#just her going on about how she's lost everyone ELSE she's ever loved

[moonselune]

I love the concept that plays with how blank a slate Tav is and what that could mean. Like think of a high charisma (bard) Tav who goes through the entire plot carefully conceiling their own struggles and traumas so to not loose focus on helping everyone else first.

A Tav who, till the late game, carefully side stepped ever sharing a shred of their sad life with the group so not to risk loosing respect as leader. Until their romanced companion’s own quest is finished and the companion suddenly realized they don’t know A Thing about the love of their life.

Que intervention as they insist Tav lean on them as well.

Oooooo this is such a cool concept!!! I wrote little snippets of it with the ladies because I just needed to see it in action ahaha, and also i wasn't sure if this was a request or a sharing thoughts situation, but either way thank you!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

Karlach’s laughter usually lit up the camp like a second sun, warm and untamed. But tonight, as she sat next to you, her smile was hesitant, her brow furrowed in thought. The fire crackled between you, casting flickering light over her troubled face. Her quest was over—the engine in her chest hummed quietly, no longer a constant threat, and for the first time in years, she could dream of a future.

With you.

And yet, now that the battlefields were behind you and her own burdens were lifted, Karlach realized something startling: she didn’t know you.

She knew your jokes, your way of rallying the group when morale dipped, your quick wit and even quicker blade. But you’d always deflected questions about yourself, about your past, in such a charming way that no one ever pressed.

Until now.

“You’re quiet tonight, soldier,” Karlach said softly, nudging your shoulder with hers. Her voice was light, teasing, but her gaze held a deeper intensity.

“I thought you’d enjoy a bit of peace,” you replied, offering a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

She tilted her head, studying you. “Peace? Sure. But not silence. C’mon, you’ve got me curious.”

“Curious?”

Karlach nodded, leaning back on her hands. The firelight danced in her eyes. “Yeah. We’ve been through hell together, fought gods and monsters, and you’ve got everyone wrapped around your finger. But I just realized... I don’t know anything about you. Who you were. Where you’re from. What keeps you up at night.”

You laughed nervously, brushing off her words with a joke. “What keeps me up? You, snoring like a troll after a good meal.”

But Karlach wasn’t laughing. Her hand reached out, warm and steady, to rest on your arm. “I’m serious. Why don’t you ever talk about yourself?”

For a moment, the mask slipped. Your smile faltered, your shoulders tensed, and you looked away. “Because it’s not important.”

Karlach’s grip tightened, grounding you. “Bullshit.”

The word hit harder than any blade. You glanced back at her, meeting her gaze, and saw nothing but unwavering determination.

“You’ve carried all of us, soldier,” she said, her voice softening. “You’ve been there for me, for everyone, without ever asking for anything in return. But you don’t have to carry it all alone. Not anymore.”

The weight of her words was unbearable. You opened your mouth to deflect again, to joke, to lie—but Karlach was relentless.

“Talk to me,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion. “Let me be there for you, the way you’ve been there for me. Please.”

And so, with her hand warm against your arm and her eyes locked on yours, the dam broke. You told her everything: the choices you’d made, the people you’d lost, the sacrifices that had carved deep scars into your soul. You spoke until your throat was raw, until tears blurred your vision, until the weight you’d carried for so long began to lift.

When you finished, Karlach pulled you into her arms, her infernal heart humming quietly between you.

“You’re not alone,” she whispered, her voice fierce with conviction. “Not anymore. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The campfire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the gathering. It was one of those rare quiet nights when the group could let their guard down after a day of relentless fighting and tension. You sat slightly apart from the others, leaning on a log with your lute resting against your lap, fingers idly plucking a soft tune. The others laughed and chatted, the mood light for once, a reflection of a recent victory in defeating Orin.

Minthara was a commanding presence at the center of the gathering, her voice cool and measured as she recounted a story of conquest from her youth in the Underdark. You watched her with quiet admiration, a small smile on your face. Her victory had brought her a visible sense of satisfaction, and you were glad to have helped her achieve it. But as the group began to disperse for the night, she approached you, her sharp golden eyes intent.

“You’ve been unusually quiet tonight,” she said, sitting beside you on the log. Her tone wasn’t accusatory, but there was a probing edge to it.

You shrugged, still plucking at the lute strings. “Just enjoying the peace. It’s not often we get nights like this.”

Minthara frowned slightly. “You say that as though peace is a luxury you cannot afford.”

You hesitated, the music faltering for a moment before you resumed playing. “We all have things we’re dealing with,” you said lightly, deflecting as you always did.

She narrowed her eyes at you, clearly not satisfied with the answer. “Do we now? I suppose it’s convenient that you always seem to deal with them in private. A leader who asks for nothing of their allies, who gives so much and reveals so little.”

You chuckled softly, trying to play it off. “I’m just a bard. Stories and songs, that’s all I have to offer. It’s better if I focus on everyone else’s happiness. That’s how we keep moving forward, right?”

Her hand shot out, catching your wrist and stilling the lute’s strings. The sudden silence was startling.

“Enough,” she said, her voice low but commanding. “Do not insult me by pretending you have no burdens of your own. I have watched you—carefully, closely—and I see the cracks beneath your mask.”

You stared at her, your heart pounding. Minthara had always been astute, but you hadn’t expected her to press the issue like this.

“I… it’s not important,” you murmured, avoiding her gaze. “Not compared to what everyone else has been through.”

Her fingers tightened around your wrist, not painfully, but firmly enough to make her point. “Do you think so little of me that you believe I cannot handle your truth? Or do you think so little of yourself that you cannot share it?”

Her words hit harder than you cared to admit. For so long, you had poured your energy into being the strong, charismatic leader your companions needed, smoothing over conflicts, supporting their struggles, and offering unwavering encouragement. But you’d never let them see the darker parts of yourself.

Minthara’s gaze softened, her hand loosening on your wrist but not letting go. “You have been my rock through my darkest moments, my most trying battles. Yet I realize now I know nothing of what lies beneath the surface of the one I call my heart. Do you not trust me?”

“It’s not that,” you said quickly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I trust you more than anyone. But I—” You paused, struggling to find the words. “If I start talking about it, it’ll feel real. And I’ve worked so hard to keep it buried. To keep it from interfering with everything we’re trying to do.”

Her expression was unreadable for a moment, but then she moved closer, her presence warm and grounding.

“You are not alone anymore. Whatever demons haunt you, they will not diminish you in my eyes. If anything, they make you stronger for having faced them.” She paused, her voice softening. “But strength is not refusing to lean on others. Strength is allowing those who care for you to share the weight.”

Her words broke something open inside you, and you felt a lump rise in your throat. Slowly, you set the lute aside and took a deep breath. For the first time, you began to speak—not with a practiced deflection or a half-truth, but honestly. You told her about the losses that had shaped you, the scars you carried, and the fear that if you let others see your pain, they would lose faith in you as a leader.

Minthara listened intently, her hand never leaving yours. She didn’t interrupt, didn’t try to offer platitudes or solutions. When you finished, she reached up to touch your cheek, her fingers brushing away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen.

“You are more than I ever imagined,” she said softly, her voice full of conviction. “And I am honored to carry your pain with you.”

Her words were a balm, and as you leaned into her touch, you felt a strange sense of relief. For the first time in a long while, you weren’t carrying the weight alone.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

Lae’zel was never one for subtlety. It wasn’t her way, and it wasn’t what drew her to you. What drew her to you was your strength, your decisiveness, your ability to unite a group of misfits and drive them toward a common goal. In you, she saw a leader worth following—and eventually, someone worth loving.

But as you sat by the campfire one evening, spinning a tale that had the others laughing and cheering, Lae’zel watched you with narrowed eyes. She noticed the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. The way your voice faltered when someone asked about your own past, and how deftly you redirected the conversation back to them. You had thought she would have been too wrapped up in her own victory that day, that she was finally free of Vlaakith's lies, a new champion found in Prince Orpheus. But you were wrong.

It wasn’t until the camp was quiet, with only the two of you lingering by the dying embers, that she decided to confront you.

“You wear your mask well,” she said bluntly, sitting across from you.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Mask? I wasn’t wearing one during the performance.”

Lae’zel huffed, her sharp yellow eyes locking onto yours. “You know what I mean. You speak of others’ pain as though it were your own. You rally us with words that stir the soul. But when it comes to you...” She leaned forward, her voice low and accusing. “I know nothing of the one I call ‘commander'. The one I love.”

You hesitated, your usual arsenal of witty retorts suddenly failing you. “Lae’zel, I—”

“Do not lie to me,” she cut you off, her voice firm but not unkind. “I see it in your eyes, in the way you deflect. You think yourself clever, but I know what it is to hide weakness.”

Her words struck a chord, and for a moment, you considered brushing her off. But the intensity in her gaze—equal parts frustration and concern—kept you rooted in place.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said finally, your voice quieter than usual. “What I’ve been through... it’s not important. The group—you—come first. Always.”

Lae’zel’s expression softened, though her resolve didn’t waver. She stood and moved to sit beside you, her hand reaching out to grasp yours. “Do not belittle me by suggesting that your struggles are insignificant. You are not some faceless pawn on a battlefield. You are my partner. My heart beats for you.”

Her words undid you. The walls you’d so carefully constructed began to crumble as she continued, her voice gentler now.

“You have carried the burdens of us all. It is time you shared your own.”

The floodgates opened. Slowly at first, then all at once, you began to speak—of the losses you’d endured, the sacrifices you’d made, and the fear that admitting any of it would shatter the respect the group had for you. Lae’zel listened without interruption, her grip on your hand unwavering. When you were done, she pulled you into her arms, her strength a comforting anchor in the storm of your emotions.

“You are stronger than you know,” she said softly, her voice near your ear. “And you are not alone. Not anymore.”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to believe her. To trust someone else. To share the pain.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

Shadowheart was patient, but only to a point. She’d fallen for you—not the bard’s mask you wore so expertly, but the glimpses of vulnerability you let slip when you thought no one was watching. Yet those moments were fleeting, and every time she tried to delve deeper, you sidestepped her with the same charming ease you used on everyone else.

It wasn’t until her personal quest had come to a bittersweet end—when she finally felt free from the shackles of Shar’s influence—that she realized the gaping hole in her knowledge of you.

You sat by the edge of the camp, tuning your lute under the pale light of the moon. Shadowheart approached quietly, her steps soft on the grass. She didn’t speak until she was sitting beside you, her gaze fixed on the instrument in your hands.

“You’re always playing for others,” she said, her voice thoughtful. “Have you ever written a song for yourself?”

You chuckled, though there was a hint of unease in the sound. “I prefer to leave the self-indulgent ballads to others.”

Shadowheart turned to you, her expression serious. “Why?”

You hesitated, your fingers stilling on the strings. “Because it’s not about me. It’s about... helping. Inspiring. That’s what matters.”

Shadowheart sighed, her frustration evident. “You’re deflecting again.”

Your shoulders tensed, and you looked away, your usual charm faltering under her unwavering gaze.

“I’m fine, Shadowheart,” you said, though the words rang hollow even to your ears. “Really. There’s nothing to—”

“Stop,” she interrupted, her voice firm but not unkind. “I’ve spent my life serving a goddess who demanded I suppress everything I was. I know what it looks like when someone is hiding their pain. And I know how much it hurts to carry it alone.”

Her words struck a nerve, and for a moment, you couldn’t meet her eyes.

“It’s easier this way,” you admitted quietly. “If I focus on everyone else, if I don’t talk about it... then it’s like it doesn’t exist. Like it doesn’t matter.”

Shadowheart reached out, her hand gently brushing against yours. “But it does matter. You matter.”

You glanced at her, the sincerity in her eyes threatening to unravel the carefully constructed walls you’d built around yourself.

“What if... What if I tell you, and you see me differently?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Shadowheart’s expression softened, and she gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “I already see you, even if you don’t realize it. You’ve given so much of yourself to this group—to me. Let me give something back.”

Her words were the final push you needed. Slowly, haltingly, you began to speak—about the traumas you’d buried, the fear of letting anyone see the cracks in your facade, and the constant pressure to be everything to everyone.

Shadowheart listened intently, her hand never leaving yours. When you finished, she shifted closer, wrapping her arms around you in a tender embrace.

“You don’t have to carry it all alone,” she murmured. “Not anymore. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time, you allowed yourself to lean into her comfort, the weight of your secrets finally beginning to lift.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

The campfire burned low, crackling faintly in the still night air. You sat alone at the edge of camp, your lute balanced across your lap, fingers idly plucking a soft melody. It was your usual way of winding down after a long day, the gentle music serving as a balm not just for yourself but for your companions. Tonight, though, your mind was elsewhere, the notes faltering now and then as memories you worked so hard to suppress bubbled unbidden to the surface.

Across camp, Jaheira watched you with a quiet intensity. She had spent decades in the company of adventurers, soldiers, and leaders, and she recognized the signs of a burden carried in silence. Even if the freshly recruited Minsc was determined to fill that silence with his usual babbles. You, the charismatic bard, the glue that held this strange, volatile group together, had always been an enigma. You soothed tensions, inspired courage, and tended to the wounds of body and soul without ever revealing anything of yourself.

It hadn’t bothered her before—not in the heat of the crisis, when every moment was a battle for survival. But now, Jaheira found herself uneasy. The realization struck her that despite all her time at your side, she knew little of the person she had grown to love. And it gnawed at her in a way she couldn’t ignore.

She rose from her seat, approaching you with her usual confidence, though her expression softened as she drew nearer.

“You’ll wear your strings thin at this rate,” she teased gently, nodding toward your lute.

You glanced up, offering her your practiced, easy smile. “Ah, but music soothes even the most restless soul. Should I not share it?”

Jaheira’s lips quirked upward in a small smile, but her gaze was piercing. “Perhaps. But who soothes you, bard?”

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated, your fingers stilling on the strings.

“I—” You laughed lightly, deflecting. “I’m fine, Jaheira. Don’t worry about me.”

She crossed her arms, her emerald eyes narrowing. “You’ve said that every time someone’s asked. And yet, I can’t help but notice that ‘fine’ is all you ever claim to be. Do you expect me to believe that a life as tangled as yours comes without scars?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but she cut you off, sitting down beside you and placing a firm hand on your arm. “Enough. You’ve carried the weight of everyone else’s troubles, including mine. You’ve fought for us, bled for us, and offered comfort whenever we’ve needed it. But not once—not once—have you shared even a fragment of your own story. Why is that?”

The weight of her words settled over you like a shroud, and for a moment, you couldn’t meet her gaze. “I… I didn’t want to distract anyone,” you admitted finally, your voice quieter than usual. “There was so much to do, so much at stake. If I started talking about my own problems, it would have… I don’t know, shifted things. Made me seem weaker. Less of a leader.”

Jaheira’s hand tightened on your arm. “Weakness? Do you think I’d see you as weak because you’re human? Because you have wounds that haven’t healed?”

You shook your head, frustration bubbling to the surface. “It’s not that simple. I had to keep everyone together. If I faltered—if I let anyone see how badly I was struggling—what would’ve happened to us? To you?”

She sighed, her thumb brushing absently over your sleeve. “You’ve spent so much time tending to others, you’ve forgotten how to let someone tend to you. But that’s not leadership; that’s martyrdom.”

Her words cut deep, striking at a truth you’d been avoiding for so long. Slowly, you looked up at her, and the concern in her gaze nearly undid you. “Jaheira… I don’t even know where to start.”

“Start here,” she said simply, placing her other hand over yours. “Start with me. You’ve given so much of yourself to everyone else; now let someone give something back.”

And so you did. Haltingly at first, the words spilling out in a jumbled, unpracticed mess. You told her of the choices you regretted, the people you’d lost, the nights spent lying awake under the stars wondering if you’d ever be enough. She listened without interruption, her hand never leaving yours, her presence steady and grounding.

By the time you finished, your throat was tight and your shoulders felt lighter than they had in years. Jaheira leaned in, brushing a strand of hair from your face, her expression filled with an affection that made your heart ache.

“There,” she said softly. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You laughed shakily, a tear slipping down your cheek. “You’re too stubborn for your own good, you know that?”

She smiled, the warmth in her eyes chasing away the last shadows of doubt. “It takes one to know one.”

As she pulled you into a gentle embrace, you realized she was right. For the first time, you allowed yourself to lean on someone else, to let go of the mask you’d worn for so long.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope you guys enjoyed this ! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[therealmylesmorales]

Dating Loser!Vi Headcannons

A lot of this was thought about with the homie @ficsonpost-its, kind of a way for us to cope with the ending of Arcane 🙃

And I never cared enough to follow the plot so this is a college!au where everyone is alive and (maybe) happy

Warnings: Vi herself is kind of a warning, masc4masc couple if it matters, maybe suggestive at some parts, some parts with Jayce are inspired by “the blind leading the blind” stuff one tictok

She met you through Ekko. You were his (adoptive, biological wtfever shut up) sister and safe to say, she was borderline obsessed with you. But, she didn’t know how to approach you at first. Her very obvious crush on you was noticed by both Ekko and Jinx so they took it upon themselves to help her out.

To get some extra money, she works at her dad’s bar, The Last Drop. She’s a bouncer and whenever she’s around, people tend to behave themselves. It was a normal night until Vi saw you chatting up a storm to Vander and she immediately started to panic. But it all seemed to go on well, seeing how the night ended with your number in her pocket.

Vi can count all of the friends she has on one hand, one of them being her sister. So safe to say, when she admitted that she somehow has a girlfriend, none of them believed her. Jayce even called her a liar until she pulled up pictures.

Vi was out one day when she bought you both matching boxers. She cherishes them like it’s her most prized possession, next to you and the brass knuckles Vander gave her.

“Vi, what are these?”

”Batman boxers!”

You couldn’t help but match her wide smile. “Why Batman?”

”Cause he’s a fucking goat.”

Vi will full on body slam or suplex you, carefully, on the nearest couch or bed whenever you seem to be minding your business. The first few times caught you by surprise but now, it’s almost a daily occurrence that you look forward to.

Vi’s fashion taste is something you admire; from the ripped jeans to the cropped muscle shirts that she cut herself, you have nothing but good things to say about her clothes. However, in the comfort of her own home, she never wears a shirt. It’s even rare to find her in her sports bra while she’s lounging around.

“It’s nine in the morning, why are your tits out?”

”Are you complaining?”

”Of course not. But Jayce is coming over so he might.”

You can hear her groaning the entire time but she’ll do it.

Speaking of Jayce, it’s never a good idea to leave them alone for too long or else something would happen. Separately, they’re geniuses but together…those brain cells are nonexistent.

“Vi, it’s been fourteen hours, where the hell were you?”

”Oh, I was getting that tattoo I told you about.”

”For fourteen hours?”

”Yeah, Jayce was with me and he thought it was a good idea to get it done in one sitting. He even got something!”

Needless to say, both you, Mel and Viktor always expect something to go wrong with those two. (Have we lost the art of a good poly-ship? Jayce has two hand so just kiss and shut up)

Do not EVER call her Violet, she’ll think you are upset with her and will probably tweak out and cry. The only acceptable names to call her are Vi, obviously, or ‘Pretty Girl.’ You were only a few months into your relationship when you called her that, she spent like 5 minutes in straight silence not really sure how to react; something you did notice was that her face was as red as her hair.

Vi will also lay her complete body weight on top of you when you lay down; it's one of her favorite ways of cuddling. (For my gamer!readers) Especially if you’re playing a game, you will wrap your arms around her with the controller laying on her back. The both of you will stay there for hours.

“Motherfucker.”

”Die again, cupcake?” She muttered into your chest.

“Radahn is ass.”

A little something extra for my black!readers that love Vi 🫶🏾

Say you can’t find your bonnet. You looked all up and down the apartment, pretty much flipping it over but it was still nowhere to be found. And seeing how it was your favorite, you were a little upset that it was gone. Until Vi came out of the bathroom, said bonnet on her head, giving you a small smile, completely unaware of what she was doing.

[megamindsecretlair]

Give Me Everything

Pairing: Husband!Terry Richmond x Wife!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FLUFF, cursing, teasing, PIV, oral (male receiving), fingering (fem receiving), dirty talk, use of the n-word, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: Thanksgiving Day was always a hustle and bustle of activity and noise, two things you don’t usually like even coming from a big family. While you flitted around checking in on everyone, you couldn’t help feeling a little selfish. After sending Terry a sexy picture while he was seated next to your father, you sneak off to your childhood bedroom to fulfill a little fantasy of yours.

Word Count: 5,518k

AO3 Link

A/N: Ya'll thought I was gonna let the holiday pass without a little treat? I lost the drabble challenge, but well, can't fight my brain no matter how hard I try. Happy Thanksgiving, happy bank holiday, or however you celebrate, many love and blessings to the greatest group of people ever. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

The rich smells of Thanksgiving food permeated the air and tickled your nostrils. You inhaled deeply as you flitted around the kitchen helping out the Aunties. No one messed with the Aunties on Thanksgiving.

You didn’t know how they managed to stay organized among the chaos. Between one of their husbands who constantly entered the kitchen asking when the food would be done and the little kids running throughout the house, it was a miracle they weren’t yelling and cursing up a storm.

“Fix me my medicine, baby,” Auntie Gee told you.

“Yes, ma’am,” you said. You pivoted away from helping Auntie Aileen with the yams and went over to the small pantry, grabbing supplies. You made a quick and dirty margarita for Auntie Gee and placed it in a glass. You already started in on another one because in one, two, three…

“I want one!” Auntie Mimi called out. You smiled to yourself, knowing your Aunties a little too well. Maybe you spent too much time around them all. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Your big family was a handful at times. But at the end of the day, it was nothing but good vibes and great conversation. The Aunties were currently going on about their favorite man, Denzel Washington.

“That man been fine his whole goddamn life!” Auntie Hope called from the round kitchen table. She cleaned the greens, taking the stems off and putting them into a red bowl, to be soaked in the kitchen sink a little later. Right now, your mom was at the farmhouse sink peeling potatoes. 

“Language, young lady!” Your grandmother, Grammy Alice, called out from the stove. She babysat the white sauce for the mac and cheese, carefully adding cheese and stirring to get the mixture right. 

“Sorry, momma,” Auntie Hope said. She grinned at you and winked. 

You giggled and handed Auntie Mimi her drink. “Thank you baby. You better get outta here before they snatch you to do something else,” she whispered.

And that’s why she was lowkey your favorite Auntie. You hugged and thanked her and then quietly slipped out while the Aunties discussed Denzel’s career. They categorically denounced Training Day as his best role. He was just playing a nigga, that’s all. They were stuck between John Q and Glory.

You left the spacious kitchen in a flash, disappearing around the corner and fell into the background as you soaked everything in. The well-decorated living room held most of the men yelling and screaming at the football game playing on the TV. They sat on the blue couch, lounge chairs, and picnic chairs all crowded around the large screen TV. You didn’t know a lick about the game, but by the sound of it, their team was making stupid ass decisions. 

Kids played Monopoly on the floor, a mix of little kids and the quieter teens who didn’t want to play with the older, rowdier teens outside. You carefully picked your way through the living room, stopping to place a kiss on your Dad’s withered cheek. You patted his shoulder and he brought his hand up to pat yours.

“Everything alright?” He asked.

“Yes, sir. Food coming along,” you said.

He groaned aloud with the Uncles and boyfriends, everyone throwing up their hands and calling the ref out of his name.

“They need to get that blind mu’fucka off the field!” Uncle Cornell said. He was the only one semi-dressed up in a pair of slacks and a button up shirt. You didn’t know where Auntie Mimi found this character. 

Your dad chuckled, returning his attention to you. “Good, good. I’ma just sit here until your mom says it’s time,” your dad said with a secret grin. He made the mistake of entering the kitchen early one year, reaching for a piece of the ham and receiving a swift spoon to the back of the hand from Grammy Alice. He still had a little scar from how hard she popped him. 

“Probably for the best,” you said with a giggle. 

You left the living room, trekking through the raucous house in search for a little bit of peace. As much as you loved how big your family was, you were decidedly the opposite sometimes. You didn’t draw strength from being around so many people. You craved the quiet and silence that came with being by your lonesome. Probably a consequence of being an only child.

Perhaps that was one of the main things that drew you to your husband, Terry. He was the opposite to your family as well. Calm under pressure, quiet and unassuming despite his size; he really was perfect for you. 

You found him on the wide back porch with your cousins, sitting around a table playing dominoes. The teens and older cousins chased each other around the yard playing some game they made up years ago. You never understood the rules and your ass was too tired to continue chasing them around.

Some of the girl cousins watched their younger, baby siblings as they talked about whatever it was kids were into these days. Full. Your life was full to bursting and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You approached Terry and pecked his cheek. “Hey baby,” Terry said, lowering his dominoes to the table. He turned to you and wrapped his arm around your waist from his seated position. 

“Just checking on you, is all,” you said. “You need anything?” 

Terry used his free hand to lift his half empty beer bottle. “Naw, I should be good for a minute. You need anything?” 

“She needs to leave the table so I can get back to whoopin’ yo ass, Marine boy!” Your cousin, Emery, yelled as he slammed down a domino. “Go on and put that thirty-five down for your boy!” He snickered as the game keeper, Darell, laughed and marked down Emery’s points. 

Terry chuckled and shook his head. He peeked over at the scorecard on the notebook by Darell’s elbow. “Maybe you need to go back to math class. I’m still winning,” Terry said. 

A chorus of oooh’s and damn’s and “You gon’ let him talk to you like that, playboy?” rung around the wooden table. Emery waved them all off, a small smile on his face. 

“Alright, alright. Game ain’t over. Why don’t you go on? You killing the mood, girl,” Emery said. 

“I’m killing the mood? Just like a hatin’ nigga to focus on somebody else while he losing,” you said.

“Damn!” Cousin Craig yelled out, his long skinny face cracking into a harsh, wheezing laugh that only triggered everybody else to start laughing. 

You kissed Terry on the cheek once more, admiring the clean beard on his face. He looked good enough to eat himself. He wore a simple powder blue sweater with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of jeans that really showcased his sexy ass. Just looking at him caused your stomach to do little belly flips.

Terry squeezed your side and smirked up at you as if he saw the direction of your nasty thoughts. He winked at you and you bid your farewell to the men and their little game. 

The majority of the day passed too quickly as you went from group to group, checking in on everyone. The domino game ended and the cousins joined the Uncles in the living room to check on the remainder of the game.

“Girl, don’t you ever sit down?” Your cousin, Robyn, asked. She was in your age group, relaxing with the other girl cousins who laid across multiple blankets, sipping their drinks of choice, and chilling out. 

You chuckled. “Girl no. Between your momma and mine, I keep getting called to do something. And I feel like if I sit down, I’ma pass out,” you said, shaking your head. 

Robyn and Ronda were twins of Auntie Aileen’s and they both shivered at the mention of their mother. “Please, don’t summon her,” Ronda said, shaking her head. “That lady trynna get me set up with her co-worker.” She stuck out her tongue and gagged.

“Not toxic enough for you?” Auntie Hope’s daughter, Stacie, asked.

“Hell no! That girl likes…theater,” Ronda said, making the word sound dirty. You laughed with your cousins, shaking your head at her. Ronda had the worst luck with women. Last year, one threatened to throw herself into traffic if Ronda didn’t come outside to talk to her. 

You and your cousins merely stared at her through the screen door and dared her to do it. You didn’t really mean it, but the girl was dramatic as hell and too full of herself to actually go through with it. 

“Dare I go check in on the Aunties?” You asked.

There was a resounding, “No!”, that seemed to echo even while outside. You laughed with your cousins. You were feeling restless, though. Anxious. You needed something but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. 

Maybe it was just the holiday. You took after your mother in the sense that you had a strong need to make sure everybody was okay. Everybody had all their toes and fingers accounted for, no bruises, no yelling, or fighting. If everybody else was okay, then all was right in the world with you. 

But sometimes…you got a little impish. Like you wanted to cause trouble just to see what would happen. You wanted to disrupt the delicate balance of the house and festivities and do something wicked. 

An idea immediately came to mind and you didn’t think twice about it. You said goodbye to your cousins, stepping back into the house to check on your dad. Lately, he had been feeling more winded than usual. More tired. You urged him to go to the doctor, but the relationship between men and hospitals needed to be studied. He avoided it like it was a nail in a coffin. 

Terry sat next to your dad, yelling at the TV with him. He brought his beer to his lush lips and took a deep pull. Your core instantly heated looking at your man. There was precious little he did that didn’t absolutely turn you on. 

He caught you staring and winked at you. You grinned and took out your phone, snapping a quick picture of him. He tilted his head, giving you a look. You stuck your tongue out at him and then checked the score. You found a free recliner opposite your dad and sat down, finally taking the load off.

While everyone was distracted, you quickly sent Terry a text. He checked his smart watch and then glanced at you, furrowing his eyebrows in an unspoken question. You smiled sweetly at him while he dug out his phone and checked your message.

💬 You sent a photo.

“Can Big Daddy come play?”

Terry immediately placed his phone down on his thigh, turning wide eyes towards you. You rocked in the recliner, grinning at him. You had sent a thirst trap to him, one you snapped in the bathroom earlier in the day. You had meant to show him at a later time, maybe while he was at work and needed a pick me up. 

He scooted forward on the couch, leaning his elbows on his knees. He rubbed his beard and tried to suppress a grin, subtly shaking his head at you. 

You continued to rock, feeling pleased as punch. You tried to see if he was getting hard but he was bent too much forward. The men groaned at the latest ref’s call and you turned to the TV to see the teams setting up for another play. 

You glanced back at Terry who kept his eyes trained on you. When you caught his eye, he narrowed them slightly and then jerked his head towards the stairs. You grinned and got up first, heading up to the second floor that remained off limits to everybody. Less rooms to clean up afterwards. 

The great thing about having a big family was that it was easy to disappear with no one the wiser. You headed upstairs to your childhood bedroom, closing the door behind you. The room was just as you left it in your early twenties when you finally moved out. There was still stuffed animals and an overflowing bookshelf in the corner, a wide dresser stretched underneath your TV, and “grown-up” art on the walls. You sometimes missed the B2K and B5 posters had tacked to your wall for years. 

Anticipation churned in your stomach as you waited for Terry’s quiet footfalls to follow behind you on the shaggy, brown carpet. A moment later, there was a soft knock and then Terry entered, looking behind the door for you. You ushered him in and then closed and locked the door, wrapping your hands around his neck.

