have to have his own head shoved up his ass if he didn't realize that you had every right to refuse his plea for forgiveness. Frankly, that's exactly what he was expecting you to do.

"Yeah, okay. I can forgive you, Berzatto."

Carmen's heart sinks into his guts, mouth slightly agape in pure shock. "You-you can?"

You give a small smile, turning your head to face the man. "Yeah, Carmen, I accept your apology."

The dirty blonde opens his mouth again but you put a hand up in the space between you, effectively shutting him up for a second.

"But," you trail, "I'm gonna forward you that dry cleaning bill from that cafe, asshat. I've been trying to get that shit out for days now."

Carmen flushes a bright red at the mention of the coffee shop run-in you two had, a broken chuckle leaving his mouth at the obvious teasing tone in your voice. You were joking with him, for the first time in years, you two had managed to glimpse at the level of comfortability that you once shared.

Carmen chuckles again, running a hand through his curls. "Yeah, well, can I raincheck that until after the restaurant starts making money? I'm kinda flat fucking broke right now."

You giggle at the honesty behind his words. "Yeah, I ran those calculations by the way. Have fun being flat broke for at least three months after The Bear opens."

"Shit," Carmen mutters, a grin still on his face.

"Yeah, shit." You nod in his direction before pushing yourself off your crouched position on the ground. "Anyway, I'm gonna head inside to get back on that shit. Fak's fucking electric guy keeps flaking on us."

Carmen's eyes follow your form as you stand, holding eye contact with you when you glance back down at him. "Yeah, yeah, I should probably meet up with Syd for the chaos menu anyway."

He hurriedly stands up, wiping his hands on his work pants. After he finishes, he looks at you once again, noting the small smile on your face. For a second, he swears his heart skips a beat.

"For the record, Carmy," you play with the nickname on your tongue, having not said it in quite some time. Carmen flushes before nodding for you to continue. The small on your face falls for a second as you look at him. "You pull that shit with me again, I'm sicking the dogs on your ass. Seriously."

Carmen clears his throat, straightening up at the more serious tone of your voice. Although you were not nearly as angry looking at him as before, he knew that you were serious. There were no more apologies after this, no more fuckups.

You look at him expectantly, waiting for some form of acknowledgment.

He nods. "Yes, chef."

After the conversation outside The Bear, you and Carmen seemed to flow together much easier than before. Granted there was the occasional stray glance casted in your direction from the man, but overall, the two of you were on much more agreeable terms.

The rest of the crew seemed to notice the absence of uncertain tension between the two of you. You explained to Tina, Richie, and Sugar that you two had simply talked it out and were no longer on "spiteful ex" terms.

Richie, being the annoying man that he is, insisted that something else must've happened--to which you responded with a firm shoulder check and yet another middle finger.

Overall, the two of you seemed to only talk about business stuff, which made it easier for conversations to flow. Less personal, more concrete talks.

"Alright, Carmy, we got that certificate of occupancy, right?" You question, running down the legal checklist once again. When you heard no response, you asked again, only to be ignored again. Finally looking up from your screen, you glance up at the man, trying to figure out what could have possibly distracted him this time.

He's glancing, moreso glaring, down at his phone, watching it ring but making no moves to pick it up. He's spaced out almost, like he's lost in his thoughts.

You clear your throat and decide to try his name again. "Carmen!"

He shoots up a little and looks at you, muttering an apology out as he clicks his phone off and slides it into his back pocket. "What were you asking?"

"Umm, I was trying to see if you got that certificate of occupancy from Cicero mailed in," you raise an eyebrow at him. "You know, the one we need to get that other big, shiny certificate that shows that we can legal conduct business in the state of Illinois? That certificate?"

"Uhh, yeah, yeah. Mailed it in the other day, yeah."

You squint at his weird responses before shaking your head and diving back into your work. "Well, on another note, I've been speaking with a liason down at the office and he said we can have our second fire suppression test in two weeks instead of the project four."

Carmen walks up to the foldable chair you were sitting in, peering over your shoulder to look at your screen. He rests his hand against the back of your chair unconsciously and you can feel the heat of his body radiating off of him. You clear your throat and lean forward a little to get some distance between the two of you.

"Who's that going to?" The man points to an email that you are in the middle of drafting. Your eyes follow and land on the email you were writing to one of your school buddies. "Oh that? I'm just messaging one of my old classmates from college about an idea I had about our issues with that retail food license thing."

Carmen humms, peeking down at you as you explained the process you were thinking of going through. Though your eyes were stuck on the screen, clicking through different documents as you continued your explanation, Carmen's eyes were glued to your face.

To him, this all felt like some weird dream that he was having. His former high school sweetheart, sitting in his restaurant, talking all kinds of smart talk that he could barely understand, practically pressed against him. Although he didn't move over to your chair with the intent to press against you, he definitely noticed the proximity that you two shared.

Life had been a whirlwind these past weeks, but he felt that when he was near you that a lot of those anxieties he often has screaming in his head quieted down a little. He tried to chalk it up to the confidence that he had in your skills, but even though you are incredibly talented in your work, he knew that it was something more than that.

Something that he had to swallow down.

"Carmy, you motherfucker, are you even listening to me?" You call out, turning more in your chair and fixing him with an annoyed glare. Carmen swallows before nodding his head. "Ye-yeah, you have a plan to get that retail food license and alcohol seller's license at once right?"

You hum, giving him a once over again before turning in your seat. "Exactly. I think that my buddy Stephen can help us with that fire suppression test, he knows a thing or two--"

Carmen's eyes trace down your eyes, nose, and lips, noting the signature bite marks you left on your bottom one. He runs a tongue across his own before carding a hand through his hair to collect himself.

He was so fucked.

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*if ur @ is striked thru, tumblrs being a pain and not letting tag, imma keep trying tho!!

[wings-of-ink]

Status Report and things to come...

Hello all! I wanted to check in and give some updates and links and all that jazz.

Things are cooking! I'll probably be fairly quiet off and on in the next month or so, but that will change. I just have a lot of stuff to do and get through before I'm at a stage where I can unleash hell. I am also planning on opening up asks more after I get adjusted (perhaps mid July).

The last couple of weeks were super busy for my personal life. Nothing terrible, just a lot of things all at once that needed to be done ASAP. There isn't much news on the production front, other than the May subscriber extras were posted today. The spicy one features male Rune and a new MC customization which I am testing for implementation into the the main game. The side story features a gender selectable Rune but is a fairly streamline cute story. Links are at the bottom if you are interested!

As I said before, I'll be kicking up another project as soon as time allows this season. And I've had an idea...

Subscribers this month also got access to what was essentially a prologue for another IF. If you've been kicking around a bit, I did a poll a while back where I spun different ideas and everyone voted for their favorites. Number 1 stole the show, but all ideas had an outpouring of support. The prologue mentioned is actually for #3. I started writing it just for fun to play with how that IF could start (I was in a mood, lol). I got some good feedback on it, so then I got another idea.

I think I want to do this for each of the new project ideas that I have and want to run with. Writing an intro for them will help me form them in my mind and give them some life and structure. As I get these done, subscribers will have the first crack at them, but they'll eventually go public. And then...then we vote. This gives me a chance to know if I am just not going to enjoy one idea or the another and such, and it gives you a chance to sample new stories to see what interests you the most in practice.

I will be doing one for each story idea from the poll PLUS one more. They will be very plain. Using no templates and just super basic coding to give the idea and feel of the actual project. The pretty stuff will come later. I don't know how long they will be. My guess is from 6k-10k words. I will work on them when I can but for the rest of May and all of June, Chapter 6 of GC is my priority. I would really like to have it done soon. This year has been obnoxiously busy so far, but things are going to slow down soon so my schedule opens up more.

Also to come are more character portraits! Subscribers get the first look and then a week later, they will go public. I'm a bit behind on that, and will have some super secret art to post after this!

Other than that - I'm hanging in there, I see some things in my Tumblr inbox I will get to soon, my shoulder is the same and I'm still doing therapy, and my kitty cats are great!

That's all for now! Take care!

~Lunan ^_^

Patreon

Ko-fi

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Chapter 6 - The Butterfly Effect

Read on AO3

<<First Chapter - < Prev Chapter - Next Chapter >

Contains: No Y/N (2nd POV but Reader is an OC), Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Dubcon, Plus-sized Reader/OC, female Reader/OC, Everyone learns new things about each other, Manipulation, PTSD, Doll has a tragic backstory, Poorly translated Spanish, Lots of introspection

~4.2k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above but honestly nothing particularly bad happens this chapter.

John gives you space for the next few days, letting you settle in around the edges of his own routine. You’ve always been an early riser, and so is he, but he starts every day with a run, and you prefer a slower pace. You’ve taken to coming downstairs after you hear the front door close, and stretch on the living room floor (you wouldn’t call it yoga, but you’ve spent the last few years keeping up with the Kinsey kids, and you know how important it is to maintain flexibility), and make coffee before you go back upstairs to get dressed and ready for the day. John always showers first thing after his run, but after the second day he starts taking off his shirt before he drinks a glass of water at the sink, watching you from the corner of his eye to see if you’re looking.

And maybe sometimes you are. It would be a useless endeavour, pretending that he’s not nice to look at. He’s big, barrel-chested, with thick, muscular arms, and he’s hairy in a way that’s unbelievably attractive, and he gleams with sweat after his runs. If he didn’t look so damn smug every time he catches you looking, you’d probably gladly spend a few long minutes studying him. Something about the man makes your fingers itch to pick up a pencil.

You just orbit around each other for those first few days. He’s working on some project outside, and you putter around the house a bit and look for new jobs online. You were surprised that he didn’t confiscate your laptop to keep you from calling for a rescue, but he made no effort to stop you from using your laptop or your phone. Perhaps he’d really listened when you’d tried to set boundaries. He’s certainly given you space to adjust.

On Wednesday, you video call your Lola— It’s been routine for ages, since you always had Sundays and Wednesdays off from work— and catch up. You start the call shortly after John leaves, to give yourself some time to talk privately. It’s nice to see her familiar, wrinkled brown face, even if she’s half the world away from you.

She clocks that you’re not at home right away, and gets that sly, knowing smile when you tell her you’re staying with a friend. “¿Estás viendo a alguien?” she asks. “¿Un joven tal vez?” Are you seeing someone? A young man perhaps?

“No nada de eso. Sólo quedarme con un amigo.” No, nothing like that. Just staying with a friend. Once again, lying to make it seem like you’re not in trouble. It’s not like your Lola would be able to do anything about your situation anyway. You would just worry her.

Of course, Lola is much too observant not to see that you're hiding something-- Even if all she sees of you is a video call once a week, you're her granddaughter and she knows you. "Dalisay," she says, her tone a mocking approximation of sternness. "Eres una mujer adulta. Me gustaría saber que eres feliz, que estás saliendo con alguien agradable. No tienes que mentirme. Mientele a tu otra abuela.” You are a grown woman. I would like to know you're happy, that you’re seeing someone kind. You don't have to lie to me. Lie to your other grandmother.

You laugh. "¡Es complicado Lola! Él es—" It's complicated Lola! He's—

The door opens, and John limps back in, early. "Rolled my ankle," he explains, taking your wide-eyed look as concern. "Just need some ice."

"Muéstramelo," Lola demands, laughing. "Tiene una voz hermosa.” Show him to me. He has a handsome voice.

John turns toward you, frowning. "I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?"

"I always call Lola on Wednesdays-- John, sit down, you need to ice your ankle, what are you doing?"

He's standing on one leg, in the middle of the kitchen, fishing a mug out of the cupboard rather than getting something cold and sitting right down. "I--"

You're not sure what possesses you, but you get up, and you make him sit, and you go to make him his coffee and wrap a bag of frozen peas in a tea towel. When you turn around, he's reached across the table to pull your laptop closer, smiling at the camera when Lola claps he hands together, beaming.

"Es guapo, Dalisay. Pero no joven, ¿eh?" She says, laughing. He's handsome, Dalisay. But not young, huh?

"No," he agrees, "soy demasiado viejo para ella. Todavía soy lo suficientemente egoísta como para intentarlo de todos modos.” I'm too old for her. I'm still selfish enough to try anyway. Lola laughs at his honesty, pleased with John already.

You set down the coffee and glare at him. But you gently set the ice pack on his raised ankle. He pulls you into his lap, sitting you on his other thigh. "John!" You protest.

"Oh, relájate, apo,” Lola chides, unhelpfully reading the situation just the way John wants her to. She seems impressed by John's accented Spanish, happy to not need to translate her words to English to speak with him. She speaks English perfectly well, but she prefers Spanish, calls English clunky and ungraceful. "Yo también fui joven una vez. Me preocupaba que ella nunca encontrara a alguien.” Oh lighten up, apo. I was young once too. I was worried she would never find someone.

"No es que ella no pudiera,” John says. "Ella es tan hermosa, pero mantiene la distancia." It's not that she couldn't. She's so beautiful, but she keeps her distance.

“John, stop that,” you say, and you do mean the way he’s talking, but you also mean the hand that’s firmly gripping your hip, kneading your soft flesh. It’s not hard enough to bruise, not even enough to hurt, but it’s distracting, and makes your heart flutter. The movement is also hitching your skirt up a little higher on your thighs.

The innocent, laughing look he gives you is no help. “Sorry, love.” He kisses your shoulder, his hand sliding up to your waist instead.

You glance over at the screen, wincing when you see two of your cousins crowded into the screen with Lola, all of them stifling laughter and one of them holding a chubby baby.

