#its not what i was picturing but its okay

[chelseeebe]

girls on film

18+. mdni! smut, so much smut. p in v, eddie is a munch! alcohol mentions. pornstar!eddie munson x reader. no use of y/n! modern au.

eddie munson makes porn. you make it. only, eddie doesn't much like the sounds of that.

a/n: happy valentines day my loves! spend some time with our favourite nerd eddie instead of a real man that'll only disappoint. i am so guilty of always giving eddie a breeding kink and then just never giving him any children oopsie hehe. i've been writing this on and off for months now, i already have a p2 and p3 the question is whether i'll finish them or not lol

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

when anyone asked, you’d tell people you were a set assistant. 

what they didn’t have to know was that you were a set assistant for pornstars. 

it wasn’t ever a dream of yours, nor something you’d have ever pictured yourself doing, but it paid the bills and hey, sometimes you met cool people through it too. 

today’s no different to any other, waiting for the talent to arrive as you prep the scene. it’s something ludicrous, metal guy meets friends innocent younger sister, something along those lines. 

you never really paid attention to much of that stuff, at some point it just became so much noise and frantic movement that the script never really mattered. 

he’s late. you’ve heard whispers of his nonchalance before. only hoping that you’d still get home on time. 

when the elusive man finally decides to bless you all with his presence, you’re taken back. not ever expecting the lanky guy that had shuffled through the door. all hair and denim. 

his charm makes up for his tardiness. flowing out of his mouth in droves, shaking hands and sharing hugs with the crew until he gets to you. 

“hey,” the man grins, pulling you in for a half-hug, “i’m eddie, super excited for today now that i’ve seen you.” 

you stare back in confusion, you’d be running towels and telling lighting what to do, why would he ever be excited about that? 

“anything you’re not comfortable with?” he asks, squeezing your arm gently. 

“oh.. what? i’m not- sorry, i just work on set,” shrinking into yourself although flattered that he’d thought you were starring opposite him. 

“oh,” sounding almost disappointed, “that’s a real shame,” the thick smell of his cologne and cigarette smoke wafting towards you. 

your cheeks burn, averting your gaze to the ground, finding solace away from his heavy stare. 

“who is the lucky lady?” eyes gliding around the women in the room, choosing to once again settle on you. 

“she’s.. um, she’s getting ready,” gesturing towards the small dressing area you had. 

you were never this bumbling, a thousand handsome men had stood before you and had never, ever had this impact upon you. 

“cool.. okay,” he nods, “where d’you need me?” his leather jacket tightening around his strong arms, knocking the wind out of your chest. 

“over here,” gesturing vaguely at the empty makeup chair, losing any and all composure when he pats your arm on the way past. 

christ. 

you needed to get a grip and get it fast. 

-

a lick of fresh air would help pull you from this disgustingly down bad headspace he’d plunged you into. 

or not. 

eddie’s hand curls around your arm just before you reach the door, “i’ll join ya,” cigarette already poised in between his lips. 

you can only nod, stepping out into the cool air though it does nothing for your flushed cheeks, edging away despite his efforts to keep close. 

you’re a little intimidated by his hardiness and hardness. struggling to keep your eyes above the waistband. 

“you ever thought about doing this?” he asks, blowing the smoke from the side of his mouth. 

“not really.” 

“that’s a shame,” he smirks, “i think we’d make something beautiful,” keeping his gaze steady on your flustered face. 

“stop it,” brushing him off coyly, he didn’t have to be so sickly sweet, his smirk had clearly already worked its magic on you. 

“you don’t agree?” eddie’s eyebrow raises, taking a slow, drawn-out toke of his cigarette.

you shake your head, “there’s a reason i’m behind the camera and not in front of it,” staring out at the bleak, grey parking lot. 

“well i think we should change that,” stepping in front of you, leaving you no room to not look at him, “i’m in town for the week, i’d love to see you again.” 

this didn’t happen to you, ever. the girls you worked with were otherworldly in terms of their beauty, no one ever really paid you any attention at all. 

eddie can sense your hesitation, assuming that he’d scared you away already, “look, take my number. you don’t have to call but i’d like you to,” slipping his cell from his pocket. 

you nod almost on your own, retrieving your own phone to hand off to him. he’s slick in the way he taps the number in, cigarette balanced on his lip as his eyes flicker between phone screens. 

“there ya go,” placing your phone back in your clammy palm, “do what you want with it, i go back to chicago on thursday,” making it clear that whatever this may be, would be temporary. 

“o-okay,” nodding quickly, there was a high likelihood that his number just sat there for the rest of eternity, never to be used or clicked on again. 

you don’t take eddie as the type of guy to pressure you, in fact, he seems quite the opposite. so much so that if you don’t take him up on his offer, you’ll never hear from him again. 

it’s truly an offer you really shouldn’t refuse, but yet you’re hesitant to even accept his advances. mixing work and pleasure like this, especially with someone like eddie, could only end one way. 

“i better get back in, y’ready?” holding the door open, a real gentleman, making you flustered of the most common of decencies. 

you were fucked. 

-

it’s hellish watching him perform. 

not just seeing everything his tight jeans had hidden away but also the way he truly cared about his partner. 

all the gentle touches to her face, cradling her body while completely disrespecting it too. globs of spit leaving his mouth to coat her cunt, making your thighs press together with indescribable want. 

he glances back between takes, making sure to catch your eye every single time. running his tongue over his bottom lip, knocking the air from your lungs without fail. 

you’d bore witness to many overdramatic, frankly fake orgasms in your years on set. very rarely did anything ever make you feel quite like you did today. screaming jealousy at her disappearing eyes, the way his lips brush against her ear, guiding her through her second orgasm of the session. 

it’s not loud, or irritating, just soft mewls accompanied by his soothing voice, making sure you were soaking right through your jeans. 

when eddie cums, his lips fall apart, head thrown back as his hips stutter, using her back as a canvas, jaw gritted together. 

“that was great!” tom yells, your makeshift director. ushering for you to hurry up with the towels and cold water. your fingers trembling as they brush against eddie’s. 

he offers a sweet thank you, quickly slipping back into his robe as you try to regain some semblance of control over yourself. 

you’re ridiculous, a giggly teenage girl more than a grown woman who watches people fuck for a living. this had solidified your position on ever calling him, and simply put, you couldn’t. 

in fact, you’re not certain you can even speak his name again, destined to live a life of perpetual wondering about what could have been. 

-

one glass of wine seemed to have been all it took to get eddie fucking munson back into your head. 

you’d done so well so far, managing to push the disgraceful thoughts way, way to the back of your mind, only for one measly glass of sauvignon blanc to destroy all of your progress. 

it’s not like you were actually going to call him, just toying with the idea, hovering over the button. a little foreplay, if you will. 

maybe you should. 

if one glass of wine was enough to have you already breaking the promise you’d made to yourself, who’s to say what years and years of unknowing would do? 

eddie was interested first, he came onto you first. there’s no doubt he’d be as eager as you were, but you still can’t help the niggling sounds of apprehension. 

the tone is dialling before you can second guess yourself and end it, fingers trembling around your phone, as if it were a ticking time bomb awaiting detonation. 

it rings a couple times before it clicks, connecting the call, “hello?” his voice echoes, thick and as intoxicating as the first time you heard it. 

your lips move yet produce no sound. reluctantly hoping he’ll think it’s a prank call and block the number. 

“eddie,” the first word to form on your tongue, potentially the worst thing you could’ve said. 

“it’s you,” his smile evident, even through the phone, “i was hopin’ you’d call,” you can hear the hustle and bustle of the restaurant now, he mumbles something to a passing waiter about the bill and now suddenly you feel immensely guilty about calling him on a saturday night.

“i’m sorry- am i interrupting something?”

“not at all,” and you can hear him smile all over again.

but what you don’t see is him glancing over at the busty redhead still at the table, waving back at her innocuous wiggle of the fingers. 

“what’re you doing tonight?” he asks, leaning back against the cool brick wall. 

“nothing really.. i mean, if you’re not busy, maybe you could.. or we could do something?” wanting to die the second the words leave your lips. 

“that sounds good to me,” his audible grin unwavering, “how ‘bout i come over?” 

you freeze, looking around at the mess surrounding you, piles of paperwork and clothes litter the floor, resembling somewhat of a dumpster rather than an apartment. 

“..you don’t want me to, that’s okay,” answering his own question. 

“-no!” interjecting before he could change his mind entirely, “you should come over,” turning into a desperate little slut before he’d ever even touched you. 

eddie pauses, his feet shuffling in the background, “okay,” voice intoxicatingly thick, “give me thirty minutes and i’m all yours.” 

all yours. 

christ. 

you can feel your knees buckle, turning into putty in his hands. 

“o-okay, i’ll send you the address,” ending the call before you fumble this any further. 

immediately springing up from the mattress, deciding that the one and only time you’re going to mix work and pleasure must be perfect. you work on grabbing piles of clothes, shoving them back into the closet they belonged in. 

eddie wouldn’t care, would he? 

perhaps keeping stuff to the living room would be better, the tiny couch would make do. 

-

thirty minutes practically on the dot, there’s a knock on the door. 

oh god oh god oh god. 

this was a mistake. 

you should shut off all the lights and just pretend you’re not home. 

don’t be so silly. 

cursing the self-sabotaging thoughts, damned to make you second guess every single thing about yourself. 

your head peaks around the open gap, eyes falling on his chest to rise up and meet his daunting eyes. there’s a bottle of wine tucked beneath his arm, the half bottle you’d downed beforehand completely unbeknownst to him. 

eddie blinks, his lips cocked to the side, “well hello,” dressed far too nicely for a drunken booty call at your apartment. 

“hi,” utterly meek and pathetic, swooning over his suave greeting. 

“you look good,” gaze trailing down to your bare legs. you hadn’t expected him to be so put together, now regretting your choice of what was essentially just pyjamas. 

“tha-thank you,” pulling the door open wider, “come in, please,” stepping back to let him inside. 

the air thickens immediately, your clothes suddenly too tight and your palms clammy. if you ever wanted eddie to stay interested in you, you’d have to get ahold of yourself quick. 

“nice,” he saunters around the room, looking at your pictures and the other piles of accumulated artefacts ok your shelves. settling just before the couch to turn and smile. “you live alone?” 

you nod automatically, the air sucked from your lungs at the sheer sight of him in your apartment. it felt like some strange crossover dream that really should’ve stayed unexplored. 

“that’s good to know,” helping himself into the kitchen, opening cabinets to presumably find two wine glasses. 

you brush off his comments, it was no secret as to what he was here for. “top left,” arm brushing against his as you make your way into the small space. 

musk and a hint of lingering cigarette smoke waft your direction, decidedly not turning to sniff his jacket like you so wished you could. 

“care to join me?” offering the bottle out in your direction. 

if you were even just an inch braver, you’d create some witty come back, some utterly irresistible flirty banter that’d surely have him crawling on his knees for you. 

but you aren’t, so instead you nod, hoping you won’t resemble such a wallflower all night. 

-

“can’t believe a pretty girl like you was gonna spend a saturday night all alone,” eddie gushes, a quarter of his wine sipped away. 

it’s incredibly hard to remain stoic when his eyes are crescent-moons, lashes cascading shadows over his cheeks and his tongue periodically wets his plump bottom lip. a routine he's no doubt mastered the art of by now.

“i’m always..” gesturing into thin air, unfortunately aware that whatever came out of your mouth next would make you look like a pathetic loser, “i mean, i go out sometimes..” making matters worse tenfold. 

“really?” 

why’d you open your mouth? 