He had to bend down slightly so that it wasn’t incredibly awkward for you and he groaned. “You trynna get me killed?” He demanded, stepping back to look you in the face.

You giggled and clasped your hands behind your back. “Whatever do you mean?” You asked. 

Terry smirked and advanced on you, causing you to bite your lip and retreat. He crossed the distance in one second, his long legs carrying him forward. He cupped your neck in both of his warm, strong hands and you moaned, eyes sinking lower now that you were back in his capable hands. 

“You think you slick sendin’ that picture while I was right next to your dad?” He asked.

You giggled again. Ugh, you couldn’t help it. He made you feel so feminine and girly whenever he went all big and strong on you. You were working on being more bold, opening your mouth and asking for what you wanted. But sometimes, you got so twisted up with nerves your mouth didn’t work. 

“Did you like it?” You asked. 

Terry squeezed your neck and you sighed at the pressure. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. “You know I liked it,” he said, glancing down at the front of his pants. You followed his gaze and noticed his dick pressed against the fabric of his jeans. You reached out to rub his bulge. 

He lifted an eyebrow at you. “What’s gotten into you?” He asked.

“I can’t just want my man?” You asked. You continued to rub him, watching as his own eyes drooped. His naturally dark eyelashes nearly fanned his high cheekbones. 

“You know, there is one fantasy I always wanted to act out,” you said, forcing yourself to say the words. Even after years of marriage, Terry made you feel like a school girl with a crush. Guess you could never really shake that bit of shyness from growing up in a loud household and seeking only peace. 

“Is that right,” he murmured. 

“Mhmm. I never really got to have boys in my room growing up,” you said. You blinked up at him with a smile hovering over your lips. Terry lightly squeezed your neck, stepping closer, as you continued to rub him through his jeans. His breathing increased, soft pitfalls loud in your ear because he was so close to you. 

“Am I the first boy in your room?” He asked. 

“Maybe. But don’t get a big head about it,” you said. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. His thumbs rubbed across your pulse points on both sides of your neck, turning you stupid in less than a second. You lost your train of thought as the rough slide of his fingers sent electric zings down to the tips of your toes. Your panties grew damp as you sighed. 

You kept waiting for the honeymoon phase to be over, but after a while, you just accepted that you two were just that intense for each other. Growing up, you saw your grandparents, parents, and extended family all find the love of their lives, each carving out a special relationship with their significant others. 

But it was Auntie Aileen’s marriage that you admired. Sometimes she and her husband seemed to communicate with just a look. Like they were the only two people in the world and everything else was background noise. You wanted and craved that. And by some miracle, you found that with Mr. Terry Richmond. 

“And, there’s a few things that I always wanted to do with a boy in my room if I ever got the chance,” you said. Your hands slipped to his jeans, unbuttoning them and then sliding the zipper down. 

“Mm, I think I like where this is going. You know, I had a similar fantasy,” he said. He smirked as you lowered his jeans enough to get to his boxer briefs. His dick was hot to the touch through the fabric, balls heavy, and you slipped your hand beneath the waistband to get to your prize. 

“Is that so?” You asked, palming his dick. He hissed and then released the sigh in a shudder. You grinned, feeling like the most powerful person ever. Just you gripping him caused a reaction. It was heady and intoxicating and you would never get sick of it. 

“Mhm. See, I always wanted to fuck my wife in her childhood home. Like it was a badge of honor or somethin’,” he said, his voice getting deeper and rougher. 

You shivered. Your panties were practically soaked now. Your pussy throbbed at the thought of you both having similar fantasies. You stepped back from his hands around your neck and then dropped down your knees. 

Terry’s eyebrows lifted as you grinned at him. You pressed your nose into his crotch and nuzzled. Terry sighed, petting your head as you tugged his briefs down to expose the long, thick length of him. 

The tip of his dick swelled, pre-cum already beading. You swiped your tongue out and licked it causing Terry to jerk his hips forward. “As much as I love this, we better hurry before one of the Aunties come looking for you,” he said.

You pouted. He was right. A bunch of girls to choose from to handle anything around the house and somehow it always fell to you. 

You sighed and kissed his dick, making it jump. “Don’t worry, buddy, I’ll make it up to you later,” you said.

Terry laughed and pleasure zinged through you. You loved pleasing your man. Whether it was making him laugh, checking in on him, or pleasing him during sex, you loved it when you could just make him feel good. 

Terry helped guide his dick into your mouth and you looked up at him while you worked in tandem. He pushed in and you sunk onto his dick, wrapping your lips around him. His hairs tickled your face but you kept your mind focused on making him cum as quickly as possible. 

Little did he know, you were in a competition with yourself to make him bust faster and faster. Maybe it was simply the competitive spirit in you. But you swore you’ve come from just a look from him. Turnabout was only fair play. 

Light from your window illuminated Terry through the slats of the blinds. He tipped his head back, mouth falling open as you worked him over with your tongue and hands. You gripped his base, squeezing how he liked while you took the rest in your mouth.

“Fuuck, this mouth of yours,” he moaned. Your pussy throbbed harder, growing wet from the sounds of his moans, the look of pleasure on his face. His eyes were closed, hands around the back of your head to push your mouth further down. 

You took him in and bobbed your head, really getting into pleasing him. You shifted on your knees and squeezed his dick harder. You moaned around his length, getting lost in the feeling of him throbbing in your mouth. His dick poked your cheek and you teased the tip with your tongue.

“Just like that,” he coached so you did it again. You teased the tip while you sucked him off, loud gawking echoing in your ears. 

Saliva slipped from your mouth and drooped down your chin, letting him slip easier in and out. You increased your ministrations, bobbing in a frenzy, watching for any signs of his discomfort. 

You saw none of that. Instead, his face was twisted in a sexy mix of pleasure and pain. Soft moans escaped his mouth as you kept going, kept trying to take him deeper, kept trying to swallow him whole. 

“Fuckin’ perfect. So fuckin’ perfect with my dick in your mouth,” he cooed. 

You moaned, growing unbearably wet at his words. Your jaw started to ache but you ignored it in favor of wanting to get him off. Wanting him to bust in your mouth. You widened your jaw and he sunk in a little deeper.

He groaned and looked down at you. “I’m finna bust,” he whispered.

You grinned around his dick and kept up what you were doing until he gripped your head and spilled down your throat. His moans were their own aphrodisiac, filling you with pride that you got your man off so quickly. You swallowed his cum, something you were still getting used to, and then continued to suck. 

Terry huffed, hips jerking forward, as he couldn’t decide between laughing and moaning. He had to gently push at your head to make you stop and he eased his dick out. “You must think you’re cute,” he said.

You pinched your thumb and forefinger together. “A little,” you said. 

Terry chuckled, grabbing your hands and helping you stand. He kissed you, gripping your face to his to make you stay. You sighed with a moan, wrapping your arms around him. You made out for a good, long while, soaking up each other’s desperate kisses. 

“My turn,” he whispered against your lips. 

You only had a brief moment to catch the devious, nearly evil look in his eye as he lifted your plain gray T-shirt over your head. He didn’t take it off, instead he just wanted the collar over your head to expose your black, lacy bra. 

He groaned, getting a live view of the sexy picture you sent him earlier. He thumbed your nipples through the bra, making them bead up. He backed you towards your closet door, then dropped his head to suck on your nipples around your bra.

You moaned, gripping the back of his neck. “Oh fuck,” you moaned.

“Shhh. We ain’t trynna get caught ‘cause of your nasty ass,” he said.

“My nasty ass?” You asked with a giggle. 

“Your nasty, sexy, delicious ass, yes,” Terry said in between licking and kissing your titties. He used his index finger in between the cups to lower it, exposing your nipples to his gaze. He tucked the cups of your bra beneath your titties and went back to sucking on them. 

Each suckle sent a wave of heat through your body and if you weren’t careful, you’d turn into a raging inferno right there in your childhood bedroom. Your moans only increased, getting louder the more he worked that glorious, hot tongue on you. 

You wished you had enough time to get your pussy licked on. But you were already pushing the envelope at the moment with so many people just downstairs. Risk of discovery only turned you on more, your pussy clenching around nothing. 

Terry slipped his hand down your leggings and past your underwear, finding you soaked. He paused with your nipple in his mouth. “You got this wet from sucking me off?” He asked with his mouth full. 

You nodded. “Sure did,” you said.

Terry closed his eyes briefly and sighed. “Good to know,” he murmured. 

You didn’t have time to ask him about that because he went back to sucking on your titties while he plunged two fingers into your pussy. You cried out, and he gave you a warning look, before working those long, thick fingers in and out of you.

“I-I didn’t suck you off to get something back,” you whispered. As much as you would like to turn this into a full on session, you were also cognizant of the time. Surely, someone would come looking soon, right? You weren’t exactly subtle heading upstairs. 

“Think I’ma leave my favorite girl like this?” He asked. He emphasized his point by plunging his fingers faster, the squelching of your pussy smacked in the room. 

“Oh, baby. Oh, Terry, please, I’m gonna…unnf,” you moaned as quietly as you were able. 

“That’s okay, baby, you cum on these fingers. You cum all over this fingers f’me,” he murmured, still treating your titties like his favorite meal. He kissed, suckled, and nibbled until you turned into a puddle in his arms.

You were only held up by your hands around his neck and his arms around you. You shook violently, trapping his fingers between your thighs as you rode out your orgasm. Terry still managed to wiggle his fingers inside, rubbing against a sweet, sweet spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids. 

Your nails dug into his soft sweater and you shivered on your way down from it. Terry kissed and rubbed his beard against your nipples. Was the man trying to kill you? 

He leaned back and smiled at you. “I love the look you give me after you cum,” he said.

You giggled. “What look is that, sir?” You asked.

“Like a well-satiated woman. That’s always my goal,” he said.

You smiled and tilted your hand. “You better be careful talking to me like that. I might think you wanna marry me,” you said.

Terry chuckled. “Oh, I wanna do more than marry you,” he said. He grinned and then gripped the waistband of your leggings and panties. He slid the pants down your legs, his hand traveling behind to rub against your thighs. 

You stared at each other, smiles hovering on your faces, as he got them down to your calves. You stepped out of them and Terry wasted no time picking you up. You yelped as he spread you wide open, hooking your thighs around his waist.

Holding his hand under your ass, he used his other one to guide his dick into your slick heat. Your eyes widened at the glorious, burning stretch as you sank down onto him. Your toes curled as he sank in deeper and deeper, your essence making the trip easy. 

Terry maneuvered his arms under your knees, so that he could easily lift you up and down on his dick. You gripped onto him for dear life, turning wide, panicked eyes to him. You didn’t think he’d drop you, no, your husband was too strong and capable for that. You just felt like you were about to rip apart at the seams and he was the only thing keeping you together. 

“You did say you wanted Big Daddy to come and play, right?” He whispered, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was slow, smooth, and so damn hot you clenched around his dick. He groaned and lifted you off his dick just to sink back in. 

“Don’t be using my words against me,” you said.

“Oh word?” He asked with a grin. All the niceties flew out of the window. He started slamming you up and down on his dick, that stretching burn making your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, bringing your face closer to his. You wrapped your arms tighter around his neck and held on while he fucked you, stuffed you, and filled you so completely you felt him all over. He was in your heart, your mind, and your soul, writing his name in the threads of your being. 

“There’s my good girl. I’m so fuckin’ proud of you,” he said.

You whined against his face, peppering him with sloppy kisses. “I love you,” you said.

“I love you, too. I like when you get bold. Let me know you want this dick,” he said. He rubbed his beard against your cheek and you moaned.

“I want it. Please, I want it,” you whispered. 

Knocking drew your attention to your door. You turned wide eyes to Terry who stopped moving. He glanced towards the door. 

“Baby, you in there?” Your mom called out. Your heart beat in double time, fear turning your insides icy.

“What should I do?” You whispered. Okay, you lied, getting caught would suck ass right now. There was no way to explain this to your mom. You just didn’t talk about these things with her. As far as she was concerned, you were married but still a virgin.

“If you don’t answer, she gonna send a search party,” he whispered back.

“Yeah, mom?” You called out. 

“What are you doing in there? Food’s getting ready to be done so I need your help organizing the line,” she said.

“Yes, mommy, I-I wasn’t feeling well so I came to lay down,” you called out. 

“Do you need some medicine? You want me to grab Terry?” She asked. 

Terry grinned and started moving you up and down on his dick again. Your jaw dropped, tummy fluctuating between arousal and fear. The normal butterflies in your stomach were having a field day. 

You slapped at his shoulder to get him to stop. Or quit fucking around. He couldn’t think this was a great idea, making you take his dick like this while talking to your mom. He grinned innocently, moving his lips down back to your nipples to suck.

You closed your eyes, not knowing where to focus your attention. “Uh-no! I’m okay! I’ll be out soon, promise!” Oh, fuck, he hit a good spot inside you and you clutched him to you.

“Alright, better come on. Your Uncle Remy ‘bout to work my damn nerves,” your mother sniffed as she presumably went on down the hallway. 

You gasped and tapped Terry’s shoulder again. Terry answered you with a chuckle and then ended on a moan. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he moaned like it was a glorious revelation. His deep voice skated along your nerve endings, making your tummy flip with desire. 

“Terry, please!” You moaned.

“Big Daddy ain’t finished yet,” he said and nuzzled your neck. He placed kisses there while he pumped his arms, moving you up and down on his dick. Your toes curled once more, fast approaching that train to nirvana. 

“Oh, please, Big Daddy, I can’t take it,” you cried. 

“Sure you can. Cum on this dick so I can fill you up. Let me feel it,” he said into your neck. His groans joined yours, hips jerking into you like he was close as well. “Soak this dick, baby.”

You dropped your head to his shoulder and let the orgasm roll over you like a subway train. You twitched and jerked on him, keening whines and cries filling your room as you lost sound in your right eye. 

Or maybe this was that nirvana you were dreaming of. Maybe you slipped into another plane of existence where your souls danced and entwined for eternity. Either way, Terry’s groans brought you back to this side of existence while he stuffed you full of his cum.

The hot, thick spurts throbbed with his dick, sliding against your inner walls. You cried, feeling overwhelmed and thoroughly fucked out. You both panted and huffed as you came down, gathering your senses post-nut. 

You smiled dopily at your man and he flashed you a beautiful, wide grin. “There’s that look I love so much,” he said.

“You are dangerous,” you said.

He chuckled. “Saying I’m dangerous while your pussy feel this good squeezing my dick. Just say you don’t wanna let go,” he said.

You squeezed his dick and he laughed, lowering you carefully to the floor. Once he slipped out, his cum came rushing out of you and you closed your eyes to enjoy the sensation. Terry suddenly pushed his cum right back in.

“Terry!” You screamed. 

He chuckled. “I can’t help it. I like watching my cum slide out of you,” he said. He planted a kiss on your forehead and you smiled at him while you crossed the room to your dresser. Sometimes, you came to spend the night with your parents to help keep an eye on your dad while your mom got a break.

You grabbed an extra pair of panties and a towel from off of your bed. You cleaned yourself up as best as you were able and then slipped your leggings back on. Thank goodness that a bathroom was directly across from your room. You wouldn’t have to trek far to get fully cleaned up. 

Terry stuffed that dangerous monster back into his jeans. You stood, transfixed, watching him slide the denim over his dick and zip up his pants with a little hop. 

“Happy Thanksgiving, Big Daddy,” you said, admiring your man.

“Happy Thanksgiving, baby,” he said, pulling you into a hug and one final kiss before leaving your room in a cloud of marital bliss.

The end.

I love you all and I'm so thankful for you. The Secret Terry Richmond Files

Taglist:

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@thegreatlibraryofalex @amyhennessyhouse @hihellogoodbyebruh @becauseimswagman1

[holyparadisenightmare]

I'll be honest. I had no ulterior motive. I just wanted to get bigger. To feel my body slowly grow, getting heavier and heavier every day. Here's my picture before this all started, just so you can see where i began.

I'd say I was pretty average. Most girls might have looked at a body like mine and wished they were smaller. But god, not me. Not at all. I wanted to feel every part of me grow.

So i joined this student IVF study at my university. They were looking for volunteers who were willing to be implanted in different ways, and the researchers would watch how your body reacts.

Needless to say, I was first in line. Didn't expect much to happen. But it wasn't long before i saw big results.

I blew up fast. 1 month in, and my belly was already hard to hide. My shirt was always riding, and every time I felt its tightness against my belly, I got more turned on that i'd ever been before. Sometimes, I would leave it. See how high it would ride up. See how long it took for someone to say something.

During a regular check-up, I was seen to by a very beautiful woman, Dr Wells. She was tall, with a slender build and legs that seemed to go on for days. Before any words were shared, she approached me and pulled my shirt down. Her nails ran softly against my bulbous belly. It took everything I had not to fall to my knees and beg her to fill me more.

Every day became an adventure in seeing how far I would go. Less clothes, tighter clothes, bigger belly.

By the time I was a 4 months in, I had stopped trying. Shirts weren't for bellies. They were for tits. These days, that's all they covered.

Once more, I ran into that beautiful woman. Stumbling into each other at a cafe, she was shocked at how big I had gotten so fast. She invited me to sit beside her. I sank comfortably into the leather sofa seat while she sat along the arm.

As we spoke, we got to know each other better. She explained how her parents owned the cafe and she came in to help. Normal things: life, lost love, and how important it is to take an opportunity when you see it.

I enthusiastically agreed, explaining the story behind my belly, the study, and how there was no one else involved. I blushed when I said how much I liked growing and how I wanted to be as big as possible.

It quickly became obvious that she was not here for friendly banter, and as her fingernails once again traced the edge of my bloated belly, her intentions became clear. What do you say in that situation? All she wanted was me.

With the clap of her hands, she demanded everyone but us leave the store. A few disgruntled patrons shuffled their way out before she locked the door and drew the blinds.

"How big would you like to be?"

3 month later, I was bigger than I could ever believe. As a high-ranking researcher, she found a way to implant more babies into me. What's more, our relationship became more personal, and our checkups were conducted in my home.

She would watch me squirm as the babies grew, stretching me out as far as I could go. The feeling of my belly sitting softly on the bed between my legs was so new, so extatic, so electrifying, i never wanted to stand again. But when I was forced to my feet, my waddle made me wet.

I was lucky that she was happy to oblige. As I grew larger, it became harder and harder to please myself. One day, Dr. Wells came over and I moaned about my issues. Quickly she left, returning with her collection of toys.

I bent over, ready for her. Slowly, she introduced me to them. One at a time. I laid, heavy and burdensome, as she treated me to pleasure I could only imagine. I hadn't had sex since before the study, and I now could feel how heavy I was.

"You look so big, baby," she teased. "You've just given yourself over to it. Not every girl can get this big for me."

I struggled to think clearly through her words.

"Your tits too. Like massive udders, full of milk. My little pregnant cow."

My arms started to jiggle. After turning myself around I watched as she fucked me, pleasure filling her eyes as she watched me writh.

"That's my girl. When this is over, I'm going to fill you up again. We'll make you even bigger. The fattest pregnant cow anyone's ever seen. Everyone will stare as you walk down the street, your belly heavy with my babies."

I came hard against her toy, grabbing my huge belly. I saw the pleasure in her eyes as she saw it in mine, demanding she not stop.

I sank into my bed. I'd never felt heavier than in that moment, my body weak and my belly huge. Slowly, she helped me to my feet.

Eventually, I did give birth. Dr. Wells helped me through all of it. My body isn't the same as it used to be, and it probably won't ever be the same again. My tits are huge, and my belly sags. But I dont mind. My body is stretched out and ready to get even bigger next time.

[eatmeeraw]

never tell anyone anything ever. never tell anyone anything again.

Escapism.

summary: you’re in her friend group. you two have been close for months and you slowly fell in love with her more and more. you suspected the feeling was mutual because of how attached she was, how she behaved like you two were together, until tara began detaching and avoiding you, not showing up for you nor your friends anymore…

category: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff at the end.

warnings: swearing, idk if my writing is good sorry if it disgusts you, avoidant attachment everywhere, venting, alcohol usage, smoking, dissociation (r doubts she’s alive). portrayals might not be 100% canon. might not be completely proofread. there are mentions of tara’s trauma with amber and some behaviors she has because of it.

word count: 4,9k.

A/N: first fanfic, kinda nervous. i hope everything is okay and some people are going to like this. ethan and quinn aren’t ghostfaces in here, but the group knows they’re siblings, anika isn’t dead, and they’re all still in the friendgroup with the core four. ghostface isn’t present. tara is a bit of a emo who actually lags and denies everytime she feels emotions here. Error 404 kinda thing, but as the fanfic continues she gets better.

you are settled on the couch, your body sinking into the soft, cold, and miraculously still clean cushions, their fabric feels good against your skin, making your muscles relax. you could hear the voices of other people overlapping each other furiously, and smell the scent of alcohol, coca-cola and tobacco mix in the air.

you inhale just because you need to, you didn’t appreciate such strong smells, but you could handle it. you always handled it.

the room is large, but not too overcrowded, making the party feel a little bit less dangerous.

groups of friends are chatting around you, some people are dancing, you could catch some of the guests kissing or directly, shamelessly, making out, the sounds of their lips meeting, their spit, and everything else almost makes you nauseous.

the dim and warm hues of the lights are hitting you and the others, and the music in the background isn’t too loud, but loud enough to set the atmosphere and make people move to the rhythm of the sweet, animated music.

you luckily aren’t alone: sam, chad, mindy, quinn and anika were around you, on the couches, making short and light conversations. not everyone in the group was in the mood for partying, like sam, who was blankly looking at the ceiling, jaw clenching sometimes. you can see especially chad go around and try to flirt with some people, entertaining himself after the disappointment he had with tara. unrequited love always hurts, and you know it all too well. he isn’t the only one disappointed.

mindy and anika are creating the conversations mostly, quinn following them and playing their game every time, ethan, instead, her brother, is extremely silent, looking around like a lost puppy who couldn’t understand how to have fun. he always has been so weirdly shy.

you are lost in your thoughts, until anika talks again. « oh! have y’all seen tara? sam, any news? » before tara’s older sister could talk, chad opened his mouth. « she didn’t even show up tonight…weird. » « yeah, she hasn’t been around lately. didn’t even text back these days. i sent her a message about tonight’s party and she left me on seen…rude » mindy explains, looking at the ground, crossing her arms. you can hear a hint of anxiety in her voice.

« i mean, she has been through a lot- » ethan talks, surprisingly, but his sister interrupts him. « it’s not like her to disappear like that, but…i dunno. » she shrugs, now fidgeting with her fingers, suddenly serious again.

you drown in your bitter thoughts again, as you hear the others talk. their sentences a echo in the room of your fears and your indescribable confusion, making you feel slightly hazy even though no alcohol is flowing in your veins.

« y/n? » quinn calls for you, but you don’t reply, completely zoned out. « y/n… » another time, and this time you look at her, frowning as to invite her to go ahead and say what she needs to say. « when was the last time she replied to you? » she asks, and you grab your phone to check the chat. you scroll up, because ten or more messages were sent by you during those days where she fully disappeared. a worried you. a worried you that was still there, lingering, being the skeleton of your essence. « two weeks ago. »

and the question was asked to everyone else in the friend group: they all hadn’t heard from her since a week ago. they stare at you, and your breath hitches in annoyance and paranoia, as you are the center of the worst type of attention possible. you were sure it was your fault, you probably said something that made her get icky and disgusted, like always. you softly tremble in your seat as they discuss how, maybe, something was going on with you, and then sam talks, interrupting the endless, useless gossip that was gravitating in the air.

« can i talk, now? » she asks, crossing her arms tightly on her chest, head tilting slightly. ethan nods, and she continues her sentence. « she’s okay, just stressed. she’ll return. » her posture was tensed, her jaw just persistently clenched every time she’d close her mouth. you knew something was up, you knew she knew. anika sighs, and everyone nods, except you.

as the context of the conversation shifts, making the previous calmness of your friends come back, you stay there, you remain where everyone was investigating heavily on the girl you always loved.

you just felt the urge to cry: she’s so dear to you, the love you feel is like an eternal explosion, butterflies rising and falling inside your stomach, a soft hand grasping your heart: her hand. when you first started liking her, everything was smooth, like an oiled surface. the feelings were unspoken, no kiss was given, but, oh, how her eyes would sparkle every time you entered the room, every time you joined a conversation, every time you simply passed by.

her cheeks flushed, her softness being between your hands, she was malleable and weak for how much she seemed to care about you but you loved her the way she was. her hands loved to be in your hair, or on your cheeks, her fingers would perfectly interlock with yours, and her arms found comfort encircling your waist or neck.

but, still, at some point, she chose to act like you were dead, like right now.

are you dead? you aren’t sure, you can bet that your heart is beating still. you try to re-focus on your friends, whom you hear giggling in the background, giving one another the entertainment they needed in a similar party.

« so…what’s up with that guy you fucked, quinn? » mindy teases, giggling afterward, making the others gasp. quinn squints her eyes, you see it as a little detail that you actually appreciated about her. but, god, if she, sometimes, was annoying. especially when you were in tara’s apartment and you could hear continuous moans in the background while you were trying to have a normal conversation with tara, or with sam.

« huh, we text here and there…he’s fine, i guess. » she shrugs, like nothing was important, like he was just a passenger, someone that existed in her space just to satisfy her stupid needs once, and then disappeared. « no second date? you’re slippin’, quinn » chad jokes, raising an eyebrow, a hint of startle on his face. sam, instead, wasn’t surprised at all. « no. i’d say i prefer variety. »

« what a shame, anika and i were searching for a couple to go to a double date with. » mindy affirmed, anika nodded in agreement, a little pout painted on her face.

you think about how sweet it would be, to go on their double date bringing tara with you. maybe you would end up in a lousy fast food, or maybe an elegant, cozy restaurant with all her favorite dishes. you sighed, shaking your head softly as you looked around. you gazed at sam again, she was lazily scrolling through her phone, always serious and tensed up.

you get closer to her, whispering, as everyone else is distracted. « …did i do something? ». tara’s older sister looks up at you, and you see her turning off her phone as she pushes the tip of her tongue against the inside of her cheek. she takes a deep breath before replying. « no, she’s just…complicated. » she looks around almost as if she could be there, secretly listening to your conversation. « it’s not just you. give her space. »

you stare around, still disoriented, if not more than before. you decide to get up and walk towards the table that holds bottles of beer, pouring yourself a cup and tasting the bold, cold bitterness while it fills your mouth and goes down your throat, bringing you relief. you drink a little bit more before everything gets destroyed by something that you didn’t exactly expect.

you see tara, the friend group slowly walking closer to her, and you do the same thing, still holding the plastic cup, now as warm as your palm.

« hey, you made it. » her sister awkwardly says, waving a hand, and tara would just softly nod and wave her hand back. « WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? » mindy screams and tara giggles, the nervousness was clear, she was avoiding eye contact with every single person in front of her like it would be a potential danger, like it would make the plague come for her body and soul. « we thought you went full hermit mode, dude. »

« i…didn’t think so many people would come. » tara murmured, looking down. felt off, like a withered rose, a rotten fruit, a bleeding pomegranate. tara looks at you, a strange spark in her eyes. you glance at her back, hesitantly, and you feel like death isn’t so bad, suddenly. you are hoping someone would show their guns and threaten everyone to have no mercy upon them in that exact moment. but no one saves you, saviors don’t exist, you remind yourself.

« hi. » she murmurs, forcing a smile.

« hi. » you reply, showing the palm of your free hand, waving it slowly, just a lazy move. she nods and goes away, showing a lack of interest in any sort of interaction between her and the group. they remain skeptical, and you just walk away again, gulping down every single drop of the drink you had in your cup.

a hour passes. you spend it by secretly glancing at tara, or at least trying to, since every time you would set your eyes on her, she would catch the opportunity to make creepy, long-lasting eye contact with you. you hate it, you hate it because you blush, and you can’t help but feel embarrassed by the slight, useless attention she gives you with so much nonchalance. after this, she is surely not going to talk to you again, you think.

the lights that once made you comfortable inside a house you barely knew the owner of, now make you irrevocably disturbed. too intense, too blinding, they would get in the way as you tried to understand what tara was doing, but it actually wasn’t much: talking to sam, looking around, scrolling on the phone, and grabbing drinks.

nothing to see. but everything to think about: many questions would torture your mind, and make your soul beg to leave your body at once. but what did you do? what made tara so distant? is it actually you that is the problem?

you stare at her again. this time, she was talking with mindy and anika, her expression cold, blank, like emotions were nothing to her but ants she could step on and kill with no hesitancy. she shook her head at them, and then looked behind them, at you. her big, brownish eyes scan you, her lips are slightly parted and her expression always neutral, but somewhat altered by something else, looking almost dubious or...scared?

you are the one that breaks eye contact, grabbing a pack of cigarettes that was hidden in the pocket of your jeans, going out of the party, not talking to anyone anymore. you feel too dizzy, too bothered, to even function properly, to even talk to someone without crumbling in a million pieces. you feel almost miserable, too. you have been desperately chasing something that, clearly, wasn’t meant for you.

she doesn’t love you, does she? your gaze hardens as you light up a cigarette with your lighter, looking at the emptiness of the dark night sky, the stars are barely visible and it was saddening. maybe you are like that to tara, too: barely visible, and not worth squinting her eyes for.

you are just a fainting star for her and it destroys you. when are people going to figure out you exist? you breathe, you are alive, are you not? are you dead?

you put your free hand on your chest, searching, looking desperately for the beat of your heart. as you find it you exhale loudly, and your hand becomes a clenched fist.

you feel it, why doesn’t anyone else feel it, too? you grab with force your cell phone from your pocket, scrolling through your new notifications fast, not even glancing at them with great attention. chad asked where you were, mindy called you. it meant nothing. you opened tara’s chat, scrolling up, gazing at the messages you two would send each other.

you smile bitterly, as the phone lights up your face, which was wholly taken by nostalgia.

a month ago

tara 💗: can u come over rn??

you: i don’t know, are quinn and sam around?

tara 💗: no

tara 💗: please? we needa watch the movie we talked about :)

you: alrrrr, coming

memories flash in front of your eyes, her apartment and the sweet scent of hers, the popcorns, her adorable giggles that would give you a reason to exist. you inhale deeply, your lips wrapped around the cigarette, and you almost choke on it as you hear tara’s voice.