“He needs to buy you a ring, cuz,” Ligaya says, waving her baby’s chubby hand at you. “Say hello Berting, that’s your auntie Dalisay and her boyfriend.” She and her sister, Ceci dissolve into giggles. The baby laughs too, although he doesn’t have any idea what’s going on around him.

“He’s too old to be anyone’s boyfriend,” you grouse.

“He looks more like husband material to me,” Ceci crows. She points a threatening finger at the webcam. “You’d better be good to her! She’s our favourite cousin.”

“Y mi nieta favorita,” Lola says, And my favourite granddaughter, cupping her hand around her mouth as if that would keep Ligaya and Ceci from hearing her. They both laugh, unoffended, Ceci batting Lola’s shoulder lightly.

“I will,” John promises. “She makes it easy. She’s much too good for the likes of me.”

“And don’t you forget it, English!” Ligaya agrees. “Are you coming to see us for Christmas this year, Lisay? There’s at least four babies you haven’t met yet.”

“I’m not sure I can afford to this year. We’ll see if I can find work—”

“¿Qué pasó? ¿Perdiste tu trabajo?” Lola asks. What happened? Did you lose your job?

“You practically raised those niños!” Ligaya protests, as if that would change the facts of the matter. “They love you!”

You grimace, and haltingly explain that Mr. Kinsey had made a pass at you, and you’d been fired so that he and his wife could work out their marital issues. Apparently you’d been just too tempting to have around, despite the fact that you had less than zero interest in your former employer. By the end of your explanation, Lola looks ready to fight, and Ligaya and Ceci both look furious too. “It’s alright,” you say, trying to convince yourself as much as you are them. “I wouldn’t have been able to leave if they didn’t fire me. And I didn’t want to be raising someone else's’ kids forever.”

Ceci wiggles her eyebrows at you. “Yeah, Lisay, you want your own babies, eh?”

“You should start painting again,” Ligaya suggested, flicking Ceci with the hand not currently supporting her son. “You could sell prints online, portrait commissions. You’re as good as your mother, and she made it into that London Gallery.”

Lola notices the way your smile strains and shoos your cousins away. “El consejo es bueno aunque graznan,” she says. “Eres demasiado buena para dejar de pintar.” The advice is good, even if they quack. You’re too good to stop painting.

You change the subject, and Lola talks some about the children, about neighbourhood gossip, catching you up on everything before you end the call. You sigh, sinking into John unconsciously. He’s so big, and so solid, you wish you could do away with that undercurrent of fear ruining the little comfort his arms would provide you otherwise.

“Why’d you stop painting?” he asks.

“It’s not the same anymore.”

“Is anything ever the same?”

You twist to look at him. His eyes are too blue, piercing though you like he’s able to read the thoughts in your head. You have to remind yourself that he can’t, that he doesn’t know you well enough even to guess. You’re getting to know him pretty well though, and you recognize this earnestness, this plea to let him in, to let him help. John is a man who needs to do something all the time, that needs to focus on a task. You wonder what it is that nips at his heels so sharply— Is is inherent, genetic, something unavoidable, written in the core of his very deepest, truest self? Or is it just that he’s running from something, and must stay in motion, driving himself ever forward to keep it from catching up?

“Have you ever lost anyone, John?”

Surprise widens his eyes for a flickering second, before he hides it behind a tight smile. “Think we’re talking about you, Doll.”

“You don’t have to answer. I think it’s just easier to understand, when you have. Painting just reminds me of my mam. It’s like trying to swim with lead shoes on. It’s so hard to keep my head above the water that it’s easier just not to swim.”

“Maybe you could try takin’ off the lead shoes,” he suggested, his arms tightening around you. Levity and reassurance, like he knows exactly what you need. “Or maybe you just shouldn’t go swimmin’ alone.”

“A lifeguard,” you say, rolling the thought around in your head. Maybe that was the problem, the empty space was too apparent when there was no one around to fill it. You’d painted the flowers on the credenza with Ripley there, and that had even been nice. You’d thought it was just a fluke, but you hadn’t really thought about why it had been different. “That’s an interesting thought.”

“Did you have everything you’d need? We can look through the boxes for your supplies.”

You shake your head. “No. Yes. I have watercolours somewhere. Just no acrylics. But I could start with watercolours.”

“Yeah? We can look now, if you like.”

“Maybe in a bit. I’ll make breakfast first.”

“I can do it,” he offers quickly. “I want to take care of you.”

As much as you aren’t quite ready to admit it, he already is. “No, I think it’s my turn. Just give me a minute. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, but this is kind of nice.”

He hums his agreement, picking up his coffee. You think he’s doing it so he can’t kiss you, and you’re so pleased that he’s starting to get it that you almost consider kissing him instead.

But you don’t. You just let yourself enjoy the moment.

Maybe that’s enough, for now.

You decide that having him sit and watch you painting would be awkward, so once you hunt down your watercolours and a sketchbook with heavy paper, you set up outside while he works. He’s constructing some kind of frame over a concrete pad, a covered porch, you think. You sit out of the way, facing the copse of trees that surround the house, and the overgrown, weedy garden. It looks like it had been set up early in the season with the best of intentions, but you suspect that it was too hard on his knees and back. He’d made the mistake of planting everything straight in the ground— You probably would have suggested planter boxes, if you’d been here in the spring. Then he could have sat on a stool— It would have helped keep the bunnies out too. The few tomatoes left on an abandoned vine have little bites nibbled out of them— Almost everything has little bites taken out of it.

It makes you smother a laugh. It’s easy to imagine John railing against nature— He’s so stubborn, there’s no way he gave up for a good long time— Cursing the rabbits and deer, leaning over the once-neat rows until his back ached. There’s a pair of rusting garden shears stuck out of the ground, evidence that he quit in a fit of pique some months ago.

He’s looking at you— He has a sense for when you let happiness slip through, like a hound picking up a rabbit’s trail in the woods. You can feel the burn of those bright blue eyes on you, the heavy weight of his attention. Does he make note of everything you smile at? You wonder how long the list is now. Puppies, the Stuart kids, Lola and your cousins, and now his poor attempts at gardening. You haven’t really let much else get past your careful, polite mask, knowing full well that stone-walling him is your best defence. He’s searching for an opening, and once he finds it, he’ll pop you open like a clam.

It seems inevitable. Still, he’ll have to work for it, if he wants you to let him in. He’s already set himself the first of his Herculean tasks, to get you painting again. It would be easier to face the Nemean lion. Your grief has sharp teeth, unblunted even after a decade, still dug deep into your heart.

“You aren’t painting,” John says in your ear. His hands settle on your shoulders, holding you in your seat when surprise would launch you a few centimetres into the air.

You turn your head to look at him, and he’s far too close. “You aren’t working.”

“Takin’ a break. You look like you’re thinkin’ hard about something. What’s on your mind, Doll?”

“Your garden. Must have been a storm of misfortunes to make you give up.”

“Few things get the better of me, but this was one of ‘em. Have to settle for buyin’ produce at the shops like everyone else.”

“It’s not really so hard.”

“You the expert in gardening?”

“No, I just used to help my gran with her garden. Picked up a thing or two about keeping green things alive.” You take a dry paintbrush and dust it over his fingertips idly.

“That the one we talked to today?” he asks.

“No, that’s Lola. Gran is the Scottish one.”

He hums, smooths out tension in your shoulders with his thumbs, catching the slightest touch of your skin at the collar of your sweater. "Didn't think you had family in the UK."

You tip your head back, looking up at him. He shifts, leaning his forearms on the back of the chair, hanging over you. "Just my Gran, she got remarried a bit before we moved to Manchester. She thought her husbands-- Well, I'll say kids, but they were full adults, older than my mam already-- She thought they were more respectable than my parents. Wouldn't categorize her as a real warm and fuzzy lady."

"You don't talk then?"

"No. Not since my parents died. We had a proper row at the funeral and she's never apologized, and I'm certainly not going to."

"Learnin' a lot about you today, Doll."

“That I’m stubborn and that I distance myself from the people that love me?” you ask, flicking the paintbrush at the tip of his nose. His whole face scrunches, and it’s kind of endearing. You’re already feeling soft about him from this morning, because Lola liked him, and because he didn’t ask if she spoke English, just launched right into Spanish that was a maybe a little rough around the edges, but good enough.

“That,” he agrees. “But I think it’s good that you hold your ground. You’re not stubborn for the sake of it, you say what needs to be said. I’d bet good money that you were in the right.”

“It doesn’t always matter who’s right and who’s wrong, John. Sometimes you have to set aside ego to make things right.”

“Tryin’ to teach an old dog new tricks?” he asks.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll teach yourself. Now go on, get. You’re distracting me.” You wrap your hands around one of his, and press a fleeting kiss to a spot between his thumb and his wrist before releasing him. “And be careful of your ankle. If you need to carry something heavy, let me help you.”

He laughs and withdraws, his shadow sliding over your page as he moves away. “Yes ma’am. You’re pretty cute when you’re bossy.”

“I’m always cute,” you say blithely.

You don’t look at him, so you miss the way he glances back over his shoulder, blue eyes burning. “You’re damn right about that.”

Ducking your head down to hide your smile, you pick your pencil up and look back to the garden. Something about the red-handled shears stuck in the soil speaks to you, so you lightly sketch it out on the page, humming to yourself quietly. The next things you need to hunt down are your headphones and the old mp3 player so you can listen to music while you paint.

There’s something soothing about hearing John work anyway. The whirr of his drill as he screwed framing lumber into place, or the buzz of his saw when he cuts pieces to size. He’s methodical, exacting— What makes him so good at building probably made him a poor gardener too. He can cut and fit pieces of wood together to make any shape he pleases, he can make a plan and nothing will fight back against it, beyond a warped bit of lumber here and there, but a garden grows as it will, and there’s no controlling the wind or the sun or the rain, let alone the creatures that might come looking for something tender and green.

That same struggle plays out between the two of you. He sees a map and a destination where you see a landscape. The journey, the exploration, is what matters to you, the light and shadow, the soft growing things and the hungry teeth that nip at the roots. In his mind he’s already built a house at the top of the hill, and he wants to pull you inside, lay you down, plant his seeds in a different garden, watch something new grow. It’s not simply impatience, but a need for control, for surety.

He exerts that control outwards, bending the world to the shape he likes. You’ve always turned it inwards, pulling in on yourself, turning your life into a safe little cocoon, turning deprivation and isolation into an art. Constructing masks to get you through, reliable scripts, being whomever you need to be to make things easier.

And perhaps it was easy, but it was lonely too.

Maybe they really had done you a favour. By pulling you out of your comfortable routine, they’ve forced you to face yourself, for the first time in ages, to ask yourself what it is that you want, to see who you are.

You feel like a butterfly, wings still damp and unfurling, perched in John’s hand. He could risk letting you fly away, or he could force you to stay by destroying some integral part of you. There’s no telling which path he intends to take, not yet.

You can just hope.

It might be insane— It certainly feels insane— but you really want him to be a good man. Not just out of self-preservation, although it probably weighs something in the equation, but because you want him. He’s right when he says there’s something here, something that’s been rolling around in the back of your mind since Ghost dumped you in his lap. It hasn’t even been a week, but it feels longer.

You keep half an eye on him while you put the first pale washes of colour onto paper. A few small versions first, to get a handle on light and shadow, colour values, just to remember how to mix colours the way you want to, and then start on the larger version, feeling a little more confident.

You’ve just blocked in the base colours when you notice that John’s limping again, and showing no sign of stopping his work. Sighing, you set your paintbrush down and stand. “John,” you say gently, putting yourself in the path between the saw set up and his lumber pile. “It’s time to take a break.”

“No, I’m fine, Doll. Get back to your painting.” He tries to move around you, but you side-step and block his path again. “It’s just a sprain,” he says, exasperated. “I’ve worked through worse.”

As if that was a good reason to ignore pain. “And you never considered that maybe you shouldn’t have had to?”

He frowns down at you. The difference in your heights has to be at least a foot, but he has a funny way of tucking in his chin and hanging his head when you’re standing close like this, and looking at you straight on anyway. A soft little hand settles on his stomach, unbidden— You’re not sure that you’ve instigated contact with him before, it’s always been him reaching out for you, his big hands achingly gentle. Is anyone ever gentle with him? Is he ever gentle with himself?

“The work will still be here tomorrow,” you remind him. “You have time to rest.”

A raindrop splashes on your outstretching arm. The two of you look up in tandem, at a heavy grey cloud that’s rolled over head— It hasn’t blocked out the sun yet, and neither of you had noticed it creeping up— and then at each other. “Guess the weather agrees with you,” John says.

You both scramble apart and into action. John covers the pile of lumber and the saw with tarps, weighed down with a few odd bricks so they won’t blow away, and you quickly pack up the water colours and your paintings. You don’t get there in time to stop a few splashes of rain from hitting the page, but you get everything inside before it’s completely soaked and set it on the kitchen table for the moment.

While you’re filling the kettle and looking outside, watching the rain splash against the window, John comes in too, and looks at your work. “The rain ruined it,” he says. “I should have been paying more attention to the weather.” There’s guilt in his voice, as if it’s his fault that the rain chose to fall where and when it did.

You set the kettle to boil, and join him, studying the paintings. Each of them unrefined— The smaller ones are just work-ups anyway, but the raindrops have warped the colours, creating voids with saturated edges. You wouldn’t say they’re ruined. There’s an artistry to incident, story preserved on paper in a way that your art wouldn’t do alone.