“no.. i work a lot so..” clearing your throat in a bid to make him forget you’d ever spoken. “i hope i didn’t interrupt anything..” shrugging softly, though you’d already known you had done. 

“i was out for dinner.. nothing important,” brushing you off, “she wasn’t exactly.. uh, great company,” laughing into his glass of red. 

the cogs turn, sudden realisation that you had interrupted a date. and he’d let you. 

“you were on a date,” cringing at yourself, frustratedly embarrassed for no good reason, “i’m sorry- fuck, you should’ve said,” wanting to die a thousand deaths. 

he looks utterly perplexed, “if i wanted to be there, i’d be there, alright?” patting your thigh, the first of his daring moves, “i wanted to see you,” thumb circling the soft skin. 

already making you melt half an hour in. you were toast. there’s positively no way you’ll make it out of here with your dignity in tact. 

“..okay,” bashfully nodding along to his heavy words, seldom to back down so easily. there’s just something about eddie munson and his doe eyes that turns you into a submissive mess. 

his hand doesn’t move from your knee, tracing circles around the bone, “you’re so beautiful and you don’t even know it, do you?” trying his hardest to meet your averted gaze. 

fuck. 

your cheeks burn, pussy already throbbing and he had scarcely touched you yet. how was it possible for him to be so sweet? his words thick like molasses, dripping, leaving their mark all over you. 

“i’m just..” what has gotten into you? this was pathetic. “you’re very kind eddie,” smiling gently, as if his words hadn’t sent you into cardiac arrest. 

he hums, a deep noise from the bottom of his chest, “say my name again sweetheart,” purring, toying with coming closer, “i like it better when you say it.” 

you’d scream it if he wanted you to. let all your neighbours know who was making you act like such a fool. 

“you don’t have to sweet talk me.. you’re already sat on my couch,” finding the last lingering ebbing of confidence to bite back. 

eddie laughs, deep and rumbling, “but i like seeing you squirm.”

oh god. 

had he trained in this? he’s so quick witted, bouncing off of whatever you say immediately. 

“you’re so..” trailing off into silence as you meet his heavyset gaze, intimidated and fazed all at once. 

“so.. what, sweetheart?” cocking his head to the side, alongside his lips. 

you hate him. 

his overwhelming confidence, his gaze that has your heartbeat in your throat and your fingers clawing at your thigh. there was something so intimidating and yet oddly charming about his presence.

“so annoying,” biting back, only really annoyed that he had successfully woo’d you. and without much effort at all.

eddie looks vaguely hurt for a moment, only for his grin to spring right back onto his face, “i don’t think you mean that,” sucking on the backs of his teeth. 

you’d been caught out immediately, bowing your head to hide the inevitable flush. 

just fucking do it. 

the same nagging voice that had made you call him in the first place starts up again, louder this time. if his brazen flirting wasn’t enough to get you to make a move, what would be? 

choosing to grasp the moment as it is, refusing to allow him any more power over you for tonight.  

you charge forward, chest bashing into his equally as heaving chest, attempting to straddle his thighs until you’re stopped by his large palm groping your thigh. 

he breaks apart, the back of his hand brushing against your cheek, “it’s real sweet that you think you’re in charge,” quickly taking your wrists into his grasp, pushing against your pouncing stance to press your back against the couch instead. 

you let him, sinking into the cushions as he moves atop of you, hands skilfully skirting over your hips, tugging at your loose-fitting shorts. 

“oh darlin’, i’ve been waitin’ for this,” running his hands back up your doughy thighs, squeezing the pliant flesh on their way. 

you just about melt under the pressure of his sweet talk, allowing him the power to manoeuvre your body any which way he wanted. there’s a soft thunk as your sweatpants hit the floor, his hand spreading your legs to give him full view of your sodden panties. 

you’re not sure you’ve ever been as wet as you are now, positively drenched just by the feel of fingertips against your skin. 

eddie hums, large hands skirting your thighs, a soft squeeze to the doughy skin, “i really thought you’d never call,” slowly sinking down, leaving a trail of peppered kisses on his way, the tank top you’d slung on gives him perfect view of your hardened nipples, tugging the fabric until your tits fall out. 

“wouldn’t that have been such a shame?” continuing on, making you squirm with every lick of his lips, every last syrupy sweet word. 

his lips attach to the overly sensitive skin as his free hand palms the other, tongue twisting around the bud forcing the pathetic whimper from your throat. 

you can feel him smile against your chest, mouth popping off just to lock around the other, continuing his descent down between your legs. 

he pries your thighs apart, looking up at your skittish eyes, jumping from object to object as the pressure in your clit worsens. 

his lips startle you, warm and wet on the pliant skin, sucking and nibbling until he reaches the hem of your shorts. “you dressed up f’me,” hooking his fingers into the waistband, a short tap on your hip has them jumping up to help him. 

eddie glides them down your legs, holding onto your ankle as the fabric hits the ground. his pretty pink lips curve upward before pecking the soft cotton clothing your cunt. he’s a genius, a master of his craft. you’re not at all shocked that women were lining up to have their turn. 

you quiver when he pulls away, thighs pressed together in a bid to satiate the ache left in his wake. 

his thumb traces your clothed slit, pressing into your hole just to come right back up and circle your clit. it’s almost as if you can feel your brain chemistry changing with every single touch, destined to haunt every other encounter you’d have after this. 

no one had nor would ever touch your body with such sincerity and care again. it just wasn’t possible. 

arousal seeps out, turning the gray coloured cotton darker, literally dripping with want for him. 

your hands come up to hide your warm face, covering your eyes, mostly as an excuse to cut the weighted eye contact he hadn’t once broken. 

but his hands are fast, faster than yours. coming to pull yours right back down again, scolding you for even trying it. “don’t do that.. please don’t do that.”

you nod, vowing to do nothing to piss him off again. eddie’s a professional at best, a whore at worst. he knows what’ll get you whirring, knows where to lay his fingers and in what tone to whisper his words. 

sickening. 

he smirks, one-sided, “i like that you don’t fight it,” trusting you enough to let go of your wrists, delving back between your plush thighs. 

words fail to form, overcome with such horniness that you can’t think straight. 

enough of the games, you want to bellow. 

touch me touch me touch me. 

you’re aching, clenching around nothing. the hollow emptiness driving you further and further into craziness. 

“can we..” sighing softly, losing your train of thought as quickly as it came, “i need you,” digging your nails into the poor couch. this cruel and twisted routine had to stop. 

“nuhuh,” eddie huffs, his warm breath splaying across your cunt, “i’m takin’ my sweet time with you,” using his middle and forefinger this time to dance tauntingly over your pussy, grinning manically to himself. 

“but-,” cut off when his fingers curl around your panties, the cool, harsh air hitting your cunt, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“wow,” he marvels, looking lovesick at your slick folds, “she’s so pretty,” in awe of the sight before him. 

your self-consciousness had faded, losing to your disgustingly eager lust. he could do whatever, however he wanted to you. he just needed to do it quickly. 

his tongue peaks out over his lips, preparing for his feast, “you’ve been so patient,” stubble brushing against the inside of your sensitive thigh, “i think you deserve this.” 

with that, your panties come down, he doesn’t even need you to move, expertly manoeuvring them from your skin. he cradles the damp fabric between his fingers for a moment before sliding them into the back pocket of his jeans. 

you can’t protest, you don’t even want to. he was welcome to take whatever he wanted or needed. 

eddie wraps a hand around your calf, resting it upon his shoulder, repeating the motion as your feet settle on his upper back. his palm finds your thigh next, looping his arms around for leverage. 

he hums with pure sick, adulterated satisfaction, one last glance at your glistening cunt before meeting your gaze. “keep your eyes on me sweetheart,” kissing lazily at the skin, antagonistically slow to make his way up. 

your fingers lay on the couch, scared for what you can and can’t do. 

his tongue meets your folds, pulling you out of your worry and into the real world. fuck whatever his rules were, you needed to touch him. weaving frantic fingers through the curls on top of his head, receiving an encouraging hum of approval, his throat vibrating against your cunt. 

“oh my.. fuck,” panting into the abyss, unable to stop your hips from moving against his face. you’d fuck his face and any other time, he’d let you, but that wasn’t the plan. 

he clamps down on your wriggling hips, keeping them pressed to the couch, refusing to allow you any control over the situation. 

eddie’s lips attach to your poorly neglected clit, sucking gently at the bud, forcing the not-so-quiet moans out of your throat, fingers curling around the strands just to tug on them with every flick of his tongue. 

the knot in your stomach is tight already, threatening to snap at any moment. especially trying when the tip of nose nudges at your clit, sitting right on top while his tongue makes you see stars, circling around your hole and right back up between your folds. 

you’ve never been this wet in your life, arousal dripping from his chin to your ass and thighs. when he pulls away just briefly, his puffy lips gleam in the dim light of your apartment. it’s only momentary though, quickly diving back in to pull you over the edge. 

his tongue swipes thick stripes over your cunt, aching for something him to just fill you up. “shit,” you hiss through gritted teeth. your eyes struggle to stay open, he’d forgive you, right? it was no fault of yours that his tongue felt too good, drawing you to the edge just to rip it from under you. 

lolling your head back against the arm of the couch, no longer able to abide by his arbitrary rules. your thighs were trembling, fingertips entangled in his locks, nothing except your impending orgasm mattered. 

eddie voices his displeasure through a low grumble, only twisting the knot further as his tongue laps at your pussy. a ravenous dog of sorts, refusing to let up until you came on his tongue. 

“fu-uck eddie- i can’t.. i’m gonna cum,” vibrating against his ears, feeling his smile against your core. a sick, perverted man that had you exactly where he wanted. 

the band snaps, throwing you over the edge with a twist of the stomach, shaking legs that struggle to stay perched on his shoulders and a verse of soft pleas and eddie’s that resemble a hymn. 

“.. jesu- shit,” shuddering breaths and mewls that fill the room, letting him lap away at your spent cunt. your limbs mimic jelly, letting go of your hold on his hair to clasp his face. 

eddie re-emerges, licking his lips like a cat that got the cream. self-satisfied and completely smug. 

coming up to rest his chin on your heaving stomach with inquisitive eyes, his rough stubble catching on your tired skin, “worth the wait?” as if he doesn’t already know the answer. 

you nod, rather enthusiastically, “definitely worth it,” playing with the tufts of hair that make up his choppy bangs. 

“good,” biting down onto his bottom lip just to pull himself back up, “but i’m not done with you yet,” prying your legs open once more before peeling his shirt from his body, a sight you’ve seen and yet can’t behold. 

eddie presses his already stiff cock to your cunt, toying with his prey. there’s nothing left in you to fight it, laying back on the couch with a soft sigh. 

no man would ever live up to this, you were now cursed to an unsatisfactory life with whomever you settled for. 

his pants come off next, your eyes falling to the outline of his length immediately. eyeing the tiny dark patch and certainly not thinking about him cumming in his pants while eating your pussy. 

you’ve seen his cock, and yet, your lips still fall open when he tucks his boxers underneath his balls, fisting his throbbing piece while you go googly-eyed. 