« throw that cigarette. » direct, almost mocking, and you don’t look her way, avoiding to even acknowledge the fact she is talking to you. really a coward thing to do. you exhale the smoke, and you watch it get lost in the fresh air of the night.

as you get the cigarette’s orangish butt close to your lips, you feel a hand blocking your wrist, the other grabbing the cigarette by the white casing wrapping around the burning tobacco. you watch the youngest carpenter hurl the item on the ground, putting it out by smashing the heel of her shoe against it with great force, looking at you.

« what the fuck? » you mutter, your cheeks slightly red. is it the alcohol or her presence making you react like that? her cologne was slowly dominating the scent that the cigarette was producing, filling your nostrils, your lungs. you would exhale with great hesitation, aching for the perfume you missed for days.

you, in a rush, turn off the phone, putting it inside your pocket again. your chest feels heavy, your breathing is irregular and you can’t grasp again the control you had before checking the past messages.

« smoking is bad. » tara hisses, and you raise you eyebrows, skeptical by the reaction she has. impressed also by how smoothly she came, how you didn’t notice for not even a moment someone was lurking. you reply, your voice cracking mid-sentence, making you melt in shame: « also alcohol is bad, but i saw you drink with no shame tonight. »

« you did, too. » « so if i smash my head against the wall you’re gonna do it too? »

silence.

you take a deep breath, avoiding watching her in the eyes, you just can’t. confusion is even more marked now, and you bite your lower lip trying to take some of the frustration out of you, but it lingers still, it haunts you totally.

you feel played, like a light that gets continuously turned on and off. now she shows she cares, turning on that light, but those two weeks when the light was off? what did they mean? you can ask her, you have her right in front of you, and the alcohol, somehow, makes you bold, a brave girl confronting the cause of her fears.

« why did you disappear? why was i the first you ran away from? » you question with a shaky voice, and you see her expressionless face falter, turning into something more confusing. is the spark in her eye sadness, or something else?

silence, again. for a few moments, she just watches, as if she didn’t have a voice, as if she was trying to communicate everything telepathically to you.

then, she talks.

you see her hesitate, remain with her lips parted longer than needed, and you wonder what was she trying to cover. « why do you care? i’m here now, so. » she hints a giggle, you know tara is actively trying to ease the tension, somehow. but she’s failing, because your expression hardens more, your eyebrows furrow. « are you serious? » you almost bark.

you slowly feel the anger knock at the door of your throat, wanting to come out. still, you bottled up. still, you swallowed down the loath. you force your gaze to soften. « why do i care? how do you- shit »

you take a step ahead, turning slightly towards the nothingness that is seated beside you and making your shoulders face her for a brief moment. you cover your mouth, taking a deep breath against your palm.

« you think it’s that simple? you think it’s easy to see you walk away without saying anything? you’re my friend, i thought some bad shit happened to you. » you laugh nervously, you see guilt in her eyes as you glance at her, but also…disappointment. like she expected something more.

« fuck, i even talked to sam. you know how awkward it is. » you try to change the context of the conversation as you feel a part of you beg to let the fear out, all the worries she caused, all the paranoia you felt that kept you awake at night. the insomnia, the poignant thoughts that would keep you alarmed.

tara laughs, but it sounds fake, programmed. she slowly turns serious as she sees you not even hinting a smile. « i’m sorry, okay? i just needed space. » she fidgets with the hem of her shirt, almost painfully torturing it. you can see the regret showing, but being denied by tara herself.

« for what? what did i even do? » « nothing. » you huff, befuddled by her ways, she is making you feel like you are in an unlimited limbo. you completely lose it. some tears prick your eyes, you gaze at her almost like you wanted her dead.

« you know what? fine. » you bark, and you walk away with hasty steps, the silence from her was the strongest, most hurtful sound you could feel at this moment. the only thing covering it were your heels striking furiously the ground, until you stop.

your walk gets interrupted by a hand grabbing and squeezing your shoulder, and tara is panting. maybe you walked too rapidly, until now. you gaze at her, surprised and still confused, a tesr goes down your visage. your head is clouded, the alcohol you have inside your body isn’t helping at all.

« okay, i’ll- i’ll tell you. » she says, quietly, taking a deep breath in. you frown, her hand lingers, not letting you go, going down until it reaches your forearm, the grip tightening again, fearing you’d escape, exactly like she did. « i was…scared. » « of what? »

she freezes, looking down at the asphalt beneath your feet, tapping on your shoulder obsessively, reflecting, opening her mouth before closing it again.

a sigh. « i-i mean, you started treating me so w-well and i got- it was so- i didn’t…» « sorry, i won’t do it again. » you shrug, and she squeezes your arm painfully tight. your breath hitches, and as she notices, she lets your arm go. « it’s not what i meant. i…» she swallows hard, putting a hand on her forehead.

« it’s that after what happened…» she stops, putting her hands behind her back. oh, you know it all too well. sam talked to you about it when she felt like you were close enough to them to deserve to know, more as a warning than a demonstration of closeness

she continues: « with…amber. i can’t risk again. » she hesitates before saying her name, almost as if her name was a forbidden word, a spell, a death sentence. it held weight, but she acted like she would show up if she said her name too many times. and the umpteenth confirmation is in front of you: she looks around, looking at the empty streets, checking to see if someone is watching. if amber is watching. « but i’m not amber, tara. » you remind her, crossing your arms.

« i know, but i’m scared. y-you’re so nice and she was too- you know, you know what she was doing to me while she was b-being nice. » she says one word after the other furiously, her voice shaky and unstable, cracking, and she says everything so slowly because sobs would interrupt every word in her sentence, obstacles full of emotions.

you notice tears going down her cheeks, and it makes you wonder when she started crying. you move your hands slightly, nervously, trying to not listen to the urge you have: cup her cheeks, wipe her tears. you just couldn’t, you feel like it would be too much.

« but i don’t want anyone else to hurt you » tara barely nods, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt again, her head tilted. « that’s exactly what amber used to tell me. »

you sigh, having no idea of what to do now, what to say. the young girl saves you, just by declaring something else. « besides…if you don’t kill, y-you’ll get killed. being close to me is a death sentence, really. »

« don’t say that. » you murmur, shaking your head, a shiver of pity runs through you like thunder. you hate seeing her that way. her voice is still there, but unstable. « the next one could kill you. i don’t want you to d-die. » she almost screams, holding up a hand to her neck, like she was choking on her tears. she cries, and she isn’t even able to interrupt her grief, her pointless grief that looks at the future with a negative eye. « who said there’s going to be a next one? » you ask, almost rhetorically, like it was sure the murders ended in woodsboro, and that would dare hunting down tara and sam another time.

not in my story, you think. not when there’s me. you would protect her, no matter what, and at the first suspicious murder happening close to her, you already know you would make whoever wanted to get in the way disappear, in one way or another. but you didn’t know the gravity of the situation, you never were a victim of the attacks, you have no idea how smart a ghostface killer has to be.

tara remains silent again, her silence, every time she would use it, was as bothering as a loud, earth-breaking storm.

she just sobs, and trembles, and you can’t hold back anymore. you wrap your arms around her, pulling her in a hug that you both needed, so much, and you get it, you do, because she wraps her arms around you like her life depends on it.

« it’s okay. » your lullaby of consolation makes her nod, breathing deeply between her sniffs. she tightens her grip, and you only desire to feel all of her attached to you, every limb touching yours. you feel content at the affection, but you want more, her lips looked perfect, smooth, and soft. you wondered how they would taste.

but you couldn’t fuck around and find out, not now. « i know you’re scared, but i’ll be here, okay? we’ll be fine, no matter what. just…please. please don’t run away from me again…i…i missed you, so much. » you whisper, your voice is a restless plead, and you almost break down between her arms.

« i missed you too. » « but…i’m confused, » you finally confess. she looks at you, waiting patiently for you to add context, something that can help her understand what struggle you had. you notice how she calmed down, how she doesn’t sob anymore, how very few tears would fall, compared to how much she was crying before. she looks clueless, and it made your sentence stop for a little more time than how much you programmed. is it just you who wants more?

« the days we spent together…what do they mean to you? » and the question takes a few moments to be answered, as her grip tightens around you, her eyes gazing at you rather than the emptiness of the place. strangely, no one is there, you two can hear the music of the partying flat even out of it, and it relaxes you more because you aren’t alone, you can say you need to go if you want to, if it gets too much even for you.

you wait still, and she sighs. « they’re special, obviously. » « but tara, there’s more. » you notice that as you speak and breath, cold whiteish air goes out of your mouth, losing itself in the space in front of you. is it really that cold?

« i don’t know what you mean. » she shakes her head, and you take a step back. her cheeks are flushed, her body is stiff and as she doesn’t have anything else to grab, her hands clasp roughly.

you falter, shaking your head softly. « it’s nothing. maybe i should head out, y’know, maybe mindy is still waiting f— » « no, wait. » her hands open, she shows her palms, and huffs. « i want to understand. how come there’s more? i don’t even know what that means. »

« you get incredibly close for weeks, you kiss my face, you hug me and struggle to let go, you treat me with…weird sweetness that i have never seen before, especially from you. you suddenly disappear because you’re scared that i’ll end up copying amber, then…you say that those moments are just special. that’s a meaningless reply to me— do you even care? » you vent, a hint of anger mixed with palpable confusion, and the words go out of your mouth faster than you wanted them to.

she widens slightly her eyes, raising her eyebrows. and you know she still isn’t understanding from what place you’re coming from, or maybe she understands? how confusing she is.

« what kind of question is that? i care »

you decide to go all in, your patience wearing thin, as thin as a blade of grass. « then why do you act like you’re in love with me? » you giggle nervously, maybe looking crazy in front of her eyes, maybe looking desperate. she locks eyes with you, and you go ahead and take steps towards the building, fearing her reply, fearing that everything you know is false.

« because i am, y/n » you hear her say from behind, and you turn around, frowning. you are suspecting that what you heard isn’t actually what she is trying to say, and somehow, even if you didn’t say anything, she gets it. « i said i am. »

« how did you— » « you always make that face when you’re lost. » she laughs, getting closer, and that phrase makes you hint a smile. she cups your face with her cold hands, and it makes you shiver, but somehow it feels emotionally warm. a blanket over your heart.

« so what do you think? » she whispers those words, her voice cracking with fear. you feel your cheeks gradually getting hotter and hotter, redder and redder. « i think that…i’m in love with you, too. »

you stop, and her gaze softens. yours does too. « i love you, tara. a lot. i thought you were disgusted by me or…you didn’t want me around anymore. but god, i’m so in love. » you calmly declare, her fingers brush against your cheeks softly, with tenderness.

« i could never be disgusted or change my mind about you, you’re pretty dumb. »

giggles echo in the air, and she leans in, her breaths quiver at the intimate closeness you both have now. everything fades out, and you both look at each other in need, in need for the physical contact you both are craving. she scans your face as your breaths intertwine, and then her lips found yours, after months of research.

it’s perfect, you kiss back without even thinking about it, like you were born for this: to kiss her, to have her with you. you cup one of her cheeks with your shaky palm, the touch is soft and warm, and her lips are too. no anger is held in the kiss, only the affection you both feel, gentle in its essence. your heart stumbles in its rhythm, and you fear that she can hear it beating erratically too.

she breaks the kiss hesitantly, and you don’t know how long the kiss lasted — seconds? minutes? — but it just made you even more infatuated with her. her forehead rests against yours, her brownish hues shining with satisfaction, her lips curled up in a soft smile. you can still feel those lips against yours, or maybe you simply want them to be there again.

but you’re fine, you finally are. there are things you both need to work on, but you know that, until you’ll have her, you’ll be content and wanting to be better.

« i promise i will take care of you. » you whisper, you can’t help but smile, showing your teeth.

« i will take care of you, too. »

[lusilly]

i've been writing earth 28 for 11 years (i officially coined the universe # in april 2012) and i still cried like a baby while driving 7 hours yesterday because i listened to the mary lambert cover of teenage dirtbag and thought about 15yo lian

[kooktrash]

lost & found | jeon jungkook

summary:your college years have never been something you dwelled on for too long. you didn’t want to think of all the chances you lost and that’s why when the guy you had a crush on moves back to town, you try not to let it affect you again. but then he brings up old memories that didn’t go the way you thought they had and you’re thrown for a loop. you’re stuck between finding something new with him and falling back into old habits of never standing up for yourself. it probably doesn’t help that he dated your best friend, where everything seemed to go wrong.

➣ genre/au: jungkook x reader [she/her, female anatomy], mid-20’s friendships. what kind of au is this? smut, plot

➣18.7k words

warnings: heavy plot. smut. a little bit of angst if you squint. tae is oc defender. shy oc. jk is an old college classmate. oc and jk got complicated, misunderstood history :(. oc is kinda insecure? bathroom sex. teasing. foreplay [f and m receiving]. very neeeedddy, long time waited sex.. unprotected. jk fucks oc on the counter, on the door. jk is tatted up but not in his college days. heavy makeout. breast play. fingering. dirty talk. oc goes down on jk as a thx 🤧 jk dated oc’s bestie but there’s HISTORY. oc’s bestie is the real villain im sorry. took advantage of two insecure college kids >:( love lost, love found vibes. just read I swear it’s not that bad 😭 no cheating. FRIEND BREAK UPS. oc gets confident toward the end

song inspo: bff — jesse

As you settle into adulthood, you learn a few things about friendships. There tends to be a slight divide between those you’ve known since you were young and those you’ve collected over the years. Some might value the friendships they’ve held longer more than those that are more recent but for others, what matters is the trust that comes with friendship no matter with whom it might be with. You’re somewhere in between, you think.

You have people like Taehyung who you’ve only recently started to get to know and have had a chance to grow close with. He doesn’t know everything about you yet but he doesn’t need to, he seems to understand enough now to be an important person in your current life. He’s the kind of friend you're thankful you’ve met on some random occasion.

Then you have someone like your best friend, Miyoung. You’re not sure the last time you had ever been truly without her at your side. From your earlier school years to college, to now when you’re both settled into what would essentially be your careers and private lives. She’s… she's special to you in a way that you're not sure you could ever find in someone else—or at least that’s what she says?

There hasn’t been a time where it wasn’t the two of you practically glued together at the hip and you credit her for her outgoing nature that always seemed to balance with your more introverted demeanor. Of course it didn't mean you couldn’t make friends without her [take Taehyung for example] but she’s always seemed to gravitate people toward you with her energy. That’s why you're not at all surprised by tonight’s events and how everyone seemed surprised that you came alone.

”Honestly, I’m happy you made it, it feels like we haven’t seen each other in so long,” Your friend, Hoseok, pointed out as he led you to the private area of the lounge bar where it seemed like a reunion was taking place, “When Miyoung said she wasn’t going to make it, I thought you probably weren’t going to show up and—“

”Is that what you would have preferred?” You asked with a teasing smile as he began to stumble over his words, attempting to backtrack.

“What? Y/n, don’t you know I’ve been desperately enamored by you since your first year? Don’t make such crass comments,” He joked back, helping you out of your coat as you grew closer to the room filled with loud chatter. He led you with hands on your shoulders and said, “And between us, I’m a little happy she didn’t come. I wasn’t really in the mood for this to turn into a Battle of the Exes fighting ground.”

”What do you mean?” You barely had time to ask as you entered the room where an explosion of your name was heard by old college classmates of yours who all seemed on the border of tipsy and in a good mood. You couldn’t help but smile, looking at everyone at once till your eyes fell on the person in question.

He didn’t hesitate to meet your gaze with equal surprise as you sat across from him, just one person down the line. Immediately the people next to you tried sparking a conversation and you used it as a distraction to keep from gawking at him. When Miyoung told you she wouldn’t make it, you debated coming yourself but after some begging from Hoseok you decided to come along. Despite your best friend not joining, you're kind of glad she didn’t. Hoseok is right, it would have been a battlefield and you did not want to be caught in the middle of it.

“Y/n.”

Ignore, maybe? Just ignore and maybe he’ll forget trying to talk to you and your head won't be on the chopping block. You looked down the table at some of the other people you remember from campus activities or long lectures and tried to ignore the growing smile you could see on his face from the corner of your eye.

“Hungry?” The person next to you asked as he made you look his way. There were platters of hand food across the bar table and you happily took whatever Jimin offered. As much as you hated it, you couldn’t help but look across the table to make sure it really was who you thought it was,

Jeon Jungkook.

Better known as your best friend’s ex boyfriend.

Or worse, the first guy you liked when you started University.

”Hi,” he said in a low voice, catching you in the middle of staring at him. In your defense, he seemed so different—more matured if you will. Now he was covered in tattoos and piercings, he lost that sort of boyish charm but clearly gained something else along the way. He was buff and bigger, more intimidating yet alluring? Safe to say he didn’t look like the ‘Boy Next Door’ you had a crush on in your English seminar.

“You’re here,” was all you could think to say back, giving up on your sorry attempt at ignoring him for no real reason other than saving yourself from an awkward encounter.

”So are you,” Jungkook bit into his bottom lip as he looked at you closely. How is it that someone could look so different but the same all at once? In your gaze he could still see that curiosity in everything that he remembered from back then when he would spend lectures wondering what was on your mind. In your appearance, he can see how much you’ve changed physically. They were surely small differences in everyone else’s eyes but he always had a tendency to pay too much attention to you and it would get him in trouble.

You gave him a polite nod in response to his blatant observation that matched yours and attempted to shift your attention elsewhere but he didnt let it get too far. He cleared his throat, “How have you been?”

“Me?” You asked, “Okay, I guess. Busy with work.”

“So I’ve heard, you’re in marketing now, right? What happened to your writing?” Jungkook asked, seeming genuinely curious to know. He didn’t care for the conversations happening around him more than he did hearing your response now that you looked more willing to give him one.

“It wouldn’t have paid the bills—You remember my writing?” You asked, surprise evident in your features that he couldn’t help but smile.

It was hard for him to forget his biggest competition at the time. He let out a small sigh, ready to go on about being unable to forget a certain piece you wrote when a firm hand was placed on his shoulder. Yoongi stood over him, “Smoke break?”

Say no, he thought. Jungkook could easily reject the offer and continue what he was going to say. Without meaning to, he looked back at you, but you had excused yourself from the table in the blink of an eye. Nodding hesitantly, he grabbed his jacket and followed his friend out while he wondered where you went so suddenly.

You were hiding in the washroom when you got the call from Miyoung, like she had a sixth sense telling her to reach out.

“So how is it? Is it as boring as I said it’d be?” Miyoung asked as she waited in line for some nightclub she was going to with some of her various other friends.

“Um, kind of?” You said without much thought—knowing it was what she wanted to hear. In reality, it was fun. You were greeted warmly that it washed away your earlier worries and you’re being taken care of by old friends you didn't get to talk to as much. Not to mention, you’re seeing Jungkook again after a couple years of hearing and thinking of nothing about the guy, so you don’t actually think it's boring.

Miyoung snorted, “Figures, good thing I didn’t go. I could not sit through more than an hour of everyone going on and on about what they’ve been up to. I mean, yeah I miss Hobi and stuff but I could see him whenever, y’know? Who all showed up?”

“I think everyone,” You admitted with a nervous bite of your lip. It was now or never. You tell her that it seems like Jungkook has come to visit or has come back to stay and you’re not sure how she’ll take that. She might even march over here just to tell him how she's felt these last two years and chances are that’ll ruin the easy vibe for everyone else. You leaned against the stall door and talked with her.

“So you’re back,” Yoongi asked with a smirk as he took a drag from his cigarette, “My Golden Boy’s back? Someone pinch me.”

“Funny guy,” Jungkook said sarcastically as he looked out onto the busy street. Yoongi shrugged, turning toward the bar window looking around to see the group, “Aren’t you happy you came?”

“Yeah, it’s great seeing everyone again,” Jungkook told him casually, flicking the end of his cigarette and watching the ash fall to the cold cement of the street.

“Want to know who surprised me tonight?” Yoongi asked, looking over at him to see if his expression would change at all, “Y/n.”

Jungkook cleared his throat awkwardly, “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, dropping ash to the ground, “Y/n never comes out to these sorts of things, and if she does come it’s usually with Miyoung but she came by herself tonight.

“Yeah…” Jungkook zoned out a bit as he thought about it more, “Why doesn’t she meet up with you guys often?”

“You know Y/n doesn't really go out,” Yoongi said, “And she’s busy with work, at least that’s what Hobi says. I don’t know, when Hobi said Miyoung wasn’t coming tonight we both expected Y/n to not show too but… hey, aren’t you happy she isn’t here?”

“I don’t really care either way,” Jungkook confessed truthfully, “But do you know if… y’know, you might have heard something about Y/n and if she’s still seeing someone or—“

“Oh God,” Yoongi couldn’t help but laugh as he put his cigarette out, Jungkook doing the same, “It’s been like three years, man.”

Jungkook watched him laugh as he walked off leaving him to follow, “What?”

Yoongi held the door open for him, “You know what, but I’ll answer your question, anyway. Last I heard Y/n is single, so what now?”

He waited for Jungkook to respond but he wasn’t listening anymore. There were too many things on his mind that he needed to work out before you came back to the table.

“What do you mean you’re leaving? You just got here,” Jimin said to you as he held your hand in his to stop you from leaving, “One more drink.”

“It’s late,” You tried to say, “I’ve got to be up early.”

“Liar, it’s a Saturday night, Y/n. Sit your ass back down,” Hobi said with a firm voice making you sit down immediately. He flashed you a cute smile before asking everyone if they wanted another round of drinks.

“So, what were we talking about earlier?” Jungkook asked, trying to get you to talk to him again, “Your writing? Yeah, how can I forget it? Remember we used to read each other’s essays all the time before… well.”

Before he broke up with your best friend.

“Yeah, I remember,” You admitted, trying to find something to say. What kind of questions would Miyoung want to know? What do you want to know? What should you prepare your friend to know? “How long are you visiting?”

“Actually, I just moved back, I got a job doing graphic design for a local company,” Jungkook told you with the hint of a smile, “It’s my first time meeting up with everyone again.”

You let yourself indulge in small talk with him here and there but usually when he started it. The night had been fine, you enjoyed your time but after a while all you wanted to do was go home and Hoseok couldn’t make you stay any longer. You ended your night wondering if you should go out more.

Everything has a backstory, right? How it all started and yours seems pretty tacky. You spent the first couple years of University doing what you had to do in school and letting Miyoung drag you to whatever outing she had on the weekends. Some time in your third year, you joined this English class with the most boring, monotonous professor ever and that’s where you met Jungkook.

In all honesty, you thought he was cute from the get go. Sitting through three hours of a boring lecture led people to do odd things and one of those for you was staring at the cute guy who sat down a couple rows from you. It was just a little thing you did to pass time so you never expected anything to actually happen from it.

Then one day most of the seats were taken [naturally, it was a large class] and he seemed to have been running late because his usual cycle of seats were all taken except the one next to yours. Despite all those times you would find yourself ogling the stranger, when he was right next to you, you didn’t say a single word.

It was Jungkook who spoke first and it was just to ask if you could help him catch up. That day you were supposed to read someone else’s prompt and revise it and you chose each other which then trickled down to a routine of it. Without speaking much, he would sit next to you or silently save you a seat whenever you were running late and the one time you decided to switch it up and sit elsewhere…

Well, he was practically pouting the whole day.

It had been a nearly perfect set up to what could have been if you just allowed yourself to go for things but it didn’t happen that way.

One random Tuesday night, Miyoung wanted to go out for some cheap drinks and you found yourselves at a bar not too far from campus where you ran into a senior in one of your classes. Yoongi had come up to you first, just greeting you and making small talk when Jungkook who apparently had come with him, recognized you too.

They drank with you and Miyoung for a bit and you honestly thought it had been fun. You had never had real conversations with him outside of school work and it was nice to have more people to hang with that it just felt natural. Though at some point through the night Miyoung had gotten kind of flirty. She claims she assumed you had wanted Yoongi and not Jungkook and practically called dibs on him despite meeting him for the first time that night.

When she made her intents obvious, you couldn’t help but backtrack.

You always considered yourself pretty self aware about yourself. There was nothing special really and when you compare yourself to Miyoung there just isn’t much competition.

She was the perfect Prom Queen type who always had the nicest clothes or the cutest boyfriends, the best awards and most interesting stories. The amount of guys she would pull who you didn’t even have a chance with was insane. And though you might sound bitter, you’re not. You’ve never been the type to want the spotlight or attention and being best friends with someone so damn perfect was that you could always stay in the shadows.

So when she started flirting with Jungkook, you didn’t really notice his awkward glances or how he shied away from her proximity. You only saw how he smiled politely and listened to her go on and on about how great she is and assumed he was into her like all the others had been.

You tried to act normal after that, you would talk to him every now and then and never questioned why he stopped talking to you as much until he started dating Miyoung but you weren’t bitter. You were understanding.

It made sense he would date her. She was beautiful and smart and someone people pine for. It was a given that that would happen so once again, you didn’t take it personal.

They dated for a couple months [nothing serious at all] and then he dumped her which resulted in Miyoung practically forbidding you from even looking his way at all. You completed your last year without thinking about him despite the various mutual friends you shared and went on with your life when he moved.

That was the backstory and why you felt so awkward seeing him the other night.

You haven’t told Miyoung yet because there’s a high chance she won’t care at all and would get annoyed that you even thought to bring it up. Your friend is very pretty and she likes being in relationships so she’s been in quite a few since they dated and probably doesn’t care to be reminded at all.

The only person you’ve told is Taehyung.

“But did you at least have fun?” He asked as the two of you sat at a small restaurant for lunch. You nodded your head, “Yeah, it was alright. It was just weird, for me at least.”

“Why?” Taehyung asked as he dug into his meal, stuffing his mouth with no care in the world, “I mean it’s obvious everyone was happy to see you and didn’t want you to leave. Who cares if Miyoung didn’t go, clearly it didn’t matter to anyone else.”

You didn’t say anything, taking your time to enjoy your meal as you drifted off in thought. He is right, you know that sometimes it’s just in your head and you overthink things. You always feel like you’re boring to others so it’s natural for you to assume no one would be happy to see just you and not your bubble of joy best friend. There has to be a certain level of comfort between you and another person to show personality and it’s rare people get to see it.

“But how’d it go with that guy? Did he ask you about her?” Taehyung asked with a hint of curiosity.

“Not that I can remember. I don’t know, it was kind of awkward but we talked a bit,” You told him honestly, “He just moved back down so that’s cool I guess.”

Taehyung looked at you skeptically but you avoided his gaze, trying to distract yourself with your phone.

yoongi: throwing a welcome back party for jk this weekend, u coming?

you: idk, if I’m free

yoongi: … ur always free🤒

yoongi: just say yes, bring whoever u want

you: but is he ok with me going

yoongi: y wouldn’t he be

yoongi: he’s the one who asked me to make sure u come

you: okkkkkk 🥹

“Tae, can you come with me to this party please?” You asked, immediately showing your friend your text messages leaning across the table for him to see them clearly.

Taehyung’s brows furrowed as he read through the texts carefully, “Jungkook is the ex boyfriend, right? Why’s he so interested in you going?”

“He’s not,” you said, “He’s probably just doing it to be nice, since everyone I know will be there.”

“What if he’s… y’know, interested?” Taehyung asked curiously and you nearly choked on your drink.

“No, oh my god,” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “We were just classmates and we stopped talking after he dumped Miyoung so—“

“Yeah but did you ever stop to think ‘hm, I’m the one who knew this guy first and then Miyoung went and snatched him from me before I even got a chance to explore’,” Taehyung said in a high pitched voice, presumably mocking yours. You reached over to playfully shove his shoulder making him grin mischievously.

“What? No, it wasn’t like that at all,” You tried to say, “Him and I didn’t even really talk until the night he met her at the bar and… no, that’s crazy. He liked Miyoung right away.”

Taehyung just sighed, giving up on trying to get through to you, “If you say so, but who’s the one he approached first? Because I can tell you right now it wasn’t her.”

Despite how he expresses himself when he talks about your best friend, he doesn’t dislike her. He thinks Miyoung is alright, maybe a little too much for his tastes but that doesn’t mean anything. He understands the two of you are really close and although he has had many chances to befriend her too, he just hasn’t.

He’ll talk to her if you force them to hang out together but he would never go out of his way to be her friend. It might sound bad but Taehyung is pretty protective over you and rightfully so, he feels.

He doesn’t want to badmouth one of his closest friends but you have a tendency to overthink things. You don’t realize how great you are and make yourself seem smaller and he thinks Miyoung and other people like her in your life are at fault. He’s heard some of the things she says to you and it’s like you hold her up so highly there’s no room for you to see how pretty, smart, and talented you are. And before anyone gets the wrong idea, he’s not in love with you or anything.

You’re too good for him so he gave up on that idea long ago.

Plus, now that he’s able to connect some of those pieces from when you were in Uni, some things are clicking into place for him. Miyoung tends to dim your light a bit, or copy something you do and claim it as her own and when he hears this little backstory between all of your old college friends… he just can’t help but wonder if Jungkook was one of those things she claimed for herself.

With that thought in mind, he agreed to go with you to this party and see for himself what is there and what could be. He just wants what’s best for you and for you to be able to go and get it without worrying you’re not good enough or stepping on anyone’s toes.

When Friday night came, your apartment was filled with loud music and even louder complaints coming from one person in particular. Taehyung was just listening to you and Miyoung go back and forth about tonight’s plans and it got to the point where you couldn’t say anything but the truth about what you would be doing tonight.

“It’s a welcome back party for Jungkook,” You said, trying your hardest not to let your voice sound strained.

“What? When did he get back?” Miyoung asked, sitting up from your bed and tossing your pillow off her lap, “Like he moved back?”

“Yeah, I guess not too long ago,” You said with a shrug, looking in your mirror to see if you liked the way you looked or not, “I don’t know, Yoongi is the one who invited me.”

“Why didn’t I know? Why wasn’t I invited?” Miyoung asked, turning to Taehyung like he would have the answers.

“Probably because you’re his ex girlfriend and you ditched out on their little reunion so you could party,” Taehyung said, not bothering to look up from his phone.