“No, I like it better this way,” you say decisively. “It underlines the theme of futility, don’t you think? How we’re at the mercy of the weather, whether we like it or not.”

“S’pose so,” he admits grudgingly.

His mouth is set so it almost disappears under his moustache. He really does hate the reminder that he has no control over some things. You dash upstairs and grab a couple of towels and tuck them under your arm, and take John’s hand, leading him out onto the front porch.

He follows you without resistance, although there’s a funny, curious look on his face. “What’re you doing?”

You let go, and put the towels down on the bench. “What does it look like I’m doing?” The rain is coming steadily now, the sky turned darker, sun all but blotted out, and it’s cold on your skin when you step out from the shelter and into the downpour. You throw your arms out and spin, laughing.

There are many things in this life that you can’t control. Things that are fixed, unchanged and immovable, laws of nature, the whims of weather, and Captain John Price. But you have choices too. You can try to move a mountain, but you’d be better climbing over it. You can choose to struggle against the current, or let it sweep you along. You can dance in the rain rather than wish it were sunny.

And you can hold out your hand, and invite John to dance with you.

Image Credits: Banner Dividers

[heavyhitterheaux]

Not a Baby Anymore

First Babies of Private Garden Fic

Synopsis: You and Jack have to get on the same page regarding Axel, who clearly lets you know that he is tired of being treated what he believes is unfairly by you

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Axel hadn't been your biggest fan after he had asked you if he could go to soccer camp after school was going to be let out in a few weeks. You had your hesitations of him being away from you for a long period of time and even though he was getting older, you weren't quite ready for it. So, of course you told him no. That led to him catching an attitude with you and running straight to his room but not before telling you that ‘You never let me do anything. I wish dad was here more.’

You were trying to explain your reasoning to him, but he didn't want to hear it. Jack was due to be back later that evening and you had a strong feeling that he was going to try and convince you otherwise.

Once Jack had made it in the door and saw you sitting in the living room on your phone, he simply sat down next to you before sliding you onto his lap. Your arms immediately went around his neck and he gave you several kisses.

“I missed you.” You whispered against his lips before giving him another kiss which instantly made a smile come to his face.

“I missed you too. Where are all my babies?” Jack asked as he wrapped his arms around you.”

“Ivy and Autumn are in the backyard, Cam and Cash are with my parents, and Axel was in his room the last time I checked. Nova is working on her science project.”

“Hmm, that's weird. He's usually all up under you. I'm surprised he lets you breathe sometimes.” Jack knew early on that the bond you and Axel shared was special since the both of you almost lost your lives.

He remembered when he was going back and forth from your hospital room in the ICU to the NICU to see the triplets and how he was probably either going to lose his wife or one of his children. Those were the longest few days of his life and he didn't know what he was going to do if you left him before he properly got to have a chance at fixing your marriage.

“Aht! Not too much on my baby boy.” You answered while playfully hitting Jack who laughed.

“Our baby boy is almost fourteen.”

“Your point!? But I know he missed you.” But you didn't mention the argument that you two got in earlier which was why he was now in his room. Because he didn't want to be near you.

“Well let me go check on them. I'll be back.”

Jack slid you off his lap before kissing your forehead and going upstairs to see Axel.

He noticed that his door was open and he poked his head in, excited to be reunited with one of his oldest babies only to see him angrily wiping tears away from his face.

“Ax what's wrong? Did something happen?” Jack asked as he stepped fully into his room and sat next to him on his bed.

“I want to go to soccer camp.”

“Okay, just let me know all the details about it and we'll pay for you to go. Why the tears?” Jack answered, but he could tell that there was something else.

Axel shook his head no and Jack looked at him confused.

“Ax?”

“I already asked mom and she said no.”

“What? Did she tell you why?”

“No, I walked away from her. She never lets me do anything especially when you aren't here. She lets my sisters do anything they want, but I have to stay home.”

This was the first time that Axel vocalized this to Jack and he quickly grew annoyed with you.

“You want to go?”

“Yes. All my friends are going.”

“Then that settles it. I’ll deal with your mother.”

“I don't understand why she always tells me no.”

“Don't worry. I’ll talk to her.”

“Dad?”

“Hmm?”

“Can we have pizza for dinner? If I had asked mom she would have probably told me no too.”

Jack stifled a laugh before answering him.

“We’ll order it when Cash and Cam come back.”

Little did Jack know that you had been standing on the top step listening to their conversation and was going to confront him about it. You quietly snuck back down the steps to sit in the living room and bide your time.

Jack stayed with Axel for another twenty minutes before going to see the girls and then made his way back inside.

—

“Jackman….” Jack heard you say his name as he heard your footsteps approach from behind him and he immediately sighed because he knew a shitstorm was coming. He had just left Axel's room for the second time and had made his way downstairs to find something to snack on.

“Yes, baby?” He replied as he turned around to face you.

“Why did you tell Axel that it was okay for him to go to soccer camp when I specifically told him no?”

“Because you are overprotective of him and never let him do anything.” Jack said being completely honest as he shrugged.

“What? No I'm not!”

“Babe, yes you are. You aren't like that with Ivy and Autumn and let them do anything that they ask within reason. Why doesn't Axel get the same treatment?”

“I do give him the same treatment!”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself? You let me teach him how to play and it took me months to convince you to say yes. Our baby boy is growing up and it's about time you accepted that.”

“Well yes! He has asthma! That was my entire reasoning.”

“That is well controlled. He hasn't had an attack since he was 6 and takes his meds on a daily basis.”

“But what if something happens and I'm not there? Did we forget that we almost lost him?”

“Y/N…. Thirteen years ago. He is fine and going to make good choices. All of his friends are going and I don't want him to feel left out.”

“I still don't know. The thought makes me nervous.”

“He's not going to be far from home and it's only for two weeks.”

“TWO WEEKS? No, that's too long for him to be away from us. Absolutely not.”

“So let me ask you this. When he becomes an adult because you know that's eventually going to happen, right? Are you going to be babying him like this? And sheltering him? How is he supposed to experience anything? I'm convinced that you're going to go to college with him too.” Jack explained, but all you did was roll your eyes.

“My answer is still no.”

“And I told him yes. My second born came to me in tears, upset and told me how when I'm not here and he asks you to do something nine times out of ten you tell him no. This is something that he really wants to do and his mom shouldn't be ruining that for him.”

“But he's my baby.” You quietly said as you were trying to blink back tears. All of your children held a special place in your heart but you admit you took extra precautions when it came to Axel because he wasn't dealt the best hand when you brought him into the world.

“And he's mine too. I want all of them to be able to experience things and have opportunities but one child shouldn't feel like he's being left out.”

Just then you heard footsteps and turned to see that it was Axel who was trying to wipe the remnants of his tears away before you saw them making your heart break.

“Axel…” You started to say, but he immediately went over to Jack.

“She won't let me go will she?” He asked as he looked up at him and all Jack did was sigh.

“Ax, turn around and ask her.”

“Why? She's probably going to say no like she always does.”

“All I want to do is protect you.” You said as your eyes started to water.

“I'm not a baby anymore! And I'm tired of you treating me like one. I take my meds every day and I haven't been in the hospital since I was six. I want to go to soccer camp with my friends!”

Crossing your arms, you gathered your thoughts before responding.

“I know that you aren't a baby anymore, but this is hard for me. I know I say this all the time, but I didn't even think that you would make it to six months old. So can you understand why I`m so hesitant. But if this is what you want, okay.” You responded while shrugging.

“Wait, that's it?” Axel asked, thinking that you were going to put up more of a fight.

“Yes.”

“But there are going to be rules that you have to follow.” Jack piped up and Axel eagerly nodded.

“You call us everyday, set an alarm on your phone for your meds and take your inhaler with you. If at any point you don't feel well, you tell them immediately so that they’ll be able to get you the help you need. This will be the test to see if you can be responsible enough to be away from us.” Jack explained while Axel was actively listening.

“Okay, I will. Promise.”

As you stood off to the side, Jack looked at Axel and nudged his head in your direction while you weren't looking.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

Axel didn't respond, but instead hugged you and you tightly hugged him back.

“I promise that I'll be fine.”

“I know you will.”

—

“That woman has one more time to look at you before I go off.” You told Jack as both of you were at Axel's championship soccer game for his team. It was the last day of summer camp and you could tell that you and Jack made the right choice even though it took a little convincing on his part to get you to say yes.

All Jack did was laugh before wrapping an arm around you and kissing your cheek.

“Baby, please don't. We're here to see Axel play.”

“She is giving you bedroom eyes. I can focus on two things at the same time!”

“The only person that I'm going into a bedroom with is you so she can forget it. But focus on Axel!”

“Fine, but when the game is over I'll deal with her.”

It was down to the last few seconds and the game was tied when Anthony, Axel's best friend and teammate passed him the ball which he kicked right into the net and scored, winning the game.

You and Jack erupted in cheers as his teammates gathered around him and picked him up.

Once the crowd died down, you and Jack made your way onto the field and Axel immediately ran to the both of you. Once he reached you, both of you immediately brought him into a hug.

“So proud of you.” You whispered in his ear as he hugged you both tighter.

“Thank you for letting me come.”

“Anything to see our baby happy. Now where are we going to celebrate your amazing championship winning goal?”

“Hmm Wing Stop?”

“I… seriously?” Jack said as he looked at the both of you.

“Momma's baby. You should already know.” You responded while shrugging.

The three of you were walking back to Jack’s car when Axel turned to look at him.

“Hmm, I guess you are a good teacher after all.” Axel told Jack.

“Obviously, you get your talent from me.”

“I thought that I got it from mom?”Axel playfully asked.

“WHAT? Since when does your mom play soccer?”

“See? Our son knows he got all his good qualities from me.”

“Not that attitude.” Jack shot back and you immediately rolled your eyes as Axel laughed.

“But being a soccer mom does look good on you.”

“I make anything look good.” You said while winking.

“Including dad.”

“HEY! Don't you two start! But I have to agree.”

“Mom, do you think I'm good enough to go pro?” Axel asked as your eyes went wide.

“Um Ax, let's just get through the rest of today first. I don't think your mom is ready to have a constant series of panic attacks if you play professionally.”

“Only if I come with you to every practice, workout session, and game of course!”

“On second thought, never mind.”

“I'll get us all matching shirts.”

“Dad, make it stop.”

“Nope, you asked for this.”

[oonajaeadira]

where you been, adira?

Yes, I've been on here at least once a day just to scroll and take a few breaths, because it's... been a time.

I AM JOEL MILLER I'm currently working on a show that opens tonight. Hence the little extra breathing time this afternoong. (Normally I'm at the theater 4 hours a night, but the show is only 75 minutes, so I get a little more time to myself from here on out.) The SO and I are both in it though (it's his company), so it's nice to spend time with him on a project we both love.

It's a devised, modern retelling of Little Red Riding Hood, but set in 50s/60s Appalachia. There are no sets or props, we make everything with our bodies, including the 4-part harmony shape note singing and a few mountain folk songs I have to carry. It's a lot of physical work, but it's a beautiful show.

Red is a girl that grows up in a small mountain town. She has no parents, so spends time rotating between caretakers, and is told that her place is to stay at home and not go into the woods with the woodsmen. But she loves the woods and when she's a teenager, one of her adoptive fathers makes a move to assault her and she runs away into the woods.

There she meets a solitary woman (me), a grouchy root worker/conjurer with a past of her own (it's revealed that she had a daughter about Red's age that wandered off into the woods and died out there). The two have trouble getting along at first, but they end up healing each other.

I was explaining this to @grogusmum on a polo the other day and she said she basically said it out loud at the same time I did.... "so I'm/you're basically Joel."

Not me finding inspiration in the damnedest of places.

My costume, no lie, includes a green plaid flannel. With the sleeves rolled up.

.

MY HEART NEEDS FIXING I often get heart flip-flops, extra beats, that kind of thing. I went to a cardiologist about 6 or 7 years ago once when it went on for a whole week and they took an ultrasound and basically told me "less caffeine, more sleep, more exercise."

It still comes and goes, but clears up on its own.

Until this January.

When it lasted a whole month.

So I went to my doctor. They took blood and ran all the tests. They hooked me up on machines and slapped a 24/7 monitor on me. When the monitor results came back, I got a message from my doctor: "Go to Emergency Services. Today."

I spent that day, that night, and then next day in the ER, and @feathersandfoxtails can attest, that place is a little crazy, but ultimately everyone's really nice and took good care of me. I must have talked to 30 different doctors, RNs, residents, learning teams, including at least 5 cardiologists. I had 2 EKGs, 2 ultrasounds, a stress test, 5 different blood draws from an IV, and was monitored all night (you try sleeping when your blood pressure cuff goes off once an hour). And this week, baby had her first MRI, which I actually found rather relaxing.

The diagnosis is that I am not in any immediate danger of attack or failure, my pump is good and my heart structure is normal and healthy.

What I have is bad wiring that sends extra signals. It's probably been there from birth and is now just coming to light. So I'm on medication to keep my adrenaline low (so I don't faint--low possibility, but they're just being cautious) until mid-April. Then they're gonna go into my heart and burn away those bad wires. It's endoscopic (and I'l be awake on the table????), so I'll most likely be in and out in a 12 hour span. (They have to wait until my show closes because of the physical activity.)