“shit,” he remarks, one hand on your knee while the other glides his leaking tip through your slick folds. “no one’s ever been this wet f’me before,” practically purring, his tone thick and full of an animalistic need you had thought was only reserved for porn. 

the pleasure rumbles around your nervous system, only to land in your stomach, squeezing the already-snapped muscle once again. 

eddie’s hand slides from your knee, up to your thigh, giving your hip a well-meaning pinch before settling beside your head on the couch. your bodies melding into one as he comes down to meet you. 

his cock nestles in between once more, slipping inside with a harsh gasp and a visceral grunt. you settle for a grip of his taut shoulders, fingers curling around the muscles and smudgy black tattoos. 

this time, eddie buries his face into your neck, suckling at the soft skin, daring to leave his mark when his teeth come out to graze. you hope they last forever, marked by him for eternity. 

the sensation is all too much, struggling to stay afloat once more, pushed further and further to edge when his tongue swipes over the violet markings that littered your collarbone. 

“holy fuck princess,” he grumbles, partially muffled, “y’gonna cum again already?” breathing heavy and stuttered, struggling with his own premature orgasm. 

words don’t appear, and honestly, at this point they didn’t mean a thing. 

instead, you nod, squeezing his shoulder in a bid to communicate. you unravel all over again, drawn out moans that get cut off by his lips, thighs shaking around his midriff. 

eddie was drinking it all in, intercepting the sweet noises from your mouth with his own, rolling his hips at a more subdued pace as you cum again. 

you were spent, utterly exhausted though he doesn’t let up. once you’re over this climax, his rhythm finds pace again. soft palm caressing your cheek while his lips attach to your jaw bone, planting a hundred quick kisses along up to your ear. 

with one knee dug into the couch, the other leg holding him up from the floor, it couldn’t be very comfortable for him like this. your pleasure was first and foremost his priority, a real man. 

he grunts, driving into your cunt with little consideration for the creaky old couch or your neighbours just trying to enjoy their saturday evening. 

“oh god eddie,” you cry. tugging at his scalp, pathetically rutting back against his hips begging for your third? fourth? orgasm to take over. 

his carefully groomed pubes catch your clit, dampened by the sheer amount of your arousal. 

you were just about ready to sleep for forty days and forty nights, both exhausted and overstimulated by his cock, the weight of his body on top of you and smooth words flowing from his mouth. 

“one more sweetheart,” speaking between rugged grunts, panting with every sloppy stroke, “gimme one more,” he coos, hand sliding down to find your clit for the last time. 

his cock twitches inside when you buck back against him, fingernails leaving harsh strips on his back, leaving your mark for the next girl. 

“shitshitshit,” you rush, coming completely undone again, trembling around his cock, babbling what must sound like pure nonsense to eddie. no doubt letting all of your deepest secrets loose in your third moment of weakness.

“mhm that’s it,” letting his cock slide all the way out, just to reach the hilt over and over again. “inside?” was all he needed to huff for you to get the message, too incoherent to ask any further questions. 

“ye-yes please,” not quite understanding the weight of your words until they leave your mouth. a problem for tomorrow. 

with that, eddie topples over, his orgasm rippling through his limbs and his cock pumping thick ropes of his release inside your exhausted pussy. your cries intertwining in the hot air to create a chorus line of pleasure. 

“jesusfuckingchrist,” he heaves, collapsing in a fit of exhaustion. a sticky pile of limbs that starts with you and ends somewhere with eddie. 

everything feels surreal, the light is gleaming and you sort of feel as if you’re floating, watching him pepper your skin with quick kisses and slot himself comfortably on the cramped couch. 

eddie cradles your body, fixing your top to give you back the tiniest bit of dignity you had left. 

he hums, contemplating something, “‘m glad you called,” swooning, “i don’t know what i’d have done if you hadn’t,” positioning himself underneath your body, a strong arm coming to wrap around your shaking shoulder. 

“you would’ve just had to live without me,” chuckling into the sweaty skin of his chest, embracing the lingering arrogance. 

eddie hums before shaking his head, “nuhuh, we would’ve met again somehow,” running his finger up and down the length of your arm. 

“oh, you think?”

“no, i know,” oozing with confidence. you simply can’t hate it because he’s right. 

there’s no instance that your soul would’ve let you rest until this had happened.

[theangryman]

okay, so you might have been disappointed when you typed in that researchgate link and it told yah it was in a book you couldn’t access (because everyone check the sources on these things right?)

here’s the link, publicly uploaded by the author

Pg 95 of the text, 106 of the document. Start reading and match what the pictures say to what the text says. I’ll put the grossest section up in full, because it’s the shortest and’ll fit here in its entirety and is most vulnerable to the kind of duplicitous half quotes that I see floating around.

The Money that is cited is *that one* which is an indicator of quality of course, next to the ancient Hirschfield (sexual inversion)

@annoyingradfem finally convinced me to join this app. Hi radfems. My TikTok is RadicalVenus and I have a radfem discord I’ll be sharing later.

[valiwrites]

serendipity ✧.* daniel ricciardo

[ serendipity (n); finding luck without even looking for it ] : ̗̀➛ pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!verstappen!reader : ̗̀➛ warnings: age gap; reader is 25; daniel is 35, hate comments : ̗̀➛ smau

: ̗̀➛ summary: daniel accidentally posts a soft launch on his public account instead of his private

MASTERLIST

danielricciardo ✔︎

liked by lando, maxverstappen1, carlossainz55 and 1.2m others

danielricciardo love you forever baby! happy birthday ❤️

view all 735k comments

user1 he did not just drop that on us and left

user2 DANIEL WHAT??

user3 yess!! a new wag 😍

lando does he know he posted that here 😭

user4 lmaoo lando know something we don't

user5 idk your girl but happy birthday to her

user6 now where did she crawl from daniel 😐

user7 y'all don't let anyone have a gf/bf man 😭😭

maxverstappen1 daniel buddy... that's not your private account

user8 she kinds looks like y/n

user9 stopp she doesss

user10 someone tell daniel what he did

yourusername ✔︎

liked by maxverstappen1, oliviagrivas, danielricciardo and 2.3m others

yourusername feeling like the it girl

view all 985k comments

user1 wait a second...

user2 i'm waiting...

user3 suspicious...

user4 the prettiest girl out there 🥰

user5 she has a boyfriend??

user6 its daniel i'm calling it

maxverstappen you're to close to him i said three meters apart

yourusername maxie what the fuck

user7 so max knows him hmmm

user8 everyone in the comments asking if its daniel and its just a random dude at the end lmaoo

user9 im calling it

user10 nah bc daniel can find better

f1wagsnews ✔︎

liked by charles_leclerc and 23k others

f1wagsnews daniel ricciardo caught with a girl in monaco

view all 12k comments

user1 celebrities don't have any privacy dude so what

user2 frr let them be

user3 i think its the girl he accidentally posted

user4 wait he posted a girl accidentally??

user3 yeah but he deleted it an hour later

user4 y'all charles liked this post

user5 i still think it's y/n

user6 me too bc they both posted something coupley 20 minutes apart

user7 why do you believe everything on the internet tho

f1wagsnews i only repost pictures that are sent to me. i can't confirm those are legit

danielricciardo ✔︎

liked by yourusername, yukitsunoda0511, georgerussel63 and 1.4m others

danielricciardo love you darling

view all 943k comments

user1 okay that's intentional now

user2 definetly

user3 omg her eyes are so prettyyy tell us who she isss

user4 i lowkey love that

user5 cuties!! he's braiding her hair 🥺

user6 guys y/n liked this

user7 i believe its her

maxverstappen1 i will knock you out

user8 yeah, no.. it's definetly y/n

user9 'darling' aww how cute

yourusername ✔︎

liked by danielricciardo, lando, sebastianvettel and 3.5m others

yourusername i guess the cat is out of the bag now

comments are disabled

[criminalminds4eva]

✩ soft launching your relationship with spencer reid 🫀

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

yourusername

liked by pengarcia and others

yourusername im trying to learn chess but i dont think im getting the hang of it :)

view all comments

pengarcia youre actually so so pretty but who is that in the 5th picture omg i have so much questions ?!?!

yourusername @/pengarcia sorry i dont know what youre talking about my dearest penelope

drspencerreid i could always teach you :)

yourusername @/drspencerreid yes pls ❤️

pengarcia @/drspencerreid since when do YOU have instagram?

prentissemily @/drspencerreid spence???

derekhotstuffmorgan @/drspencerreid yea kid what?

jenniferj the flowers are so pretty just like you

yourusername @/jenniferj love you jj <3

ssaaronhotchner is that a picture of evidence files?

yourusername @/ssaaronhotchner uh, would you believe me if i said its for the aesthetic?

derekhotstuffmorgan @/yourusername GIRL not the aesthetic, you in troublee

yourusername 15m

drspencerreid

liked by prentissemily and others

drspencerreid hello friends of instagram i have been told you have to post pictures here

view all comments

pengarcia im starting to notice something about 5th pictures on here and im not even the profiler

derekhotstuffmorgan @/pengarcia you know you might be onto something babygirl

pengarcia @/derekhotstuffmorgan i always am hot stuff

yourusername @/pengarcia @/derekhotstuffmorgan get a room! omg

yourusername so i get in trouble for posting evidence pictures but he doesnt for posting a silly pic of you @/ssaaronhotchner

ssaaronhotcner @/yourusername ….

drspencerreid @/yourusername sorry cant help im the favorite child

prentissemily @/drspencerreid you so are not

ssaaronhotcner @/prentissemily although you all act like children, jack is certanly my only child

pengarcia @/drspencerreid okay doctor sassy ❤️

jenniferj so i take it @/yourusername did take you up on the chess lessons huh? 😁

yourusername @/jenniferj i still have no idea what im doing

drspencerreid @/yourusername thats cause you pay zero attention to what im saying

yourusername @/drspencerreid sorry ❤️

derekhotstuffmorgan @/yourusername okay?

yourusername 20m

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩

a/n : hiiiii i was gone a long while sorry 😭 school, work, a small surgery and a little depression put me on a biggggg slump, this is small but if you guys like maybe pt2? jeje i swear i wont take as long to post again

feedback is always super welcome i hope you enjoy ⭐️

[zepskies]

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Before we tune back into some 1940s drama, I just wanted to thank you all so much for your wonderful responses on Part 1 of this series. 🥹 It’s my first time doing a story like this, so I’m very happy you liked the jumpstart here. 💖💖

Prompt for @jacklesversebingo: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” by Frank Sinatra

Word Count: 3.7K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, hints of PTSD, flirting, dancing…

✨ Series Masterlist

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 2: Devil May Care

After you got home from work the very next day, your apartment was entirely empty.

Predictable. Michael was still out.

This time, you counted it as a blessing. You rifled through every corner, cabinet, pocket, and drawer in search of evidence—anything you could use to prove, without even one shade of a doubt, that your husband was the unfaithful scoundrel you knew him to be. You knew it, deep in your gut. In your very soul.

You even rifled through Michael’s desk in his office, through every single folder, drawer, and booklet. You’d never done such a thing before because he was a particular man about his things, and you respected his privacy. 

That was done now. In your search, you found a useless ball of rubber bands and old coupons. You took his father’s old collection of fountain pens, which you knew Michael was precious about, and threw them haphazardly onto the desk to make room for your seeking hands through the rest of the drawers.

You even came across a small, crumpled photograph from your wedding day. This one made you pause.

You considered the picture, its bent corners and slightly grainy black and white lens. You’d worn your mother’s wedding dress, and you stared up at your new husband with the rosiest of smiles. He stared into your eyes then the way he always used to—like a man ready and willing to drown in them.

You sighed and let the picture fall from between your fingertips. It swayed onto the desk’s mahogany wood surface, and rested there. You shook your head and returned your attention to your task at hand, holding your hands to your hips.

The problem was, you didn’t see anything incriminating here…until an idea finally occurred to you. You went into Michael’s closet. You sorted through the suit jackets he still needed to get drycleaned and pressed again.