“Yeah but, why’d they ask Y/n? She’s not even friends with him,” Miyoung said with a slight scoff, “You’re not actually going right? We could go out, just the three of us. You already hung out with them, you and I haven’t gone out in weeks, let’s just do our own thing. Unless you’re trading me in for all of them.”

You looked at her with apologetic eyes. You’ve been busy with work recently and she is right. The last people you hung out with aside from Taehyung were all of them two weekends ago so it would only be fair to hang out with her this time. It shouldn’t mean anything that you were invited and that Jungkook wanted to make sure you were going. Miyoung was supposed to be your best friend so how could you go to a party she wasn’t invited to?

Just as you were going to give in and shoot Yoongi a text that you weren’t going to make it, Taehyung spoke up for you. “Why don’t you just come with? One of them said Y/n can bring whoever she wants and I’m already going so it’s not like you have to be by yourself. Plus, aren’t the rest of them supposed to be your friends too? Y/n already agreed.”

“Why didn’t you ask me first?”

“I didn’t realize I needed permission,” You couldn’t help but sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed to comfort her, “We can just stop by, have a drink or two and leave if it’s lame. Come on.”

After much convincing, the three of you arrive at Yoongi’s place which was a small house with good outdoor space and the inside was packed with people already. The amount of party goers made you anxious but at the same time slightly thrilled that surely the attention would never be on you with so many people around.

“Y/n! Miyoung!” Namjoon spotted you two first and he threw his arms around you both with a grin, “Surprised to see you here, Mimi.”

“Yeah, probably because I was the only one not invited,” Miyoung said bitterly, making Namjoon take a drink from his cup and look away nervously.

“Let’s get you guys drinks then,” He said with an awkward clear of his throat looking to Taehyung, “What’s up, I’m Namjoon.”

“Taehyung,” he said, following you to the drinks table. The music played loudly and there were a lot of people having a good time that it was somewhat easy to try and blend in and act normal. Miyoung had a pout on her face, looking around worried but Namjoon brightened her mood and every now and then another friend would stop by to greet her. Taehyung mostly clung to you and only drifted away when a friend would spark conversation with you but you were thankful he was around.

“Y/n,” someone called out to you from across the room. You couldn’t make them out through the crowd of people and it took a while before you spotted Jungkook making his way to your direction.

“Jungkook,” you said with a nervous breath, looking around for Miyoung but she was off with Namjoon talking about god knows what.

“How long have you been here? Why didn’t you say anything?” Jungkook asked, slightly more energetic than usual. His hair was messy, with strands out of place, he wore a basic black tee and baggy jeans so why did he look good? It’s still hard for you to wrap your mind around who this is.

He’s gotten so muscular and just… more intimidating with his tattoo sleeve and piercings and it’s so unexpected but in a good way.

“I, um, you know, I just assumed you were busy,” you lied, looking around for one of your friends. Taehyung was at the table getting a drink and he’ll be back soon to save you before Miyoung looks around.

Jungkook found himself looking around too, as if he could see what you did but he came up short, “Did you come with anyone?”

“Yeah, Miyoung and a friend of mine,” you rushed the words out in hopes of sounding casual but Jungkook didn’t even bat an eye.

“So what are you doing alone?” He asked with a raised brow, taking a step closer to you, “Actually, there’s something that’s been on my mind since last time I saw you and I uh… I haven’t had the chance to say it.”

You blinked nervously, looking up at him and how close he was to you, “What is it?”

He licked his lips, playing with his lip rings shyly, “Well, I was wondering if you would like to get together some time, just you and I. We’ve never had the chance to hang out.”

“We’re hanging out right now, aren’t we?” You asked, feigning naivety that almost seemed teasing. In truth, you could sense what he was possibly asking and you needed him to stop. There was no reason for you two to hang out alone, no matter how much the thought made you giddy.

“I guess,” Jungkook couldn’t help but let his eyebrows knit together in confusion. He took another step closer to you, hand on the wall behind you for support. , “But I was still hoping… I know it’s probably kind of awkward but we’re grown, right? We can get together without worrying about anyone else.”

“Who says it’s because I’m worried?” You asked with a hint of playfulness in an attempt to ease some of the growing tension caused by the way he looked at you, “Where is this coming from all of a sudden?”

That made him crack a smile, “All of a sudden?”

“Yes, all of a sudden,” another voice added in from behind him and you jumped at the sound. Jungkook didn’t bother to turn around, he was more focused on the way you tried to look behind him and meet Miyoung’s glare.

“Where’d you run off to?” You asked, pushing past him making Jungkook slide his hand off the wall and roll his eyes at the disruption.

“Somewhere I felt wanted,” she said bitterly, eyes on Jungkook as she spoke to you, “Let’s go, I’m bored.”

“I thought you were having a good ti—“

“I’m not, Y/n,” Miyoung almost snapped, “You said we could have a drink and go. We’ve been here for like forever and I want to leave. That’s what we agreed on.”

“Okay, jeez, let’s go then,” You said with a sigh, “Let me find Taehyung.”

“Go, then,” Miyoung said, making you take a deep breath, trying to tell yourself she had a right to be upset. She didn’t want you [as her best friend] talking to her ex boyfriend. And you did say you didn’t have to stick around for long…

“What?” Miyoung asked Jungkook with a roll of her eyes as she caught him staring, “Did I interrupt something?”

“You still don’t know how to speak to people like they’re human beings,” Jungkook said simply, “And it’s sad to watch.”

“Screw you,” Miyoung scoffed, “You’re just mad I stopped you from trying to ask my best friend out. My friends are off limits.”

“She was my friend too,” Jungkook said as a reminder, “And I can do whatever I want. You’re just childish.”

She snorted, “Right, says the guy who fumbled me.”

He couldn’t seem to act mature anymore and before he stop himself he said, “Remember, you’re not the one I wanted anyway.”

He walked off without much care for how she felt and found his other friends, wondering who it was you ran off to find.

“Tae, can we go now?” You asked your friend. Taehyung had found himself a group of people to entertain with his stories and had nearly forgotten who he had tagged along with until you pulled him to the side.

“Uh, okay,” Taehyung cleared his throat awkwardly, “What happened? I thought everyone was having a good time.”

“Miyoung wants to leave,” You said with a small sigh, “She saw me talking to Jungkook and I just don’t want it to become this big problem so can we please just go?”

Taehyung placed an arm on your shoulder, leading you to Miyoung who waited at the door, “Yeah, sure let’s go.”

The car had only stayed silent for the first half of the drive to Miyoung’s apartment. Somewhere between the last red light and this short stretch of road, a fire had been lit underneath her which made her start up again.

“So what was that back there?” Miyoung asked from the backseat and you debated just acting asleep or like you were too drunk to listen properly. She leaned forward, looking at you closely.

“What do you mean?” You asked nervously.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Miyoun said with an annoyed tone, “First you get invited to a party for my ex boyfriend and next thing I know the two of you are whispering in the corner looking like you’re about to kiss and like I’m not even in the room.”

Taehyung had to bite his tongue from responding, worried that if he spoke too soon it would only make you seem more weak to her antics. He just tapped his fingers against the window trying to keep silent

“Miyoung,” You started with a sigh, “You’re overreacting. It was nothing, we’re friends—“

“Since when?” Miyoung scoffed, “You’re supposed to be my friend, Y/n.”

“I am,” You said defensively, “And if you want to talk about this tomorrow then that’s fine but right now it’s late and we’ve all been having a decent time so don’t ruin it…”

“Y/n’s right, let’s end the night on a good note,” Taehyung finally said but he seemed to go ignored by you two.

“You’re not though, real friends wouldn’t flirt with their best friend’s ex boyfriend—“

“You two dated for less than five months and it was years ago,” You blurted out, “I knew him before that so don’t act like I’m betraying you.”

“Oh my god, I knew you’d still be bitter I started seeing him,” Miyoung said, suddenly making you hide your face in your hand from exhaustion. “I didn’t know you had a thing for him back then. You should’ve said something instead of holding it against me like you do everything else.”

“What are you talking about?” You couldn’t help but scoff.

Miyoung’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, “You know exactly what I’m talking about and it’s not fair.”

Taehyung took a deep breath, fingers clenched around the steering wheel unable to bite his tongue any longer, “Miyoung I don’t think you’re being fair. You’re clearly drunk and you just want to arg—“

“Shut up, Taehyung,” She snapped, slurring on her words a bit and not even realizing the car came to a stop in front of her building, “I’m not even talking you and you can stop acting like Y/n’s bodyguard because last time I checked she’s a grown adult who could speak for herself. God, I swear everyone is the same. Just because Y/n is boring and insecure, doesn’t mean she doesn’t know how to speak for herself.”

“Get out. We’re at your place so just go,” Taehyung said, annoyed with the harshness she was projecting on you, “Y/n might put up with you but I won’t.”

With an irritated scoff, she swung the back door open, “Fine, screw you guys too.”

The door slammed shut as she stormed up to her apartment and Taehyung waited till she was gone to say, “Fuck, what did that girl drink? Y/n, why do you put up with that? Hey.”

You stayed silent for a moment letting her words sink in. Whatever, she yelled and threw a tantrum, that’s fine, that’s normal. But she seriously thinks you’re just a bore and maybe you’re starting to believe it too. If it weren’t for you always being cautious over how she might feel about you and what you do, you wouldn’t seem so boring.

Or was that just how you were and now you’re trying to say it’s because of Miyoung? Jeez, you just can’t seem to make up your mind about anything but all you know is that… you’re not boring. Well, you don’t have to be. If she wants to think that always backing up whatever she says makes you boring, then maybe it’s time you just do what you want even if she doesn’t like it.

“Tae, can you do me a favor,” You finally said, making him look over at you curiously. The car is still parked in front of Miyoung’s place and he’s been waiting for you to speak anyway, “What?”

“Take me back to the party please.”

Miyoung was wrong, if you were boring it’s because she made you boring. Anytime you did anything on your own, she always had to ruin it and you just let her. You just let Miyoung monopolize your time and make you her right-hand in everything. You’ve never gotten the chance to truly put yourself out there because you firmly believed you didn’t compare.

Maybe you needed to stop overthinking and just do what you want, be confident—or at least act like you are.

“Y/n! You’re back?” Yoongi asked once you made it to the party again, “Let me tell you, I was mad because I thought you left before even talking to me.”

“I’m so very sorry,” You said playfully, “But do you know where Jungkook is?”

He seemed to freeze up, surprise written on his face and he looked down at you questioning. You held his gaze, watching the wheels turn in his head before he was blurting out, “I don’t know. The bathroom?”

You blinked nervously, letting him slip away from you when someone called for him and were left standing there. Your mind was racing with ideas yet you couldn’t think of what to do.

What did you expect coming back?

What does this prove?

You feel anxious and insecure and maybe she was right, you’re boring and you don’t even speak up or do anything exciting.

“Jungkook?” You called out to him as you walked down the hall of doors, knocking or opening whichever door you landed on. You got to the last door with a bated breath, realizing it’s a bedroom and closed yourself in.

Your sense of bravado had been short lived. Whatever burst of confidence you had was completely gone now that you sat alone in the guest room contemplating just going home or not.

In all honesty, this was stupid from the very beginning. You let Miyoung’s words get to you and you acted before you could think. You didn’t need to prove anything. Plus, you don’t want Jungkook. Maybe once before you did… but not… anymore?

God, you felt like an idiot.

“Y/n?”

Your heart dropped with a sense of disbelief as you looked up. The once pitch black room was illuminated by a block of light from the open bathroom door. Jungkook stood at the doorway, brows furrowed as he looked at who sat on the bed.

“Jungkook,” you cleared your throat awkwardly.

“You’re back?” He asked, looking you up and down with a hint of suspicion. You nodded your head silently, making him blink with confusion.

You stood up from the bed suddenly, “Are you done in there?”

“Uh, yeah,” he moved out of your way, watching you closely as you closed the door in his face before he could say anything else.

Maybe this had been a sign that you didn’t want to talk to him but he couldn’t bring himself to leave the privacy in the bedroom to go out where everyone else was. He could hear the faucet running but oblivious to how you wet your face to try and snap yourself out of this strange mood before drying off. When you opened the door, you didn’t expect to see him standing there right in front of you.

“Everything alright?” He asked, halfway in the doorway, walking forward making you step deeper into the bathroom.

“Yeah, everything’s great,” you said with a strained smile, backing away, “Just—what about you? Has it been fun, this is all for you, right?”

“I guess,” Jungkook shrugged, “But it would have been more fun if you stayed.”

“Good thing I came back then,” you couldn’t help but laugh nervously, leaning against the sink counter.

“Good thing,” Jungkook licked his dry lips, “Y/n, about what I was saying earlier… I would honestly like for us together sometime, just the two of us.”

A small, shy smile appeared on your lips as you thought about earlier and repeated yourself playfully, “We’re hanging out right now, aren’t we?”

“I guess,” he blinked in confusion, looking down at you and struggling to keep his composure. Your response was a bit of a let down since he hoped you had come back to see him and he should have known better. You would never take him seriously after his mess with Miyoung and he was always reaching for the stars thinking it could work out.

Plus, you’re too good for him. You always have been.

He can’t explain why, but he’s always felt a sense of ease with you, like everything was perfect. As shameful as it is to admit, Miyoung had reasons to be worried.

When they dated… well, it didn’t stop him from thinking about you from time to time. Miyoung was aware of it too and he looks back on it now and realizes how wrong he was then. It was wrong for him to think about you when he was never able to have you, and he will be much less now.

“Am I wrong? Is it not just the two of us now?” You asked, swallowing the lump in your throat and looking to the bathroom door which was closed some time ago.

“Y/n,” he said it softly but you could sense his warning tone, like you were going to get yourself in trouble. Jungkook wanted to believe you were aware of what this looked like yet he knew there was a chance you weren’t. He couldn’t just go for it.

He could not just go for it.

Not even if you looked up at him with a look in your eyes that said you might want him to…

He could be dreaming it up.

Would you want him to?

No. No way, you would never, that’s how this all started right? You wouldn’t want him the way he wanted you and you’ll go be with someone else while he beats himself up for another failed attempt. He’s not in college anymore, he can’t make the same mistakes.

You do not want him.

“Y/n,” he said with a sigh, “I think we should get out n—“

It was soft but sudden. One second he was giving up on everything he had been hoping for and was ready to go on once again without telling you how he really felt. The next, your lips were on his, barely giving him a chance to feel the tenderness of it before pulling away with a gasp.

“Jungkook,” you covered your mouth with your hand, “Oh my god. I’m s-sorry, I, that was not okay. I shouldn’t have done that.”

You were rambling, apologizing for doing it without asking him first but in all honesty, he couldn’t hear you anymore. There was a strange ringing in his ear that only seemed to stop when he grabbed your face in his hands, and pulled you into a real kiss.

To keep yourself from leaning back too far, you wrapped your arms around his neck and met him the rest of the way. You kissed him back with an equal sense of urgency that had his eyes falling shut and letting himself get lost in the moment. Your lips were soft against his own and his lip rings felt cold on your tongue the first couple times.

At one point you surprised him by nipping at his piercings with a soft tug and it had his hands tightening around your waist, using his strength to pull you onto the counter with ease. It made it easier to kiss you and he let the small sigh you let out guide his tongue between your lips. Your hands were in his dark hair, and you surprised him with the way you took lead of the kiss. It felt like he was melting into you and it was doing things to him.

“Y/n,” he mumbled softly, “I want you so bad.”

You pulled back from him with widened eyes. It was the first time you heard him sound that way and you knew he meant it. He looked at you with an intense gaze and it felt good to be looked at that way by him. You wanted him too, right? That’s why you came back. That's why you were so upset back then. Why can’t you have him now?

What was really stopping you?

Nothing.

The second time he kissed you, you didn’t hesitate from doing more and it had his mouth dropping when he felt your hand trace down his toned chest. He let that feeling motivate his hands to do the same to you and they ran along your sides till he could feel your front. His hands slipped under your top and found your chest, gently reaching to touch you as he kissed you with his tongue.

Your fingers trailed down his navel to the waistband of his jeans, tugging softly and teasingly that you felt the way he sucked in a shaky breath. When he didn’t pull away to tell you to stop, you took it as a sign to go a little farther and undo the button and zipper. Jungkook’s rough fingers caressed your breasts ever so softly but with an added pressure that made you let out a small sigh, especially when he ran his thumb over your nipples.

He released a light groan against your lips when you got more confident in your actions and slipped into the hem of his Calvin Klein’s. You barely touched his growing member but you felt it harden against you, the more attention you gave to it and it was all just exciting to you. His kisses were needy and his rough hands felt so good against your sensitive buds that you couldn’t hold yourself back. You wanted to make him feel good too and you could tell you were.

Jungkook helped you tug his jeans down enough for you to have more reign over him and you touched his bare dick so softly. The first touch was light and teasing, like you were still letting him get lost in the feeling before you actually did anything but it was soft that it made a tingle run down his spine. Goosebumps rose on his skin and blood ran straight to his cock making it easier for you softly palm him to full hardness.

You circled your fingers around his tip, softly running your thumb around the ring feeling him twitch with need and softly sliding down to his base.

His movement grew rougher, he was no longer softly caressing your breasts but more groping, never getting enough for the softness of them. When you began to stroke him gently, he found it hard to keep himself from digging his nails into your flesh to ground himself and it made a hand of his fall to your leg. His palm was wide and flat against your inner thigh, tracing his lips down your jaw and to your neck to try and distract himself from getting too lost into the feeling.

“Fuck,” he huffed, licking his dry lips as he began to slowly fuck into your closed fist, deaf to the sound of music just outside the bedroom you two were hiding in. The bathroom felt even smaller at this point yet he couldn’t bring himself to put a stop to it now. Especially not when your hand began to fuck his cock faster, with more vigor as he twitched in your hold making his nails dig into your thigh harshly.

Your skirt was scrunched up around your hips at this point and he could see the soft blue of your laced underwear and couldn’t stop himself anymore. He had grown too curious to have you and with his hand so close already, he let his thumb trace along your covered folds.

They were already sensitive at this point and his sudden touch made your insides tighten with arousal, your back straightened in surprise and a light moan left your lips. The sound snapped his attention away from his own pleasure and when he did it again, he swallowed your moan with his mouth on yours.

He couldn’t take thing slow anymore, especially not when his dick felt so close to the edge already and was trying not to cum all over your hand and so soon.

You were withering against him, squirming on the counter to feel more of his hand against your heat. Your fingers tightened in his hair when he reached under to the hem of your panties, pulling them down as far as he could. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he tugged them down your thighs. Jungkook pulled away from your lips with a slight groan as he brought his fingers to your lips. He pressed into your bottom lip watching close as you drew your mouth open and took them in. As you licked between two fingers, your hand’s stroking sped up with more pressure that had him pushing them deeper down your throat.

When he pulled them out there was an obvious line of drool connecting his fingertips to your lips and he brought his hand between your legs once more. The mixture between his rough fingers and the slick that now coated them made a tingle run down your spine when they ran along your folds. You pinched the fabric of his shirt as he circled your hardening clit with his middle finger while his index finger began to tease your sensitive labor.

He ran the longer finger down your slit, dipping into the puddle of arousal that formed at your center before using it to wet your clit and massage you gently.

You looked into his eyes as he finally pressed his middle finger into your waiting cunt, giving you a second to respond and he couldn’t help but let his lips slip open with heavy breaths. Your hand stopped its actions as you took in the feeling of him pulling out his finger before pushing it forward once more. Each time felt hotter than the last and it made him want to take things further. When he thought you adjusted enough, he teased the tip of his ring finger in with his middle one and kept a steady pace of thrusting.

At this point you began to stroke him again, rubbing against his mushroom tip where a thick vein was felt along the underside of it. Your hips had began to move with the motion of his hand and you were fucking his fingers into you while fucking his cock with a closed fist. The both of you were left speechless, unsure how long you had been locked away in the bathroom but not caring either.

You felt more impatient than him but you couldn’t help it. You can’t remember the last time you let someone else touch you and none felt quite like this. Jungkook seemed to know where to kiss, where to press or pay attention to and he never left a part of you untouched. Even now as he thrusted his fingers into you, his other hand was at your chest again, fingers pinching your nipple and tugging harshly but it brought little whines from your lips.

“Jungkook,” You were breathlessly calling for him and you’re sure that if your back wasn’t to the mirror, you would be able to see how desperate you looked to him. Your other hand was on his hips, pulling him forward in hopes of getting him to get the hint that you needed more, “Fuck me.”

“What?” He asked with heavy breaths, looking down at the way the tip of his cock pressed against your inner thigh now, “Really?”

“Please,” You found yourself begging, desperately begging for him to give you something and oh, how it worked.

His eyes rolled back at the soft sound of your begs and with a hand on your thigh, he pulled you harshly to the edge of the counter. He placed his hand over yours and stroked himself once, twice, to slick his member with your arousal and his own.

His cock was hot to the touch and pointed straight to your waiting entrance. He had made such a mess of you already that when he pressed his tip into your clit, it nearly slid down from how wet you are. You had to bite your lip to keep from whining too loud when he teased you with that repeated motion, wetting his tip more and feeling the way your walls tightened and released for him.

Your back was fully against the mirror now, legs open waiting for him and you were getting impatient. The anticipo had been building up for too long and you brought your hand between your legs. All it took was a soft push down for his cock to sink into your waiting pussy.

His jaw went slack at the sudden tightness of it, he hadn’t expected it to be so snug. His tip barely pushed against the ring of nerves and your facial expression matched his own when he kept going. He held your thighs open, guiding himself in with a deep breath.

“Fucking hell,” he growled lowly, hands trembling as he kept you open and ready to take him in. He looked up at your eyes, completely enamored by the way your features softened with pleasure. Your eyes were glazed over with obvious lust that made him want to just fuck you into oblivion.

“Oh my god,” your hand circled around his neck, pulling him into a sloppy wet kiss that left him biting your lip softly. He groaned against your lips as he picked up the pace of his thrusting, letting his cock drag against your puffy walls so that you could feel every juncture on his length. Your back was arched into him, your chest nearly pressed against his and he snuck his arm around your waist to pull you firmly against him.

“That’s it baby,” Jungkook groaned into your ear, gripping onto the counter with his free hand to fuck you better. You were on the edge of the sink and he bucked his hips up to reach that pleasure spot he had found with his fingers just moments ago and had you moaned loudly into his ear, “You sound pretty, tell me how it feels.”

“Feels good,” you whispered softly against his neck, lips teasing kisses against his skin that made the veins in his arms bulge, “Don’t stop, please.”

“Ngh, Y/n, beg for me,” Jungkook said with a deep voice filled with lust as he fucked you with all his strength. There were too many layers of clothing between you but neither of you seemed to have the time or energy to tear them off. You were both too focused on the pleasure that came from feeling his skin against yours.

Your legs tightened around his waist forcing more of his length into your sopping cunt and his fingers pinched your sides roughly. Without thinking, Jungkook lifted you off the counter. You clung to him as he stepped back and he needed a second to just feel the way your pussy tightened around his hard, thick cock. He wanted to dig into your guts and it was nasty how badly he wanted to have you cum all over him.

It was so unexpected because you always came off as a quiet, reserved person but here you were letting him tear you in two with his fat dick. Jungkook used his strength to push you against the door, letting you drop onto his length before backing his hips up and pistoning them back into you.

“Fuck, I can’t,” your legs tightened around him with your face digging into his neck, “Jungkook, baby, I can’t.”

“You can,” He whispered, pressing you firmly into the wall, “Come on baby, take it.”

“Too much,” You whined, squeezing your eyes shut as he picked up the pace and you searched around for something to hold. Your hand tightened around the doorknob, trying to anchor yourself as he fucked you so good you could barely focus on anything but the pleasure, “I’m so close.”

Jungkook’s hand held you firmly by the waist while the other cupped your ass, groping you harshly as he fucked you onto his length trying to make you cum, “Cum baby, for me. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you moaned, “Kiss me, please?”

He didn’t hesitate to do so, kissing you with tongue as you clung to him, moaning into his ear and shaking slightly. His knees buckled tightly to hold you up and just as he gave one final thrust to the hilt, he felt your orgasm hit you.

Your walls tightened around him, nearly bringing him to his own orgasm before feeling his tip get flooded with your release. His thighs shook with the pressure of it and he felt his strength leaving him. His abdomen grew tense and he pushed you back to the counter where you let your head fall back with pleasure. You swallowed dryly, panting heavily, “Oh my god.”

You were sweaty, tired and overall unsure what to think but your mind hadn’t cleared yet. All you could focus on was the way Jungkook’s dick throbbed painfully hard when he pulled out of you with a slight pop. You eyed his red member, slightly hypnotized by how pretty it looked and you dropped to your knees wordlessly.

Jungkook watched you slip down on your knees in front of him and it took him a moment to process what was going on. He was hard, so fucking hard he couldn’t think straight and it wasn’t until your hands held his thighs, eyeing his cock hungrily did he realize what you wanted to do. He brought a hand fo attempt and gently brush your hair back, “Y/n, baby, you don’t have t—oh fuck.”

His jaw went slack when your hands circled his base, your lips on his tip and taking him down your throat suddenly. Your nose brushed against the base of his cock, eyes watering as you tried relaxing your throat around him and he nearly stumbled back with surprise, “Y/n.”

You ignored his call of your name, and began to bob your head against his length, your tongue licking along the thick vein you discovered earlier and feeling his hands sink into your hair to guide you, “That’s it, fuck.”

Jungkook looked at his reflection in the mirror, turned on by the way your head was seen bobbing against his length and his body was overheating so much he had to pull his shirt over his toned chest to cool down. It gave him a perfect view of the way his cock disappeared between your lips.

The thought of having you like this hadn’t dawned on him yet but now he couldn’t forget it. The memory would always be ingrained in his mind and although he doesn’t know if he’ll never get a chance to do this again, he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

You gradually began to pick up the pace, using your hands to hold closed fists around his cock to help stroke what didn’t fit in your mouth. You swallowed and bobbed around his dick hungrily, moaning around him and hollowing your cheeks when you would pull your head back until only his tip was between your lips.

As ashamed as he was to admit it, he wasn’t going to be able to hold himself back anymore. Still wanting to warn you, he tried to guide your head off him, “I’m close.”

All it did was push you to take him deeper, stopping when he hit the back of your throat and sucked. Jungkook’s eyes squeezed shut with a loud growl as his orgasm hit him harder than it had in a very long time.

You coughed as his cum sprayed down your throat, thick and creamy with a bittersweet taste that you tried to lick up. You would’ve cleaned him off fully despite his legs shaking but he pulled you off. He pulled his softening dick out of your wet mouth with a huff, panting heavily as he looked down at you.

“Y/n,” his voice was dry, pulling you up to your feet, “That was…”

He couldn’t even get the words out as he watched you lick the corner of your lips and without thinking about it, he pulled you into a heated kiss. You kissed him back with need, moaning against him as his tongue circled around yours hungrily, not caring for the way he tased on you. You only broke away to catch your breath, realization dawning at you as you looked at his messy appearance that surely mirrored yours.

You sat against the counter for a moment, attempting to catch your breath as Jungkook did the same. The two of you were silently readjusting your clothes again and you needed just a moment to yourself. He looked at you, buttoning his jeans back up, “Is everything… okay?”

“Yeah, um, can I just get a minute,” You said with a hoarse voice trying to pretend like you couldn’t see the way his shoulders slumped down. With a short nod of his head, he left the bathroom to let you wash up and for a moment you just looked at yourself in the mirror.

Your reflection looked different, maybe because what you had just done was so out of character and with your best friend’s ex but… why did it feel right?

Jungkook wondered what would happen now, if you expected him to leave the room or wait for you but he wanted to be with you. He didn’t want to walk out and think that because he got something he’s been wanting for years now, he’ll just leave. He knows the others are looking for him, mostly because he’s gotten a few texts now asking where he’s at but he can’t bring it in himself to care. When you opened the bathroom door into the dark room, he looked like a deer caught in headlights, rushing to his feet, “Are you sure everything is fine?”

“Yeah, yes,” you nodded stiffly, “If you want to go out there with everyone else that’s fine. I won’t be upset or anything.”

“Well, I was kind of wondering if you wanted to come back to mine?”

The first thing you noticed the following morning aside from the sun shining down on your face was the heavy arm across your waist. It made your eyes flutter awake with a small huff leaving your lips as you attempted to stretch your limbs but it tightened around you, securing you closer to Jungkook’s naked chest.

“Morning,” he mumbled sleepily into your hair as he hugged you closer.

“What time is it?” You asked awkwardly, trying to sit up making his arm slide to your hips instead. You reached for your cell phone, eyes widening by the number of text messages.

miyoung: bye I was drunkkkkkk 😳

miyoung: did I 🤮 at all?

miyoung: r u alive

miyoung: helloooooooo

A quiet sigh escaped your lips as you read it over. Either she couldn’t remember how upset she was in the car or she’s going to pretend like nothing at all happened.

God, what did you do?

“Y/n,” Jungkook grumbled tiredly, “Lay back down.”

“I should go,” You bit your lip nervously. If Miyoung forgot what happened last night then maybe she forgot about Jungkook asking you and won’t know you… slept with him. Fuck, were you a bad friend?

He dated your best friend and dumped her out of the blue making it obvious he wanted nothing to do with her and here you are letting him fuck you in the bathroom. What did that make you? You had a poor lapse of judgment last night, you acted out of character and hadn’t been behaving like yourself at all.

“Why?” He sat up suddenly, “You don’t work today, right? Why don’t we go grab breakfast—well, brunch.”

You looked down at him, unable to stop yourself from taking in his appearance. He had bed hair, no shirt on and his blanket draped over his waist. He failed to take off his jewelry last night so he still wears silver chain necklaces around his neck and leather bracelets. You couldn’t possibly spend time with him still. It wasn’t right, right?

Just as you were ready to give him your answer, your phone began to vibrate with an incoming call. You looked down at the screen and a picture of you and Miyoung displayed on the screen that had Jungkook huffing quietly and laying back down, close to giving up.

In all honesty, you weren’t in the mood to talk to her. It still bothered you by how harsh she was last night but there’s a chance she doesn’t even remember and… “Hello?”

“Tell me why I have a raging headache when I barely drank last night?” Miyoung said immediately once the call went through, “It’s your fault y’know for upsetting me.”

You couldn’t see her but she was walking on a treadmill in her apartment acting like everything was completely normal. Jungkook didn’t care for your conversation either but he was focused on the way you looked first thing in the morning.