Weirdly, I'm not stressed out about it. Everyone's been very kind and responsive, and I trust my care team explicitly. Modern medicine is fascinating and amazing; I am in good hands.

.

ALL THE OTHER STUFFINS ...is not exciting. It's onboarding this year's batch of 90+ artists to help produce all of their shows. It's reading 48 show proposal applications in a week's deadline and winnowing them down to 1/4 of that to help another organization to produce. It's writing 2 high-stakes recommendations for colleagues that are highly worthy of the fellowships they're applying for. Both the SO and I are in "show mode" which means the cleaning doesn't get done and the dog is often lonely so the house is a mess and Gordy is a bit more anxious than usual.

It will get easier after this weekend.

.

WHAT'S GOING ON AROUND TUMBLR It's heavy stuff out here. I want to iterate that I'm reading everything and I care very deeply and want to support. The last couple of weeks have been a lot. Forgive me if I need to process and don't have the energy to engage right at this moment. I love and support you all so much.

.

WRITING I'm officially on a writing break for a bit. I thought maybe I could catch some moments, but once I landed in the ER and we ran out of time in tech to do line work I said, nope, Adira, you rest. Rest so you can be ready when Joel comes back around...which will be the day after you step out of his shoes onstage and turn it over to P on the telly.

There's a lot to be excited for. And a lot more time to fandom around.

Give me a second and let me catch my (literal and metaphorical) breath. I'll come back around soon.

<3

[yooglefics]

Reveal — Part two: editing

Pairing: Yoongi x fem!reader ( camboy!yoongi x camgirl!reader )  Wordcount: 1,735 words Genre: 18+, mdni, remainder to not use fanfics as your only source of sex ed. Summary: Yoongi is just helping a friend help you, but is he even supposed to listen to this?. Part 2 of Reveal: recording. Read it for context. This is just why and how we got to that ending. More warnings under read more.

Includes: Mentions of selling sex content. People recording sex acts. Mentions of sexual activity ( doing things and also talking about doing things and thinking about doing more things ). Mentions of past and not past masturbation ( f and m ).  Dirty talk? I guess?. Sprinkle of possessive yoongi? Is not my fault i sweaaaar Author's note: Remember when I started writing something short and silly lmao, what a time. Btw, I have never used OF so if something I say about how they use the website is actually not true / completely wrong just pretend please lmao. Anyway, I thought it'd be fun to write Yoongi's side, hope you like it! If you do please remember to leave a comment, reblog, ask, follow and what not. Thank you for reading <3

Saturday is probably Yoongi's favorite day of the week. No waking up early, no work, and not worrying about having to do any of those the next day.

That's why he groans when his phone rings with messages from Jungkook. He knows is him because he is the only one who still insists on sending him a million messages instead of just one. 

Love the guy, but he can be annoying.

The fifth ring comes and hopping is the last one, Yoongi finally reaches for his phone and rolls to his back. 

JK: hey JK: are you awake? JK: and free today? JK: i need a favor JK: yoongi?

Yoongi: with what? If I have to leave my house is probably a no.

Both of them know that actually, even if it ruined his plans of relaxing, he would say yes. Because that's what friends do.

JK: no no. You can do it at your house  JK: I need to edit an audio for my friend JK: but I'm on the schedule today JK: and if I don't send it back quickly she will back out JK: please? 

Yoongi: ok. Send it to me. Yoongi: you own me, tho.

Throwing his phone on the bed, he gets out of it to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, getting ready to sit in his studio for at least an hour. He knows is probably a bit extra to use his expensive equipment for whatever this favor is, but if he is going to help, he is going to do it right.

Opening Jungkook's messages on his laptop, Yoongi almost wants to laugh at himself.

JK: [ killmepls.mp3 ] JK: is and OF thing, btw JK: don't listen to it in public lol

Yep, definitely Poducer Min equipment is too extra for this. But, fuck it.

The archive is already downloaded when he opens the software, starting a new project and naming it the same as the audio plus final, to not get confused. Plugging in his headphones he starts playing it, already noticing whoever this is, is pretty quiet at the beginning and he would most likely have to cut it off, still, he listens to make sure.

A few taps followed by a “hi..” is the start, and he chuckles at their giggles.

He decides to let that in, but cuts the next few seconds where only their breathing can be heard along with some clicking and fabric moving. Is too long of a pause for this kind of thing and the clicking gives a way they weren't ready to start. Sure they wouldn't mind.

They put music on? It sounds familiar but is pretty fade out, so he can't really be sure, and then “This angle is kinda…” 

That's him.

That's his voice.

“Hot,” the voice continues before he can rewind.

“You can't tell me I'm mean anymore. I'm spoiling you,” his own voice travels again on his headphones. “I'm giving you this view and I'm giving you what's probably the thing you all ask the most: hands.”

What is this? Some kind of joke?

Did Jungkook put them up to this?

“I hate him. I'm gonna sue him,” 

That gets a laugh from him, even if he is still confused about what is happening.

Maybe it's just his imagination?

Should he ask his friend?

More movement of fabric. Maybe bed sheets or clothes. More breathing, a bit faster than last time and then, a groan. 

He can leave that in.

Wait, that's right. He is supposed to be editing this. He has to go back and…

“This angle is kinda…” his voice says and he hits pause. Is really him. Is that possible?

He feels like he is imagining things.

“Jungkook, I swear if this is some kind of joke or something,” he rambles taking his phone out.

Yoongi: did you listen to it?

JK: no, didn't have time JK: why? something wrong? JK: don't tell me it can't be used JK: she is gonna be sad :(

Yoongi: who is she?

JK: dunno if i can tell you 

Yoongi: technically I'm doing a favor for her. I think is fair 

JK: good point JK: is afterhours(y/n)

He opens a new tap on his laptop, goes to the website and searches for the username through his followers. And sure enough there it is. Subscribed a month ago.

He clicks to see your perfil. The first post he can see without being subscribed is a picture of a lilac lingerie set on a bed with the caption “very early birthday present”, from a week ago. 

He considers subscribing to see more, but he stops himself from clicking, remembering Jungkook didn't even want to tell him who you were. Oh, shit. What would you do if you knew it was him editing your audio? Would you back out? Or be sad?

Now it feels kind of wrong, like if he were invading your privacy.

He clicks around on his computer again, audio track back to the zero seconds mark. He hears the “hi” and the giggles and stops it before his voice appears. 

“Okay, this is going to be posted. It was recorded with the intention of being posted for people to hear,” he reasons. “If it's not posted I'd just forget about it and if it is… I'd… subscribe? To make up for listening?”

Clearly that part is not completely made up on his mind, but he doesn't have to decide what to do right now, he has to finish editing. And so, Yoongi clicks around the software again, cutting and deleting another section, the one where you can hear his voice and even his music before.

That's it. It was a familiar track because it is his. He composed that himself to put in the background of his videos exclusively. He figured putting his own touch would help if something was posted outside his page, never imagining hearing it in the background of someone else's video or audio was even possible.

It shouldn't affect him this much. After all, people touching themselves to his videos is half the reason he likes making them. What can he say? Is a turn on to have that effect on others, it builds his confidence up.

But actually hearing it is different. 

Groan and fabric moving, a bit too close to the mic he considers doing something about it, but “I want you to touch me,” is the perfect whisper. Just the right volume, just the right words.

No more audio of SugaD can be heard now, you probably turn down the volume of the video or pause it. Yoongi is curious about it. The idea of your sounds being a reaction to his past self is doing things to him, and Yoongi would like to ignore them before getting too distracted, but is kind of a boomer not knowing exactly what your reactions are for.

Maybe he can open his video, it wouldn't be hard for him to synchronized it with your audio and—

No.

That would cross the line. Is enough that he—

“Are you hard?” your voice continues, timidly he thinks. 

Is this your first time doing this? That's why you couldn't edit yourself?

What would you do if you knew he was listening and his dick was calling for attention at all your little sounds?

He stops your recording, considers taking a break, going back to bed. But he knows just forgetting about this would be hard and in the end he would have to come back and finish helping.

He unpaused it.

More moans echo throughout his headphones and he fixes them on top of his head, as if that would help him concentrate. You just sound so pretty, and when you plead he wants to give you anything you ask for, his dick twitching with desire.

He could just— no. That'll be wrong. Is enough he is letting it affect him this much, he can't just—

His leg bounces under his desk, hand glue to his mouse even when he is just listening now. Only stopping and going back a couple times to fix the volume of background noise, making it less or more obvious depending on the flow or your moans.

A groan of his own cuts the silence in his studio when you form words again. “It feels so good, oh god.” And Yoongi wishes he knew what. Wishes he could see you, could touch you. Could make you sound and feel that good in person.

“Uh uh,” short moans leave your lips, and it sounds so much like you're agreeing with his thoughts he really considers sneaking a hand down his pants. Allow his mind to wander and imagine what you would look like under him. Or on top. Or just coming undone by him.

But he doesn't. He just listens to your recording, your breathing, your pleas and your cut out warning when you cum.

“Fucking hell,” Yoongi angrily whispers. And for a second he considers doing the SugaD special of cutting it out of the final audio, but that's too selfish.

Or perhaps is more selfish leaving it. Considering he wants the world to hear how you sound when listening to him.

Yoongi managed to leave the studio without touching himself. But is not really as impressive as it sounds since his hand is on his dick the minute he goes back to bed after listening to the final edit of your audio one last time. The excuse of being just to make sure is perfect is just that, an excuse. And your pretty sounds replay on his head while he jerks off until orgasm.

JK: thank youuuu JK: she says thank you too!

Does that mean you know he was the one editing it?

He opens the app on his phone, looks for your perfil again and debates a couple minutes his options. 

What's the worst that can happen? You blocking him? He would understand, but if he actually doesn't do anything, doesn't play his chance, he wouldn't forgive himself.

And so, he subscribes. Page refreshes instantly and a new post greets him.

[ afterhours(y/n):

Surprise, surprise. Is my birthday month but I keep spoiling you, ain't I the best? 😝 

      [ VoiceReveal.mp3 ]

                                                                         ]

Doesn't even have to listen to it, his fingers move on their own, “the cutest”, he comments.

♡ Tag list: @m00njinnie , @sexytholland , @seoullove96 , @thelilbutifulthings , @disneyprincessshuri ,

( is hereee! I appreciate u guys hehe <3 ) ( if anyone else wants to be tagged in the future, let me know )

➪ Part one. | ➪ Part three. | ➪ Updates for this verse | ➪ Ko-fi

➪ Main masterlist. | ➪ Updates in general | ➪ Request & chats ♡

[arivsxq]

meddle about chapter 6

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Theme: strangers to lovers, angsty shit

Warnings: smut, hookup, fwb, maybe slow updates

Word count: 3,8k+

Songs: Meddle about - Chase Atlantic

Heartbeat - Childish Gambino

A/N: Hey guys, it's been over a week but I'm back. I have some struggles in my private life that might affect the uploads but I try my best to post regularly. This chapter is a bit short but don't worry I'm working on a longer one. Right now chapter 7 has 6k words. I might post it this week or next, we'll see but til then I hope you'll enjoy this one<3

A whole week had passed since we both agreed on the whole friends-with-benefits thing. And to be honest, the weirdness in the air faded really quickly, but we also didn't get intimate the whole time, so I couldn't quite tell how long the weirdness would be gone. At least I had the time to start all over with my art project and make it watchable this time.

At the weekend, everyone was busy studying for the upcoming exams, while I had to attend another soul-sucking event my parents wanted me to. This time, I kept my mouth shut and didn't speak unless I had to. This was the first night after a long time my parents didn't call me the biggest disappointment. It felt nice. Too nice for my liking. I wasn't used to them behaving this way, but I also wasn't used to me behaving like they wanted me to behave.

I kept my back straight and my smile polite as I stood among a crowd of well-dressed people who spoke in clipped, rehearsed tones. The event hall was grand, with chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the scent of expensive perfume and champagne thick in the air. My parents were busy socializing, shaking hands with people I barely recognized, people who pretended to care about each other's achievements while secretly competing for who had the best success story to flaunt.

I hated these events. Always had.

But after hours of suffering, I was driven home by the driver of my parents, and for the first time, I felt like I wasn't a burden to them. Maybe it was my fault all along, and I was being childish and overdramatic. Maybe this was what I had to do the whole time, keep my mouth shut and do what they wanted me to for a few hours. I mean, that's the least I can do, right?

A few days later, I was sitting in the campus library, attempting to shove an entire semester's worth of knowledge into my already exhausted brain.

Spoiler alert: it wasn't working.

I stared blankly at my notes, the words blurring together into an indecipherable mess. Art history. Movements, techniques, dates. Normally, I found some level of interest in it, but today, everything felt dull and suffocating. Probably because my brain was still preoccupied with thoughts I didn't want to have.

Thoughts about that stupid event. About how easy it had been to be the daughter my parents always wanted. About how it had made me feel, lighter, in a way, but also... less. I hated that I was still thinking about it. It wasn't a big deal. I did what I had to do. That was life, right?

I sighed, rubbing my temples. Focus. I needed to focus. I had exams coming up. Real-life problems that needed my attention. The chair across from me scraped against the floor, and before I even looked up, I knew who it was.

Jungkook.

Because of course, the universe wasn't going to let me sit in peace and overthink my existence in solitude.

He plopped down, a lazy grin tugging at his lips as he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "You look miserable for someone who is a bit overdressed."

I shot him a flat look. "That's because I am miserable."

He snorted, peeking at my notes. "Cramming last minute?"