In one of the pockets, you found a receipt. 

You brought it to Sam Winchester’s office the following morning before work, along with some documents of your household expenses. Like you did the afternoon before, he identified the receipt as one for the Cotton Club, a nightclub in the Upper East Side. You had never been there in your life, but you heard it was one of the new go-to spots in town. It was the kind of place you used to wish Michael would take you to, once in a while.

“It could be a lead or it could be nothing, but I’ll check it out, along with these,” Sam said. He gathered the financial documents you gave him as well. 

“Okay. Thank you, Mr. Winchester,” you nodded.

“You can call me Sam if you like,” he said, kind, but still professional. You smiled. Unbidden, it reminded you of his brother.

“Please,” you said, your eyes briefly closing. “Just…call me by my name. My first name.” 

Dean slowly smiled. “Perfect. I like your name better anyway.” 

This time, your smile in return was genuine, if tinged with amusement. 

“Goodnight, Dean,” you replied.

Biting the inside of your lip, you gave into the urge to ask the question.

“It was nice of your brother to walk me home last night…what is he up to today then?”

“Ah, well, he’s out to lunch with a young lady he met last night,” Sam replied, with a somewhat wry, but still amused tone to his voice. You frowned.

“Last night? Does your brother meet a lot of women after 9:00 p.m.?” 

Sam chuckled. “He’s not usually wanting for company.”

“I see,” you said flatly. You should have known. The devil-may-care grin on that man was too charming to be anything less than the mark of a shameless flirt. Maybe even a scoundrel. Lord knew you couldn’t take any chances either way.

Dean returned from his day out with Vanessa. She was a nice enough girl, a knockout blonde too. She was smart, studying to be a schoolteacher. But she also tended to twitter on about frivolous things, so much that he couldn’t really remember much of what she said. She did look good doing it though. Not to mention, she let him feel her up while they kissed in one of the alleys, between the ice cream parlor and a drycleaners.

He predictably found his brother whittling away life in his office. Dean dropped his coat and hat on the hanger with a flourish. Sam raised his head from his work with an amused smile.

“Had a good day, did you?” he remarked.

“I can’t complain,” Dean agreed. “Especially when a beautiful woman’s involved.”

Sam shook his head. Before September, he hadn’t seen Dean in three years. Yet some things just didn’t change.

“You gonna see her again?” Sam asked.

Dean made a noncommittal sound. “We’ll see. The day is young, brother.”

Sam raised a finger. “Speaking of which. Mrs. Milligan came by this morning. I’ve been looking through her husband’s finances.”

“Oh really?” Dean sobered as he approached his brother’s desk. “What’d you find?”

“Overall, things seemed to be in order, until I noticed something strange,” Sam said. Dean lowered into the chairs opposite his brother at his desk, and they went over it all together. Sam appreciated another set of eyes on this, with the understanding that Dean would keep the information to himself. 

Starting roughly eleven months ago, there was a check signed to a Mr. Johnson for a moderate sum. Three weeks later, another check, this time a bit larger. For the past few months, Michael Milligan had been making these payments at least once a month, sometimes as much as three, albeit in different amounts.

“He might just have a gambling problem,” Sam said. He rubbed his chin in contemplation.

“Or it could be what she’s worried about,” Dean pointed out. “The name could be an alias. Maybe Mike’s paying for someone’s services…or paying her bills, if you catch my drift.”

Sam slowly nodded. “That’s a possibility.” He checked the dates on the documents again and shook his head. “Mrs. Milligan told me they got married about a year ago, here in the city. It would mean this guy started stepping out on her a month after the wedding.” 

Dean both could and couldn’t believe it. He might not have been a saint himself when it came to the fairer sex, but if he went through the whole ordeal of marrying one, let alone a straight-shooting woman like you, beautiful, clever…

“Geez,” he muttered. “He could’ve at least waited until the ink dried on the certificate.” 

Sam nodded in agreement. He picked up the receipt to the Cotton Club, and he shot his brother a grin.

“Wanna go to the club tonight?”

A wall of sound. That was the Cotton Club—the band on stage playing jazz tunes, loudly, if skillfully; the clanking of glasses as drinks rolled past; the clamor of heels and leather shoes as couples swung on the dance floor; and the added layer of people raising their voices to compensate. The room was filled with the smell of cigarette smoke, fighting against perfume and cologne and musk and sweat.

It was a bit overwhelming for Dean at first. He tried to ease himself into the scene with Sam at his side, even if he did jolt at the cork of a champagne bottle popping open. Sam noticed, but he mercifully didn’t say anything. He thumped a hand on Dean’s back to steady him under the pretense of a brotherly pat, adding a smile for good measure.

Sam was there to keep a lookout for Michael Milligan. Dean would help, but it wasn’t like he was being paid for it. He was largely aiming to have some fun while his brother was all serious, focused on the work. Dean was here for the community nightlife. 

The beautiful, beautiful community. As a matter of fact, there were lovely ladies everywhere. One sultry blonde was singing an upbeat, jazzy tune at the mic. Dolores Daye, said the banner above the stage.

Dean’s attention shifted from the stage to the scattered round tables outside the dance floor, as well as the chair lined up at the bar. His gaze caught on someone familiar—on you, sat at a table by yourself. His eyes widened. He slowed to a stop while Sam went on ahead.

You were stunning, almost unrecognizable in a shimmering black dress that hugged every lush part of your figure, with sleeves that draped off your shoulders. His eyes drew down your crossed legs, the sheer pantyhose, leading to a pair of tall, shining black heels.   

You wore a hat and partial veil that covered half your face, but he knew it was you. Those lips of yours were familiar on sight. Now they were painted red, dark and luscious.

“Dean?” Sam questioned him. He’d turned back when he realized his brother wasn’t keeping up with him. Dean subtly pointed you out. Sam raised his brows, but then he noticed what you were doing. You had a glass of wine in hand, and you seemed to be watching someone.

Every now and then your gaze would travel across the room, where your husband Michael was sat at a table filled with other men and women. They were laughing, drinking, playing cards. 

Sam and Dean shared a conspiring look, one that said they had the same thought. They went over to you. 

Sensing you were being approached, you looked over and found the pair of tall, familiar men with a widening of your eyes. That pretty mouth of yours fell open in surprise. 

“What’re you doing here?” you whisper-hissed. You beckoned them to sit down so they weren’t standing out so much while talking to you. Both Winchester men were broad-shouldered and tall as oaks.

“The same thing you’re doing, apparently,” Sam said, once he and Dean were sitting across from you at the table. He showed you the camera he had hidden in his coat pocket. “I’m going to see if I can get a read on what your husband’s up to, maybe collect some evidence.”

You let out a rush of breath. “Good, thank you.”

“Until then, maybe you’d be more comfortable at home,” he suggested.

Dean knew what his brother was getting at. This wasn’t the kind of place for a woman to be hanging around…unaccompanied. Not a respectable one like you, who clearly wasn’t used to being in a roaring nightclub. Plus, if Michael did slip up here, it wasn’t exactly going to be pleasant for you.

You still shook your head stubbornly. “No. I want to see it with my own eyes.”

Sam almost sighed, but Dean shot him a nod. Right then, they had an understanding. Dean would stay and look out for you while Sam tried to get closer to Michael. Sam left you and Dean together at the table thereafter, and Dean ordered a drink for himself. You sipped at your wine.

Dean glanced at you in appreciation. You really were beautiful…and not just tonight. Though he had to smile at your “disguise.”

“You think that getup is gonna fool your husband?” he remarked, gesturing at your form.

Your lips pursed, but you kept your head angled towards him, so that your hat and veil continued to hide your face from Michael’s direction.

“It has so far,” you retorted. “And this isn’t a getup.”

You smoothed slightly self-conscious hands down the skirt of your dress. Dean smiled. 

“All right, I’m sorry. Poor choice of words,” he said. He dropped his chin and raised his brows, earning your gaze under the hat. “It’s quite a dress, sweetheart.”

I’d like to see you out of it, he thought, even though he immediately stamped it down. You weren’t exactly available, no matter how delectable you were. The interesting part was, you didn’t seem to realize it as you fidgeted in your seat, a little self-consciously.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” you snipped.

His lips tugged at a smirk. He tilted your hat up a little so he could see more of your frowning face. 

“Want me to do better?” he teased. 

“I’d like you to leave me be. How about that?” you said, grabbing the edges of your hat and tilting it back down. “You’re distracting me.”

“Oh, I’m distracting?”

You met his gaze to give him a hot reply, but your words failed you. Just then, faced with his perfectly handsome, roguish face, you finally noticed how green his eyes were. Holding the gleaming reflection from the crystal chandelier above the bar, they briefly dragged over you again, like he was a starving man, and you were the very last morsel held in front of him.

It was indecent, you thought, but suddenly your mouth had gone dry.

“How about this,” Dean said. He finished off his whiskey and held out a hand to you. “Dance with me. You’ll have a better vantage point to spy on Mike over there.”

“Keep your voice down,” you shushed, glancing around.

Dean just smirked. He beckoned you again with a raise of his brows.

You hesitated, but you still eventually dropped your hand into his. He stood before you so he could help you to your feet. You allowed him to escort you over to the dance floor, and all the while you fought off your nerves. You were only doing this because he had a good idea; this would help you keep an eye on Michael without looking so out of place, a woman drinking alone at the table.

The band was playing a moderately paced song, which was good. You weren’t in this to be swept into the air.

“Relax,” Dean whispered, once he had you in his arms. His hands were respectably placed on your waist and in your hand. You knew you did have to relax though. Already you were too stiff while tentatively holding his hand, your other resting on his shoulder.

“I haven’t danced in—in a while,” you admitted. You were a little nervous as you began swaying with Dean, letting him lead you. He turned you about with ease, even twirling you under his hand.

“See? There’s nothing to it,” he said, welcoming you back into his arms. “When’s the last time you had some fun?”

You tilted your head as you thought about it. You and Dean shuffled about the dance floor in more complicated steps as the song increased in tempo. You were breathless in a good way. In a way that you couldn’t even remember needing to breathe as the golden lights sparkled in the corners of your eyes.

“He took me to a club like this once, about…I’d say month or so after we got married last year,” you admitted between spins. You had to hold a hand to your head to keep your hat on.

You were distracted enough by it all—the spinning, the laughter and tinkling glasses, the flashes of spotlight in between sultry dim shades, the heady smell of this man’s cologne, and his every touch, however brief on your body, but just as confident and measured. You actually told him the truth.

“I’ve been dying to get out more ever since, but…” you trailed as he spun you again, then winded you back into the growing familiarity of his arms.

Dean smoothly guided you even closer to him by your waist, until there was hardly any room between your chest and his, between your face and his. Your hand curled around the back of his neck on instinct, the edge of your nails just barely grazing through his hair. You wouldn’t know how it elicited a hot zing of sensation down his spine.

“Your husband really is blind, and even dumber than he looks,” Dean said, glancing down at your face. “I clocked you in five seconds flat, just by those pretty lips.”

You lowered your eyes, but not very far. They landed on his plush lips in contemplation. When your eyes met his again, Dean had a conundrum. He just didn’t think he cared all that much about the consequences.

His head began to bow towards yours, just when the song slowed to a stop. Almost without realizing it, he pressed his hand a little more insistently on the small of your back. You found yourself accepting that guiding pressure. Half-lidded eyes and heavy, mingled breaths in between…

“Let’s hear it again for Dolores Daye, everybody!” the host called out.

You snapped to attention and glanced over Dean’s shoulder at the singer. She waved goodbye to the crowd with a sensuous smile on her ruby red lips. Then she walked off stage in her glittering golden dress, and she grabbed hold of a man’s tie. That man was your husband.