You looked cute, undeniably cute with circles under your eyes and a disheveled appearance. You wore an oversized shirt of his so you wouldn’t have to sleep in such uncomfortable clothes and he loved it. You looked good in his clothes.

Without thinking, he sat up and pressed his lips to yours in a short and surprising kiss. You flinched back with confusion, nearly dropping your phone in the process but he backed away with a small smile. You tried to glare at him but you couldn’t stop from smiling and it annoyed you when he placed a gentle kiss against your neck that made you feel flustered. You almost forgot you were on the phone when he leaned in for a kiss again and one you would surely grant.

“But I forgive you,” Miyoung said suddenly.

“What?”

“I forgive you, I’m over it,” Miyoung said with a shrug you couldn’t see, “Our friendship means more to me than Jungkook and I know you would never do anything that you know would upset me so… it’s whatever. In the past.”

“Wait,” You held up a hand to Jungkook as you said it to the both of them, “When did I apologize?”

He stopped immediately, looking at you with concern as Miyoung went on, “I mean, we both know you were going to. I’m just letting you know it’s alright.”

“No, Miyoung, I wasn’t going to,” you couldn’t help but scoff, “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Technically.

Jungkook raised his brows, surprised by your tone and a little turned on? Was that okay to say?

“I didn’t mean it like that, but you know… you were flirting with the guy who dumped me,” Miyoung said, “It’s fine, whatever, you want to flirt with Jungkook, I don’t care anymore I just thought I meant more to you as a friend.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment as you looked down at Jungkook who couldn’t seem to go more than a minute without attention. He had your free hand in his measuring your size difference and you released a sigh, “You know what, I’m kind of busy right now so I’ll call you later.”

Miyoung wasn’t able to get a word in before you ended the call, turning your attention to Jungkook, “You’re getting me in trouble, sir.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” he said, biting back a grin, “How should I make it up to you? Brunch?”

“You’re still thinking about that?” You asked with a slight laugh.

It was strange trying not to let your best friend’s feelings bring you down too.

“I’m hungry,” Jungkook said, hand on his toned stomach for detail.

“I don’t have clothes or, I don’t know, a toothbrush,” you couldn’t help but sound sarcastic, falling back on the bed with an arm on his chest.

“Don’t worry, I got you.”

In the end you caved to his incessant begging and found yourself dressed as casual as ever with an oversized tee and the skirt you wore last night clashing horribly. The only thing that had you regretting it was what stood [parked] in front of you.

“You’re not serious, are you?” You asked as you watched him walk up to you with a helmet in his hands, “I can’t get on that.”

“You can,” Jungkook said, putting it over your head, “I’m a very safe driver.”

“What about your car?” You asked nervously as he buckled[?] you into the head gear, “Can’t we just go in that.”

“We can but that won’t impress you,” Jungkook snorted a laugh as he got his own helmet on, “Come on Y/n, I won’t kill you, don’t worry.”

With a small sigh you nodded, letting him lead you to the bike and he swung a leg over to straddle it and patted the seat right behind him. Frankly, you didn’t care that you were in a skirt. You know that there’s an appropriate way for people in skirts to straddle something but you cared more about living so you straddled it the way he did. Jungkook couldn’t help but smile as he felt the softer touch of your hands on his waist and without saying a word, he pulled you into him suddenly. Your chest was pressed to his back and your arms snug around his waist.

“Atta girl, no time to be shy now,” he chuckled, feeling you smack his arm playfully.

If he were being honest, he liked this side of you. He’s never seen it before and it was breathtaking and enjoyable. Before when you were just classmates you were still stand offish from him and the only night he got you to open up was the first time he ran into you and met Miyoung. It was short lived and once he dated her, he rarely got to see you alone.

When he got back, you would barely even look at him yet whatever spurred last night’s events seemed to open up new possibilities for you two. You haven’t talked about what happened but he’s expecting it almost excitedly.

Jungkook’s hand ran up your thighs, securing you to him as he started up the motorcycle, feeling the smoothness of your leg and teasing the end of your skirt with a small tug, “Ready?”

He felt you squeeze harder before taking off.

The cafe was small and filled with warmth making this feel oddly close to a date… which is probably because it was? You’re still not sure how to take it.

“Did I really get you in trouble?” Jungkook asked as he cut his breakfast sandwich in half before doing the same with yours. When you looked at him he looked concerned by the notion. You didn’t have to ask to know what he was referring to and you couldn’t help but sigh, “Not really, sorry, it was more my fault than any—“

“Why though?” Jungkook cut you off, “Why is it always your fault? You can’t talk to me now?”

“You know we didn’t just talk,” you bit your lip nervously. You couldn’t meet his gaze and he didn’t like that.

He huffed in annoyance, “But she doesn’t know, or does she? I mean, what does it matter?”

“You dated. She’s my best friend and it bothers her, I already feel guilty for what happened last night—not that I regret it, don’t get me wrong but… well, it’s just confusing and it upsets her,” You rambled, still defending Miyoung even when she was slowly getting under your skin.

“We dated so long ago, it was such a short fling,” Jungkook said with a laugh as he went back to eating, “And she dumped me so why does it matter if you and I get together?”

“I don’t know, I just… she’s my best frie—wait, what did you say?” You met his stare suddenly making him set down his coffee cup to answer.

“She dumped me so why can’t you and I…” he stopped. Did you mean for him to repeat the part about being with you? Did you want him to say it again, maybe use the right words this time?

Why is he saying Miyoung dumped him? You remember the day exactly.

Miyoung called you while you were studying in the library late one night, not fully in tears but clearly under duress and she couldn’t stop herself from letting her emotions get to her. She went on to tell you how Jungkook dumped her suddenly over a phone call because he wasn’t interested anymore and was just using her or something.

You remember because you left the library to go comfort her and you almost ran into him on campus and he wouldn’t even look you in the eye…

He dumped her because he got bored, that’s why she asked you to stop talking to him. He was just like every other guy according to her and you owed her the promise to avoid him. It was you who introduced them anyway and…

Why is it that any guy you’ve ever thought you’ve liked would fall for her instead, only to dump her and in return make her ask you to not speak to them again?

Jungkook wasn’t the first so when she asked you to avoid him, it bothered you a little but you soon got over it and did as told.

You always do as told without questioning it.

“You broke up with her.”

He chuckled, shaking his head no, “I was going to but she beat me to it. I don’t know how honest you want me to be this early in the day.”

“Tell me,” you urged him on.

“I wanted to break up with her but I had this sick feeling that I wasn’t going to be able to talk to you as much anymore or it would be awkward so I stuck it out,” Jungkook said it with a shrug, “But then she dumped me and suddenly you won’t even look at me so it was worse for me, I guess.”

Your eyebrows stitched together with confusion, “What are you saying? Why did you care if I talked to you or not? You went for Miyoung the second you met her—“

“That’s not true, actually,” Jungkook confessed, deciding if you wanted honesty he would give it even if it embarrassed him, “I wanted you.”

“And when I met her, I was obviously there at the bar trying to talk to you but she kept butting in and next thing I know, you were off talking to Yoongi and ignoring me,” Jungkook went on, “To be honest, I was kind of insecure back then, like really insecure and I was trying to get you to notice me but everytime someone would cu—“

“Jungkook, stop, I just… no, you did not like me, you dated Miyoung,” You cut him off, fidgeting in your seat anxiously, “It’s fine, it’s in the past.”

“No it’s not fine and I asked how honest you wanted me to be and you told me to tell you so I’m going to,” Jungkook said more seriously, “I was insecure, alright? I had just moved to the city and I shared class with this pretty, incredibly smart girl who would barely give me any time of day. Honestly it was kind of depressing, I was kinda depressed at the time and I needed a boost to talk to you so I asked Miyoung and… she said you were into someone else so I was pretty bummed out. Then she’s kind of just everywhere and she actually tries to talk to me so when she asks me out, I say yes but I realize I still have to see you.”

“And I liked being around you even though I probably shouldn’t have because technically I was dating her at this point and I realized that I practically screwed up whatever chance I might have had with you,” Jungkook couldn’t stop himself anymore. He was saying whatever was on his mind, barely giving you time to process any of it before continuing, “Yes, I know it’s fucked up because whenever I thought it might work and I might catch real feelings for her, you would came around and they just went out the window. So it was getting harder and harder to keep pretending and I wanted to break up with her but I was worried you wouldn’t talk to me anymore.”

“She beat me to it and dumped me because she was bored and I was relieved, honestly, but then I see you on campus and you can’t even look at me anymore,” Jungkook cleared his throat, “Then life went on, I moved away, moved back, ran into you again and…”

“And what?” You asked breathlessly, lips dry and completely frozen in your seat.

He looked at you warmly, “I found you, everything just came back and I knew I didn’t want to lose you a second time. I wanted to ask you out the first night at the bar but you didn’t even want to talk to me so I tried again last night and you were so ready to blow me off when Miyoung came along. I don’t know what made you come back to the party and I don’t want you thinking I’m some sleazy guy who acts like that with just anyone. I was just… it was unexpected and I had been waiting years for something to happen between us.”

Suddenly, this didn’t feel like an easy brunch inside a warm and cozy cafe anymore. In all honesty, it felt a little suffocating now and you don’t know how to explain it, but you didn’t want to be here. So much has just been thrown at you and you don’t think you can handle it all.

What did he mean that he liked you first?

Why had Miyoung told him you were into someone else? You learned to stop sharing who you liked with her so long ago and had never once told her anything like that in school. Why couldn’t she just have asked you? Why did she ask him out after he made it known he wanted you?

You don’t care that he said yes, that really was in the past for you. Now you’re more focused on why someone who was supposed to be your best friend would act so sneaky? What did she gain from it?

Why did she lie and say he dumped her? Was it just so she can paint him as a villain and make you not want to talk to him anymore? Why would she do that?

“Y/n?” He called your name waiting for you to respond to him but you just sat there stunned, “I’m sorry, I know I was a piece of shit for dating her when I wanted you bu—Y/n.”

Your mind is filled with questions that you couldn’t answer and it was overwhelming. The cafe felt suddenly overwhelming and you just had to get out of there, so you did.

“Earth to Y/n, I don’t know how long you plan on ignoring the world but I know you’re not too busy with work to ignore your friends.”

Tacky, Taehyung was so very tacky leaving a concerning voicemail. Who left voicemails these days?

And he was being dramatic, he’s acting like you’ve fallen off the face of the Earth but that’s not true. You’ve just been holed up at either the office or your home for the past week, avoiding any call or text from anyone so you could be alone with your thoughts.

Alright it’s been over a week, almost two and maybe it is a little concerning but you’re telling yourself you’re just being dramatic.

“Y/n you better open the door before I break it down,” Taehyung’s muffled voice boomed from the other side of your front door and you begrudgingly went to let him in.

“Relax, I’m not dead,” You muttered under your breath as you let him in.

“Damn near!” Taehyung said loudly as he let himself through the door, “What is up with you? You haven’t responded to any text I was beginning to get worried.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled as you flopped down onto your couch, “I’ve just been tired.”

“Too tired to answer the phone?” Taehyung asked sitting down next to you, “Miyoung, I get. Ignore her all you want but me? What did I ever do to you? What’s up with you? I haven’t talked to you since the party. Did something happen?”

With a small sigh, you let your head rest against the back of the couch, “I slept with Jungkook.”

“Really?” Taehyung seemed genuinely surprised, “So fallout with Miyoung I’m assuming? Look, I personally don’t get why you try to make her happy but she’ll get over it. Did you like it? Like him?”

“Yes, I don’t know, I’m confused, I don’t know what to believe anymore,” you admitted, “And I feel so dumb because this shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Alright well I need you to rewind and explain things better so my pea brain can handle it,” Taehyung made himself comfortable, “You’ve gone Ghost for over a week, I want to know why. Was it because of Jungkook? Miyoung? If you think sleeping with him makes you a bad friend the—“

“She’s a liar,” you cut in, “And it shouldn’t bother me so much because she’s my best friend but that’s why it bothers me, Tae. I’ve known her for so long, and I’ve always tried to be a good friend to her but it was never enough. So I tried harder and harder because who else would be there for me like her but… now that I’m looking back on it, I don’t think she’s ever cared about me as much as I care about her and it sucks, honestly.”

Taehyung wanted to tell you so many people cared about you but he wanted you to say whatever you needed to say first.

“You know what Jungkook said? He said Miyoung knew he apparently liked me before and still asked him out—and lied about how I felt about him,” You said, “And okay, why would I fight over a guy with my best friend but now that I’m thinking about it… it’s fucked up right? She lied that he dumped her and begged me to avoid him. You saw how she acted the other night just because he talked to me. What was that about?”

You weren’t going to go into full detail about the past because you owed Jungkook enough to not tell Taehyung about everything he said but he needed context.

“And I know it’s in the past so I should just move on but I can’t,” You admitted, “I still like him but if I… I get with him Miyoung would never let me forget that she dated him first, even if he liked me. It’s just all so confusing and overwhelming and it sucks that I’m letting it get to me like this but… it’s not fair.”

Once again, Taehyung didn’t say anything but he could tell you were feeling emotional by the way your voice began to shake.

“I like him, and not in the way I liked him before but I like this new him too, and it’s not fair that even if she lied or even if she snaps at me about shit that doesn’t matter, I will still feel guilty,” You finished.

“Y/n,” Taehyung cleared his throat, “Obviously I don’t know everything that happened back then but… I think that if you feel for him what he feels for you, it shouldn’t matter what she says. And honestly, I just… I wish you could see that there are so many people who care about you so much and you don’t have to put up with being belittled by someone who is supposed to be your best friend just because you have history. It doesn’t matter if it’s in the past, if it’s upsetting you now then clearly it still matters so don’t try to downplay your emotions.”

“But she’s my best friend,” your lip quivered.

“Then what am I?” He forced his lip to quiver as well.

“You’re my best friend too,” you sniffled.

Taehyung mimicked your expression, “Then as your best friend, I’m telling you to stop trying to make excuses for people who don’t treat you right—and go fix it with this guy.”

“Bu—“

“Y/n, I know you,” Taehyung sighed, “And I know that you’re not going to do anything if you think it upsets her but she doesn’t deserve a friend like you. You deserve to go be with whoever you want. I don’t care about what she says and at this point neither should you. I know that right now it’s confusing and you’re overwhelmed but if you’ve been ignoring me you’ve been ignoring him—I hope because if it’s just me that’s cold—and if the girl I had feelings for ghosted me… I’d be hurt.”

Jungkook was not hurt. He was… y'know, perfectly fine and that’s what he kept telling himself. It’s not like you made any real sign of feeling something for him too after hooking up and maybe that had just been a casual, one time thing. He can handle that, he’s grown.

Sure, he sort of spilled his damn heart out to you just for you to storm off on him and not reach out to him in days but he’s not bothered by it at all. That’s why when his two closest friends called Saturday night asking him to go clubbing… he said yes.

It was a chance to possibly let it go, forget it even, but it wasn’t easy. He was aware that he was possibly reading too into what happened the other night but could you blame him? You’re suddenly all about him and spend the night at his place where you wake up in his arms before going out to eat. It was like the perfect set up for a what if yet it went all wrong. Clearly it was his fault for being hopeful.

“So who else did you say is meeting us here?” Jungkook asked Hoseok for confirmation as he passed him a drink. The music played loudly in his eardrums that it was borderline painful and he wanted to leave more than anything but there was that stupid what if in his head.

“Jimin’s joining later on and so is Namjoon and his girl,” Hoseok said as he made sure everyone else had what they ordered, “Oh, and Y/n too, I think.”

“Y/n?” Jungkook tried clarifying. Hoseok smiled, “I know, it’s weird, Y/n seriously rarely comes out but all of a sudden she’s starting to more. I mean, lately she has, probably since around the time you got back?”

Jungkook let his friend go off to do whatever he wanted while he stood there seemingly frozen. Tonight would be the first time in days that he sees you—talks to you—and he’s not sure how to handle it. There’s nothing he can do about it either because he hasn’t confided in anyone yet but it’s painfully obvious that he’s waiting for you.

Yoongi noticed first, like he usually did, and tried talking to him, “What’s up with you? You’ve been antsy since the party, will you finally tell me where you ran off to?”

“Yeah man, don’t think we didn’t notice when you disappeared,” Jin said with a slight wink, “We just want to know with who.”

“Y/n.”

He could see you from the corner of his eye when you joined them at a table they had found. You came with Jimin by your side and a shy smile on your face. He assumed it was Hoseok who had screamed your name considering how he hogged your attention with a huge grin and Jungkook felt nervous all of a sudden.

As embarrassing as it was, Jungkook had nearly forgotten what he was asked until he looked back at Yoongi and Jin who looked at him expectantly. A nervous laugh escaped his lips as he shrugged, “Did you guys miss me too much?”

“Sneaky guy, don’t change the subject,” Jin laughed before letting Jungkook shift his attention back to you, making it painfully obvious where he was focused.

You felt a little nervous to be out tonight but after what you had talked about with Taehyung, you knew he was right. You acted strange with Jungkook after he opened up his side of things to you and it was plain wrong. Part of you isn’t even sure if he’s actually interested or not since he didn’t reach out to you this week and it made you wonder if he was really upset.

And if he was, would that mean that he didn’t want to speak to you?

“I need a drink,” you mumbled to yourself more than to the others but it made a good excuse to at least try. You looked at Jungkook for the first time since you got there and cleared your throat to awkwardly ask, “Jungkook, do you mind going with me?”

“Get me another, will ya?” Yoongi asked with a sudden wink that made Jungkook do a double take. Was he winking over the drink or him leaving with you?

He nodded his head in response and without question followed you to the bar once more. The bar was packed from all sides and Jungkook had to fight his way to the counter working as a barrier from people pushing at you. If he were to be honest, he wanted to skip the questions and get close to you again but he had to stay strong. He needed answers, right?

“Are we good?” Was the only thing he could think to ask.

You looked at him warmly, sitting down on the stool at the counter with him standing close to you, his hand itching to reach for you. Your lip caught between your teeth as you nodded, “Are we?”

For some reason he didn’t expect to be asked that back. It made him wonder if he thought you were. It was undeniably embarrassing to have you walk out on him like that after he thought it had been going good but did that mean he was truly upset with you?

“Yeah,” he nodded stiffly, blinking nervously and looking to the bartender who noticed them a while ago but had to attend to earlier customers first, “But uh, I guess I am just a little confused by it all. Did I do something to upset you? Was it what I said?”

“No, no, I’m sorry, it wasn’t you,” You blurted out, “It was me, I wasn’t thinking straight and I feel really bad about leaving like that.”

“Then why didn’t you just call or even text me?” Jungkook asked honestly, “I… I think that’s what bothered me the most.”

You looked down at your hands, “I'm sorry. I didn’t talk to anyone, seriously, and I did think about reaching out to you but I don’t know, I’m really bad at explaining things.”

“Well can you try? I know it was sudden but I thought it had been going good,” Jungkook said and the longer he tried getting to the bottom of this, the more annoyed he felt that you couldn’t just say it, “I think I’ve made it clear now how I feel about you and all I’m asking is for you to do the same.”

“I—yes,” you stumbled over your words, “I mean, I’m trying to be clear now but I’m doing a shit job at it. I did have a good time with you but it was honestly, really out of character for me to yknow… and then the whole Miyoung thing and I’m sorry but it was just a lot all at once. It’s definitely not fair to you that I acted that way, but I do have feelings for you.”

He let out a sigh, feeling unsure how to take it and stuck between wanting to smile in relief and wanting to be upset. You didn’t text him, nothing. How is that fair? He wanted to reach out to you but after the way you left he thought he would just make it worse if he kept bothering you. The bartender finally got to you two and he let you speak first as he tried gathering his thoughts a little more.

“But what does this mean?” Jungkook asked now, “I want you and you want me, right? So, what does this mean Y/n because right now I’m still confused by it all. If it’s because of Miyoung then—“

“No, it’s not, honestly,” You said, reaching for him, pinching the bottom of his shirt between your fingers to pull him toward you, “I don't care what she thinks anymore, I like you and I should have just said that from the beginning.”

The pull was harsh and had him looking down with his lips slightly parted in surprise, “Y/n, you’re not being fair.”

You knew it. You knew you probably ruined your chance now and coming to see him had just been a waste. You nearly let go of him when he continued, “You can’t ignore me and walk out on me and then just tell me you want me too, expecting everything to be fine.”

He had to be tough. He can’t just let it go even though you’re saying everything he wants to hear.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” you said with a slight frown, “I can leave if you want me to.”

“Ugh,” he groaned, unable to help himself anymore as he closed the distance between you two. He circled an arm around you and pulled you into a hug, “Why would I want you to leave when I’ve been waiting for you to get here?”

“What?” You asked, hands finding his waist as he held you, “I thought you were mad.”

“I was,” Jungkook said, “So you don’t know how annoyed I am with myself right now. All it takes is for you to sweet talk me a bit and give me those eyes of yours for me to fold, that’s embarrassing.”

“Jungkook,” you said, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have walked out like that. I should have texted you and if you want to be mad, I get it. If you want to think it over an—“

“And what if I don’t?” He asked looking down at your pouty lips and glossy eyes, “What if I just want to let it go and be with you without any more problems? Can I do that?”

His tone was surprisingly firm and you couldn’t do anything but nod, “Okay.”

It didn’t change the fact that you still felt bad because it seemed like you were being let off the hook easily but what else could you do? Jungkook really did seem ready to move past it and that’s why you came here in the first place. You just hadn’t expected it to be so easy and it made you feel bad.

When your drinks were ready, you opened up a tab despite his protests to just put it on his and the two of you got back to the group like nothing had happened. There was still a lot that needed to be talked about before you told anyone about what happened but it’s not like they were all oblivious.

Jimin, for instance, had been keeping an eye on you two at the bar since you left and had seen the majority of your conversation but he didn’t bring it up. Instead he watched silently for your little glances in each other’s direction and shy smiles. It was obvious to Yoongi too that Jungkook was in a much better mood now than earlier and it wasn’t hard for him to figure out why.

Perhaps for the same reason you had suddenly started joining them more often, being more comfortable too.

It had been a slow start for the two of you after the night at the club. Neither one of you seemed to want to rush into things but at times there was a strong pull. Tonight was going to be your first official date but you were keeping that information to your friends until you figure out if this works or not.

Jungkook picked you up from your apartment and drove to a nice restaurant where the two of you sat for dinner. He was very attentive to you, making sure your glass was always full and all your needs met and it was a surprisingly good feeling to be taken care of this way. You’ve dated in the past but you can’t say you’ve always chosen the right ones. You had a tendency to lean toward the ones who were overly forward with you because in your mind there was no doubt they liked you.

At first it would be nice but then you would realize that it was more of a conquering feeling to them than actually wanting to be with you and you would be left heartbroken. That’s part of why you rarely put yourself out there.

Jungkook is different though, he always has been. When you first met him he was forward but aloof. You never expected him to actually like you because you couldn’t see the signs clearly and the way things turned out it just never worked. Now that he’s been back he’s almost like an entirely different person in the sense that he’s ready to go for what he wants and it’s sort of admirable.

If you had been able to do that back then maybe you would have had him sooner but there was no point in dwelling in the past. He was here now and so were you. Honestly, knowing that there's something that’s been brewing between you two for a long time made it easier to feel confident around him.

“Why are you so pretty?” Jungkook couldn’t help but ask even if his mouth was full. He was trying not to smile too as he said that.

“Oh my god,” You felt your face heat up, tempted to hide behind your hand. It took you a moment to think of a response and it was surprising for the both of you to hear you say, “Why are you?”

Jungkook cleared his throat awkwardly in hopes of not seeming too affected by your words. It didn’t work and he broke out into a grin, “I wasn’t expecting that.”

Dinner was filled with small flirting here and there. It’s crazy how well you and him seemed to get along when you stopped worry about other things. He made you smile, really smile and you made him feel giddy whenever he talked to you. He wanted to spend his night with you and nobody else.

“Are we going to meet with everyone else after this?” You asked as he pulled your chair out for you and you got up from the table. After some back and forth arguing, he eventually took care of the bill despite your protests and the night felt near its finish much to your disappointment.

It was the weekend and you’ve been trying to go out with your friends more and they had asked to meet up later—but both you and Jungkook had to tell them maybe.

“Do we have to?” He asked, taking your bag in one hand and holding yours with the other, “You think they’ll get a little suspicious if we’re both gone?”

You walked with him across the restaurant toward the entrance. You weren’t paying much attention to the people you passed, “I’m sure they know.”

Your response surprised him a bit and he couldn’t help but ask, “Really? Has it been that obvious?”

“Yeah, Jimin called me out on it the other night,” you shrugged, reaching for your bag to look for chapstick while he led you to the front. You couldn’t meet his eyes because you sensed where this was going.

“What’d he say?” Jungkook asked slowing his pace for you.

You blinked nervously, distracting yourself with your lipbalm as you tried sounding casual, “He asked why we were being so sneaky at the bar.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened slightly, opening the door for you as he said, “Damn, what did you say?”

“I said because we’re together.”

You tried being slick about it and slide past him without much attention but it was useless. He stood in front of you with a smile on his face, “Oh, we are? I don’t remember you clarifying that. Can you remind me when you asked me to be your man?”

“Oh god, don’t act like that,” you whined shyly.

“I’m sorry baby, I gotta hear you say it with your own words. What’d you tell him?” Jungkook blocked your path, hands finding your waist and keeping you from running. He liked making you flustered and you had no idea how you left him with a racing heart.

You pouted, looking at him seriously, “Jungkook.”

The two of you stood outside the restaurant looking like a playful couple that maybe had one too many drinks but it was all Jungkook’s fault. He wouldn’t let it go to rest and even had the nerve to smirk as he teasingly said, “That’s not how you say ‘Boyfriend’.”

“You’re ridiculous, we talked about this,” you said, focused on his chest to hide your embarrassment.

Jungkook just grinned mischievously, “What did you tell him?”

“I said you were my boyfriend,” you mumbled into his chest.

“Your what?” He asked trying to step back and get a good look at your face, “Come on baby, don’t get shy on me now.”

You whined, “Jung—“

“Your what?” He was laughing now, not caring for whoever might pass them and stare because he felt good. Too good to be affected by a stranger’s judgement.

“My boyfriend,” you sighed with embarrassment, “You heard me the first time, goof.”

“That’s what I thought, alright, you ready to go?” He asked with a chuckled as he took your hand in his ready to walk with you to the car.

“Y/n?”

You both stopped in your step, wondering if it really was your name you had heard. You looked back toward the rest, eyes threatening to widen with surprise as you looked at the person who stood at the entrance. She was with a group of people all headed inside but when she saw you, she stopped.

“Miyoung, hey,” You cleared your throat awkwardly, your demeanor changing completely.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” She asked as her eyes trailed behind you where Jungkook was looking at you with worry and confusion. He wanted to make sure everything would be alright, knowing how Miyoung would react. He didn’t want your good night to be ruined over something petty.

“What do you mean? I’m uh, I was just having dinner,” you said stiffly, looking back at Jungkook which proved to be a mistake because it seemed to solidify his presence to her.

“With jungkook?” She asked with a snappy tone. Miyoung shooed away her friends, telling them to go in without her as she approached you.

“Yeah.”

“Why?” Her brow arched with amusement, clearly ticked off and in disbelief by what she saw before her. Like usual, the situation seemed much worse than it really was.

It was time for you to be up front. What’s the point in putting yourself out there and letting yourself open up to him if you wouldn’t have the courage to make it known? You swallowed dryly, “Because we’re… dating.”

Jungkook had stepped back from the situation, not wanting to worsen it so he stood off by a light post not too far for a smoke break. He tried distracting himself with lighting his cigarette but he couldn’t help but freeze up when you said that. It brought a shy smile to his face as he waited for you to finish.

“No, you’re not,” Miyoung scoffed looking back at Jungkook as if betrayed by him too. You blinked with confusion, what did she mean you’re not? Did she expect you to be joking or back down? “We are.”

Miyoung stood in front of you now, slightly taller, “Y/n, you’ve been ignoring me for weeks and now you’re saying you’re dating my ex boyfriend? What kind of friend are you?”

This time it was you who scoffed lightly, looking away from her to try and process what you would say but you had spent too much time already trying to think it over, “The thing is, um, I’ve been kind of wondering the same about you.”

“Me?” She looked down at you genuinely taken back, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat and tried to gather the courage to just say it. You could feel Jungkook around, listening but giving you space and it was like a push start for you to say what was really on your mind, “I’m just tired of feeling like I’m the only one who puts effort into being friends and I don’t see the point in always fighting. We’re not together, we don’t have to be friends if it always has to be some sort of argument. It’s getting tiring at this point and I think maybe it’s best we just distance ourselves from each other.”

“You’re kidding, right? I’m like the only person who really cares about you, Y/n. Don’t act stupid.”

Although that made Jungkook want to intervene and tell her how very wrong she was, he didn’t. He didn’t want to speak for you. He knew you could speak for yourself and he should let you, even if he was itching to cut in.

“No, I don’t think you are. I know you think you are so you always tell me you are, but you’re not. People like me for me and not just because I’m friends with you,” you said coldly and your tone was definitive it left her speechless. It had to be one of the first times you were ever remotely close to snappy with her and she didn’t expect it.

“I know it’s hard for you to think of me as my own person but I don’t have to do what you want,” You said, “And I think you only boss me around and act sneaky behind my back because you’re threatened by me.”

She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. What you said left her rendered quiet. You waited too, waited to see if she would tell you to stand down but she didn’t and you didn’t give her time too, “ But I think I should go, I don’t want to bother your dinner any longer—and uh, maybe we just shouldn’t contact each other anymore.”

Jungkook had forgotten about his smoke break, jaw nearly to the floor at how confident you sounded. It was obvious you had never spoken to Miyoung that way but she couldn’t even deny what you said. You did it so casually and like you couldn’t care less which made you seem mature compared to Miyoung’s tantrums.

“Why was that kind of hot?” Jungkook asked as you finally reached him under the light post. Miyoung had stormed off with an evil glare that he ignored telling you how “You’re done”.

He looked down at you with hazed eyes, amazed and enamored. You scrunch your face curiously, “What was?”