"No, I just love spending my free time reading about 18th-century brush techniques."

Jungkook smirked. "Sexy."

I rolled my eyes. "Why are you here?"

He shrugged. "Felt like annoying you."

Of course he did.

I sighed, tapping my pen against my notebook. Jungkook had an annoying talent for making me forget whatever I was brooding about, and as much as I wanted to stay in my little bubble of self-pity, part of me was relieved he was here.

"Did you even study?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

He leaned back, stretching his arms over his head. "Nope. Just gonna wing it."

I groaned. "You can't just wing it. These exams are-"

"Relax, I'll be fine." He tilted his head, studying me for a second. "You, on the other hand, look like you might explode."

"That's because I might explode."

He chuckled, and then his gaze softened slightly. "Still thinking about the event?"

I hesitated. I hadn't told him much, just the basics. That it had been suffocating. That my parents had, for once, not looked at me like I was a letdown. I hadn't told him the part where I wasn't sure how I felt about it.

Jungkook sighed, leaning forward again. "Look, I know you want them to see you. Really see you. But don't lose yourself trying to be someone you're not."

I swallowed. "I'm not."

He raised an eyebrow.

I exhaled sharply. "I just... I don't know. Maybe I make things harder than they have to be."

Jungkook studied me, then reached over, plucking my pen from my hand. "Let's take a break."

I frowned. "I can't."

"Yes, you can." He smirked. "Come on, let's go get food. You're going to fail your exams and die of stress at this rate."

I stared at him, my mind warring between wanting to be responsible and knowing he was right.

Finally, I sighed. "Fine."

His grin widened. "Knew you'd see reason."

On our way out, we nearly crashed into Namjoon, who looked like he was one all-nighter away from complete collapse. His arms are stacked with books, thick ones, the kind that makes you reconsider your entire life's choices, and the dark bags under his eyes suggest he hasn't seen the sun in days. He doesn't even seem to notice us. Or anyone, really. Just a man and his books, locked in an academic death match.

"Dude," Jungkook says, stepping aside before Namjoon accidentally bulldozes through him. "Blink twice if you're alive."

Namjoon blinks exactly zero times.

I tilt my head, eyeing his precariously stacked tower of textbooks. "Do you need help?"

Namjoon finally registers our existence, blinking blearily like he's just now remembering the concept of human interaction. "No, no, I'm good," he mutters, adjusting the books in his grip. One slides dangerously close to the edge, and I instinctively reach out, steadying it before it topples.

"You sure?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

He sighs, clearly not sure, but Namjoon being Namjoon, he nods anyway. "Just... finals. You know how it is."

Jungkook smirks. "Can't relate."

I shoot him a look. "That's because you have the study habits of a cockroach."

Jungkook shrugs, entirely unbothered. "Hey, cockroaches survive everything."

Namjoon barely reacts, just exhales tiredly. "I should go. Still have three chapters to get through before my next class."

Jungkook looks as if he saw a dinosaur. "Is this some rich kid stuff?"

"Jungkook...that's called studying," I say with zero emotion.

He lifts his arms in a motion that makes me read his mind. "no need to get personal" would his exact words be.

After giving him a not-so-friendly look, he speaks again, "And when was the last time you slept?"

Namjoon pauses as if actually having to dig through his brain for the answer. That in itself is concerning.

I cross my arms. "Namjoon."

"Technically, I napped for twenty minutes on my desk," he says as if that's supposed to reassure me.

Jungkook grins. "Damn. That's worse than you, Y/N."

I ignore him. "Namjoon, you're going to pass out if you keep this up."

"I can't fail this class," he says, almost desperately. "If I don't-"

"Yeah, yeah, your entire academic career crumbles, and life as you know it ends," Jungkook deadpans. "We get it."

I shoot him another glare before turning back to Namjoon. "At least eat something," I insist. "We're getting food. Come with us."

Namjoon hesitates, glancing at his books like they might get up and walk away if he abandons them for too long.

Jungkook nudges him. "Come on, brainiac. You'll study better if you're actually conscious."

Namjoon sighs, rubbing a hand over his exhausted face. "Fine. But only for a little bit."

"See?" Jungkook grins, throwing an arm around Namjoon's shoulder as we walk out. "This is why we're friends. We save you from yourself."

Namjoon just groans. "I already regret this."

I laugh. "Too late."

***

Another few days had passed, making today a Friday. Normally, I would be happy, but I knew I would be studying the whole weekend without any break.

Or so I thought.

By the time the evening rolled around, my brain was already fried from staring at the same notes all day. My eyes felt like they were going to melt out of my skull, and the idea of spending another two days like this made me want to throw myself into oncoming traffic.

I sighed, stretching my arms over my head when my phone buzzed on my desk.

Jungkook: Get dressed. We're going out.

I frowned at the screen.

Me: No.

Jungkook: Yes.

Me: I have exams, and you too, idiot.

Jungkook: And you also have a life. Come on, just a few hours. You're going to fail if you burn out.

He wasn't wrong. Not that I was about to admit that.

Me: Where?

Jungkook: That's the spirit. I'll be outside in 10.

I groaned, rubbing my hands down my face. Was I really doing this? Was I really going to let Jungkook drag me out when I should be knee-deep in revision?

Apparently, yes.

With minimal effort, I threw on something decent, not bothering too much because, knowing Jungkook, we weren't going anywhere fancy.

When I stepped outside, he was already there, leaning against his bike like he had all the time in the world. He whistled when he saw me. "Hot."

I rolled my eyes. "This is a bad idea."

"Probably." He tossed me a helmet. "Come on."

I hesitated for exactly two seconds before sighing and climbing on behind him.

Jungkook didn't tell me where we were going, which should've been a red flag, but at this point, I was too tired to fight him. The city lights blurred past as we sped through the streets, the cool air against my skin waking me up more than caffeine ever could.

Eventually, we stopped in front of a small but crowded bar tucked between two buildings. The neon sign flickered slightly, and I could already hear the bass of whatever song was playing inside.

I raised an eyebrow. "Really? A bar? Again? This won't end up well."

Jungkook shrugged. "Thought you could use a drink."

I gave him an exhausted look. "Jungkook."

"It'll help, I promise."

I sighed. "Fine. One drink."

Inside, the place was packed with students who had also clearly given up on pretending to be responsible. The music wasn't deafening, but it was loud enough that conversations had to be spoken close. Jungkook led us to a booth in the corner, ordering drinks without even asking me what I wanted.

Minutes later, I was nursing a cold glass in my hands, already feeling some of the stress slipping away. Maybe Jungkook was onto something. Maybe I did need a break.

That's when I saw him.

Across the room, leaning against the bar, talking to some girl with an easy smirk. My ex. The ex who had fucked my so-called "friend" behind my back.

My stomach twisted. Because of course, of all places, of all nights, he had to be here too.

Jungkook followed my gaze, then leaned in slightly. "You okay?"

I swallowed, forcing a small smile. "Yeah. Totally."

Lies. Jungkook didn't look convinced. His eyes flickered between me and the scene unfolding across the bar, where my ex was now leaning in, whispering something in the girl's ear that made her giggle. My grip tightened around my glass.

"Want me to punch him?" Jungkook asked casually, taking a sip of his drink. He didn't know who this guy was, but he could tell that something had happened between us.

I snorted. "Tempting. But no."

He hummed, tilting his head. "I could just trip him on his way to the bathroom. Real subtle."

"Jungkook."

"What?" He shrugged. "Assholes deserve consequences."

I sighed, forcing myself to look away. I was over it. Or at least, I was supposed to be. It had been months since the breakup, and I had no business still feeling anything about it. But seeing him now, so unbothered, so fine, yeah, it stung.

Maybe it was less about him and more about the fact that I had spent so much time feeling like shit while he got to walk around acting like he never did anything wrong. Like I never even mattered.

"Hey," Jungkook said, nudging my knee with his. "You want to leave?"

I thought about it. I thought about bolting out the door, about locking myself in my room and pretending I never saw him. But then I imagined him seeing me do that. Imagined him thinking I still cared enough to let him ruin my night.

"No." I squared my shoulders. "I'm fine."

Jungkook watched me for a beat, then smirked. "Then let's make him uncomfortable."

I frowned. "What?"

But before I could fully process what was happening, Jungkook was moving closer, slinging an arm over the back of the booth behind me. His fingers brushed against my shoulder as he leaned in, his breath warm against my ear.

I tensed. "Jeon-"

He grinned. "Relax. Just making sure he sees you having a great time."

I rolled my eyes, but the corner of my mouth twitched. "You're ridiculous."

"Maybe." His smirk widened. "But you're smiling now."

Damn it. He was right.

And, because the universe has a twisted sense of humor, when I finally let myself relax, when I finally let Jungkook distract me, that's when my ex noticed us. I felt it before I saw it. That shift in the air, the weight of an unwelcome gaze settling on me.

Slowly, I turned my head, meeting his eyes across the bar.

His smirk faltered. His jaw tightened.

And I, just to be petty, leaned into Jungkook's touch, tilting my head slightly as I laughed at something he whispered in my ear.

My ex's expression darkened.

"Alright," Jungkook murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. "Now this is fun."

I took a slow sip of my drink, my eyes still locked with my ex's. His date was saying something to him, but he wasn't listening anymore. His focus was on me.

Jungkook chuckled, a low and amused sound. "He looks like he just bit into a lemon."

"Good," I muttered.

Jungkook tilted his head. "Want to really piss him off?"

I turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

He smirked. "Come dance with me."

I hesitated. That was a dangerous idea. Jungkook was already dangerously attractive, and if we danced, really danced, there was no way my ex wouldn't take notice.

But wasn't that the whole point?

"Fine," I said, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the dance floor before I could overthink it.

The music pulsed around us, the bass vibrating through the floor. The crowd moved as one, bodies pressed close, the air thick with heat and energy. Jungkook pulled me into him, his hands settling low on my waist as he moved to the beat.

"You sure you can handle this, Kook?" I teased, wrapping my arms around his neck.

He grinned. "You have no idea."

And then he really started dancing. Smooth, fluid movements that had me pressed flush against him, his hands guiding my hips in sync with his own. It was effortless, natural, the kind of chemistry that made the whole room fade away.

I knew my ex was watching. I felt his stare burning into my skin. And then, because I was feeling bold, reckless, and petty, I tipped my chin up, brushing my lips against Jungkook's ear.

"Kiss me," I whispered.

Jungkook stilled for half a second. Just a half second. Then his hands tightened on my waist, and he pulled me in, crashing his lips onto mine.

It wasn't soft. It wasn't careful. It was heat and tension and something electric. His fingers dug into my hips, pulling me closer, and I let out a sound I swore was just for effect. But then he deepened the kiss, one hand sliding up my back, and suddenly I wasn't thinking about my ex anymore.

I was only thinking about him.

The crowd pressed around us, bodies moving, music pounding, but all I could feel was Jungkook, his touch, his breath, the way he kissed me like he meant it.

When we finally pulled away, I was breathless. Jungkook's eyes were dark, unreadable, his chest rising and falling.

"Well," he murmured, lips ghosting against mine. "That should do it."

I blinked, momentarily forgetting what it even was. But then I caught a glimpse of my ex storming toward the exit, and I smirked. Maybe this whole friends with benefits wasn't a bad thing after all. To be honest, this man can kiss, and holy shit, the things I would do to feel these lips again.

"Mission accomplished."

Jungkook laughed, shaking his head. "You're trouble."

I shrugged. "You knew that already."

He hummed, eyes dropping to my lips. "Yeah. But I think I like it."

Jungkook's eyes flickered to my lips again, his tongue darting out to wet his own like he was contemplating something. My heart was still hammering against my ribs, my skin buzzing in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol. And the worst part? I didn't want it to stop.

"Wanna get out of here?" Jungkook murmured, his voice low, intimate, just for me.

I should have said no. I should have laughed it off, pushed him away, made some joke to diffuse whatever the hell was happening between us.

But I didn't.

Instead, I nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."

His smirk deepened, and before I could second-guess myself, he was grabbing my hand and leading me through the throng of people. I barely registered the bodies we brushed past, the music pounding in my ears. My focus was only on him, the warmth of his hand, the way his grip tightened slightly like he was making sure I wouldn't change my mind.

Outside, the cool night air hit me like a slap, sobering but not enough to shake off the way Jungkook was looking at me. Like I was something he wanted to devour.

"So..." he drawled, leaning against his bike, watching me with that lazy smirk. "What now?"

I swallowed. I should go home. I should get back to my notes, to my exams, to my sanity. But I wasn't thinking straight. I stepped closer, reaching for his jacket, fingers curling around the fabric. "Take me home." His smirk faltered for just a second, his dark eyes searching mine. And then—

"Yeah," he exhaled, voice rough. "Okay."

The ride back was a blur. I barely felt the wind against my skin, and barely noticed the city lights flashing past. All I could focus on was the warmth of Jungkook's body in front of me, the way my arms were wrapped around his torso, my fingers clutching at his shirt.

By the time we reached my place, I was already breathless. I slid off the bike, turning to face him. He didn't move, just sat there, watching me like he was waiting for me to say something.

"Come inside," I said before I could stop myself.

His eyes darkened. "You sure?"

I nodded.

He killed the engine, swung his leg over, and followed me inside without another word. The door had barely clicked shut before he was on me. His hands were everywhere, gripping my waist, sliding up my back, threading into my hair as his lips crashed onto mine again, hungrier this time. I gasped against his mouth, my fingers tugging at his jacket, and he groaned, deep and low, before shrugging it off.