Michael wore a wide smile on his face as she led him to his feet by his tie. He stood, his form looming over her, though she didn’t seem to mind—especially when his arm wrapped too familiarly around her waist.

It wasn’t the kind of embrace you would see between strangers, even for the sake of a good show for the crowd. Their faces became impossibly close, but it was just shy of a kiss as she laughed, a sound like fine crystal bells.

Dean noticed why you froze. He turned to look over his shoulder and his expression faded, becoming grim. He led you off the stage, and while keeping a discreet eye on the scene, he lingered at the bar in the center of the room. His arm stayed around your waist. He could tell himself it was to stay in character, but really, he just wanted to keep you grounded…that right now, you weren’t alone.  

Here by the bar, it was far enough that Michael likely wouldn’t notice you, but close enough that you both could hear what was happening.

The host stepped down from the stage and joined Dolores and Michael, laying a heavy hand on your husband’s shoulder. Yet another clue that Michael showed his face here all too frequently. The host waved over his entire table of friends, Sam included. He’d managed to get himself invited to sit with them.

“Come on. Join us out back,” said the host, gesturing behind the curtain.

“Where to?” Sam asked.

“For a card game or two, a little smoke, a nice little drink,” Michael said, grabbing Sam’s shoulder. “You in?”

Sam nodded. He glanced over and found Dean across the room with his eyes. They shared a brief, but telling look, after which Sam followed Michael and Dolores past the curtain discreetly. Meanwhile, you were already pulling away from Dean’s arm.

“I’m sorry. I’ve got to go,” you murmured.

You went back to the table to collect your purse. You left the rest of your wine there with a few bills on the table to cover it, and you were off, walking brusquely to the front doors. Dean followed suit, laying some money down for his own drink before he followed after you. The clerk at the front brought you your coat after you handed over your ticket, and Dean did the same.

“Hey, why don’t I take you home,” he said, having to raise his voice even here over the noise.

“No, thank you,” you said thickly.

After you had your coat on, you hastened to the closest bus stop outside the club. It was late, it was dark, and it was cold. You saw your fragile breath on the air as you stood there in your tall heels, and you held yourself for more than one reason as you fought off bitter tears.

You bit your lip and blinked against the burn, but you still had to swipe a few droplets quickly from your cheeks. You tried to even out your shallow breaths. It felt like someone had reached into your chest and started squeezing whatever they found. Whatever was left.

Dean sidled up to you with his hands in his pockets. You heaved a sharp sigh, recognizing him just by his shadow casting beside yours under the streetlamp. You kept your face away from him as you wiped at your tears.

“Why do you insist on watching me be miserable?” you asked. 

“Aw, come on, sweetheart.” He shook his head, carding a hand through his hair. “I know you’re upset. I just want to make sure you get home safe, that’s all. …You don’t even have to talk to me if you don’t want to.” 

You slowly shot him a glance, but you didn’t budge. Your frown deepened along with your furrowed brows.  

“Dean, please. You don’t have to do this just because you feel sorry for me,” you said.

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” he said.

It earned your attention, your confused and hurt expression.

Dean met your gaze steadily. “I feel sorry for him. Because he doesn’t have a clue what he’s just lost.”

Your breath stilled in your lungs. 

His words touched you, more deeply than he probably realized. Part of you still wanted to give a sharp retort, that you didn’t need a chaperone. You didn’t need him to swoop in and collect you like broken glass…but a larger part of you craved the company. You didn’t want to be alone.

Soon enough, the next bus pulled up at the curb in front of you. The doors opened. 

Dean gestured with a sweeping hand towards the bus’s steps. 

Ladies first.

With another small sigh, you climbed up without a word. You even accepted his helping hand as you did so. Dean stepped up after you, and the doors closed behind you both.

AN: Welp, Happy Valentine's Day! 😅💜 Quite literally an angsty ride here, but what should happen on this bus going nowhere...

Next Time:

You admired his hands as they rested casually in his lap. They were larger than yours, with long fingers. His hands look strong and capable, like the rest of him, even though they were always considerate when they touched you.

“Then you should do something you like doing,” you said. “Fixing cars! That’s good, honest work you can make a living out of.”

Dean looked over at you. “You think so?”

You nodded your encouragement, smiling bright. “I know so. You might be a bit of a flirt, but you also look like someone who can accomplish whatever you set your mind to.”

When those words slipped free from your mouth, you realized how he might take that little accusation, let alone how overeager you sounded. Your gaze fell away from him as you felt your face getting warm in a blush.

Dean’s smile slid into a smirk. “I’m a flirt, huh?”

“Well…” You bit the inside of your lip and tried your hardest not to look at him for a while. “At least you’re an honest one.”

Dean laughed freely at that.

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[actualbird]

i like luke abs and then every other nxx boy its kinda a turn off. fuck you mean the desk job workaholics have abs i want them to have like. ANY stomach fat bc it would be cuter

NO PLEASE EXACTLLLYYY YOU GET IT LIKE

okay u know what, here are my physique headcanons for all the boys

-

luke = he should be built like a double door fridge. this man went through military training, he should be BUILT. im very often underwhelmed by how he looks like in canon cards or sprites because like....no....no hes too stick thin, too "model" built and not "SOLDIER" built enough. the card cg that satisfied me the most, irt his build, is the 2nd cg from SSR Invincible for Love, with his BULGING ARM MUSCLES. THIS IS HOW HE SHOULD LOOK LIKE.

also, luke should have scars. he should have so many scars. hyv is a damn coward for not putting any scars on this man, it just makes no sense, he should hAVE SCARS!!!!!

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artem = given that artem canonically works out via swimming, i consequently picture him having a swimmer's physique. hes nowhere near as buff as luke is but he looks pretty fit!

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vyn = I THINK VYN SHOULDNT HAVE ABS, HE SHOULD HAVE A SOFT TUM. HE LOVES PASTRIES AND GOOD FOOD AND INDULGENT LUXURIES, his body should be beautiful evidence of how much he delights in the pleasures of life.

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marius = i hc marius as like, lithe. not as fit as artem is because lord, when would a busy art grad student/CEO get the TIME to work out??? this, plus his height, makes him look awfully lanky. pipe cleaner ass type of man.

-

sorry, the luke tunnel vision very obviously hit me again but yeah. those are my thoughts. thank you for listening

[bluemantics]

the art of tending

Keith has a lot of scars. Some are more visible than others, but Lance makes sure each one receives the proper care that it requires. In the morning, as he sweeps into the kitchen with languid stretching, he slides up to the counter beside his love. Ever the early-riser, Keith smiles at him as he scrambles eggs. 

“Good morning, Lance.” Keith isn’t one for pet names, which never matters— the way he says Lance is enough. It echoes in the crisp morning air, traveling out through the ajar windows. 

It’s too early for words, so Lance cradles Keith’s jawline in his hand. He relishes in the feeling of his wedding band pressing softly against Keith’s scarred cheek for a moment before pressing a kiss into its slight ridges. His husband hums, content. 

They linger in mornings, now. And both of them are endlessly thankful for the ability to wake up slowly, together. 

Throughout their days on Earth, teaching occupies a large sum of their time. The students at the Garrison are brilliant. Lance has a fondness for one girl in particular, a 16-year-old named Vidhi who loves the simulator and loves pranks even more. He scolds her, of course, in an attempt to not be obvious with his favorites. Still, she knows that she can always come to him. It’s a source of pride for Lance. 

As wonderful as they are, they can also be… challenging. Lance is grading papers when Keith storms into his empty classroom at lunchtime. He throws himself into the chair opposite Lance with a drawn-out huff, dramatically leaning forward on the desk. 

“Carlo, again?” Lance doesn’t even look up, continuing to work. 

“He’s skipping math. I asked him about it, and he said that he’d rather fly, and that he doesn’t like the other kids. In less polite words,” Keith explains, balling up his hand in a fist. “I want to be there for him, I do, but he isn’t ever there for himself. It’s so—“ 

“Oh, Keith,” Lance clucks his tongue, drawing a glare out of his beloved. 

“Don’t do that,” Keith complains. “Just say what you have to say.”

“Carlo is a trouble kid right? Always does what he wants? Kinda a lone wolf?” Lance levels an unimpressed look at Keith. 

“Yeah?” Keith raises an eyebrow, clearly confused and frustrated.

“So, he’s like you, babe.” A range of emotions flash over Keith’s face. Indignation morphs into thoughtfulness before settling on realization. 

“Oh, shit.” He pushes back his bangs, eyes wide, and looks down at his hands with panic. “How am I supposed to even start with him? He’ll see right through me, and I am not equipped to handle an emotionally unstable kid. This is a horrible—“

Lance grabs Keith’s hand, forcing him to meet his eyes. “This is a wonderful idea. Who better to help him than a person who understands him? Who will treat him like an equal?”

“I don’t know where to begin, Lance,” Keith whispers. Lance rubs his thumb over Keith’s knuckles.

“Yes, you do.” He uses his free hand to turn around the frame on his desk. In it is a picture of the team, all smiling proudly while hugging one another. Lance taps the photo. 

“Shiro.” Keith follows his gesture, grabbing the photo and looking at it contemplatively. 

“Shiro,” Lance agrees, watching him take that information in. “You don’t have to be perfect, red. God knows Shiro wasn’t— he was just as young as we are now— but if you can do what he did for you… that’s powerful stuff.”

“Yeah,” Keith mumbles, glancing back up at Lance. “Okay, yeah. I can try.”

“I know this is hard,” Lance tells him. “There is no other person who could do this for Carlo, Keith. Not a one. You’ve got everything you need, and if you ever need help, you can always call him. You lived it first. Now pass it on.”

Keith stands abruptly and places the frame down on Lance’s desk, determination set into every muscle of his frame. “I’ll talk to him.” He swivels on his foot, turning to fast-walk out. 

“Up-bup-bup! You’re forgetting something!” Lance calls over. 

“Oh, yeah.” Keith grins, spins back to his partner, and draws him up into a kiss. It’s as grateful as it is fleeting. 

It leaves Lance’s heart fizzing with energy as Keith dashes out, adding a new pep to his grading. Lance is always relieved when he can soothe the pain from Keith’s oldest scars, the ones on his mind.

Eventually, when they turn in for the night, Keith will wince at the pull of his aching muscles. He’ll twist in their bed, trying to get comfortable until Lance finally gestures for him to move in front. Then, with quiet and calming hands, Lance will rub out the soreness from a long day of training and hard work. He makes sure to gently pull aside Keith’s long hair when necessary, lets his fingers skirt over the hard lines of Keith’s back. 

Keith will lean into his touch, as always. They’ll talk, voices long and low, about everything. Their classes. Hearing from teammates. A hard workout. An annoying call from family. Even, in their most difficult moments, they might mention missing some aspects of the war.

Those kinds of discussions are only reserved for nighttime. When the air from the windows is chilled, the stars are up instead of around, and Lance’s hands are tracing lines across Keith’s ribs and his shoulders. He maps out every scar from memory, pulls out every memory from each scar. 

Over time, Lance will lose his ability to speak, capable of just monosyllabic words. 

Keith will notice. He can never stop noticing. His eyes will wander over his shoulder, see his husband’s lids droop, and, with the grace of a much less rugged man, will ease Lance slowly to lie down. 

In a matter of seconds, Keith will wrap around Lance. They’ll close their eyes, limbs tangled, hearts thudding slowly in time. 

No “I love you” needs to be said when every action, every tender caress and guiding word, leads them to the same place day after day. 