“You, right now,” He chuckled, reaching for your hand in his, “Kind of scary too. Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“You’re exaggerating,” you tried to laugh it off, “I wasn’t mean, was I?”

It was so dumb of you to still be worried about it but you couldn’t help it.

“No, you were calm and casual but that was so scary,” Jungkook gasped dramatically, “Because I know you were mad at her—… it was mean but only a little and so very very hot, and you’re doing all this in that dress…”

Without meaning to be, Jungkook was sort of like your hype man. You were worried about being too harsh, you still are, but he made you feel better about it. Part of you will never not feel in the wrong for being with Jungkook but you’ve gotten the rest off your chest and it felt good. Maybe you were a bit mean or maybe you weren’t, you could never be entirely sure but Jungkook seemed to be on your side no matter what.

“You like my dress?” You asked him with a teasing smile as he held the car door open for you.

“I really do,” he played with his lip ring, looking down at you.

“Then take it off me.”

“Oh fuck,” Jungkook whispered to himself as he looked around the parking lot, “Here?”

You broke out into a laugh as you sat down. Your words got to him easier than you thought and he sighed, “You can’t say that shit to me, Y/n. I’ll actually do it.”

“Let’s go back to my place and see if you can keep your word then,” you told him, watching him close the door with a tense jaw just thinking about it.

You can’t do this to him. You can’t be shy and cute one second and then act like that. You can’t. That’s not fair to him. How is he supposed to not be affected when you say things that get his heart racing while looking so cute? Was this what it would be like dating you? Just constantly caught by surprise?

He did like the way you stood up for yourself. He liked that you spoke your mind more freely than before and he takes joy in hearing you flirt back. In the beginning it felt like he was the one always trying to get you to talk to him or notice him and now you’re saying things that make his head dizzy.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, yknow?” Jungkook asked after the painfully long car ride back to your apartment. He was removing his coat as you sat on the edge of your bed to undo your shoes.

You let out an amused laugh, “What do you mean?”

“I mean… you act all shy and innocent and then you say shit that…” Jungkook let out a groan, “I can’t explain it, you just drive me crazy.”

“In a good way or bad way?” You asked, following him with your eyes as he closed the space between you two until he was at the end of the bed standing in front of you.

“A good way,” he said softly, “I’m finding more sides of you I’ve never seen.”

“And you like it?” You asked shyly, feeling his hands curl around your jaw.

“I do, a lot,” he confessed brushing his lips against yours, “I don't know what I would’ve done if I lost my chance with you again.”

::.

NO PART TWO

oml yall this took me forever to come up with 😭 I went through at least six other ideas before deciding on this one and I can’t tell how happy I am with it yet but I tried my hardest not the disappoint 🥹 I miss being more active and taking to you all but life has been so busy lately

please let me know how you feel and I promise I’ll try to be more active 🫶🏽

permanent taglist: @notmyfaultbutours @rerefundslocals @fandems @sugaluvmyg @guvgguk @kimyishin @libra04 @kooromiwrld @classycreationcupcake-blog @cherrymonlightt @nikkiordonez12 @asking4-sanity @thvlover @saweetspoiled @shaybts-blog @babycandy111 @jeonninja @yellowcupid08 @02010802faves @skzthinker @unnatae @beautywine @lilliankoo @annenakamura @lesoleile @burnahtsw @kooloveys @ku-ku @chaelvrx @minnie-mouser22 @whoa-jo @marvelbun @sunnikthv @kochycooky @acielelyseen @giselleswifeee @ilikeitlikethatt @bangmechanpls @lvr2seok @badbyeyoongi @jaerisdiction @watermelonjuice15 @artmsmaid @xyahrinx @angeleen777 @jooniesxbby @dream-cvtcher @jksjx @kissyfacekoo @joyjunk @caro134340lina @hyunjinswifeee @oldermenluverrr @caro134340lina @olivialeesstuff [taglist is too long so I’ll have to make two versions of it]

[inkedbybarnes]

unclear

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: everyone thinks you're dating bucky, except yourself.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: 18+ minors dni. miscommunication (i love this trope, sue me), angst with a happy fluffy ending, quite stubborn reader, implied smut if you squint, usage of petnames such as baby and doll. lowercase for basically everything.

i haven't finished anything in decades, but i suddenly had an idea just now and decided to write it down. surprisingly, i finished it? might have a lot of mistakes and such since i haven't proofread it yet. also, sorry for using lowercase for this, i kinda like how it looks. hope you enjoy this one!

dividers by @cafekitsune!

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“you're confusing me. so... you're not dating bucky?”

wanda tilted her head, confusion etched on her face as you spent your weekly girl's night with natasha. it usually consisted of eating food you all desired, drinking until you got wasted, and spilling secrets to one another.

although tonight, you weren't sure if you had any secrets to spill.

"as far as i know, no. we're just friends, teammates. nothing else," you answered with a heavy sigh. "can we talk about something else?"

"hold your horses, young lady! we are not skipping this topic again. you obviously want a label but he isn't giving you one!" wanda protested. she has been constantly asking about you and bucky's relationship for the past weeks, and you always had the same answer. you don't know.

"have you never talked about it with bucky? he looks at you like you'd get lost if he looks away for a second. not a single soul in the tower would think that you're just friends," natasha interjected, taking another sip from the bottle of beer she held. she had a point, as always. "if he's just playing with you, which i highly doubt for barnes, then just end whatever that is. you deserve better than having doubts and confusion, babe."

you've tried asking him multiple times, but every attempt felt like you were stepping on his boundaries. after years of being controlled by hydra, you knew it was possible that he'd hate the feeling of being rushed and entering a relationship that could potentially feel like a cage to him.

but natasha was right. your "relationship" was no longer anything friendly. he sleeps in your bed, claiming he slept better in it, and wakes up beside you to shower you with kisses. none of you even tried to hide it after some time. you always cooked your meals and ate them together, casually feeding one another and stealing kisses in between. you even stopped going on dates and you had no idea if you were exclusive. you deserved to know what your relationship with bucky was, but you were too scared to lose everything once you asked.

"we're not dating. i only see him as a friend, so you can both stop worrying about me." you lied through your teeth, your chest aching as you realised how stupid this was. you sighed and faked a smile, shifting the attention to natasha. "so, tell me about your date with steve! how was the first ever date of captain america since the 40s?"

wanda was distracted by the question, immediately bombarding the now blushing widow with questions. on the other hand, your mind flew away for a minute, finally deciding to get an answer from bucky.

the annual ball that tony stark held for, well, nearly anyone, was nearing. you only had two weeks left, and you haven't even gone out to find something to wear. it was hard to find any motivation to do all that effort when the person you've been waiting to ask you as his date hasn't asked you yet.

although, bucky had a tendency to get shy and hold back. you knew that. so here you were, standing behind the doors to the gym, knowing that bucky would be training at this hour. you still haven't asked him the question you were supposed to ask him, so you decided to do it all at once.

after you've finished your small pep talk, you opened the door to enter the room and your first instinct was to search for bucky.

considering that he was a huge chunk of a man, he was easy to find. however, the sight of him standing in front of a woman that was too close for your comfort wasn't delightful.

he didn't see you entering the room since he was facing the opposite direction, conversing with the agent that happened to be training as well. she had the sweetest and flirtiest smile on her face, bringing her hand up to his arm, slowly caressing it. you didn't mean to easily hear their conversation as you walked closer.

"so, do you happen to have someone for me to have as a date for the ball? i don't want to be lonely on that night, sergeant," the agent said with an extra pout, swaying her hips side to side like a child asking for candy.

"oh, yeah? i think i have someone for you," bucky replied, breaking your heart into pieces with how enthusiastic he was with his answer. "i'm sure you'll—"

you sniffed. unconsciously. not knowing that your tears were already falling, causing your nose to get stuffy. how pathetic, you thought.

your little sniff caught the attention of both the agent and bucky, looking at you in shock. although, the girl was more pleasantly surprised than the opposite. thankfully, you already had your tears wiped before they could see them.

"oh, we didn't see you there!" she greeted you with your name. "we were just talking about our date for this year's ball. who are you bringing?"

"i haven't decided yet, no one's worth it even if i try," you answered bitterly. "so you're going together?"

before bucky could answer, the agent already had her arm wrapped around his, happily smiling at your question. "yeah! amazing, right? i actually thought you two had a thing, but i guess not. glad things worked out in the end."

and that was your last straw. "well, enjoy yourselves. i have to go and find natasha."

you turned to leave, ignoring the loud calls of bucky. you were glad that you never asked him about your relationship and the ball. you were going to be hurt either way.

you spent the next hours stuck in your room, body covered with a thick sheet as you ranted about your frustrations to friday.

it was silly, you knew that, but you refused to call natasha and wanda to remind you of your stupidity and decided to let an ai robot listen to your problems instead.

"and he even flirted back! answering coyly like a teenager. he's 107 years old, fri!" you whined, not noticing the new nickname you've given the alternative intelligence. "ugh, now i have a broken heart and no date in sight. how did it get to this?"

"perhaps you must discuss this matter with sergeant barnes first. your conversation ended quite abruptly with no clear conclusion."

"no, i don't want the truth rubbed on my face," you said, grabbing another piece of tissue to sneeze in. "you restricted him from entering my room, right?"

friday answered with a yes, then you thanked her for listening and decided to get some sleep after tirelessly crying for hours. you knew you had a team meeting with the avengers in a bit, but you couldn't bring yourself to even walk a few steps.

your sleep ended and you were woken up with friday's reminder that it was time for dinner with the team.

with a groan, you pushed yourself off your bed. bucky would be there, but you were too hungry to care. it would be awkward, of course, but you had to face him at some point anyway.

your feet padded towards the door, opening it after trying your hair in a bun.

"ah, fuck."

you jumped at the voice and the body falling to the floor as you opened the door.

"bucky?" you asked, still in shock. "were you sleeping outside of my room?"

you watched bucky stand up, his hand massaging his aching nape as he looked for your eyes. "friday won't let me in. i waited outside instead. i guess i fell asleep during that," he explained, a frown forming on his face. "did you restrict me from entering our room?"

your eyes widened at his choice of words. our room. he considered your room to be his room as well. while that would've made you melt in an instant, you were still hurt to entertain that possibility.

"this is my room, barnes. not yours, not ours. and yes, i had you restricted because i couldn't face you yet. what do you need anyway?"

"i wanted to see you, talk to you." a flash of pain crossed his eyes. "whatever happened at the gym, it's—"

"bucky, you don't have to explain anything to me. we're just friends. it's my fault i assumed we were something. i just need some time to get over it."

"but i thought we were something as well..." he replied, his voice was almost as quiet as a whisper. "i thought we were dating."

"were we?" you asked, genuinely curious. "we never.. you never said anything. i mean, yeah, i wished it meant something, but i thought you wouldn't want to be trapped in a relationship with me, so i just waited. apparently, i was right and i can't blame you for that."

"right about what? the thing that happened in the gym this morning?" he asked. you nodded in response. "i know it sounds like i was flirting back, well i didn't know at the moment, until i asked steve who was clueless but he called nat to help me out and explained that it looked like i was flirting back. i wasn't. i was just going to suggest sam as a date for her. i would never agree to anyone."

oh. so he just wasn't interested in anyone at all.

"besides this one girl who's constantly been in my head. that's if she'd even give me a chance and say yes. i fucked it up badly before i could even ask her properly."

you knew what hoping got you, but you couldn't help but think that he was talking about you. he'd have to be clueless to say all those things in front of you only for it to be someone else.

"i love you, baby. i should've told you that, i should've made it clear sooner. i'm so sorry i let you have doubts when i could've been reassuring you about what i feel for you."

"bucky..."

"i would never feel trapped with you, doll. only you made me feel so much love and freedom. i'd be a fool to let go of that. i'm sorry it took a few hits and harsh words from natasha to make me realise that i wasn't giving you enough when you deserve everything." he held your face in his hands, bringing you closer to him. you felt breathless, tears threatening to fall but this time it was out of joy. "hydra made sure i had no voice to express myself. now, i'll use it to let you know that i love you so fucking much that it hurts when you're not around. i promise to work on it. if anything like this happens again, ask me, baby. demand things from me. i'll give you everything in a heartbeat."

"even if i ask for your arm?"

he laughed, a sound that was music to your ears. "it's yours baby. although, i do like fucking you with my metal—"

"bucky!" you scolded him, hitting him lightly on the chest.

"sorry, baby. couldn't help it. missed my girl so much."

his girl. you loved hearing that.

"it's only been a few hours. don't be silly," you reminded him, but you knew you also felt the same.

"i miss you even when i don't see you for a second." you couldn't help but laugh at his words. "something funny, doll?"

"sorry, natasha said something similar about you a few days ago," you answered. "i'm sorry for assuming so quickly, bucky. you deserved the chance to explain."

"and you did let me explain. i can't blame you for assuming and getting hurt when i never gave you the confirmation to believe otherwise. don't apologise for it, baby."

"i love you," you said, causing him to grin widely.

"yeah? you love me too?" he asked, a hint of pink tinting his cheeks. "this is official now, right? we're dating?"

you nodded happily, giggling as he landed a kiss to your mouth. "so, you wanna go to the ball with me?"

he kissed you again. "don't. i'm supposed to be asking you that. i had an entire thing prepared for you, i even dragged half of the team to help me out days ago. besides wanda and natasha, of course. couldn't let them tell you about it."

your heart swelled, he was already planning to ask you before all of this misunderstanding happened, and it could've been solved with communication. lesson learned, indeed.

"well hurry because i can't wait to say yes," you playfully threatened him, kissing the tip of his nose until the loud rumble of your stomach interrupted your sweet moment. "ah, right. i was on my way to eat dinner when i opened the door."

bucky laughed, his eyes twinkling witth adoration as he kept his eyes on you. "we can't have you starving, that's for sure. come, let's get you something." he held your hand, and dragged you to the kitchen. he turned to look at you with a playful smile. "wanna cook together like the old times?"

you smiled. "like the old times."

in the middle of your cooking session, you heard whistles and claps along with the footsteps that entered the kitchen. you both turned to find the rest of the team with shit eating grins.

"finally! so is this real or do we need to smack your heads?" tony asked, his hand placed on his hip.

"it's always been real, stark," bucky answered, wrapping his arm around your waist. "except this time, i'm making sure my entire world knows it."

"i think everybody knows you have a thing for each other, barnes." clint added.

"i meant my entire world, not everybody." bucky looked at you with awe. "she's my world."

bucky's answer gained various loud reactions from the team, mostly calling him a cheesy old man and fake gags, but there you were, cheeks heating up as you looked back at him with the same amount of love, if not more.

and he did ask you to be his date to the ball the day after, surprising you with his so-called secret plan.

a year later, he surprised you with a ring as he knelt on one knee.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[ophelieverse]

please please please i need you to write something for my man Aegon I love how you write for him😭

➳♡before fire takes it all

Aegon II Targaryen x fem!reader

-summary:normally Aegon would ignore Helaena and her strange behavior but,since his wife Y/n got pregnant,he can’t help but think about the words his sister said the moment he announced the news.

-warnings:set in season 1,pre blood and cheese and luke death,teen pregnancy(both Aegon and reader are sixteen),talk about child death,Aegon being paranoid and keeping secrets,Helaena predictions,classic asoiaf warnings,reader can be of whatever house you want.

-thank you so much for the request and let me know what you guys think,send you all my love🩷

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It hurts.

Love,Aegon thinks.

Love hurts.

His heart bursts,his heart explodes,his heart climbs down his throat and assaults his temples, squeezing and compressing them until his eyes darken,until it scars the tormented irises and pupils.

Loving too much is fatal.Or not?

Isn't that so?

Live well,live badly.Does he lives at all?

“I don't know”,his conscience responds.

Aegon would like to know,but he doesn’t know.He doesn’t even think he knows what the right way to live is anymore,he’s terrified that he doesn’t know what it means to live anymore.

How can he live?How?

How can he pretend that everything is alright?That everything,in the future,is going to be alright?

Normally Aegon wouldn’t think about these sort of things,he used to live day by day dictated by his own selfish desires.But since he had got married two years ago,something in him changed completely.He started to understand what it meant to love and live for someone else,to wake up every morning early to just watch her sleep so soundly next to him,to stay sober at every hour so that he could remember her kind words,her sweet face and calm voice.Wanting to be a different version,a better one,of himself only because she showed him that he deserved happiness and love like everyone else and in return he only wanted to give her the best he could.

But golden necklaces,earrings,beautiful flowers and the most expensive dresses could not fill the hole that was slowly opening under their feet,a hidden tragedy ready to swallow them whole and to break their hearts and souls forever.

Aegon wasn’t one to listen to his family,he longed for his mother love and his father attention,he despised his older half sister,made fun of his younger brothers and mostly ignored his other sister.Only this time,something happened,something made him look in Helaena direction for the first time and his ears had caught every single word that she had whispered to herself.

His wife,Lady Y/n,the most beautiful and kind woman,a innocent young girl with a heart too big for her body,was pregnant.It was true,what they said about expecting women,she was glowing like the most precious diamond and her happiness about becoming a mother,the mother of the lover of her life child,couldn’t be contained by her shiny eyes and big smile.

«The Maester said that signs suggest is going to be a boy.»Aegon had announced one day at the breakfast table.

His mother had smiled kindly and Aemond had nodded giving his shoulder a warm squeeze.It was still too early in the pregnancy to understand whether is was going to be boy or a girl,but still Aegon had hoped that the Maester was right.Having a son was a dream that he never dared to imagine or to say out loud until then,the living proof that he was going to be better than his father ever was for him.

Helaena was sitting next to him,quietly playing with a wooden butterfly,all lost in the secret gardens of her mind when she muttered something: «A son for a son.»without even understanding her own words.

As their mother and brother were talking,Aegon turned slightly toward her.Usually he wouldn’t pay attention to his sister and her strange behavior,he was disgusted by all of those insects that she so lovingly brought everywhere like some pet on a leash and he was so relieved when his father had betrothed him to Y/n instead that her.He wouldn’t even lister or look over her if in the past,her silent words of warning weren’t revealed to be the sour truth.Aemond had lost an eye just like she had said.Maybe if back then he had listened to her,he would have helped his brother and nothing would have happened.

«What does it mean?»Aegon had whispered to her confused.

Helaena wasn’t looking at him,her fingers gracefully tracing the toy«They only want the boy,not the girl.»she said as if she didn’t heard him,nodding to herself.

Aegon left the spoon that he was holding,a sensation of nausea was crawling up his stomach,his heart beating faster«The boy?My boy?Who wants him?»he asked.

His sister stayed quiet,every second felt like an agony for him.His mind became of stone and a part of his was laughing for the fact that he was actually really listening to her,to her crazy words and empty head.But still,something,maybe his father instinct that was already part of him,told him that what she was saying was another dark truth.

A boy and a girl,she had said.He was going to have both,twins.He couldn’t even imagine it,praying that they would take after their mother soft and gentle spirit but also his fierce nature.Y/n would have been delighted to know that they were about to have twice of the love,but what would she said if she knew that someone wanted their son?

«The rats.»Helaena answered then,her eyes bore holes in his as she turned to look at her older brother,shiny lilac flowers watered in fear and condolences.

It had been months since that conversation and Aegon couldn’t stop to think about it.Every night,as he watched Y/n sleep next to him while he so gently caressed her belly where two new lives were growing,he could still feel his sister horrified stare on him and her heavy words in his ears.

Y/n is talking to Aegon,while they were lying under the covers of their bed.Her head is on his chest,her hair smelled of flowers and peaches,her voice sleepy and always so tender as his hand was staying on her swollen stomach.She's talking to him about her day and he can't listen to her,he can't even see her behind his pale eyelashes that lower,behind his tired eyelids that are threatening to close tightly.

With the fingers of his free hand he massage them,the nail of his index finger finds a tear that was hidden there,at the corner of the right eye,and uprooting it,let it be dried out by air.

Aegon was exhausted.He had difficulty to sleep when every sound made him jump,every shadow in the corner gave him a heart attack.

He would like to stop thinking,he would like to find a way to turn off his mind,to blow up the candle that kept his brain from sleeping and this crazy thought makes him understand that he had become even more incredibly pathetic than he already was.

Aegon was terrorized.If he already ignored Helaena,now he was avoiding her like the plague in fear that she could say something else,or worse,talk about her thoughts to Y/n.

Y/n,his beautiful and sweet wife,already had so much to think about.Being eight months pregnant was taking a toll on her,even though she never stopped smiling,he could see that she was tired and that her body couldn’t bare it anymore.He couldn’t let her worry about something that his weird sister said to him,not when the Maester said that she needed peace,calmness and affection.And even if he hadn’t said that,how could Aegon tell her what was keeping him awake at night?

He set more and more knights to follow his wife around to make sure that nothing happened to her and his children,the Maester came to check on her at least once a day and when he wasn’t with her,his mother would keep her company in the solarium.He had personally hired people to hunt the rats of the Red Keep.Aegon so often dreamed of being just like the armors that Ser Arryk wears,cold, motionless,empty,that he has come to believe that it would be beautiful,it would be fulfilling,to be something without emotions and rest in a corner without light.

Aegon had still to meet his son,both of his children,after he had dreamed of him,of them,for so long.And yet already someone wanted to take his baby away from him.

The flashes of the veins on his forehead tingle and he clash,he crush himself,against an imaginary expanse of water that slaps his brain,crushes his lungs with long ivory tusks,disfigures his face.

Aegon was blocked.

He was stuck in some claustrophobic scribbled box,in a rusty bubble of his faulty soul,and he was afraid see beyond.But he could see the future,the one that Helaena had tried to warn him about.

He could see beyond and,the certainty is disconcerting,he clearly see that the worst nightmare of any human being,what wakes up men in the middle of the night and scares children with simple shadows,is the awareness of being chased:no one can ever escape from themselves,no one has ever escaped from destiny.

Not even him,especially him.

Because Aegon knew already,tasting it on the tip of his tongue,that what will happen is was going to be his fault.Certainly not because of Y/n.

«Am I boring you?»Y/n voice was tired but still sweet«Forgive me,my days are monotonous,predictable and highly boring.»she huffed,caressing his hand above her stomach.

Ever since she had started showing,her husband treated her like the finest and most delicate porcelain.All she could do during the day was read in their chambers,walk through the gardens and pray with the Queen.Not exactly a vivacious life,especially since Ser Arryk followed her every move.

She yawns,she apologizes,and Aegon finally slam the lumpy eyelashes and look at her.

Y/n is smiling,innocent,carrying his children and then his body moves by itself,he act instinctively, and get her closer to him.

A hand behind her nape,a strong and fast grip, almost stuttered,and Aegon feel her words on the palate,he eat them between his lips moving on her open mouth.He kiss her badly,and he hurt himself,he will hurt both of them,he kiss her following the dull rhythm of his ears,he kiss her and he pass the noise of his thoughts to her.

Aegon feels a hole in the center of his throat,a knot of cries,and this makes him sway and covers his eyes with torn red lightning here and there,it breaks his mind.Yet he keep kissing her.He have to kiss her.

Kissing Y/n scratches his soul,kissing her stirs up his fears and reminds him,in the pause of one of her breath,the so natural way in which pleasure and pain mix,get tangled,whenever pieces of skin graze and play with the tongues and crests of a fire.Fingertips caressing purple flames,white sheets reduced to blackened shreds,a plate of ice lying on the jigular.

Kissing Y/n now is like taking a sip of salt.Filling her mouth,having her under his palms,feeling the boiling heat of her cheeks against his nose and against his upper lip.

Y/n forces Aegon to give her every good part of himself,even those he thought were lost by now,and she does it with twisting tongues or with an annoying clash of teeth.All it takes is a simple touch and he’s willing to give her the world.She makes him wanting to be a better person and he so scared to fail her,that he wouldn’t be able to protect her and the most precious things that they created together.

«Aegon.»she whispered on his lips,eyes fluttered closed.

«I love you.»he said without thinking«I love you and our children.And I didn't think I could ever love,not this way.»he confessed,his voice trembling as his mouth was on hers again.

«I love you too.Are you alright sweetheart?»Y/n asked placing a hand on his warm cheek,she could read him like a open book but sometimes even her couldn’t understand him completely.

Aegon wished he could tell her all about what was going on in his mind.To share with her his deepest fears,to let her hold him and tell him that everything is going to be alright and that they will be safe and together for all of their lives.

But when she starts kissing him in a different way,like a helpless girl who would let herself do anything from him,when she starts kissing him with a teenage heat,a heat so in love and so lost, then he would like to do something else.

He would like to yell all the terrible words that Helaena told him,he would like to tug on her and burst her stupid and crazy soap bubbles in front of her eyes and he would like to do it just to remind her who he really was.To remind his sweet Y/n that so willingly loved,accepted and cherished him,that believed that with him nothing could touch her,that he was still a dragon and dragons are known to burn people.

Aegon doesn’t answer her,he just lets his forehead on hers with his eyes closed.

«You don’t have to worry.»Y/n murmured against his skin«You are not like your father and our children already know that,they love you just like I do.»she promised him,their hands interlaced on her belly.

He had voiced his concerns about fatherhood the moment she told him that she was with child,his child.Children now.And she had spent countless nights reassuring him that he was going to be a good father,a better one,unlike his.That he was going to be there for them,but now he knows that he can’t escape his own fate.His father shadow will forever be there to remind him that they are just the same:bound to fail their families.

“Stop it,please.Stop holding my heart so tight in your hands,that's enough.”Aegon thought.

It was in moments like these that Aegon remembered that Y/n was just a girl,a frightened sixteen years old who lives every second with her chest open,her heart too visible to anyone,too exposed.The feelings,the emotions,painted between her bright eyes and lips,make her an easy target,a sacrificial lamb,a too good person who can easily be stabbed in the back.

Her goodness and naivety makes her vulnerable and Aegon knows it,Gods,he knows it.

Because Y/n is not,in the slightest,capable of defending herself,she is not even able to understand the reality of the universe,she does not come to terms with the subtle and treacherous truths.She does not accept the existence of evil in the world,she does not accept the possibility that often what is considered good and right,is not really good,is not really right.

So how could Aegon get her away from the black that drips from his nails,scars,thoughts?Y/n thinks she knows how dark his soul is,she thinks she's got it,but he know she doesn’t.

It will never be like this.

«Aegon.»she calls for him again as soon as she realizes that his mind is wandering too far.

Y/n throws his name on his skin and he swallow the panic that warms his esophagus,which runs through his every rib,as he block her head in his hands,almost in a trap.

Aegon push her to lie on the mattress,make her collapse between the pillows almost as if he had beaten her in a duel,and he hovers on top of her relaxed body,carefully holding her stomach.

Y/n doesn't tremble.

He’s are literally assaulting her and she lets him do it,she agrees,she welcomes him between her legs,in her heart,in her mouth that moves a little away from his and then falls on his eyelids that are still closed.

Aegon wish he could tear his eyes out,blind himself with huge metal spikes.He doesn’t let anyone get so close to him,he’d never done it and now more than before he wished didn’t do it.Because now they would see it,they already saw it.It was evident,under the lights and everyone eyes that his legacy was about to be born and die all in once.

Even the rats will see it.If someone dared to direct their steps towards Aegon,if someone dared even raise their head towards him,they would see his pupils and find Y/n and their children in there.

At the center of all his thoughts,of all his hopes:the end of an entire life that has bent over itself in the hope of scraping together some more time and living it with them.

So what's wrong?What binds his eyelashes in a white spider web?Could Helaena be right or he was being paranoid again?She was right about the fact that Y/n was carrying twins,the Maester had confirmed it months ago,but could she be right about the rest?

Then he felt it,against his warm palm and his heart skip a beat.A little kick,yet strong and determined to be felt.

«Looks like someone woke up.»Y/n giggled,looking down at her body.

«I didn’t mean to wake them.I’m sorry.»is all that Aegon can whisper and he doesn’t even know what he’s really apologizing for.

Y/n listens to him and suddenly recognizes something in the tone of his voice.She relaxes her limbs under him even more,completely wipes away any trace of tension as if someone had just cut the thin threads that moved her body,and she sulks as she touches his lilac eyes that he still deny her,stubbornly.

«Why are you so sad?What happened?»she said,concern covering all her beautiful face.

It’s not what happened,but what could happen.

Aegon forced a smile on his lips«A bad dream.That's all.»he lies,shaking his head.

Thats what he prayed every night,that it was all a nightmare and that he would wake up soon.

Y/n rubs her fingertips on his eyelashes and he feel her lips lying against his cheekbone.She’s smiling.

«Don't worry.I just found the last sleep crumbs that were hiding from you and threw them away. They were the ones who held back the bad dream and now they are gone.»she explained to him,peppering sweet kisses on his face.

Aegon eyelids rise on their own and he clash with the flickering image of his wife looking at him and bringing to his face her index finger on which one of his eyelashes is placed,almost a crescent moon caught in the air and hovering towards the earth.

«Do you want to make a wish?My mother always told me to do it,but I have to admit that almost none of my wishes ever came true in this way. Maybe I was asking for impossible things,out of my reach.Same thing with the shooting stars.Do you want to try anyway?»Y/n was rumbling,now he remembered why she was friends with his sister.

Aegon leverage his elbows,without getting too far away from her and look at her strangely«What?»he asked confused.

His cheeks mottled red and it seems to him that the way she bites her lips is yet another punch against his anesthetized emotions.

«Forgive me,it's such a stupid thing.Please forget it.»and while she is saying it she moves her nail in the act of throwing away his wish that has taken on the common form of a pale eyelash.

Y/n gesture makes the eyelash roll down and it swirls over itself and chases the earth,chases its tail,forms several open circles into which he stick his dream,his nightmare,his hidden thought.

The eyelash is lost on the red carpet and Aegon don't see it anymore.

He look for Y/n gaze again as she pushes him back into kissing her.She asks him,clumsily,to let go of those silly words of hers.The words of a girl that was still too young and forced by her father to grow up too fast,a girl hat was still a child herself with all of her fantasies and fairytales.A child that will raise children soon.

Because Y/n was better than Aegon,she is,even if she doesn't know it,and she showed it to him so many times that he has now lost count of the occasions when he felt at fault.Occasions when he realized he don't deserve her.

Aegon prefer to ignore this reality of the facts,he prefer to put his lips on her collarbone and bite slowly,resume and rummaging through her fertile body,one hand in her hair and the other under her nightgown,and grab as much as much as she offers him.