"This is a bad idea. I have to study," I muttered against his lips.

Jungkook grinned. "Fuck it."

And then we weren't talking anymore. His lips were insistent, pressing against mine like he had something to prove like this was something inevitable. My back hit the door, his hands skimming down my sides, fingers gripping just tight enough to make my breath catch.

I should stop this.

But then he exhaled against my skin, his lips trailing along my jaw, and suddenly, stopping felt like the last thing I wanted to do.

"Let me take all your stress away," Jungkook murmured against my collarbone, his voice low, and rough, his hands slipping beneath my shirt's hem.

I grabbed fistfuls of his t-shirt, dragging him closer, pulling him into me until there was no space left between us. I felt his smirk before he kissed me again, deep and slow this time like he was savoring it. Like he knew exactly what he was doing to me.

Somewhere in the mess of limbs and heat, we stumbled toward my couch. The backs of his knees hit the edge, and he let himself fall, pulling me down with him. I was sitting on his lap, and his dark eyes locked onto mine.

"Want to fuck you so bad," he murmured.

"Stop talking" I whispered back, my fingers tracing up his neck.

Jungkook's jaw tightened, his eyes flickering between mine before he kissed me again. I started feeling him growing harder underneath me, making me let out a soft moan. Without thinking any further, my hips started grinding against his slowly. Jungkook let out a muffled "fuck" against my lips before his tattooed hand trailed down to my ass.

Another moan escaped my mouth when I felt him gripping my ass.

"I'll come if you continue making these noises," his voice is husky, making me wetter than I was before.

I couldn't think straight as soon as his other hand started massaging my breasts. At that moment, I knew I was fucked. At that moment, I knew he had me wrapped around his finger, and holy shit, I hated it. I hated that he had this much power over me right now. That if he would stop, I'd beg him to continue.

"Fuck, Koo," my whines brought out a low groan out of him, and our movements became faster. 

His hand left my ass and went up to stroke my hair. My head fell on his shoulder while my breathing became more uneven.

"I'm so close baby" Jungkook brings out before he said, "Fuck you're so perfect".

A loud whine escaped my mouth and my fingers tightened around the fabric of his shirt. And a few moments later, we both came. I should've said something. I should've broken the tension, made some jokes, and kept things light before my brain caught up with my body and started overthinking everything. 

Instead, Jungkook beat me to it.

"Shit," he muttered, "That was..."

"Yeah," I exhaled, turning my head to look at him. 

Silence stretched between us, not exactly uncomfortable, but definitely charged. His fingers traced lazy patterns against my skin, absentminded but deliberate.

"Are we going to pretend this didn't happen?" I asked finally, forcing some kind of normalcy into my voice.

Jungkook tilted his head toward me, his lips twitching into something almost amused. "Do you want to pretend it didn't happen?"

I opened my mouth, ready to say yes, ready to make this easy, but then he dragged his fingers up my side, his touch featherlight, and my body betrayed me with a shiver.

His smirk deepened. "That's what I thought."

I groaned, burying my face in the crook of his neck. "You're insufferable."

"And yet, you dry-humped me."

I moved my head to glare at him again. "This doesn't mean anything."

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. "Sure."

I huffed. "I'm serious. This was just... stress relief. A one-time thing."

"Right."

"Jungkook."

"Y/N."

I narrowed my eyes. He was enjoying this way too much.

"Whatever," I muttered, suddenly exhausted.

Jungkook chuckled. "If you say so."

Silence again, but this time, it felt heavier.  I should tell him to leave. I should establish some kind of boundary before this got messy.

But I didn't.

"Wanna stay?" I said instead, and the next thing I remember is him lying beside me in only sweatpants.

[powerfultenderness]

Price gets jealous of your dad

Price marries someone close in age to him. Someone who doesn't have daddy issues. He has enough of young soldiers projecting their abandoned by daddy issues onto him. He doesn't want his partner thinking of him as "daddy" too.

Except, maybe you do have a little bit of daddy issues. You're a daddy's girl through and through. Your father loved you from the moment you were conceived and even after you moved out on your own, even after you married, there was hardly a week that goes by when the two of you didn't at least speak on the phone.

Price thought he didn't care. It's good that you have a healthy and loving relationship with your father.

Until, while on deployment, something breaks around the house. You tell him when he calls and he says he'll make repairs when he gets home, it shouldn't be that much longer. But he gets home and everything is fine, everything is working perfectly.

"Oh, I asked my dad for help. Figured the last thing you want to do when you get home is work on the house!"

He likes being able to take care of you, you work so much and so hard, that he wants to make things easier for you. And you thought the same of him, it was sweet. Besides, it left more time for the two of you to spend together.

Then the check engine light comes on in the car, and you're already on the phone with your dad. "My dad said..."

The weather got a little too cold, there you are, "my dad said..."

The weather got a little too hot, "my dad said..."

The sink starts acting up? "My dad said-"

"Enough! I know how to fix a damn bloody pipe! You're not living with your dad anymore! You're living in my house!"

You stare at him for a moment, mouth agape, before you slowly narrow your eyes at him. "Excuse you?"

"Our house! I meant, our house!"

"Mmhm. Well, you know how to fix it, fix it." Then you turned around and left. Probably calling your dad to tell him that he yelled at you...

After he cleans up, he finds you in the living room watching something on tv and scrolling on your phone at the same time.

"Sweetheart-"

"Oh "sweetheart" is it?"

He sighed as he sat next to you, thankful that you at least put your phone down as you looked at him. "Look, I'm sorry I yelled at ya. I shouldn't have done that."

"Mmhm."

"It's just, sometimes it feels like you think I'm some incompetent bumpkin."

"What? That's not-"

"Then let me take care of things, let me take of you, without you calling your dad at every little inconvenience."

So that's what it was. "Oh, John. I'm sorry. It's just, my dad has always been there for me and I just-"

"I know." He grabbed your hand gently, "I know. And I don't want you think that I never want you to call him. Especially if I'm not here. But please, just, trust me a little more."

"I trust you! I do!" You turned to him fully, both hands on his arm. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"I know, sweetheart. I know." The argument ended with a kiss, one that had him grinning as he pulled back slightly. "Besides, I can take care of you in other ways too."

And he did. He took care of you in the living room, in the hallway, in the bedroom, in the bathroom, all over the house.

[larkingame]

hello all! been a moment since we last discussed some things, so I'm coming online to discuss the progress of Larkin's development and make a few announcements :)

over the last ten months, larkin has gone through a lot of changes, some of which I've documented here--but most of it I've kept pretty private. I realized that over the few short years I've been developing the game, I sort of grew an unhealthy dependence on my presence within the 'interactive fiction' community that I really, really needed to take a step back from and break, all in order to ensure that I could enjoy working on what originally started out as a passion project for me.

since july of last year, I've completely reshaped and rewritten how larkin exists as a project, shifted it's genre and started collaborating with a few others to ensure it can be of the highest quality it can possibly be. uptop, i'd like to mention @tapeworrmart who's taken on the immense task of putting together most of the game art for me, @khiita and @ann1a-1 who have both taken on the roles of my editors (and also sounding boards for when I am being absolutely insane) and my production manager phillip, who without his assistance, larkin would barely exist. with that, let's do a progress report. the intended demo of larkin, or what i've taken to calling 'episode one' (yes, i said, 'episode,' more on that in a minute) has stretched to just over 200k words worth of content. it stretches all the way from the earliest versions of larkin's original prologue, to the end of the original chapter two. so far, we've completed 3 out of the intended 20 character portraits, as well as some more art that's slowly been in development.

now, on to the announcements. probably the biggest, and the one I am most ashamed of is--due to the fact that I've been slammed with graduate school work and some other external factors, Larkin as it currently exists is not the best that I think it can be. I'm deeply sorry for this, but I want to ensure that you all are getting the highest quality game you could get from me--and right now, I know it's just not that. Which is why I am unfortunately, pushing the release of the demo back until Friday, June 14th, 2024. Patrons will be granted access to the most recent edit of the demo two weeks earlier on Friday, May 31st 2024. In the meantime, I will be working day and night (quite literally) to get what I'm dropping on you up to par and something that I'm happy with.

To make up for this disappointment, I'm planning on repopulating the blog with a lot of content over the coming months, rewriting new versions of old asks, posting art and short stories.

Next on the agenda and also an equally important announcement. I'm changing the rating of Larkin to Mature or 18+ As I've been writing these past few months, working through a lot of themes and figuring out the story I want to tell, I've found that I think the change in rating is entirely necessary. While I don't think I've ever had that big of a minor fanbase--I think that this is just what I am most comfortable doing. There has consistently grown a little bit more of gore, and trauma exploration, which is the main reason for this change in rating, but, this does allow for the inclusion of something that I've been toying with since the intial release of the game. There is going to be explicit sex scenes in this new version of Larkin--all of which, you the player are able to opt out of, or completely avoid if that's something you want--but I just thought a little announcement would be warranted. This does not mean however, I am comfortable with answering thoroughly explicit asks or getting unsolicited sexual messages. The goal is to keep this game blog mainly tame.

Please respect this boundary of mine.

Third thing to be announced. I've also changed the format in which Larkin will be released. Rather than around the twenty-five chapters in one of a series of 'Books'/'Games', Larkin will be released episodically over four 'seasons' with eight-ten episodes of around 200k-250k words each (though, this is just an early estimate--they could grow longer, as I'm basing this purely off the demo/Episode One)

Finally and a little bit of a fun note: there are now twelve romance options throughout larkin, five male, three female, one non-binary and three gender-selectable. With those upcoming asks, you'll hear more about each in the coming days :)

With all that being said, I wanted to lastly thank all of you for supporting me over the years and putting faith and your interest in this project. truly, the support of all of you means the world to me and I can't wait to share more of larkin with you all.

thank you 💖

[kangaracha]

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 5

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

a/n apparently it has been 28 days since the last chapter, but the good news is i now have 4 chapters written in advance so january at least will have content. for those who haven't seen the random announcements on my blog, i've been sick and honestly probably will be again in january so your patience is appreciated, and i'm sorry, i'm not usually this sporadic with a project like this! to my editing team, who are feeling betrayed seeing this surprise chapter in their notifications, my chrissy new years gift to you is not asking for edits in the holiday season, roast me in the chat if anything is wrong (keeps, that last part doesn't apply to you)

previous | masterlist | next

---

Even as you knock on the door to the studio, you're nervous.

Maybe you shouldn't be; it's been nearly a month exactly now, and you're fairly sure at this point that none of the boys hate you, though calling some of them friends has been easier said than done. Maybe that's why you're nervous in the first place, because it's been so long and you're still unsure where you stand within the group, especially with the one you're supposed to meet now...

It's not your fault. Well, maybe it is a little bit - you're aware that you're struggling to relax in their company, the way you had with the girls in Midnight or other trainees. But your schedules are so different too, you only see the others in practise, or in passing in the halls. Some days you practise on your own, while they are off on one schedule or another, living the life of idols that have built up their name, other days only half of them are there. Sometimes there is no dance practise scheduled at all, their own individual lessons or other commitments taking precedence.

It won't be like this forever, you just keep telling yourself. Three weeks more, and then you debut with the rest of them, and you're part of the group for real. Three weeks of hard work, and then, maybe, it gets easier.

Maybe. You've thought that before, only for an opportunity to slip away through your fingers. You wouldn't be surprised if it happened again.

The door opens - Chan, leaning over from his chair to tug on the door handle before he returns to his desk. "Come in," he says warmly, an arm gesturing you towards the couch behind him. It's already occupied by Changbin, who makes you smile when he gives you a hello and a wave. "Sit with me," he says, in Korean and then again in broken English, patting the cushions. "I'll be quiet, I promise."

You're reminded suddenly of how loud he can be, during practises or even when everyone is just sitting around, but you hesitate to mention it, sitting quietly beside him instead. "You can tell him to leave if you want," Chan adds, his back turning to his laptop. "He's not actually here for anything important."

"I'm here for emotional support," Changbin claims, only he puts on such a voice as he says it that it makes both of you laugh. "It's an important job."

"Okay, well." Chan's hands spread, like he doesn't have any say in the situation. "If you don't need support, you can tell him to leave."

"He can stay," you answer readily, and you don't really doubt your answer at all. Out of all the members, Changbin has been one of the friendliest; he'd been so warm and accepting on your first day, and gone out of his way in days since to talk to you or pull you into a joke when you were on the outskirts watching. Even if he was only doing it because you looked pathetically out of place among them, you appreciated it. 

"Cool," Chan says, and then he shifts in his chair like he's uncomfortable, his eyes straying towards his laptop momentarily. "So. I wanted to talk to you about the comeback."

"I figured as much," you reply, aware that your hands are fidgeting nervously in your lap.

Chan's mouth opens, like he's going to say something, and then he hesitates, glancing away again. Apprehension rises in your throat, bitter like the taste of bad coffee as you swallow it back down again. It's one thing if you're nervous - but if he is unsure about what he's about to say too, then it could be-

"I've thought about it, and I've decided that you're not going to debut with us on this album."

Bad.

Your heart stops and then starts again, your chest tightening around your lungs even though you've heard this story before. It shouldn't even surprise you by now, the let-down; thinking you might have now, finally, done the work and reaped the reward, and yet every time you seem to let the hope creep into your chest just so that you can crumble twice as hard. You hadn't even realised you'd become this married to the idea of joining Stray Kids in the last three weeks, and yet the idea of getting dropped again hurts like a pain in your chest.