[bloodyinkandquill]

Phighting x Reader Valentine’s day special

IF TEXT IS IN RED ITS NSFW OR SUGGESTIVE

sorry for my disappearance, executive dysfunction, the day this will be posted (valentines duh) i’ll be flying out to spend two days with my partner 💜 im so excited to see them i love them so much hehehe, anyways same idea as christmas one what do the phighters do to celebrate valentine’s with you?

Sword:

- I picture him as someone who doesn’t go quite all out he still wants to do something nice for you. He’d get you a bouquet of whatever your favorite flowers are and in your favorite color too (if they grow in that color). If they’re roses he definitely cut his finger on them, he’s a little stupid but you love him. While not insanely fancy or expensive he takes you out for dinner as well, he didn’t consider making a reservation so hopefully wherever he planned has room. He gets you a super cheesy card but writes a super sweet message in it which makes up for an eye-rollingly cheesy card.

- He might wanna but he honestly doesn’t care either way, if you want to he’s absolutely down, if not he’s not going to be sad. So it’s your call.

Skateboard:

- He forgets about Valentine’s until like, the day of or before if you’re lucky. So you either get a very hastily bought gift of some chocolates, or him lying that he’s waiting till after to get the discount chocolates. You see through him but laugh and go along with it. To make it up to you he says whatever you wanna do for a date he’s down, as long as it’s not too too expensive.

- Bro is taking you to pound town. Or if you’d rather take him to pound town he’s okay with that too. Those were his exact words, while he didn’t/doesn’t do anything extravagant for Valentine’s he is definitely down for some Valentine’s sex. It’s nothing specifically Valentine’s exclusive but he does want to do it for the literal holiday of love.

Biograft:

- Similarly to Christmas he has the dictionary definition of the holiday but it doesn’t know much outside of that. But similarly to everything else he would love you to explain the tradition to him more, especially in your own words and opinions. Since it doesnt really grasp the concept of gift giving you don’t have to give him anything and it might not get your anything, obviously if you wanna give him something he’s not going to say no. And if you tell it that you want something special he’ll get it for you.

- Apologies I don’t do NSFW Biograft stuff.

Katana:

- He would unironically call it a corporate holiday, he’s that kinda guy. He is absolutely not against celebrating it he just doesn’t understand why such a big deal is made out of this day in particular, especially since in his words ‘I love you everyday why do I have to show it to you today specifically?’ If you want to celebrate it he’ll get you something small, and take you out on a date, somewhere secluded though since he doesn’t want to deal with the big crowds of Valentine’s day.

- He doesn’t care either way, it’s up to you honestly, since he doesn’t care much for Valentine’s it’s not anything he specifically wants to do. He will though he has no problem with it.

Ban Hammer:

- Gets you the most big obnoxious gift possible, especially just to embarrass you. Like big ass teddy bear and a big bouquet. He’s a dork but he’s your dork. Unfortunately he probably has to work for some amount of time because criminals don’t care that it’s Valentine’s so oh well you suppose. To make it up to you he takes you out to a really really nice restaurant, no reservations, he’ll just use his power of being the warden to get them to give you two a table. And dinners on him get whatever you want, he’s got the bux for it.

- Oh absolutely, he could barely contain himself during dinner, while nothing unique about it he just wants to since it’s Valentine’s and he wants to ‘show his love for you’ (like he hasn’t already.)

Rocket:

- He gets you something obnoxious as well, big stuffed animal but not specifically a Valentine’s themed stuffed animal just a big one, maybe a shark or axolotl, who knows. You spend the day together at his place, lounging around, watching shows, making meals together, even if he’s a hazard to any kitchen he enters. It’s sweet and he’s very cuddly and clingy, more so than usual. Might get you a card, if anything it’s homemade and actually really nice, he hates saying sappy stuff but he can put up with writing it down.

- You’re at his place all day, probably spending the night. What do you think? 100% dude, it doesn’t even have to be exclusively at night or even in the evening, you’re there all day he might wanna when you’re both just chilling on the couch watching TV.

Slingshot:

- One of the busiest days possible for his cafe, so you probably won’t be able to see him that day, you celebrate on a neighboring day. He bakes you a pastry you really like specifically customized to be Valentine’s themed, hearts and pink and red type of thing. Gives them to you in a heart shaped box to top it all off. As for what you do when you do celebrate I think he’d take you on a picnic, makes all the food, especially homemade bread to make sandwiches with and obviously pastries galore. Somewhere sunny and green.

- Yeah, he wants to say I love you in as many ways as possible, one of those being making love to you. He might make a special pastry to get you both in the mood if you catch my drift, he tells you about it though it’s nothing you don’t know about.

Hyperlaser:

- He’s got work basically everyday, that includes Valentine’s day. He also doesn’t see much of a point to it, he thinks it’s over the top and pointless. He’s alright if you want to do something but he doesn’t really want to, and doesn’t plan anything, and unless you specifically ask he doesn’t get you something. He’s not that much of the romantic type, like a at all. Sorry you knew what you were in for when dating him.

- Doesn’t particularly want to, he’s not a low libido so it’s only if you really want to. It’s not that he doesn’t want to specifically he just doesn’t have much desire to.

Shuriken:

- Again one of the busiest days for the cafe, he doesn’t have much of a chance to see you. So similarly to Slingshot he instead ops to celebrate on a different day. He doesn’t really care what you do as long as you spend the day together, and he has some way to show off, he’s a bit dumb but he wants to impress you as much as possible. Gets you something Slingshot baked, probably pesters him into making you something specific.

- Again only if you want to, he could but he’s not specifically wanting to. Not to say he’s against it but after work tires him out he doesn’t have that much energy to get freaky with.

Scythe:

- She is going to make it a day to remember that’s for sure. Robs the nicest bar she can find for the nicest alcohol one can steal. Takes you on a fancy ass date, probably held the place at gun point to get in without reservations but it’s Scythe what else do you expect from her? Gets you an expensive gift to top it off, she’s got expensive tastes what can she say? Also don’t worry if you can’t get her something, she is absolutely alright being gifted something else.

- Once you get home from the dinner there is fucking rose petals making a trail to the bedroom, and oh my gods if she’s rough or intense normally crank that up to fucking 13. Bed is covered in rose petals but there’s only a 60% chance you make it to the bed before she fucking jumps you. Again if you didn’t get her anything she says seeing your blissed out almost passed out face more then makes up for it, it was the part she was most looking forwards to. Hope you didn’t have plans for the day after, she is not holding anything back.

Medkit:

- On the complete opposite side of the coin he makes no big deal out of it. While he doesn’t do nothing per se it’s nowhere near fancy or extravagant. Scythe might make him work too, so he’ll probably just take you out for a nice-ish dinner. Gets you something small but meaningful, no card or flowers, he writes enough for the cult- I mean church, and he thinks flowers as a gift is pointless, they wilt and die rather quickly so why bother?

- He’s tired but if anything does any up happening it’s very slow and sensual, he normally is but he wants it to be especially so for the day of love. It’s definitely making love rather than just having sex and definitely not pure fucking.

Boombox:

- Bro 100% writes you a personalized love song, he probably doesn’t even release it it’s for you and you only, not for anyone else. He also gets you your favorite candy, a big bag of it.

(sorry these are probably getting shorter ive been up since 5:30 for my flight. i’m about to pass the fuck out)

- Yeah, he wants to for sure. Probably does something cheesy with it though, rose in his teeth on the bed, he then bursts out laughing and ruins any mood he was trying to set. But oh well you still do it and it’s nice. He’s always pretty sweet in bed and especially so with it being Valentine’s.

Subspace:

- Doesn’t have the day off since holidays aren’t big in Blackrock, but he’ll do stuff before and after he leaves. He orders takeout from your favorite breakfast place to have together before he leaves. When he gets back he gives you your gift, what does he get you? Sorry no clue again i’m about to pass out. Oh well it’s nice and nothing obnoxious or something you’ll never use, it’s practical but nice and sweet.

- Probably, as long as it’s not a bad pain day for his rot, if it is he’s huffy and puffy because he wants to have sex but his condition is getting in the way. Just kiss him repeatedly and he’ll melt and will stop complaining. If you do though he will be more intense with it then usual, not that hes normally gentle by any means, but he was probably pent up during work thinking about it so he’s basically pouncing on you as soon as he returns home, whenever that is.

Vinestaff:

- Once again, cafe is busy as hell so you’ll celebrate on a different day. She gets you a vase of beautiful flowers she grew herself, she grew and cared for them for weeks in preparation, taking even better care of them than usual. And that’s saying something considering it’s Vinestaff. You go out for brunch somewhere not fancy but definitely nice and maybe a tad pricey but it’s alright. Also she gives you, so so, many kisses all day, you’re going to be scrubbing off lipstick for like 5 minutes straight. Not that you’re complaining.

- I sound like a broken record but if you want to she’s absolutely down, but isn’t specifically looking forward to it, she could take it or leave it.

Coil:

- Gifts you something really nice he stole from a Blackrock noble, and a thing of assorted chocolates. He’s more boastful then usual but you know it’s because he loves you and wants compliments from you in return, he absolutely compliments you as well don’t get it confused, he just is also being more self complimentary then normal. Definitely doesn’t do a card, loving words are not his forte but oh well.

- Oh without a doubt you’re fucking on Valentine’s. Doesn’t even have to be at night he’s raring to go anywhere you happen to be, and do not expect him to be sweet and gentle during it, he is the hellhound he’s going at it like an animal. But he’s super sweet and caring afterwards don’t worry.

im so fucking tired i’m going to post this and then hopefully pass out, i also kinda need to pee but the seatbelt sign is on </3 , anyways happy valentine’s everyone have a great day and hope you enjoyed!

[bts-trans]

250215 Weverse Translation

Jungkook’s Post ❇️ with J-Hope's Comment 💬

아미 건강하지요? 요즘 날씨가 풀린 것 같다가도 또 추워지고 꼭 제 마음을 보는듯한 느낌입니다 오늘 날씨는 유독 을씨년스럽네요 아직 멀었다만 이쯤 되니 스스로에게 지분대는 날들이 많아지는 것 같기도 하네요 여러모로 생각이 많은 밤입니다 가끔 상상으로 아미들과 제 모습을 한 사진에 담곤 합니다 순간 입가에 번지는 미소에 기분이 참 좋습니다 반면 이제는 상상뿐일까 하는 회의감이 들 때도 있습니다 물론 그 회의감조차 의심하고 상상보다 더 아름다운 추억을 쌓을 겁니다 물론 그만큼 제가 노력해야겠죠ㅎ 아미들을 생각하는 마음과 여태껏 제 이야기를 쓴 연필의 주인은 여러분인 걸 결코 잊지 않고 있습니다 그렇기에 제가 어떻게 해야 되는지 잘 알고 있다는 말이죠 알면서도 뭔가 조급하고 기대되고 조금은 불안한가 봅니다 그래도 몇 자 적으니 상념에 잠겨있진 않아도 될 것 같아요 그냥… 끔찍이 여러분들 생각한다 뭐 그거만 좀 알아달라는 거예요 딴 건 바라는 거 없습니다 ㅎ 고맙습니다 글 봐줘서 오늘도 보고 싶습니다 여전히 기다립니다 건강 잘 챙기세요 여러분 사랑합니다

JH: 으른이 됐구나 쨔이케이.. (https://weverse.io/bts/artist/3-192517255)

ARMY, you're in good health, right? The weather these days feels like is gotten better but then it gets colder, and it really feels like its following my own emotions The weather today is particularly gloomy It's still a while away but I think, now that I'm at this point, I'm having a lot of days where I feel perturbed It is an evening full of thoughts for me, in many ways I sometimes picture myself with you guys in one frame A smile spreads across my face in that moment, and I feel quite happy I sometimes find myself suspicious, wondering whether I'm just imagining that only half a year remains now Of course, I then doubt that suspicion itself, and I know that we're going to make memories even better than my imagination. Of course, I have to work hard and make sure that happens heh I never forget my feelings towards you, and I never forget that you are the the ones holding the pencil that has been writing my story And so, in other words, I know very well what I'm supposed to do. And yet I feel kind of impatient and eager and even a little bit anxious, I think Still, now that I've put some words to paper, I don't think I have to get lost in my ruminations I just…I am so painfully always thinking about you, okay, that's all, I just wanted you to know that, that's all I'm asking for heh

Thank you for reading this

I miss you today too

I'm waiting, as always

Please take care of your health, everyone

I love you

JH: All grown up, JayKay…

Trans cr; Aditi @ bts-trans © TAKE OUT WITH FULL CREDITS

[zeedist]

HOLD YOUR BAG.ᐟ — ALHAITHAM

summary: he insists on holding your bag. sfw !! fem!reader x alhaitham, academic setting, short + sweet. word count: 0.5k proofread: yup.