And Y/n offers Aegon everything,always.

«No wish was ever fulfilled?No one?»the question comes out of his teeth before he can control it,it pours out as his mouth moves over her belly that he suddenly feel quiver.

She is laughing.All three of them are,he realizes as he start tracing with his fingers his children imaginary features on the skin of her stomach.

«Maybe two of them.»Y/n says,referring to the lives she created inside of her«But I found out that my wishes only come true when I look at myself in a puddle.»she laughs again with her mouth open and then moves her head into a pillow.

His fingertips tingle on contact with her skin and his stomach closes into a knot the moment he notice how the intimacy that his movements has turned into familiarity.Because that is what they were going to be soon,a family.

«When did you looked at yourself into a puddle?»Aegon suddenly asked,giggling a bit when another kick met his hand.

Y/n hand found its way into his messy silver locks«The day that my father had accompanied me here for our betrothal.»she tells him,a warm feeling in her chest at the memory.

«It was raining.»he said,he remembered perfectly the first time he saw her.

He remembered her father fussing all over her wet hair,trying to adjust her dress and to make her look presentable.But she was still the most beautiful and vulnerable creature that Aegon had aver seen.A little wet bird in a golden cage.

She nodded«Before entering the Keep i took a deep breath and,as I stared at my reflection into a puddle at my feet,I secretly wished that the husband i was going to have would love him as much as I love looking at the star.»she smiled lovingly down at him.

It came true.Aegon felt his heart exploding in his chest,he loved his wife more than anything in the world.It was so easy for him to love her,how could he not?The thought that she had to wish for something like that,for something that for him was like breathing made his eyes flutter with little tears.

Aegon moved an arm and he already knew that he will hold her hand,remaining palm to palm,as he already know that her fingers will chase his,that they will squeeze,gasps.Wrists banging against wrists,veins in contact.

The time of a whole life that slips away.

«I have never made a wish.»he confessed then.

He just took,he just wanted.

Oh Aegon,what a stupid mistake.

He stole the dreams of his future child,he had plundered entire experiences of the past,and yet he could have simply asked.With courtesy,with kindness.With a little humility.

What a stupid mistake.

«You must have had a really bad dream.»Y/n whispers in her voice broken by his caresses,and then leans and puts her forehead against his as he rise to look at her«But it’s never too late,you can still have your wish.»she reassured him.

No he couldn’t and maybe they should stop talking,stop wasting time.They both should just exchange their saliva and shut up.Pant,moan obscenely and stop everything else.Eliminate among them the layers of soul,the remnants of some childish hopes,and join like empty bags.

It would be better this way,Aegon recognize this too,just below the surface,just below the peel of his chest,at least admit with himself that it would be better that way.He should stop discovering her hips with words,with confessions,with Helaena confusing words,with half-truths:it's too risky.

He should just close himself and unite with her only the bodies,discover the consistency of the painless choices and stay there stationary,inside an empty and deep gap in which the arms and legs move frantically without ever finding anything to hold on to.

This was his life once,before her.

Aegon had endless possibilities of oblivion,between the broken lines of the light palms,he had everything a young,spoiled prince could ask for.

The simplicity of superficial human relationships flowed through the buttonholes of his fingers and he continued to be unhappy,stubbornly perpetuated his pursuit of unhappiness,but he didn't know it,and therefore he really wasn't.

Or maybe yes?Maybe a part of him knew that?Is that why his chest is burning now?Because now he was finally happy for the first time and he didn’t wanted it to end?

Because now Aegon has Y/n and he managed to create something pure and innocent and beautiful with her,giving them all of the good qualities he didn’t knew he possessed.

Y/n seems to listen to his every secret and fear,to feel his breathing change and become noisier,deeper.She place a hand on his abdomen, slowly,she traces with her fingertips first his palm and then also his wrist,then also the blue vein,and repeat his name,repeat his name,repeat his name again.

Aegon enchant himself in front of the movement of her mouth and listen to the ticking of her heart that stretches until it pulls a painful fist on his gums.

He’s an adult now,a husband and a father.He should behave as such and leave the butterflies to the kids and remember that him,in his stomach and belly,only have the worms of rotten apples.

This happens to those who never make a wish. Didn't he know that?

«I would kill for our family,even innocent people if this means keep the three of you safe.»Aegon suddenly said,voicing his thoughts out loud«Would you still love me after that?»the question is sour in his mouth.

Y/n opens her eyelids to the sound of his question,frantically slams her eyelashes,those eyelashes,and swallows with difficulty.The cheeks are even redder and the ears are also red,the eyes are shiny.Atoms of soul and innocence:they agglomerated together and formed her,a little girl composed of glass and cobwebs,bubbles and feathers.

The bravest Lady he had ever met.

«Of course I will love you.My heart is your for eternity.»she replies and doesn't hesitate for a moment«And I would do the same for us.»she added with a whisper.

Her love for him is equivalent to a black hole in which he could immerse himself and observe a boundless horizon of stars broken and stuck in an icy ground.

She loves him.

And she knows that Aegon loves her too.But right now he can't even answer her,to tell her that he’s sorry,that he’s scared,that he reciprocate her feelings with the same intensity or that maybe he reciprocate them in an even more desperate way than her,crazier.He wish he could tell her that he wished they had more time,that he wasn’t who he is,that he wished that they were born in a different place and had different lives to share forever.

Y/n face is beautiful,her forehead is smooth,no flickering lines to scar her tranquility,and the skin near her eyes is crumpled from the day they got married and started to live a life together.It's the restrained cries,the sleepless nights,the quarrels,the misunderstandings,the voracious kisses left on them like square pieces.

Y/n looks at him,her eyes are still shiny,and with her fingertips and palms she clings to his camisole.

Sh clings to him and Aegon doesn’t feel any weight,he doesn’t feel any pain,no discomfort.Then at least one thing shines certain and bright in his mind:she has become the very consistency of his body.She has entered his limbs,without him noticing,and she is so close to him,beyond the blood and the breaths,that her hand is now an extension of his,her chest is his,her back is his,her lips are his.

And they would be able to see it,all perfectly together in the faces of their children.

And it is not a mere matter of possession,just an arranged marriage to unite two houses,this is not the truth and it will never be.It is something ancestral,like being destined to meet her,being destined to belong to it,being destined to live there,despite time and space.

Aegon and Y/n were sitting on the opposite ends of a timeline,at two distant points in human life, so far away that they saw each other like blurred halos,and they wanted so much to find the other,they have desired it so much,so much,that they have decided to tilt the axes of existence,to hang on to them,and to reunite with an interweaving of hands.

They had bent their faces,touched their souls by ticking of nails,and nothing was the same again.What a stupid mistake they made,something that their innocent son will pay one day.

Aegon felt like he was on fire,his whole body was trembling and his heart ached in his chest«Y/n…I…I-»but what could he tell her?

He could push her away from him,go ahead and just do it,but on his bones he will still find her shape and her footprints.If he looked for her,looked for her in him,he would find that she was everywhere.

«Y/n,I’m…I’m really sorr-»he tried to choke out what he could.

«Do you know what I wanted when I first looked inside a puddle?»Y/n didn’t let him finish,instead she kept stroking his face lovingly to help him calm down.

Aegon doesn’t move and she puts her index finger against his right temple,light.He knew that,from where she was from,it usually rained during the end of the summer and that she loved playing outside with her siblings and mother.She was the one that taught Y/n to look inside poodles and to dance in the rain,something that she would teach her future children too.

«I wished I could see myself.I wanted it intensely,I really wanted it with all my strength,as I never wanted anything in life.»Y/n started to explain him.

All of her life was planned for her,from the moment she came to the world,by her father that only saw his daughter as piece of chess to move on the board in order to gain power.She didn’t even knew who she was if not Lady Y/n,a proper and polite young girl ready to marry in the royal house.But now she knew who she was,what she liked to eat,to read,what to do in her free time and it was all thanks to Aegon that had shown her how to be selfish for the first time and to live for herself.

«And I see myself now,I can see myself,but I'm not happy.Because I have a new wish,much more important:that you can see yourself in the same way I see you,the way our children already see you.Then yes,i would be happy.We would both be happy.»she told him,sincerely with a little smile on her beautiful face.

Y/n had plundered his last feelings,which were nothing more than bread crumbs left attached to the eaten crusts.If the world fell,the sun fell,all the snow,the hail,the rain and the lightning fell,even the rainbow.He will make fire pour from the sky,he will spill blood just to keep his family alive and safe besides him.

Aegon doesn’t say anything,he moves forward on top of her and kisses her one again.He has a wish now:time.The only thing he wanted was time,more time to see his children grow up and become beautiful people,time to spend with them and to teach them how the world works,to help them and hold their hands,to protect them when they were scared and to remains them that he will love them forever.More time with Y/n,to love and cherish her,to grow old with her,to make her smile and laugh at the most inappropriate times,to caress her sweet face at night as he watches her sleep.He just wanted more time,he deserved it.

«How about,the next time that rains,we go outside,just us.»Aegon murmurs on her lips«I have a wish to make.»he continued with a small smile.

And he prayed the gods,whoever could listen to him,that it would become true the moment Y/n giggled and nodded her head.He hoped but hope can do nothing against an already written destiny and then he will be ready to go to war.

[jamminvroomvroom]

congrats on 5k queen! you’re writing is so brilliant beyond belief and you deserve all the love and support this site has to offer. can i request lando+angsty smut (the best combo)…prompts along the lines of “i don’t think im ever going to love anyone the way i love you”//“i don’t think i want to love anyone else”

how did it end?

ln x famous fem!reader

in which it ends, until…

i love this fic with my whole heart. thank u sm for this request, anon, and for being so absolutely for gorgeous and kind <3 kicking off the 5k celebration with a big, sad, sexy bang! lemme know what you think, hugs n kisses

songs to set the mood: how did it end? by taylor swift

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, angst angst angst, fluff, happy ending! exes to lovers, just. a lot going on. sad!lando, sad!everyone, so many feels, r is a big deal model, alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking

4.1k words

one gasp, and then…

“how did it end?” the woman strokes your arm, soothing, tentative.

you don’t know her all that well, she’s signed to the same agency as you, you see her in the halls sometimes and sit next to her in makeup chairs.

you stare blankly at her, registering. news travels fast apparently.

you smile, small, fake, tilting your head to the side. you mumble something about different schedules, timezones, right person, wrong time. she watches your face intently, with sympathy. you want to throttle her. she’s being kind and you despise her for it right now.

“i won’t tell anyone.” she affirms, her fingers still smoothing over the skin of your arm.

yes you will, you think. all of her friends, the rest of the building will know exactly what you’ve told her by the time you get to your meeting. you don’t begrudge her, though, that’s the nature of the industry.

“well, it was good to see you.” you nod, even go in for a quick hug, and then you speed away, beelining for the elevator. the ride is short, your managers office somewhere on the third floor and you shuffle down the corridor, ready to be informed of what your life will look like for the next three months.

fittings, shoots, paris trip.

mhm.

swimwear season, charlotte tilbury, meeting with the vogue journalist.

cool.

week off, few days in london, monaco grand prix.

no.

“what? no.” you splutter. out of habit, you reach for a necklace, frown when you realise it’s no longer there.

“what do you mean, no?” she narrows her eyes at you.

“i can’t go to the race. no.”

“girl, i love you, but did i ask?”

“you know i can’t-“

“you won’t have to see him.” she reasons.

“but what if i do? he’s obviously gonna be there, and the events before and after- no. no.”

“lando norris is not gonna be the end of you.”

you stifle a laugh, one that sounds more like a strangled cry.

what if he already was?

-

look who we ran into at the shops,

walking in circles like he was lost

lando stares at the shampoo.

specifically, the one you use. used. he can’t be too sure anymore, he supposes.

he’d popped out for a loaf of bread, about an hour ago. he didn’t want to acknowledge how long he’d been staring at the women’s toiletries section.

you seemed to live on, everywhere. lando could see you in his apartment, the passenger seat of his car, the back of the garage. even the fucking supermarket wasn’t safe. you were very much alive, moving on with life, and yet you haunted him like he’d killed you himself.

perhaps he had, in a way.

the basket grazes the outside of his leg.

that’s the shower gel he’d buy for you, the one you only used when you stayed with him in monaco.

there’s the tampons you asked him to buy, crying back at home on your- his bed.

oh, and there’s the shampoo that you made him buy, the one that you told him made his curls feel extra fluffy when he was between your legs-

“lando?” a voice calls, drawing lando out of the mist.

“oh, alex. hey.” lando croaks. he hasn’t noticed the lump in his throat until now. he clears his throat, running a hand through his hair.

“what you doing, mate?” alex asks, eyebrows furrowed. he scans lando’s face, puffy eyes, watery.

“shopping.”

“for women’s shampoo?”

“no, no, just… looking.” lando stutters.

“when was the last time you slept?” alex’s voice is laced with concern, apprehensive. he doesn’t know what to say to his heartbroken friend.

lando smiles weakly.

“i’ve been sleeping.”

alex sighs.

“okay, when was the last time you slept properly, then?”

lando’s shoulders visibly sag.

“about a month ago.”

-

we hereby conduct this post-mortem

“we can’t do this anymore.”

the words fall from your lips in a whisper, but they reach him like you’ve screamed them at him. he sits opposite you, in the arm chair, so far away, only a metre or so.

“i know.” lando breathes shakily.

“i don’t want this but…”

“yeah.”

it’s been such a good year. you’re in love. it’s not enough. there’s too much distance, too many outsider opinions, too much longing for someone who’s on the other side of the world.

he’ll be in london. you’ll be in brazil.

he’ll be in australia. you’ll be in amsterdam.

it’s too much.

“i love you, though.” you remind him meekly.

“don’t know how to not love you.” he sniffles.

your heart shatters, the pieces flying over the room, spilling across the floor. they mix with the splinters of his, painting the room red. all you feel is blue.

you cry in his arms when he takes you to bed, his own tears spilling over your collar bone when he buries his head in your neck, licks over the marks he’s left there. to remember me by, he’d muttered dryly.

when you’re both finished, he lays there for a moment, still on top of you. damp with sweat and tears, the taste of one another still lingering on your tongues.

“how is it possible that i miss you already?” he pants, lips grazing just below your ear.

“i get it, lan. i’ve been missing you for a while.”

you’re gone when he wakes up.

and so, a touch that was my birthright became foreign

-

come one, come all

it’s happening again

the empathetic hunger descends

there are about six cameras pointed at you when he asks the dreaded question.

you’re in new york, sat on a talk show hosts sofa, lit by stage lights and his inquisitive eyes. two hundred people sit in the audience, on the edge of their seats waiting for you to spill your secrets.

“so, what happened there, with lando?”

you plaster on the fakest smile to date, crossing your legs anxiously.

“we’re both just so busy, you know? he’s doing amazing things in f1 and i’m all over the place with work.”

“we love both of you over here, it was sad to hear.” he sympathises, adjusting his tie and leaning back in his chair. his fingers drum over the wood of his desk, waiting for more.

vultures. everyone is a vulture.

“and we still have a lot of love for each other. he’s a wonderful person.”

there are tears in your eyes and bile rising rapidly in your throat when you shake hands with the crew, the host, and retreat to your dressing room. you stumble into the en-suite and throw up. then, you fall onto the sofa and cry. you fix your makeup at godspeed and reply to the text from your team, inviting you to drinks at some rooftop bar, promising to meet them there. you punctuate the text with one too many exclamation marks, feigning excitement.

“we still have a lot of love for each other.”

translation: i can’t understand: how did it end?

-

lando watches your interview. of course he does. he watches everything that you do, watches the way you set the world on fire.

he can’t help himself where you’re concerned, like an addict craving the next hit. you look so pretty on tv, glowing. you look fine.

god, why do you look fine?

he hates himself for hating just how fine you look. he is not fine.

“he’s a wonderful person.”

your words ring in his ears. they anger him, because if he’s oh-so-wonderful, why aren’t you here? why isn’t he there with you, waiting backstage? why can’t you just hate him? why can’t he just hate you? maybe you will, if he shows you just how not wonderful he can be.

he gets drunk that night. forces max to hit the clubs with him. sticks his tongue down a pliant woman’s throat. doesn’t ask her name. let’s her invite him back to her place. it has to be her place, he can’t fuck someone else in your bed, the one you used to share. he leaves minutes after he’s pulled out. he’s sure she’s lovely, too good for him and his bitter fucking heart. he feels utterly disgusting.

lando goes home, scrubs his skin red, and then does it again. he doesn’t go to sleep, watches from his balcony as the sun begins to rise over the sea. he hikes to the highest point he can reach in monaco, where it’s quiet and there’s no one to judge him, or worse, sympathise with him.

he stands at the edge of the cliff. screams once, twice. he sits on a rock, and lets himself cry.

the deflation of our dreaming

leaving me bereft and reeling

my beloved ghost and me

sitting in a tree

d-y-i-n-g

-

your stylist is plying you with options.

you can wear the denim with the cream OR you could do the red and white? or we can go full glam! or! or! or! we could-

you drown her out. you don’t give a fuck. not a single one.

what you wear to the monaco grand prix is quite literally the least of the your problems. your biggest problem, of course, is that you have to go to the fucking thing.

visibility is important, get people talking! the words of your manager ring in your ears until you have a dull migraine brewing behind your ears.

you leave the fitting not entirely sure what you’re wearing, but your stylist will be sending the clothes over so you can pack.

when you land in all too familiar nice, there are cameras. when you get to the hotel in monaco, you and lando are already trending on twitter. well, at least he knows you’re coming. when you’re getting your makeup done before your first event, you get a text.

i’ll try and keep my distance.

try.

try is such an interesting word. the fact that he has to try to stay away makes your belly flutter with embarrassing, self loathing butterflies. don’t try too hard, you want to respond. you don’t.

should’ve told you i’d be here you shoot back.

you think i didn’t already know?

of course he knew. he’d probably asked god knows how many brands to invite you. you try and feign an illness but your team drag you kicking and screaming to the event.

-

there are no two ways about it: you’re drunk, on a tuesday night, somewhere in the principality. a few cocktails with a jewellery brand turned into a night on the town, bar hopping with people you hardly knew and barely recognised.

you’re shaking your ass in jimmy’z, pretending to have fun when you see him.

lando stands at the bar, watching you, jaw tensed, eyes solemn. you exit the club faster that his car down a back straight, stumbling into the smoking area. you bum a cigarette from a guy who tries really hard to convince you that he’s the son of a british lord, and sink into the corner, ignoring the people recording you.

depressed model shame smokes outside monaco club because she is fucking pathetic, the headlines will read.

“thought you quit that shit.” his voice washes over your body like you’ve been set on fire, smooth tone, ambiguous accent making you ache.

“i did but then i got forced to come to monaco, so.” you shrug.

“forced?”

“‘m here for work.” you sigh.

“i guess i am too.” he mumbles. you raise an eyebrow.

“you live here, lan.” you tease. lan rolls off of your tongue too sweetly.

“doesn’t feel like it anymore.”

how can it, without you? he wants to scream at you. he can’t, you don’t deserve it.

“how are you?”

you want to touch him.

“shit.”

he needs a taste.

“yeah.”

you put your cigarette out. it tastes like shit, half smoked.

you stand there, stare at each other.

take me home, you want to beg.

come home, he clenches his fists, trying not to grab you and remind you how you’ll always be his, right here, up against the side of the club.

“good luck, if i don’t see you.” you whisper. you linger, praying that he’ll beg you to stay so that you can crumble into his arms, without having to make the first move.

lando ponders his options. his head and his heart wage a war.

logic wins, unfortunately.

“thank you.”

you take that as your queue to get the fuck out of there, and disappear into the night.

-

it’s raining on sunday. the dreary weather seems to perfectly sum up what has been the worst week of your life.

you’ve seen your ex boyfriend more times than you can count, ended up with about four hangovers as a result, and with a pounding head, you have to sit in the paddock club and wait for the sound of engines to split your head in half. it was your own doing, so you’d suck it up, recognising that you were a disgustingly privileged bitch, and there are people who would sell their kidneys to do what you’re complaining about.

you never complain, not usually. but your heart hurts and your body hearts and your mind hurts and it’s just not fair. lando is gorgeous, and you miss him so badly, and your shoes are digging in. who the fuck thinks it’s a good idea to wear heels to an f1 race?

you see him before the race, mouth good luck from afar. he winks. it’s something you used to do before every race. old habits die screaming.

the rain falls harder, the track slick. you say a prayer and take your seat.

“norris has this in the bag, he’s bloody good in the wet.” you hear some old guy say behind you. you are cursed with the knowledge of just how good in the wet he is, and you end up flushed.

he wins. his second one in three races. you pray that no one notices the way you weep. everyone notices.

you make a mistake and rush for the podium, your pass giving you access. he graces the top step and you sob, grinning like a fool, soaked through with rain. the anthem plays, the champagne pops. he finds your eyes in the crowd. your hair falls, stringy and curled, mascara smudged. you are the most breathtaking sight. he stands still, washed with an onslaught of champagne, watching you like he’s scared to take his eyes off of you. his boyish grin and hopeful eyes render you weak - you’re there for him, after all - and he can’t help but bask in that little fact.

dangerous territory. you break, and disappear.

-

say it once again with feeling…

the photographers barely get a second to snap a picture of the top three, because lando is gone. he takes the stairs two at a time, descending from the podium and throwing his pirelli cap and a shaky apology at his pr rep. the adrenaline spike makes his blood rush; he needs to find you and stop you and tell you that he will never be able to stop loving you.

the exit is the natural assumption, and he nearly slips a thousand times as he sprints through the paddock. the ground is wet, but he figures that if his car made it, so can he. the gates are in sight, and so are you, your clothes sticking to your shivering frame.

he calls your name, thunderously travelling towards you, his voice hitting your ears like a sonic boom. you freeze, turn slowly until your facing him. the rain splashes around you, not letting up.

you’re within his reach, and he pulls you in, hugging you tight. you melt into him, clinging like he’s a life force. he inhales you, your scent that he’s missed so horrifically. you crumble, and so does he, pieced back together as one.

“i can’t do this, i can’t.” he kisses the words into the cold skin of your neck.

“no, neither can i.” you choke wetly with emotion.

“miss you too much. it’s too hard, it’s stupid, it’s-“

“wrong. it’s wrong. ‘m sorry.” your breath fans his face, breathing life into him, life that he’d lost four months ago.

he grabs your shoulders, lowering so that his eyes are level with yours. his curls fall over his eyes, sodden from the rain.

“i don’t think, no, i know: i’m never gonna love anyone the way i love you.” lando speaks slow, convincing. your chest is tight.

“i don’t want to love anyone else.” you croak, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe.

“come back to me.” he mutters, pleading.

“don’t think i ever left.” you breathe, hushed.

your lips slot over his easily, it’s like breathing. the kiss is messy, helpless, and he engulfs you whole, his body wrapping around yours like a blanket. you latch onto his race-suit, drawing him in, and then you both seem to remember where you are.

lando norris caught kissing ex like horny teenager in monaco paddock!

you pull away with breathless chuckle. the air is fresh, and you feel alive. he steals another peck.

“wait for me at home. i’ll be quick.” his hand finds you ass, just for a second and you scold him playfully.

home.

yeah, home.

“don’t make me wait.” you grin.

his brain short circuits.

“do you still have your key?” he splutters, refocusing.

you scoff. “never took it off the chain.”

-

you pace the apartment, taking in the space. it hasn’t changed, but it’s messier, a visual representation of lando since you left. the pit of your belly swirls with anxiety, anticipation. he’ll be back soon, and he’ll kiss you, make love to you, remind you that you’re home and that it’d be stupid to leave again.

you’re still damp from the rain, shedding layers until you’re left in your vest and jeans, ridiculous heels kicked off by the door, your jacket airing over the back of a chair.

he hasn’t taken down the pictures of you together. he hasn’t moved your ugly collection of magnets from the fridge. he hasn’t changed the blinds that you chose, but he didn’t really like. your candles sit on the bookshelf half burned, the teddy he’d won you at a fair sits neatly on the sofa. the L pendant and it’s chain is strewn over the coffee table, right where you left it the morning after it ended. your breathing is heavy.

the front door opens behind you.

you don’t move, your eyes still fixed on the silver chain, overwhelmed by how empty your neck feels all of the sudden. he comes up behind you, his head resting on your shoulder, arms finding home around your waist. you often used to find yourselves in this exact position; while you brushed your teeth, made coffee. the room is deathly silent, breathing and the distant buzz of post race festivities the only thing you can hear. lando follows your gaze.

“kept it. knew that one day, you’d come back for it.”

“i came back for you.”

“and that necklace will stay with you when i can’t be there.”

you nod. he kisses your neck.

“missed you so bad.” you gasp. he licks your skin, bites down softly.

you spin in his arms, his hands pawing at your hips and everything blurs when he kisses you.

-

shaky fingers work over zippers, buttons, clasps, and then you’re both bare. you sink into the mattress that you missed so much, his body moulded with yours when you both tumble into the sheets. this is messy and frantic, utterly lovestruck. the lightning strike of his touch has you keening, sweating beneath him already.

“missed you. missed this.”

“do something, lan.” you cry, quiet against his shoulder.

“missed my perfect girl.” he grunts, lips working your chest while his fingers leave a trail of goosebumps over your inner thigh.

“please.” you sigh when his fingers dip between your folds, sliding over your wet flesh. his lip catches between his teeth, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of you.

he thumbs at your clit, stroking over you in slow, firm swipes, and then he’s sinking a digit into you, slow and steady. your toes curl, tears pricking your eyes at the intrusion, but you don’t have much of a chance to adjust, a second finger joining the first. he fucks you full, the stretch of just two fingers making you whine, one hand threading into the sheets while the other slams over your mouth. you want to hide, the pleasure rendering you a mess across the pale grey linen.

“no, let me look at you.” lando rasps, spare hand tugging at your wrist. you whine, writhing when he curls his fingers. “why are you hiding?”

you can’t hold back the choked cry that sounds from the back of your throat, his palm bumping your clit as he grinds his fingers deep.

“gone shy on me, baby? where’s my good girl gone?” lando coos, moving so that he’s leaning over you. the angle change sends your legs flying, kicking out at the sweet torture. “‘s because you haven’t been fucked right in so long, hm? can’t remember how to behave?” he’s smirking down at you, scanning the changing lines of your face.

“need it, need-“ you stutter, the words dying on your tongue.

“words, pretty girl, words.” lando encourages, false sympathy dripping from his tongue.

“need to cum, want you to make me…” you trail off.

“was that so hard?” he tuts, and everything speeds up.

the sound of him working you so sweetly makes you shake, your thighs clenching tight around his hand. the wet squelch hits your ears and you blush, cheeks coloured deep with embarrassment, awe, desperation.

your mouth drops open, screaming silently when it hits, your thighs slick. you drip down his wrist, his hand covered in your release.

“there’s my girl.” lando sighs, diving down to kiss you hard.

you can feel the damp press of his fingers as they dig into your thighs and you squirm beneath him, finding your way into his mouth.

“fuck me.” you slur, teeth knocking with his. he swallows you whole, groaning into your mouth.

“not so shy now, hm? been dreaming of hearing you beg for it.” lando shudders, shifting between your legs.

you can feel the press of him, thick against your cunt and you wiggle your hips, pushing to meet him halfway. the stretch burns deliciously, and you grab at his shoulders, dragging him in.

“fuck, baby.” he breathes, sinking into you slowly. “feel like heaven.” disbelief coats his voice, like he can’t reconcile that this is real; you’re back here, his, in the bed you were always supposed to share.

“it’s so good. feel so good for me, lan.” you whisper, lacing your fingers through his hair.

“love you so much.” he kisses you like he means it, rocking into you with purpose.

“can’t believe i lived without this.”

“can’t believe you’re all mine.”

the release builds, every thrust reminding you of what you could have lost for good. there was no lack of love, in fact you were starting to wonder if you had loved each other too much before.

“never losing you again. can’t live without you. my beautiful girl.”

your tummy grows tight, and he finds your clit when he feels you clamp down on him. he pulls you through the pleasure, guides you to your orgasm and you blindly follow him. you’d follow him anywhere, you decide.

you tell him you love him when you let go, spilling all around him, warm. he’s panting, kisses your forehead gently. he rolls off of you, and you feel the slow drip instantly, but you curl into his side and he wraps around you.

home.

“promise me something.” he whispers. you feel the way he shakily inhales.

“hm?”

“don’t leave again. you belong here, too. with me.”

your eyes are watery.

“i’m staying. ‘m yours.”

“about that…”

lando springs from the bed, naked, disappearing from the room. you watch, confused, cold all of the sudden.

you can hear his footsteps padding through the hallway, and then he’s back, his figure in the hallway. he runs, jumps, lands gracelessly next to you. endeared, you laugh softly.

“sit up.”

you do, leaning up to sit next to him. his fingers skim your shoulder, pushing your hair out of the way. cool metal dances over your skin.

“back where it belongs.” lando smiles at you, eyes wide and stunning.

you toy with the L. something heals in your chest, right around where your heart is.

“the sweetest boy.” you shake your head in disbelief, grin up at him like a fool.

“bath?”

“you know me so well, noz.”

come one, come all

it’s happening again

-

oh, my heart. there is something deeply wrong with me

-

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[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ ONE MORE CHANCE? (IT WON'T BE THE LAST) ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ you hate your ex, but nobody else can fuck you half as well — so maybe you'll give him one more chance.

contents: fem!reader. implied unprotected sex, dirty talk (?), lil' bit of praise, lil' bit of degradation, oral (fem. receiving), couch sex, gojo covers your mouth at one point, cursing, lil' bit of teasing/mocking (?). sorta toxic but whatevs we love a toxic king! 2000+ words.

author's note: got lazy in the middle of writing this loll

"he's just so fucking annoying," you groan, swirling the drink in your hand. the ice clinks against the side of the glass as you lift the cup to your lips, sipping the whiskey and wincing at the way it burns the back of your throat. you lean back in the plush couch in your friend's living room and sigh. "i don't know why i ever dated him."

your friend nods in agreement, eyes fixed on her phone for another second before she turns it towards you. "look what he posted on his instagram."

on your friend's screen is an instagram story, and the tag shows that it's from your ex-boyfriend — satoru gojo. tired of his insensitivity and annoying nature, you had dumped him two weeks ago, and god, you'd never had such a petty ex in your life.

after you broke up with him, he blocked you from all his socials and got all his friends to do the same. so, since he practically knew everyone, you lost a hundred followers.

and apparently, he's out fucking some other girl right now.

the story on your friend's phone is a picture of a smirking satoru with his arm wrapped around some girl with a red plastic cup in her hand. they're bathed in overhead red lights, and you can barely make out a familiar dark-haired boy in the back — another one of satoru's fuckboy friends.