This was your last chance. No one else will debut you. The world isn't that kind of kind.

"Okay," you say, through a jaw that feels like it won't move enough to form the words. "It's - I understand. I'm sorry that I couldn't do it."

"Hang on," Chan says, a hand hovering between you like he's ready to catch you if you turn to leave. "Just hear me out - it's not that you're not good enough, okay? I just think it will help you if we wait a little bit longer, and the company were happy to agree."

"You've worked hard," Changbin says beside you, his face earnest. "No one thinks you can't do it."

"No," Chan agrees. "I'm just looking at the timeline, and the schedule they've drawn up for you, and I think you'd do much better if we push debut back to our next comeback in September."

September. Three more months away, rather than three weeks; three more months to push through, nose to the grindstone, that deadline looming over your head. Three more months in which someone might realise they've made a grave mistake and pull you right back out again, when you'd been so close to that finish line. Three more months feeling like an imposter in these boys' lives, waiting for life to even out into some kind of normal.

"Is that okay?" Chan asks, and you bite down the spiral of thoughts that pulls your mind down towards a big, black hole and nod, trying to pretend that it's nothing. The frown on his face doesn't look convinced, nor does the sheet of paper that he reaches behind him to fetch, shoving it into your hands.

"I want you to understand," he says as you look down at the paper, forcing your fingers to only hold it gently before you can rip it. A schedule, the next three weeks of your life laid out in a neat little chart that is detailed down to the minute and overflowing with things to do. "This is the choice they've given us; either we push you through this schedule and extra dance practise and debut in three weeks, or we wait sixteen weeks, and you do all of these things with the rest of us in a reasonable timeframe. I've been looking at it all week, and...I think it's too much. Waiting gives us a song prepared for nine members, takes the pressure off of the managers, gives you time to get to know everyone..."

You're forced to swallow the lump in your throat as you read the schedule and realise that Chan is right; the next week is full of photoshoots and content creation, with no room left for the dance practise you know you need to keep up with. It's rushed, and it's daunting, and at first look you're not really sure at all how you would handle everything. It's the life you've been training for for years now, and yet so many of the things on this list you feel like you haven't trained for at all.

"You're right," you admit, around a tongue that sits too heavy in your mouth. "I don't know why they thought this would work in the first place, when I'm so-"

"Someone high up had a great idea, and wanted it seen through as fast as possible," Chan says before you can finish. "Stray Kids haven't had a really...successful year. Maybe they were thinking of dropping us unless something changed, maybe they just really liked you. They've already agreed to push your debut back to September anyway, so it's not something we need to worry about now."

"As long as they still think it's a good idea in September," you say, and you manage to keep your tone light even though it doesn't sound much like a joke to you at all.

Changbin is the one to speak up, his hand slapping the arm of the couch. "They can't mess with us like that," he declares in the kind of voice that says he has complete confidence in what he says. "You want to be in Stray Kids, you're in Stray Kids, and you're not leaving."

"Exactly," Chan says warmly, and you manage to muster up a smile even though that tension still squeezes tight in your chest at the thought of another three months of limbo, not knowing if you'll stay or if you'll go. "Now," he says, turning back to his laptop, "I have better news; I've got a part for you in God's Menu that I want to hear, and I can play the next title track for you..."

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids @hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts @puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night @d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk @minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification @starssongs98

[midnight-mourning]

DECEMBER IS OVER!!! New Year, What's Next?

Well chat, with literally three minutes to spare we finished out DCA December IN December, and then of course you got a little bonus thingy as well hehe :)

So! Having said that, wanted to take a moment to talk about some plans, what to expect to see from me next, and so on

BUT FIRST, I would like to take the time to thank everyone who sent in requests for this little event, I appreciated every single one of them, and had SO much fun writing, I hope everyone enjoyed the little stories I wrote, couldn't have done it without everyone sending in such creative & unique ideas, thank all of you so much!

@monsteractiasluna @juukai @deviouscrackers @zenkaiankoku @buzzybee3 @fishm0ther @divinit3a @zoranight16 @cosmic-quakes @soupdweller @lizyxml @pip-plz @theinfamousmaybelle @lizyxml (again <3) @rosescarletful @crystalmagpie447 @buzzybee3 (again <3) @kaprisvn @vypridae @twomanypockets @zenkaiankoku (again <3) @juukai (again <3) @rosescarletful (again <3) @rosescarletful (again <3 <3 thank u tempest you helped feed the people fr) @twomanypockets (again <3) @pip-plz (again <3) @divinit3a (again <3) @baby-bloos @alynwrench @baby-bloos (again <3) @ccccaptain-clownyyy @luckyyyduckyyy

Additionally, thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, or commented on these fics, it's so very appreciated (I would tag everyone but there are, a startingly large amount of you 😅) I will come clean and admit that I am always a little nervous when I upload my writing, so knowing that people enjoy my work when I share it is, humbling, to say the least <3

Okay! Now to get into it, below the cut just so people dont have to scorll through my rambling plans & such (there is a POLL however that even if you skip my nonsense you should vote in pretty please ^-^)

So, despite some shortcomings with me getting a bit behind (curse you sinus infection & finals week) I'm really happy with how this went!

I'll be taking a break for a bit and def will NOT be posting as much as I did near the end there, BUT I'll still be writing per usual, especially since I have two weeks left to my break. Before I get into what you can expect to see, wanted to do a quick interest check on whether people would like me to do something similar for Valentine's!

Since I'll be back at college again I won't be able to do a full month again, buuuut, I should be able to handle 14 days worth, if the interest is there I would open up requests probably the last week of January so I had time to get started/ahead. So,

Rules would be the same as for DCA December, except with a Valentine's Theme!

Now that that's taken care of, here's what'll be going on with me as we start 2025!

I'm working on Holiday Spirit ch. 2, should be posting either today or tomorrow! Still aiming to get it done before I go back to school so expect quicker updates now that requests are finished :) (you can find out more about this story here)

Confused Spirit ch. 36 is also in the works! I'll be honest in that my sinus infection JUST cleared up a week or so ago, and additionally i've been facing a bit of writer's block with the story just bc of where we're at and I want to make sure it's really good/properly expresses what I'm going for with this fic, but I'm working on getting more out to you all soon, as well as working on getting ahead again while I have time, thank you all for your paitence with this one, it's very appreciated <3 (if you don't know about Confused Spirit, you can find out more here, it's my current main dca project :D)

DCA December will be reviewed for spelling and grammar mistakes and be uploaded to ao3 throughout January, if you'd like to read anything again (or you're wanting to get caught up and have a better reading experience) you can see the masterpost here, which will have the ao3 link once I get started on editing

Getting into non-fic things, I'll also be working on organizing my blog so things are easier to find as I know it's a bit messy currently >_< bear with me as it gets fixed up

I really want to improve on my art! After collecting things up for my 2024 art summary, i realized I've improved a lot but still have more room to grow (and many ideas that I want to see made by a more skilled hand >~<) so, expect to see some art things from me floating around including but not limited to: my trick or treat responses (im sorry these are so late, it's brutal out here), Cast of CS refs, more Holiday Spirit doodles, magma things, CS chapter promos, & new refs for the CS boys! there's some more things i have planned but I am keeping them a secret for now ;)

Okay! Think that's everything, thanks again to everyone for making this a whole lot of fun, and can't wait to share more with you all in 2025! Happy New Year!

[cerridwen007]

Unwind.

*Images are from Pinterest and are used for aesthetics only.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Dieter Bravo x f!reader (afab)

Word count: 4.1k (18+) MINORS DNI!

Summary: Your boyfriend, Dieter, has come home early from a project. Hoping to surprise you, he instead gets a surprise of his own when he discovers what you like to do unwind alone from a long day.

Notes/warnings: Smut, fluff, DUB-CON (one party is under the influence of ouid but they are both very into it), established relationship, accidental pervy!Dieter, accidental exhibitionism, pussy drunk Dieter, masturbation (f and m), sex toys, descriptions of smoking the devils lettuce, mentions of other drugs, porn with little plot, oral (f!receiving), piv sex, cumplay, they are both just super horny and sweet for each other, swearing, no y/n. 

a/n: My first Dieter fic, I can’t remember really where or when I got the idea for this fic, but I knew it just screamed Dieter. This is probably quite up there with the filthiest thing i've written, and i'm not sorry, lol. Also, I apologise for my very long absence in posting writing. Life just got the best of me, and I lost all motivation pretty much to write. Ngl I don't think this is my best work, cause I'm a little rusty but it's fun and I enjoyed writing it. But anyway, I hope y'all enjoy, and any interactions with my posts mean the world to me. Love yall so much! <3

*******

Now that his months-long project had wrapped up early, all Dieter wanted to do was surprise you. The both of you had long played the game of hiding behind corners and hiding in all sorts of spots to try and scare each other, all throughout your relationship. 

But more often than not, it was you that made his heart jump out his chest, and a long list of swear words leave his mouth as he over-dramatically clutched his chest. To which you always laughed so hard you cried a little at another successful scare and his reaction. “I'll get you next time.” he mumbles, under his breath, a cheeky grin on his handsome face as he plans when best to get you back.

So now, with an upper hand, he was hoping that he could give you a big fright and jump out of your closet when you least expect it. But what happened was so much more surprising.

You had just gotten back to your shared apartment after what felt like the longest week of your life. You had been drowning in deadlines at work and were so glad that it was friday evening so you could finally get a proper break. After ‘gracefully’ hanging up your jacket on the hooks near the front door and tossing your keys into the bowl on the entryway table, you immediately take off your bra as you walk into your apartment. Throwing it on the back of one of the barstools sitting in front of your kitchen island.

A loud sigh exhaling from your mouth as the pressure is released from your sore shoulders. It had been a long day at work before you ran around afterwards, getting a whole bunch of errands done that you had been putting off. So you were exhausted and understandably so. 

You kick off your shoes as you walk through the messy apartment, not bothering to put them away where they belong or tidy up the growing mess just yet. No, first you need to unwind from the long ass week you had. Besides, the weekend started tomorrow, and you would have plenty of time to clean up then and before Dieter came back a week and a half from now.

You sighed again sadly thinking about your boyfriend. God, you missed him. He had been gone about 3 months now, and each day didn't get any easier. When the two of you were together, you were attached at the hip. Spending all the time you could together; talking, laughing, cuddling and fucking.

So it was quite a change the last few months going from spending almost all your time with your favourite person to almost none, except the few short calls Dieter managed to find time to have with you amongst his very busy schedule. 

You tried to remind yourself of the fact that Dieter would be back before you knew it, and then you could once again spend all the much needed time together that you wanted.

You opened your fridge looking for a snack. You could have to tie your over till dinner that you would order yourself later, a treat for the end of a busy week. 

You picked a few string cheese packets from the chilly shelves of your fridge before closing it shut with your hip as you walked off into your living room. Sitting down with a big “oof” on your couch and immediately sinking deep into the plush cushions as far as you could.

Dieter's heart was beating fast as he watched you through the horizontal slats of the storage closet door. He waited with baited breath, trying to find the perfect time to jump out and give you both the scare and surprise of a lifetime. He had been lucky enough to arrive an hour or so before you got home, which gave him plenty of time to get ready and pick the best hiding spot before you arrived.

He bites his lip, trying to hold back the chuckles wanting to escape as he imagined your hopefully soon to be shocked face. He watches as you get comfy on the couch and can’t help but look at you with adoration, even with dark circles under your eyes and your hair slightly untamed, you looked like a dream, the prettiest thing he has seen. 

You quickly finish your cheese sticks, hungrier than you thought you were, and toss the wrappers on the coffee table. Yet another thing to be cleaned up tomorrow. You let out a long yawn and stretched your arms above your head. A cheeky smile graces your mouth as you realise how you're going to spend the rest of your night unwinding.

You waste no time in reaching into the draws of your coffee table before you and pulling out a dark green bong with small red flowers decorating it that Dieter got you for your birthday last year. You put it down the top of the coffee table briefly as you pull out a matching glass box with your stash in it and a red grinder. 

Your fingers are working swiftly in their practiced work as you get your first cone ready. You pull out your black zippo lighter with your and Dieters' initials and the day the two of you started dating engraved on the front. You flick your thumb over the flint wheel a few times until it ignites. You take in a fraction of a breath before putting your mouth on the end of the glass tube, tilted towards you.

Holding the flame over dried grounds, watching as the white smoke slowly crawls up the neck of the bong. You let the smoke enter your lungs, filling you with warmth.

Your lips only disconnect when all the smoke is gone and you breathe in a little of fresh air. You hold it in your mouth for a few seconds before you tilt your head back and exhale all the hazy smoke. Your loose fist covers your mouth when you let a small cough. 

You decide to do one more hit before you put down the ‘vase’ and let your head rest against the center of the back of the couch. Your legs spread wide, carelessly, as you wait for the drug to slowly take its effects. You groan as you lie back on the couch with a mouthful of smoke. You tilt your head up to look up at the ceiling as you let the hazy white cloud float from your parted lips.

Reaching down beside you, your fingers find something from out under your couch, a rectangle box. You open it to reveal a matte purple 8 inch, life-like, dildo. Fit with veins, balls at the base, and all. Your mouth waters just from the sight.

You have been extremely horny as of late. You always are when Dieter goes away for long periods of time, and you don’t have him to give you toe-curling orgasms all the time. You can never make yourself cum quite as hard as Dieter can make you come, but not from lack of trying. You lazily scoot down the couch a bit so you can take your pants and underwear off. 