"I am strong."

"Yes, you are."

Alhaitham nods without hesitation, the unspoken truth clear in his gaze. He never doubted that statement for a second, never considered you even remotely weak.

"I can perfectly take of myself, thank you."

He stifles a soft laugh at your determination. Are you aware that you are extremely adorable when being stubborn like this? The very thought of you insisting on carrying anything while he's right here makes him smile, just a little bit. These biceps of his aren't for decor or for you to lay your head on, okay?

"And I will still offer because I love you," he says smoothly, stretching his hand toward you. His tone is casual, but the meaning is clear. "Want me to take your bag for you?"

And there it is, the invitation you can't refuse. Your shoulders ache with each shift, and before your stubborn pride can poke its big head in the picture, you sigh in defeat.

"Please."

Alhaitham chuckles softly, like he knew this would happen. With a swift, effortless motion, he slings your bag over his shoulder alongside his own — his movements so effortless unhurried that it's almost unfair. A soft-colored keychain, a memento of your carnival date, dangles from the strap, chiming lightly with each step he takes.

You watch the bag swing lightly on his shoulder. It’s like carrying two bags full of books is the least challenging thing he's done today. Meanwhile, you're still struggling with the thought of taking one step more without collapsing — being too many hours on your feet dissecting samples might kill you before the lack of sleep does.

Alhaitham stretches his fingers while you're silent with your thoughts, just enough to brush against yours — spark you back to reality. It's an innocent touch. Fingers entangling with you as he slowed down his pace to adjust to the slower pace of your aching feet, gently guiding you away from water puddles.

That concerns him enough to tease you, though his voice carried more concern than humor, "Too much? Want me to carry you across campus and to bed, hm?"

You roll your eyes, but the warmth in your chest doesn't fade. “Please don’t. We were everywhere when you gave me a piggyback ride last time, people here are so nosy."

Alhaitham doesn’t respond.

You catch the way he smirks.

He’s not the type to boast, but oh, how it made him swell with pride when whispers of your relationship filled the air for a week. Each time he heard your name on someone’s lips, he couldn’t help but silently thank every star in the sky for the sheer luck of calling you his girlfriend. Oh, what a lucky bastard he was.

Carry a bag for you?

Hell, he would carry a hundred of them every day just to see you.

note: will publish the carnival date tonight or tomorrow. don't question why not do it before this part, my drafts and brain are a mess. (っ,-)

[hwashua-luv]

Until We Meet Again

The morning light filtered through the sheer curtains of your bedroom, casting soft patterns across the walls. You lay in bed, tangled in sheets, aware of the bittersweet heaviness settling in your chest. Today was the day Yoon Jeonghan would leave for military service—a day you had both dreaded and prepared for.

You had spent the past few weeks trying to convince yourself that it would be okay, that this was just another chapter in his life. But with each passing hour, the weight of the impending separation felt more real, more daunting. You turned your gaze to the clock on your bedside table, its ticking echoing your racing heart.

"Y/N, are you up?" Jeonghan's voice drifted through the apartment, warm and familiar.

"Yeah, I'm coming," you replied, forcing a smile as you slipped out of bed. You threw on a comfortable sweater and a pair of jeans, running a hand through your hair to tame the chaos. Today wasn't about you; it was about him.

You stepped into the living room, where Jeonghan was sitting on the couch, a backpack beside him. He looked more handsome than ever, his features slightly accentuated by the sunlight streaming through the window. A pang of sadness shot through you at the sight.

"Hey," he greeted, a smile lighting up his face, but you could see the glimmer of uncertainty in his eyes.

"Hey," you said, crossing the room to sit beside him. You reached out, intertwining your fingers with his, savouring the warmth of his touch.

"Are you ready?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, a nervous sound. "As ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

You squeezed his hand tighter, trying to anchor yourself in this moment. "You know I'm proud of you, right?"

He nodded, his expression softening. "I know. And that means everything to me."

You spent the morning reminiscing about the countless memories you had shared, laughter echoing through the apartment as you flipped through old photos on his phone. Every picture held a story—late-night ice cream runs, spontaneous trips, and quiet moments spent together.But as the hours passed, the laughter began to fade, replaced by an uncomfortable silence that loomed between you. You glanced at the clock again, and your heart sank. Time was slipping away far too quickly.

"Y/N," he said suddenly, breaking the silence. "Can we talk about something?"

You nodded, apprehension knotting in your stomach. "Of course. What's on your mind?"

He took a deep breath, his gaze steady on yours. "I know this is hard, but I need you to promise me something."

Your heart raced. "What is it?"

"Promise me you won't wait for me," he said softly. "I don't want you to feel like you're stuck while I'm gone. Live your life. Explore, meet new people—be happy. That's what I want for you."

The world around you felt like it was crumbling. "Jeonghan, I don't want to meet new people. I want to be with you."

"I know," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "But I'll be gone for a while, and I don't want you to feel like you have to put your life on hold. Promise me you'll be okay."

Tears welled in your eyes as you shook your head. "How can I promise that? You're a huge part of my life."

"Please, Y/N," he said, urgency creeping into his tone. "Just promise me."

You inhaled shakily, feeling the pressure of his gaze. "I promise... I'll try," you said, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

"Good," he said, relief washing over his features. "That's all I ask."

Just then, his phone buzzed on the table, interrupting the moment. You both glanced at it, and he sighed, picking it up to check the message. "It's the car service. They're here."

You nodded, a lump forming in your throat as the reality of his departure settled in. He stood up, gathering his things while you remained seated, staring blankly at the floor. You wanted to freeze time, to hold onto this moment just a little longer.

As he turned to you, the sadness in his eyes mirrored your own. "I'll come back, okay? I promise."

"I know," you whispered, though your heart ached with uncertainty.

He approached you, kneeling down to meet your gaze. "Y/N, I love you. No matter where I am, that won't change."

"I love you too, Jeonghan," you replied, tears finally spilling down your cheeks.

He reached out, wiping a tear away with his thumb, his touch sending shivers through you. "Don't cry. It's not goodbye forever."

You nodded, trying to muster a brave smile, but the pain of impending separation was overwhelming. "I'll be here when you get back."

Jeonghan's eyes softened, and he leaned in closer. "Can I...?"

You didn't need him to finish. You leaned forward, closing the distance between you, and pressed your lips against his. The kiss was tender yet filled with urgency, as if you were trying to convey everything you felt in that single moment. You poured your heart into it, hoping to capture the essence of your love, the memories you shared, and the promise of a future together.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. "You're my home, Y/N," he murmured, and you could feel the weight of his words.

"I'll always be your home," you replied, your voice shaky but resolute.He leaned in again, kissing you with a softness that made your heart swell. You wanted to memorize every detail—the warmth of his lips, the way his fingers tangled in your hair, the way he made you feel whole. You knew you had to let him go, but the thought of it felt like a knife to your heart.

Suddenly, the sound of a horn blaring from outside broke the moment. Jeonghan pulled away, and you both turned toward the window, reality crashing down around you once more."It's time," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the truth hanging heavily in the air. You stood up, feeling unsteady, as he gathered his things one last time. The atmosphere felt thick, charged with unspoken words and lingering feelings.

He stepped closer, taking your hands in his. "No matter what happens, remember that I love you. And I'll write to you every chance I get."

"I'll hold you to that," you said, a small smile breaking through the tears.He chuckled, a bittersweet sound. "And I'll expect letters from you too. Tell me all about your adventures, okay?"

"I will," you promised, even though the thought of moving on felt insurmountable.

With a final glance, he stepped back toward the door, and you felt a part of your heart go with him. "I'll see you soon," he said, his voice steady.

"See you soon," you echoed, your throat tight.

As he opened the door, you couldn't help but take a step forward, reaching out for him. He paused, looking back at you with a mixture of longing and determination.

"Y/N," he said softly, "stay strong for me, okay?"

You nodded, feeling a rush of determination. "I will, Jeonghan. I'll wait for you."

With that, he stepped out, leaving you standing in the doorway, watching as he walked away. The sound of his footsteps faded, and the door clicked shut behind him.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the emptiness of the space around you. But in your heart, you held onto the love you shared, the promise of letters, and the hope of reunions to come. It was not goodbye forever; it was simply a pause in your story.

As the tears fell, you closed your eyes, letting the memories wash over you, knowing that this was not the end, but a new beginning.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Word count: 1254

Author's note: The same one-shot has been posted on Wattpad (hwashua-luv). Requests are also open <3

All rights reserved. © 2024 hwashua-luv

All works written by me do not copy, translate or repost my works without my given consent.

[bitchinbarzal]

It’ll work out | K Kaprizov

summary: You and Kirill have been trying to have a baby for a long time. The struggle has taken its toll, creating a rift between you that neither of you knows how to fix. When things reach a breaking point, you both have to decide if love is enough to bring you back to each other.

-

The house is quiet.

Too quiet.

You stir your spoon in your tea, watching the amber liquid swirl around the cup, but you don’t take a sip. Across the kitchen, Kirill sits at the table, scrolling through his phone, lost in his own world. His face is unreadable, illuminated only by the dim blue light of the screen.

This is how it’s been for weeks now. You sit in the same room, breathe the same air, but you might as well be miles apart. The weight of unspoken words, of disappointment and exhaustion, presses down on you both.

It wasn’t always like this.

You used to talk about everything, filling even the quietest moments with laughter and warmth. Now, the silence stretches between you like a canyon neither of you knows how to cross.

“I have an early practice tomorrow,” Kirill says, finally breaking the silence.

You nod, lifting your mug to your lips. “Okay.”

That’s it. That’s all you say.

You don’t tell him that you cried in the car after work today, gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands after another coworker announced their pregnancy. That you smiled, offered congratulations, and then locked yourself in the school bathroom just to breathe through the ache in your chest.

He doesn’t tell you that he saw you last night, curled up on the couch, staring blankly at yet another negative test. That he wanted to come to you, to wrap you in his arms and tell you that it would be okay.

But he didn’t.

Because what if it won’t be?

Because what if the words aren’t enough?

Because what if he’s failing you?

The weight of hope is a cruel thing.

When you first decided to try for a baby, it had been filled with excitement, a whispered dream that seemed just within reach. The first few months, you were giddy with the possibility, already picturing a nursery, tiny clothes, late-night feedings with Kirill rocking your child back to sleep.

Then months turned into a year. And another.

And nothing happened.

Doctors. Tests. Treatments.

An endless cycle of waiting and heartbreak.

Each negative test was like a punch to the gut, but the worst was the time you truly believed it had worked. Your period was late, your body felt different, and for two glorious days, you let yourself believe you were finally pregnant.

You told Kirill in a hushed, excited whisper, his face lighting up with a kind of joy you hadn’t seen in months. He kissed you, lifted you off the ground, and spun you around the kitchen, laughing against your skin.

Then the bleeding started.

And just like that, the light faded from his eyes.

You had cried in his arms that night, gripping his shirt as if holding onto him could somehow stop the ache in your chest. He had whispered to you in Russian, soft and soothing, but it did nothing to dull the heartbreak.

And since then, something between you has been unraveling.

Kirill comes home late from practice, the front door closing with a soft click. You hear the rustle of his bag being set down, the quiet creak of the floorboards under his feet as he makes his way to the kitchen.

You’re at the counter, absently running a hand over the smooth surface, your untouched dinner sitting on a plate in front of you. When you glance up, Kirill is standing in the doorway, watching you with tired eyes.

“Hey,” he says, voice low.

“Hey,” you echo, unsure what else to say.

He hesitates before nodding toward the food. “You ate?”

“I waited for you,” you admit.

Something flickers across his face, something like guilt, but it disappears just as quickly. “I already ate with the guys.”

You nod, swallowing against the sudden lump in your throat. “Oh. Okay.”

You turn away, blinking rapidly. It shouldn’t hurt this much. But it does.

Kirill exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “What’s wrong?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “What’s wrong? Kirill, we barely talk anymore. You come home, and it’s like I’m not even here.”

His jaw tightens. “That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair is feeling like I’m losing you.” The words spill out before you can stop them, raw and aching. “I feel like I’m drowning, and you’re just—” Your voice wavers. “You’re just letting it happen.”

Kirill shakes his head. “That’s not true.”

“Then tell me what is true, because I don’t know anymore.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it again, as if struggling to find the right words.

The silence stretches between you, heavy and unbearable.

Then, finally, he exhales. “Maybe we need a break.”

The world tilts beneath your feet.

“A break?” you whisper.

“I don’t know what else to do, Y/N.” His voice is hoarse, desperate. “We’re hurting each other.”

Tears well in your eyes. “So your solution is to leave?”

His expression crumbles, and for the first time, you see the same pain reflected in his gaze. “I don’t want to. But I don’t know how to be what you need anymore.”

Your heart shatters.

You turn away, pressing your hands against the counter, willing yourself to stay steady. “Then maybe you should go.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

Then, finally, you hear the quiet shuffle of his footsteps as he turns and walks away.

And when the door closes behind him, the weight of it all crashes down on you.

The bed feels empty without him.

For the first time since you moved in together, you wake up alone. No warm weight beside you, no steady breathing in the quiet.

Just silence.

And for the first time, you wonder if he’s ever coming back.

Four days pass before he returns.

You don’t hear the door open, but you feel his presence before you see him. When you turn, he’s standing in the doorway, looking at you like he’s afraid you’ll tell him to leave again.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice thick with emotion.

Tears prick your eyes, but you don’t move. “Me too.”

Kirill takes a slow step forward. “I don’t want space. I don’t want a break. I just want you.”

A sob catches in your throat.

“I don’t care how long it takes,” he continues, voice cracking. “I don’t care if it never happens. I just want you, Y/N.”

You stare at him, heart aching. “You mean that?”

His hands cup your face, thumbs brushing away the tears that spill over. “I love you. With or without a baby. That will never change.”

And just like that, the dam breaks.

You collapse into his arms, clinging to him as sobs wrack your body. He holds you tightly, whispering soft reassurances in Russian, pressing kisses into your hair.

You don’t know how long you stand there, wrapped in each other. But for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel alone.

And maybe that’s enough.

Maybe that’s everything.

Six months later, you’re staring at a pregnancy test with shaking hands.

Two pink lines.

Your breath catches, tears spilling down your cheeks as you press a hand to your stomach.

“Kirill?” Your voice wobbles as you step into the bedroom, the test clutched in your fingers.

He looks up, brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

Wordlessly, you hold out the test.

His eyes widen.

And then he’s across the room in an instant, arms wrapping around you as he laughs—a joyful, disbelieving sound that makes your heart soar.

“We did it,” he breathes.

You smile through your tears, pressing your forehead to his.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “We did.”

And no matter what comes next, you know you’ll always have each other.

Always.

[ourdawnishotterthanourday]

Rose Tinted — Boo Seungkwan

✧ Take off those rose colored glasses ✧

Plot: Picture this… you find out that your so-called best friend has been playing you all along.

🎥 Starring: fem!reader x best friend!Boo Seungkwan 🎥 Genre: big time angst 🎥 Word count: 0.9k+ 🎥 Warnings: swearing, asshole vernon, asshole kwannie (sorry y’all), brief mention of blood but not graphic 🎥 Notes: I am baaaack (hopefully for a while). I know I haven’t been posting for forever but I hope to see you all more often again ^^  🎥 Shout out: thanks to my lovely bestie @nothoughtsjustfic for motivating me to write again 💜 love you Chee! Never change pls hehehe

♡ REBLOGGING AND/OR FEEDBACK WOULD BE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED — DON'T BE A STRANGER PLS ♡

Set The Scene Masterlist —  Masterlist

“How much longer are you going to keep this up, dude? She’s been glued to your side since that dumb bet. Weren’t you gonna ditch her like forever ago?”

Time froze as you heard Vernon utter those words to your best friend… or so you thought. 

“Shit, Vernon! Be quiet before she hears you!” Seungkwan hissed in return, which was followed by a dull sound and then a shriek from Vernon.

“Whatever. I just don’t get it. You don’t even like her. She could offer to buy me unlimited pizza and beers and I still wouldn’t be able to handle all that clinginess.”

“Fucking hell! Just get out and don’t come back until we leave. You’re going to fuck up everything,” Seungkwan snapped, his voice unlike anything you’d ever heard coming from his lips. 

“Fine.” Vernon sighed dramatically. “But don’t come crying to me when it all comes to bite you in the ass.” 

A second later, you heard the front door slam shut, the sound of which snapped you right back to the horrible reality you were now forced to face. 

You’d just been shown a completely different side of your supposed best friend and you didn’t quite know whether to cry or scream. What you did know was that you couldn’t stay hidden behind the wall for forever, even though that did seem awfully tempting. You’d never been very confrontational but this matter couldn’t be left unspoken, not if you wanted to keep your sanity. 

You needed to hear the truth from Seungkwan himself. 

With your heart nearly pounding out your chest and a million thoughts running through your mind, you forced your legs to move in the direction of the living room where Seungkwan was awaiting your return. 

His head immediately shot up when he noticed you approaching him, a smile that felt just a little too forced making its way on his face. It was almost as if you could see a sliver of disgust flash behind his eyes.

Had that always been there or were you just overanalyzing everything because of what Vernon said?

“There you are! Any longer and I would have gotten worried.” Seungkwan chuckled as he turned his head back towards the TV.

Right. The movie the two of you had been watching before that awful conversation. If only you could turn back time. 

“Y/N?” Seungkwan asked with a raised brow when you hadn’t moved at all. “Aren’t you going to sit down? We can finish the last thirty minutes before we have to leave.”

“No.” 

Your voice was barely audible but you knew that it had been loud enough judging by the way Seungkwan responded.

“No? You don’t want to watch any more? Well, we can put on something else if that’s what you wan-”

You were quick to interrupt him. “No. That’s not what I want.”

“Okay?” He got up from the couch, his brows furrowed in confusion. “You’re acting kinda strange, Y/N. What’s going on?”

Without realizing it, you’d been clenching your fists so hard this entire time that your nails had pierced through parts of your skin, drawing a little bit of blood which you could feel dripping down your fingers. But you honestly couldn’t give a fuck right now. 

“Do you hate me?” you blurted out, completely catching the man in front of you off guard.

“W-what? Hate you? Why would you ask me that?” Seungkwan chuckled nervously, his hand awkwardly coming up to scratch behind his neck. 

“Be honest with me, Seungkwan.” You looked him dead in the eyes, noticing the way his eyes grew wide at the fierceness behind your words.

As if suddenly coming back to himself, he shook his head furiously. “You’re being crazy, Y/N.”

You let out a loud snort. “Me? Crazy? Then are you saying Vernon was lying just now?”

At that revelation, Seungkwan’s mouth opened and closed a few times as if he was about to say something but backed out at the last second. There was no talking himself out of this. And you were not backing down until you’d heard everything, even if it was going to crush you. 

“Yeah… I heard everything. About a supposed bet, about you pretending this entire time and wanting to ditch me. Does that ring a bell?” 

“Y/N, l-listen,” the man pleaded as he took a step forward to reach for your arm. 

“Tell me the fucking truth, Seungkwan!” you nearly screamed, surprising both yourself and him at the anger laced in your voice.

You could see the hesitation in his eyes at first, but it wasn’t long before that disgust you swore you’d seen before flashed behind his eyes once again. 

“You really wanna know what I think of you? Fine!” He threw up his hands. “I don’t like you, I never have, not then and not now. I’m not your fucking best friend and I’m sick of pretending. You’re right. It started out as a stupid bet to see if I could befriend you, but with how fucking desperate you were, that wasn’t hard. And then you just wouldn’t fucking go away so I thought, I might as well use your clingy ass to my advantage. Because who in their right mind doesn’t like free meals and free rides? All I had to do was pretend.” He chuckled bitterly. “Happy now?”

You didn’t stick around to respond, already halfway through the door with tears streaming down your face by the time he finished his cruel rant. This wasn’t the sweet and caring Seungkwan you’d been sharing all your secrets and insecurities with. This was the real Seungkwan, a mean, heartless excuse of a human being who you didn’t recognize at all. 

He’d broken your heart in a million little pieces and you didn’t know if you were ever going to recover from this. 

So much for letting someone in.

So much for not wanting to be alone. 

Boo Seungkwan, I hope it was worth it. 

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[spaciebabie]

hey look, its me!!!!!

[hinamie]

august

[dykedvonte]

Curly's little blurb on his steam trading card just keeps reminding me he is a much more miserable person than people realize.

We don't get a lot of his thoughts, inner confliction that aren't bogged down by what Jimmy says or does. Even in the The Last One and Then Another, his dialogue is reflective, not the Curly before the crash but the result of everything. Parts of the him he was are there of course, but also disfigured and warped beyond recognition just like he is physically.

Curly really doesn't think much of himself and desires. He clearly chases fleeting moments of happiness. He doesn't really have prospects for himself, assumes in a similar way to Swansea, that if it should make it happy then he is happy. Though, he hasn't reached the point Swansea did to admit it doesn't. He neither sees the glass half full or empty, it's just water, something he needs and he'll take it from any perspective.

He wasn't running from anything but he's never really been going towards something either. He's listless. I've been using the term complacent to describe how he feels about his life and the closest people (really just Jimmy) in it, but now that word feels too neutral, too nice. Happier than Curly really was. There isn't just one word for it, he's unfulfilled, uncertain, uninspired. There are no active problems he faces and that's the issue, why should he be upset?

I believe he really is a person who doesn't know who he is or wants to be. He follows a structure. I don't think he's suicidal, but he clearly doesn't think about what makes him happy. He's numb. I suppose that is a better word than complacent, used to the feeling even if he hates it. It doesn't hurt so why stop it?