Dieter eyes bulge in head when he realises what you about to do and he swears his heart skips a beat when he sees that you're wearing his boxer briefs, even more so when he sees a glistening line of arousal, saturating them. He palms his now fully erect cock through his jeans, as his eyes connect with your glistening folds.

You take the hefty dildo out of the box and half haphazardly toss the container to the ground. Your breath hitches in your throat as you make quite work of sliding it through your folds, the tip catches deliciously on your clit.

You toss it to the side for a quick sec and reach down to your bong on the coffee table, after taking another cone you put it back on the table and grab the remote of the table, flicking on the tv and putting on one of your favourite vibey sex playlists on spotify on.

You sigh as you lean back and you take off your work shirt, leaving you in nothing but a flimsy old tank top, which you nipples prominently stick out of and some cosy socks. You pull your breasts out of your shirt and start groping yourself while watching the screen playing at a low volume, with hazy eyes.

You soon pick the silicone dick up again and slowly tease yourself by tracing around your lips and through your dripping seam. Your head lulls on the back of the couch. You tease around your aching hole with the tip before pushing in ever so slightly. Your eyes roll back for a second as you moan at the slight stretch. “D-dieter.” You softly call out.

His eyes bulge out of his sockets watching you, his hand unconsciously reaching down under the elastic of his pants to feel his rock-hard erection. He swipes his thumb over his weeping tip and has to bite back a groan.

You pump in so slowly, only till it reaches halfway before you pull it out further again. You continue this to help work yourself open.

He watches you intently, stroking himself to the slow rhythm youv’e set for fucking yourself. He uses his other hand to pinch his base every few minutes, to keep from blowing his load, so close just from the sight of you.

God, he doesnt even care about scaring and surprising you anymore, all he cares about is watching you as you fuck your self, quietly calling out his name as you take your time in getting to your release. He has half a mind to just jump out now and fuck you himself but the sight of you spread out for him, caught up in your own little pleasure-filled world is a sight to good to be true. 

He studies your form like he doesn't know it like the back of his hand, like he hasn't spent hours upon hours coaxing the prettiest little moans and whimpers from you, caressing over every single inch of you.

His eyes will never grow tired of the sight of you, your centre gushing with arousal, your eyes fighting to stay open, your mouth on the other hand, fighting to stay closed as a beautifully orchestrated ensemble of curses, moans, groans and his name come flooding out of your mouth.

His mouth waters as the ring of your arousal grows thicker around the base of the silicone cock. He missed the taste of you so much, while he was away. He loved spending hours between your legs, until you were shaking and overstimulated and had to beg him to stop. Crying out “Dieter! Please!” as you struggled to push away his starved mouth.

Your head is feeling quite light now, and the pleasure is rushing through your veins as you increase the speed of your strokes. You keep chanting Dieter’s name, over and over again, softly as if it will summon him somehow. Well shit, maybe it does.

Before he even realises what he is doing, his hand is fumbling for the doorknob of the closet, and he is stepping out, sweaty, and disheveled, all just from watching you. Your heart stops for a second as you hear the closet door near you open, your brain unable to come up with any sane reasonings until Dieter walks out flushed and sheepishly in a trance, consumed by his love and lust for you. 

“Dieter?” You whisper, shocked to your core, that he is standing in front of you and still not entirely convinced that he isn't a hallucination caused by your hornyness and longing for him. And also maybe the drugs too.

He swallows harshly, his throat dry. All the liquids in his body seemingly have traveled lower in anticipation. You're about to jump up from the couch and squeeze him till his ribs break, but he beats you to it, sinking to the floor in front of you and hugging your calves tightly. As much as you missed your baby, you can't help but feel a little awkward, having been caught masturbating and still with the dildo between your legs, no doubt.

Before you can even clear your throat and try to explain yourself, Dieter starts kissing along the tops of your thighs, up your stomach, then sternum, up your throat till his lips lock onto yours. He kisses you with such meaning and passion as he tries and conveys all the feeling of how much he missed you and is so glad to see you now into a single kiss

“God. I. Missed.You. So. Much. Baby.” He says in between quick pecks before once again consuming your mouth with his own, trying to make up for all that lost time he wasn't able to taste your lips on his.

You break the kiss with a gasp, looking down to your legs where Dieter is spreading them to see the current state of your throbbing pussy. “Fuck and it sure looks like she missed me too, huh sweetheart. Just oozing and weeping, begging for my touch. Ain't that right baby?” He lovingly teases.

You grin and spread your legs even further to let him get an even better look at you swollen, glistening folds, still clenching around the girth of the dildo. He reaches his hand up between your legs and pulls the toy in and out of you slowly, eliciting a whimper from you.

“Fuck.” He groans, completely enthralled by the sight of you, and the growing creamy ring of arousal you have created around the base of the cock. He continues to slowly pump it in and out of you, as you squirm above him, your once lost orgasm now coming so close to grasp again. 

“Dieter...please.” You croon, begging him not to stop as you feel the edge of your high starts to wash over you.

“Atta girl, fuck just like that. Cum for me baby.” He softly demands, as he works the now shiny dildo hard, fast and deep into your cunt. He sits up a bit on his knees and hovers over you.

Leaning his head to the side he starts to suck on your pulsing clit. His eyes roaming between your leaking hole and trembling thighs, up to your red, cloudy eyes struggling to stay open with your brows furrowed above them. Your mouth agape, curses and whimpers as your orgasm hits you full force. 

He watches with blown eyes, mouth hanging open, nearly drooling at the sight of your back arching off the couch, as the waves of your orgasm crash over you. He slowly pumps the cock in and out of you, prolonging your high till your legs close firmly around it. He carefully opens them back enough so he can pull out the cock.

He palms himself as he inspects the aftermath, mouth watering from the sight and smell of your creamy residue slathered upon the tip to the flared base of the slick silicone. He sticks out his tongue and brings the base, where most of the cum has gathered in a band round the bottom, to his mouth. You watch stunned and too aroused to speak as he licks it clean of your sweet drippings. 

“God baby, missed the taste of this sweet pussy.” he groans. You clench around nothing as you watch him, eyes fluttering behind closed lids, messily tongue the silicone like one might lick brownie or cookie batter of a spatula.

After he finishes with the lower half, his lips pink and shiny, he wordlessly brings the tip up to your face. You grin devilishly before opening your lips wide and sucking the fat head into your mouth. You too moan at the sweet taste of yourself, not often shared directly from the source but usually from Dieters tongue do you taste the sticky release of your climax.

He palms his painfully hard cock through his pants, before spreading your thighs wide once again, and feasting on the remaining juices. You moan as best as you can with the cock down your throat, before removing it from your mouth and sitting it beside you as you watch Dieter's beautiful curls bob up and down between your legs. 

His tongue slides from your quivering hole to your clit, licking flatly. He alternates between sucking your nub, to fucking into your wet hole.

You fight to keep your thighs open, to not crush his head or let the gorgeous sight below you be hidden, but you can’t any more as the drug haze inside your veins seems to have taken all your strength. Sensing your struggle, Dieter curls his arms around your thighs, holding them open and drags your center closer to his hungry mouth.

You whimper at the dull pain that you feel from his tight grip holding you apart, just under your breaking point. The aching soreness from your legs being spread so wide, only adding to the intensity of pleasure rolling around in your stomach. 

He alternates between eating you messily, and slowly picking you apart. Motorboating his lips and nose between your folds, and precise and firm licks on your clit while curling his thick fingers up into that sweet, sweet spot inside you, that has you moaning, incohesive gibberish from your pleasure and drug intoxication.

Even with Dieter being the sober one (surprisingly), he sounds just as wrecked as you, if not more. So drunk and intoxicated on you and your pussy, something he and you both thought he was deprived of way too long.

Soon you are reaching yet another, and surely not the last of night, orgasm. Your thighs shake with the intensity of the pleasure seeping into your veins. Your lips go from being an wide ‘o’ shape to a cheesy wide grin as the dopamine and endorphins flood your system. 

Dieter makes sure he licks up every single drop of your essence before he rises off his knees slightly and encases you in a massive, big bear hug. Feeling what little air was left in your lungs, you giggle along with Dieter breathlessly as you squeeze his middle just as hard.

He lifts his head to plant the softest, sweet kiss on your lips before rubbing his nose against yours. You take a deep, tired breath in and your eyes flutter close, his delicious musky scent filling your nostrils once again. 

“I missed you so much too, baby.” You whisper. You admire the deep crows feet around his eyes as he grins, his dark rich eyes sparking as he beams with happiness, love, and lust. His smile turns into something that of the devils as he begins to caress your body.

He lifts up your arms and takes off your tank top, throwing it on the ground somewhere. Before his lips lock onto your pebbled nipples. Groaning as he squeezes and plays with the other one, before switching his mouth over. After leaving your tits a glistening, saliva-covered mess he descends further down your body, his kiss-bruised lips planting themselves on every single inch of skin he can see. 

“Mm need to fffffuck you sweetttt thing, and ffffeel that heavenly p-pussy wwwrapped around me againnn.” He mumbles, his lips smushed against your stomach. You softly laugh and nod your head. Getting the gist of what he was saying and knowing him well enough to know what he said that you didn't catch.

“Please Dieter. Please fuck me. Need… to feel you. Missed you…. and your cock…. so fucken much.” You garble out in your own form of a coherent sentence.

Dieter can’t help but whimper listening to you, his cock pulses with need for release as he listens to your confession (although mumbled) of need for him.

He can’t wait any longer.

He reaches under your ass and lifts you up and shifts you so you're lying on your back longways on the couch. He quickly shucks his shirt off, getting a little stuck in the process as he does so. You both giggle and laugh as your hands go up to help him. He soon pulls it off and makes quick work off, shoving his pants and boxers off his legs.

Both of your eyes are shining with something so deep and emotional as you admire each other's naked bodies. A sight seen countless times between the two of you but one that neither would ever grow sick of. You reach up and stroke your hands up and down Dieter's front, feeling his strong chest and plush belly that you love very, very much. He whimpers as your hands trail down into the coarse hair at the base of his leaking cock. 

Even as he towers over your relaxed form, there is an air of submission to him still. The way his eyes are glazed over with no other drug than love, pupils blown wider than when he was higher than a kite on LSD. His eyes brows slightly furrowed in, his chest moving fast as he pants. His bottom lip trembling with anticipation of connecting your bodies together so intimately once again how they should be. How they would always be if Dieter got a chance. 

He shakes himself out of his love trance and lowers himself over you, his forearms resting on the couch beside your head. You close your eyes and kiss him deeply, giving him a piece of you that no one but him gets to have. Literally and spiritually. He groans almost pathetically when you reach your hand down and swipe his tip through your once again dripping folds. 

Your squinting and red eyes look up at him pleadingly, just begging to put the both of you out of the agonising wait and finally feel each other. He smiles a soft smile before he lines himself up and slowly pushes into your pulsing cunt. 

“Ohhhh….ohhh…oh…yeah, honey.” He moans out as he slowly bottoms out in your cunt. You gasp as you adjust to his considerably large girth. Something you truly will never fully get used to. Your hands clutch as his biceps, grounding yourself as your fluttering pussy adjusts to him.

“God….fucken hell, baby. You feel somehow even better than I remember. Jesus christ.” He pants, his face screwing up from the pleasure just simply inside your beautiful heat gives him. He desperately tries to think of anything else other than your stunning form below him and just made for him cunt, feeling already so close to blowing his load.

He reaches down and pinches his base and quickly begins Jack hammering into you fast and hard, to hopefully get you off before he ultimately finishes way quicker than he intended to.

“Oh f-f-fuck, Dieter!” You cry out, eyes squeezing tight at the immediate hard and fast pace Dieter has set while fucking you.

“Im s-sorry b-baby. Fuckkk. You just feel too damn good. I just n-n-need. Ahhh. Need you come before I-I-I do.” He stutters. 

Your heart and cunt clenches around, eyes rolling back from the pure ecstasy coursing through your as Dieter repeatedly stuffs his fat tip into the squishy part deep inside you.

“OoOoh shit, baby. Can feel you clenching real good around me, god damn!”  He groans.

You lay there bonelessly, whimpering as Dieter’s fingers circle you clit just right. Sending you over the edge into the deep depths of mind-numbing pleasure. Your body shakes as your orgasm comes crashing down and over you, with Dieter only seconds after.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh oh oh shit,” He wails out with every rope of cum that spurts out of him, his hips almost unconsciously thrusting themselves as deep as they can go every time, only stopping on the last rope of cum, burying his now spent cock deep into your pussy. He lets his full weight drop on top of you as he catches his breath from his own high. 

You breathe out with a soft smile, feeling such bliss and warmth from Dieter being here with you. He moves his head from your neck and looks at you. You both smile wide and break in hearty chuckles, before kissing each other.

You relish in the feeling of Dieter’s chest booming with laughter pressed up against yours, feeling his beating heart beat under you hand, showing that he is here with you now and just Dieter in general, his body fitting on top of your like a puzzle, like two pieces that you never would’ve known hadn't always been connected together like this. 

And that’s exactly how you fall asleep, entwined in each others arms, connected in all ways possible, smiling to yourself as you listen to Dieter’s soft snores and you feel his heart beating strongly against yours, before you two let the sweet blissful temptations of sleep take you too. Everything was going to be okay now that your love was back with you. 

*********