"he's such a manwhore," your friend says with an eyeroll. "d'you want to stay the night?"

you shake your head, setting down the now-empty glass on a coaster. "it's alright, i wouldn't want to intrude," you say with a rueful smile.

your friend eyes you suspiciously for another second before leaning back in her own seat and closing her eyes. "stay safe, it's pretty late."

you nod and toss your things into your bag before stepping out the door, closing it gently behind you. as you get in your car and drive back to your house, thoughts of satoru fill your head. 

you don't recognize the girl under satoru's arm, but she's pretty — too pretty for him. sure, satoru was conventionally attractive, with his ocean-blue eyes and flawless physique, but still. 

satoru was a shitty boyfriend, and now he's an even shittier ex. when you two dated, his spoiled brattiness and constant sorry, i forgot's drove you insane. he couldn't even remember your birthday. it was a miracle that you tolerated him for that long — until your one-year anniversary, which obviously slipped his mind.

"you're so insensitive," you groan, dragging a hand down your face. satoru suppresses a sigh, blue eyes looking everywhere but at you. "and— satoru, are you even listening to me?"

you're quiet for three seconds before he responds, and naturally, it was with a "huh? yeah, what is it?"

every time. every single time.

"it's over," you mutter, shaking your head frustratedly. "we're over, satoru."

"fine," he responds after a moment. "i never really liked you anyways."

"fuck you."

if you didn't give a fuck about that white-haired bastard anymore, why did the memory of your breakup still sting?

you try to tell yourself that it doesn't matter. maybe it was for the best — he was out with some pretty girl, so why couldn't you go out and sleep with some hot guy? 

you make up your mind right as you step into your house, and thirty minutes later, you're in a tight dress and four-inch heels. and it's almost funny how easy it is to doll up when you don't have a horny boyfriend trying to fuck you every two seconds.

right before you step out the door, you eye yourself in the mirror and can't help but admire the way your dress hugs your waist, accentuating your curves. that smug manwhore didn't know what he was missing out on — so why not show him?

you pull out your phone and take a picture of yourself, snapping a couple before deciding on one and posting it on your story. you knew he'd see it — you intentionally let his burner stay unblocked, and coincidentally, he didn't block you either. 

just as you push open your door, you realize that your phone's on death's door — just over five percent remaining. so you plug it into your charger, kicking your feet impatiently as you wait for it to charge to a reasonable amount.

some part of you wants to chicken out, to stay home and spend the night watching a classic romcom. but the other part of you, the part that can't ignore the fact that you haven't had sex in two weeks, urges you to go out and get laid.

so twenty minutes later, when your phone finally hits forty percent, you practically throw open the door and rush out and find yourself face-to-face with the guy who's somewhere between belly conklin and andy bernard on your most-disliked list. satoru gojo.

"what the fuck are you doing here?" you snap, wrapping your arms around yourself as the cold night air touches your bare skin. satoru eyes you up and down, and suddenly, you're very aware of just how exposed you are. "satoru, answer the damn question."

"where are you going?" he asks, eyes narrowing when they settle on your dress's deep neckline. 

"none of your business," you reply shortly, biting the inside of your cheek. unfortunately, satoru looks good. just like in his instagram story, he has one button undone in his collar, and his hair is rumpled and perfect all at the same time. "answer the fuckin' question."

"saw your story," satoru replies, slipping his hands into his pocket. "you going out on a date or something?"

the question catches you off guard, and your irritated expression drops for a moment. strangely enough, satoru doesn't have his usual smug expression on his face — he looks conflicted. he never looks conflicted.

"doesn't matter," you respond, walking around him and relishing the way your heels clack on the concrete ground. without turning around, you ask, "so, what about my story made you come over?"

you're not sure why you're baiting him. maybe it's the slight chance that he would beg to get you back, maybe it's the tightness in your chest and pussy, or maybe you just want the satisfaction of seeing satoru squirm.

whatever it is, it lets satoru take you by the wrist and drag you back inside. you suppose that if you can get dick at home, then there's no point in going all the way to the club. and it's not like you're gonna get back together over one night — this would be purely physical. he wanted you, and you wouldn't mind him.

"fuck, right there, sweetheart," satoru groans, pushing your legs impossibly farther apart as his tongue laps at your pussy. the two of you barely made it to the couch in your living room before satoru pushed you down, a mischievous smile on his lips. one thing turned to another, and soon enough he was on his knees in front of you and eatung you out like a starving man.

"you're such a loser," you mutter, threading your fingers through his hair as his tongue makes you see stars. he really was — who shows up to their ex's place after getting dumped? a laugh bubbles out of satoru's lips while his mouth is still on your pussy and it makes you shiver. satoru looks up at you, an amused gleam in his eyes.

"s' that so?" satoru mumbles, pressing his lips to your inner thigh with a smirk. "then why'd you let me in, huh?"

"why would i go out when i can just get fucked at home?" you say dryly, a smile growing on your lips. "since you made the effort of coming all the way here."

"my pleasure," satoru scoffs sarcastically, getting up and joining you on the couch as he tugs you into his lap. "so i'm the pathetic loser here, yeah?"

you nod, letting satoru unzip the back of your dress with one hand. he laughs and shakes his head. "you're the one who let me in, baby."

"yeah, well, you showed up."

"you coulda slammed the door in my face."

"maybe i should've," you mutter, not liking the way he's grinning at you. "you gonna fuck me or what?"

"aw, you're desperate. how cute," he replies without missing a beat. it's been a while since you got to banter with satoru like this, and some part of you misses it. sure, he's disgustingly cocky, but at least he has the dick to back it up. and it's fun, too — you like the chase, and clearly, he does too.

"not really," you say with a shrug. that's a lie — the only reason you let him in was to get fucked, and contrary to the excuses falling from your mouth, you were getting impatient. not that he needed to know that.

"fine. have it your way, brat." satoru smiles cheekily and bounces his leg up and down, making you grit your teeth as you struggle to focus.

you make a face at satoru, crossing your arms. "what are you—"

"waiting."

"for what?"

"for you to beg."

your mouth falls open, and you glare at satoru, hating the way he's smugly grinning at you. this isn't the first time he's asked you to beg for him to fuck you — back when the two of you were dating, he had no problem edging you the whole night and practically making you cry for him.

"not this again," you groan, letting out a drawn-out sigh. "just fuck me already, satoru. or i'll go get someone else to."

satoru clicks his tongue, smiling lazily. "we both know you won't do that."

again, he's right, and god, you hate him for it. "just shut up and fuck me."

"alright, since you asked so nicely," satoru drawls, running his tongue over his teeth. he studies you intently, white hair falling into his eyes. before you can ask what he's looking at, he has you pinned against the couch cushions, face down and ass up. 

"good girl, stayin' nice and quiet for me," satoru groans, hand clasped over your mouth as he pounds into you from behind. "you always talked too much. never knew when to shut that damn mouth."

you moan against his hand, unable to think about anything else but satoru and his dick. that's the only reason the two of you stayed together for as long as you did — because the sex was irreplaceable. and after two weeks without getting fucked, you seriously consider throwing all pride out the window and begging for him back.

"shit, you're so fuckin' tight," satoru says with a rough laugh. "have you really not fucked with anyone else since you dumped me?" 

you shake your head, eyes pressed shut as satoru continues sloppily thrusting into you. there's a coil in your chest that's threatening to burst, and the whines slipping out of your lips increase in both pitch and volume.

at this point, you can hardly remember why you broke up with satoru — or maybe, he's just not giving you a chance to remember. his pace is relentless and mind-numbing, and shit, maybe it's for the best.

when he finally lets you cum, it's the best feeling you've had in what feels like forever. the edges of your vision go white, and satoru removes his hand from your mouth, letting out the lewd, muffled sounds that you've been suppressing all this time. not long after, satoru cums too, and it's sloppy, messy, and all over you. 

satoru collapses on top of your back, hot breaths slipping out of his mouth and brushing against your cheek. "took me so good, baby," he groans, pressing his lips to your neck and laughing breathily. "we should do this again sometime."

you shouldn't like this. you should be shoving him out your door, but his mischievous smile is irresistible. and even though you know this time probably won't end any different than the rest, you decide to give satoru one more chance.

"yeah, same time tomorrow?"

"anythin' for you."

[theoldsports]

SPONTANEOUS.

Art Donaldson x Reader

oops. it’s gonna be a series. i’m developing Lore. let me know what you think and where to go next.

warnings: 18+ please, drug use mention, drinking (underage), kinda sexual content.

LINK TO SORRY SERIES

Fancy parties were loathsome. [Y/N] thought so, at least. She hated being told to stop calling them fancy parties and shindigs and to call them by their proper names: galas, benefits, balls, whatever. It was exhausting. Her feet weren’t meant to be elegantly jammed into spike heels. [Y/N] liked the height she was, thank you very much.

Did supporting charitable causes have to feel so degrading?

Capitalism at its finest.

[Y/N] had been attending these things since she was a little girl. Seven or eight years old. So young, in fact, that she now can’t remember what demographic or ailment-research, or political party this goddamn yearly spring shindig was for. Mr. and Mrs. Zweig were always nice to her when she was a child. She wasn’t just a family-friend, she (and her parents) felt like friends that were family.

What made the lavish Zweig parties tolerable was Patrick Zweig. She had known Patrick as long as there had been parties to get dressed up for. He had scraped her off a marbled staircase step as a little girl when her polished pleather mary janes didn’t have the traction to keep her upright. She had cried when she fell. He had said: “you’re really loud, you know that?” And she had laughed. So they were doomed to spend eternity hiding in coat rooms and getting tipsy together at these things.

Patrick was never one of those boys that felt the need to turn his back on [Y/N] during the cooties years, or the so-she’s-your-girlfriend? years. The pair of them always managed to be simply themselves and that was enough. He was merciless and unapologetic, but he made a hell of a best friend.

[Y/N] was two months older than Patrick, and had been taller for their first two years of friendship. When his shift in stature occurred, it happened fast.

Patrick went away to boarding school and came back a gangly beast. [Y/N], though they hadn’t spent every waking moment (weekends and school days) together since he had left her for a racket and a tennis ball, was always pleased to see Patrick was still himself every time he came home. Louder and stupider each time, but still Patrick.

Though, one spring break was different. Eleventh grade, if [Y/N] recalled correctly. Patrick came home, tall and stupid as ever, toting a boy named Art Donaldson.

Art Donaldson was considerably smaller, and debatably less stupid than Patrick Zweig. [Y/N] understood that day why all the girls in her grade giggled about boys. [Y/N] could never tell Patrick that. He would have been insufferable about it.

Actually, [Y/N] felt jealous. That was also a secret. Because Art, unlike she and Patrick, was nice. Everybody liked him. Nobody ever talked shit about him. Adults loved him and his small-town boy manners. He actually was a rambunctious little jerk, but nobody else saw that. Everyone else got yes sir, yes ma’am, I’m well, how are you? He could turn that charm on and off like a faucet. Infuriating, right?

[Y/N] was also jealous because it was clear she had been replaced.

Patrick lit up like a Christmas tree when he was with Art. He never looked at her like that. Art must have been a better friend to him then she was. Patrick called her once a week to talk for years, but Art slept, like, six feet away from him. It simply wasn’t fair.

Because of that, [Y/N] remembers spring break was really hard. [Y/N] was acutely aware she had lost something she didn’t know she could lose to the human version of a fucking beagle.

[Y/N] couldn’t remember the grade they were in exactly, but she did remember the dress she wore to the Zweigs’ party that year. It was light green and had spaghetti straps. It was longer and more form-fitting than what she was used. Most of the girls her age had settled for lots of tulle and cheetah-print so [Y/N] looked more mature by comparison. It was the first time [Y/N] remembered feeling grown up at all.

To think she thought that all her excitement and contentment was wasted. [Y/N] sat in a plastic pool chair in the backyard curled up with her cork wedge platforms resting dangerously close to the water. She nursed a bottle of vodka she had swiped two months ago from her parents liquor cabinet to surprise Patrick. Meticulously, she had waited for them to be out of town and found the key to the liquor cabinet. A whole bottle just for [Y/N] and her best friend. [Y/N] had barely managed to keep it a secret that she had taken it. She had been so proud of herself and thought Patrick would be too.

Now, she was the only one around to drink it.

Patrick had put his warm, familiar hands on her shoulders and told [Y/N] to wait right there and that he and Art would be back in a sec. The two boys had vanished upstairs presumably to Patrick’s room with laughter spilling from their mouths. [Y/N] sat at the base of the stairs alone for twenty minutes.

According to the garish clock on the wall, at twenty-one minutes, [Y/N] disappeared to the pool. She officially hated Patrick too. He had left her alone at parties plenty of times, and she him. They’d dance with others, or sneak off for a makeout session with a pretty stranger. It had never been a big deal either way. This felt like deliberate abandonment for no good reason. That was a first.

“Whoa, save some for the rest of us.” A reedy voice called out. Art Donaldson. [Y/N]’s head glanced over her shoulder so fast at the sound that she almost made herself dizzy. It took little time to realize there was no Patrick with him.

[Y/N] pulled the bottle closer. “That was a really long one sec,” She replied. She planned to say that eventually in the wasted minutes she waited, but it sounded less cool now than it did in her head. [Y/N] sounded plain mopey and that was a shame. “What’d you guys do anyway? Where’s Patrick?”

Art shrugged and walked further into view. He looked a bit sheepish. “Being Patrick,” He didn’t answer the first question she asked. There was a half-smile tugging at his lips. Art looked nice. Brown dress shoes, navy jacket, white shirt. No tie. She could have sworn that had been a tie at some point earlier. His shaggy blonde hair was mussed, but she had yet to observe it being neat. It was fustrating how effortlessly nice he looked. [Y/N] thought that everyday from day one. “It’s getting kinda cold. You wanna head back inside? I was looking for you—“

“I’m alright here, but thanks,” she slurred slightly. “You head in. I’m not here to ruin your fun.” It had sounded bitter. She hadn’t meant for it to.

Art sighed and glanced away from her. He paused a moment and sighed. “I’m not here to ruin yours either, y’know.”

“You don’t have to make this into a thing. It’s fine.”

“Well, too late. Patrick’s being an ass. I don’t want you out here feeling like I’m some homewrecker. I’ve been on the receiving end of shit like this from him, too. He’s not trying to be nasty to you, ‘promise. Come on, I’m not gonna let you freeze out here.” Art said, stepping in a bit. The glow from the pool left green and white wiggly lines across his cheeks.

“It’s spring, It’ll warm up. Get back up to that party, man. Patrick’s waiting for you.”

“You’re being impossible.”

[Y/N] set the half-empty bottle down beneath her chair. “Nuh-uh.”

“Jesus… if you’re gonna be a jerk about it, at least take this.” Art frowned, shrugging out of his suit jacket. He seemed disappointed.

“Oh, Art, please—“

“No, no! You made your choice. Don’t let me spoil your fun with you and the… the vodka,” Art said, making a show of taking the jacket off and throwing it over to [Y/N]. The balled up lump of fabric landed in her lap with a soft thud. Her stomach churned. “All hunky dory now,” He said, holding his hands out to show he was no threat. Art’s brows were lowered protectively close to his eyes in what [Y/N] thought was an effort to mask slight hurt or rejection. He turned to walk away as [Y/N] clutched the fabric of his jacket between her fingers. Art turned back to to look at her for a moment. [Y/N] didn’t know what that expression was meant to mean. “Be careful, okay? For what it’s worth, you—you look lovely tonight. It would be a shame for such a, uh, such a pretty girl in a pretty dress to end up face down, stuck in the pool drain. ‘Night [Y/N].”

[Y/N] was glad for the dark because she felt her face heat up and dopey smile start to form at the compliment. Maybe she was drunk, but that had to be flirting. In the most fucked up way possible, but still. Why? Art Donaldson didn’t even like her.

Art had only managed to take a few steps into the dewy grass when [Y/N] begrudgingly called out: “Art, wait!”

She hated that she liked the smirk on his face when he turned around. He could tell what she wanted by her tone. What kind of fucker takes no for answer happily and still sets himself up for a yes in the end. “Yes?” He asked, trying not to smile.

“Listen, you’re right—“ [Y/N] stood up confidently, sliding Art’s jacket around her shoulders. And she stood up too fast and knocked her sandals into the pool. “Shit!” She cursed. She was still an age where cursing felt cool and unfamiliar. [Y/N] stood on her unsteady feet and watched her sandals bob out to the middle of the pool, propelled by her kick. She was embarrassed now as well. The stakes of everything felt so much higher than sandals in the pool of her best friend’s backyard. Booze will do that to the sanest of folks. [Y/N] dropped her face heavily into her hands. Great.

Quickly, Art cut his eyes between her and the shoes and back again. “Where do they keep the pool net?” Art asked calmly, without missing a beat.

“The shed.” [Y/N] said miserably and pointed a few feet away. Art bounded across the pavement around the pool to the shed. He tugged once, then twice.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath. “It’s locked,” He reported to [Y/N] from practically halfway in the pruned hedges. Art started the walk back to her. Once he was beside her, Art placed a hand gently at her elbow. “Come back inside with me. Please. Patrick may be able to get us a key and we can…”

But [Y/N] looked so sad from behind her hands. Even though all of this was so childish. She was also wearing Art’s jacket now and that did things to his brain. Her dress wasn’t not low cut and he froze for a second. All he could do was stare.

“Just do what I would do,” Patrick said. “It’ll be fine, man. She’s already into you, I can tell.”

“Well, if she’s into me, why would I do what you would do? That’s an awful suggestion, Patrick.” Art protested.

Patrick spun around in his desk chair to face Art as he rolled a joint. “I’ve known her since before I knew you. Just, like, be spontaneous. That’s what I mean. Spontaneous. She’s into that because she���s like that too. And she’s… wicked mean, so don’t start shit. She’ll surprise you, but like, in a good way. What I said before makes me sound like a jackass,” Patrick paused to laugh. “Be in the moment. Don’t get in your head about it. Which you’re doing right now— I can tell, Arthur…” Patrick drew out Art’s full name (which he hated) to get under his skin.

Art stood up from the floor in frustration. He glanced at his watch. Too much time had passed. The window was metaphorically closing. Hastily, Art dashed to the door. “I’m going down there. Poor girl’s been waiting all this time because you, my friend, are a shitty advice-giver.”

“Spontaneous!” Patrick called after him with a grin.

Art stared at [Y/N]. Then he blinked. Then tilted his head to the side. Spontaneous. Before he knew it, he was tugging his shoes and socks off and diving into the pool. Art had been right, it was getting decisively cold and the pool water reflected that. Art swam out to where the wedges had floated too, which had actually been fairly far. He wasn’t sure if the net would have gotten them that easily. Art nicked the shoes by the ankle straps and shook his wet hair out of his face. As he paddled back, he glanced at [Y/N]’s expression. She smiled wide with joy and surprise at Art’s sacrifice.

“Art! Thank you so much!” She said when he flopped the waterlogged shoes onto the concrete. Art looked up at her from the water and he only looked up her skirt a little bit.

“It’s no trouble. Repayment’s in order, though.”

“Repayment…? What do you—“

Art wrapped his wet, callused hands around both of [Y/N] ankles and flipped her into the pool. She screamed as she splashed into the pool. Then laughed hard. Art wanted to hear that laugh for the rest of his life.

“Wait, fuck, you can swim, right?”

Fortunately, [Y/N] could, and that’s the move that won Art Donaldson his wife.

—

“Honey, you have to get up so you can get ready…” Art’s mouth moved against the shell of [Y/N]’s left ear. His arm was tossed over her middle. Normally, it was Art that dreaded getting out of bed, but clearly they enjoyed switching roles once in a while.

A nap had turned into two-and-a-half hours of [Y/N]’s soft snores while Art held her. He couldn’t sleep much, but luckily he had something beautiful to look at. She ripped into him about his staring problem all the time. Art couldn’t be bothered to give a damn. “No.” She mumbled.

“Please…” Art’s hand trailed under her shirt and climbed up, up, up.

“No,” she sighed. Art’s hands groped her left breast and [Y/N] didn’t particularly mind. She shivered at the contact. Art had known every inch of her body over years. Neither was bored yet, though.

“It’s one night. One party. We don’t have to stay all night… He’s not going to be there, Lenora told me when I RSVP’d.”

They had an unspoken rule. They did not name Patrick in conversation when sober. The wound was too fresh still.

“Don’t talk about him, or his fucking mom when you’re touching me like that,” [Y/N] all but moaned as Art’s left thumb circled her nipple. “‘Thought we had to get up…”

Art smirked. “We do. At least you’re awake now.” He teasingly withdrew his hand entirely from out of her shirt and scampered out of bed in one agile zip of a motion.

“Art!”

She groaned. Rolling on her back to look at the ceiling, she glanced over at Art walking through the master bathroom doorway in his briefs. What an incredible ass that man has. “Motivation to leave the party early.” Art said and popped off into the shower.

Maybe it was selfish. Patrick and [Y/N] and Art hadn’t spoken in almost a year. It was no surprise to the Donaldsons that Patrick was an addict. He had been addicted to almost everything and everyone that crossed his path. What they hadn’t expected was him becoming so out of control that he missed the wedding of his two best friends and was sent into rehab once he was declared medically stable. The one person that both Donaldsons had fought to have in their own personal half of the wedding party. And he wasn’t there. And the wedding was expensive enough to go through with it amid all the bad feelings over Patrick.

Still, they were invited to the Zweig family’s charity or whatever gala. They would go like they always had, too. But it would be their first time alone, so to speak.

[Y/N] regretfully got out of bed while Art showered. She moved to the closet and unzipped her paper thin dress bag. The gown itself was beautiful, but not all too expensive. The year had been tight in terms of money. The wedding and the honeymoon were pricey enough before you added in rackets and competition entry fees and coaching. Art was an expensive husband to have. He made up for it. He was playing at his best too, so [Y/N] hardly cared. Who could put a price on seeing Art smile like that?

[Y/N] cringed if she had to pay more than two-hundred dollars for shoes or a dress anyway.

The dress was green. She’d worn a lot of green since she met Art. [Y/N] dreaded wiggling into shapewear and spending too long on her hair. Art had it easy. A tie, a jacket and trading his nasty watch for his nicer one. It wasn’t fair. It never was with Art.

She got ready all the same. The straps rested on her shoulders, thicker than the early 2000s straps she had been dumped into the pool in. It was longer than that dress. Almost floor length instead of mid calf. It was elegant for its price tag.

Once the dress was on, [Y/N] tumbled into the bathroom to do her makeup. The shared counter was way too small for both of their shit to sit nicely on. She would complain about that when there was more money in the bank account to do something about it. Art was taking longer than normal in the shower. Boner, [Y/N] thought.

As she started to put her face on, she could see Art’s face in the foggy mirror behind her. The sound of the water stopping and the shower curtain being tossed back had gone unnoticed. He was smiling slightly. “You look nice.” He said softly. Art toweled off his shaggy hair harshly behind her. He kept looking at her.

This is how Art was. He made these remarkable heart eyes at her every time he saw her. [Y/N] could be wearing a potato sack and she would feel beautiful. That look, that staring problem, was worse a hundredfold when she was dressed up. He kept glancing at her. She could see him in the mirror. He wanted [Y/N] to see. The blue and brown of his eyes cast further and further down her body.

“Staring.” [Y/N] said simply. She didn’t even look away from her own face in the mirror.

“Yeah. And?” Art smiled cheekily. His face was bright red not from the warm shower water. He wrapped his towel around his slim waist. [Y/N] applied too much concealer and less blush. “I, of all people, am allowed.”

“Idiot.” [Y/N] said. Art dried his hands profusely on his towel, knowing she would squawk at him if he left wet handprints behind on her dress.

Art’s hands wrapped around her waist. Great pains were taken to prevent other wet spots from splopping up her dress. So, so gently, he kissed the left side of her neck from behind. “I was thinking—” Art was always gentle in his own way.

“Ooh, dangerous.”

“Shut up. Y’know, this is the first Zweig party where your placecard is going to say Donaldson on it…”

[Y/N] nodded softly. “Huh. Yeah. That’s true.” She said, smiling a bit.

“I’m really, really excited about that. On the seating chart, we’re the Donaldsons. Isn’t that so crazy…?” Art whispered into her plush skin. “Plural. Two of us.”

Teasingly, she nudged him back with her elbow. The smile was still wide on her lips. “You’re being such a girl about it.”

Art didn’t let go or relent. He pressed feather-light kisses between [Y/N]’s ear and collarbone. “Am I? Hadn’t noticed.”

“We’re going to be late to this thing you want to go to so bad, Mr. Donaldson, if you don’t stop.” [Y/N] whispered, incapable of doing more. She did set down her makeup sponge and pot of foundation with a clack.

“Would that be such a bad thing? Only a couple minutes, right? We could-we could cut out some of the boring small talk and…” Art said, daring boldly to drag his tongue up her throat as the steamed up mirror cleared some. He never finished his sentence verbally.

[Y/N] gasped at the feeling. That was a brave move for Art. “You drag me out of bed early so we can be late anyway. You don’t make any s-sense, babe.”

He huffed impishly. Art spun [Y/N] around to face him. His face and shoulders were damp from the water collected in his hair, which desperately needed a trim. Carefully, Art brushed [Y/N]’s hair away from her face. “You’re right… I’m sorry. Please let me make it up to you?”

“How?”

Then, Art’s mouth quirked into that crooked smile she loved so much.

“Please.” Art said in a hushed voice and boosted [Y/N] smoothly onto their rickety counter. “Give me ten minutes.”

“You can do better than ten.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Clock’s ticking.” When she said it, she heard Art’s knees hit the tile in front of her.

[seelestia]

✦ how can you tell? (of how easily i fall at your feet.)

⎯ oh, how love bleeds from just one gesture. ( some telltale signs that they might've fallen for you. )

#STARRING. neuvillette, wriothesley & lyney ft. gn!reader. { 2.4k words }

#TAGS. sfw, fluff & crack, major pining (!!!). more: neuvi has 1 extra part bcs i realized too late, wrio is a rascal /aff, lynette is a professional wingwoman here (everyone, applaud!!), mentions of various fontaine npc's.

#P/S. pardon my rusty writing and ideas but alas, may i entice you with some fontaine gentlemen on this fine day?? (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) ੭

★ 〜 masterlist.

© seelestia on tumblr, apr 2024. please do not repost to another platform, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

⎯ neuvillette's love is subtle, hidden behind a veil of formal courtesy. the iudex is the nation's symbol of impartiality; personal relationships, a common factor of inciting bias in one's judgement, are to be sifted through wisely. he can choose which he ends up keeping, yet he cannot choose which he ends up wanting. what of a relationship he desires but cannot keep? a conundrum but still, his affections for you seep through the crevices.

it's in the way. . . your name becomes a beloved among the melusines, you wonder why?

it goes without saying that every citizen of fontaine acknowledges melusines to be friendly creatures. all of them are sweethearts! ...but is it you or is there some form of hidden favoritism here?

for some reason, they always seem to go out of their ways to greet you on the streets. a “hello, mx. [name]!” from the right then a “good day, mx. [name]!” from the left. maybe a “stay safe, mx. [name]!” on days when it's crowded too... you're starting to think the quota of greetings you receive is much bigger than everyone else.

before long, even your arms are getting piled up with favors. one ticket for a seat in the opera epiclese from aeife, a slice of cake from sedene, some high-quality butter from muirne, a free beverage from menthe — you lost count of the freebies you've received already.

what's going on? it is as if there's a badge of approval from someone just hanging over your head. visible to a melusine's eyes, but not to yours. (you've heard that melusines perceive things differently than humans, though.)

but who are you to complain? you're not immune to their contagious smiles each time you pass by. on some days, you even entertain the thought that they are more familiar with you than you are with them. all in a humorous sense, of course.

ironically enough, this theory wouldn't take long to ring true: having received a bouquet of your favorite dessert from café lutece on your birthday from kiara, this coincidence only feeds into your suspicion even more.

a considerate gesture but surely, they don't do this for everyone? you don't recall ever telling your usual order and birthdate to a melusine before. your mind scrambles around for a memory you might've missed. who could've—

“oh, yes... i almost forgot,” kiara holds her chin in thought. “monsieur neuvillette says to send you his regards,” she nods, relieved that the message did not make its narrow escape from her mind. but blissfully unaware of the impact her words have left on you.

“goodbye, mx. [name]!” the melusine bids you farewell with a cheery wave. you murmur back a response but it comes out incoherent at best — you are simply too dumbfounded by the realization.

...so, that's who.

(wait a second, is arouet in on this too?!)

it's in the way. . . he begins to take longer breaks, hoping to run into you in front of the palais.

taking quiet strolls just outside the palais is, more often than not, neuvillette's idea of rest from work. although some might expect the iudex to have chosen a more 'creative' or luxurious location, but he digresses.

this place is near his office so less time is wasted on the journey back, liath also patrols here so he has the opportunity to inquire about her well-being — and occasionally, he stumbles upon you as well.

'occasionally' is the keyword: neuvillette has always preferred order and routine above chances and coincidences. but something about this idiosyncrasy — the tendency to linger beyond his usual duration, the act of stalling to hold onto hope that you might pass by today — is a indication of hypocrisy he wishes not to comment on.

sometimes, he closes his eyes so that his ears may be more attuned to the sound of your voice. sometimes, he opens his eyes so that they may look around for a glimpse of your face. who's to say if he'll ever be graced by your presence? it is all in fate's hands.

call it an odd method of manifestation, a childish one that even neuvillette scoffs at himself for. sometimes, it doesn't work, of course. not that he ever expects it to — but oh, when it does.

“...monsieur?” your voice cuts through the silence in his mind. he takes the sight of you in; a polite greeting on your tongue, several grocery bags in your arms and that beam on your face as you say, “what a coincidence to see you here.”

the iudex finds that he doesn't mind having his privacy briefly interrupted. not at all. not when it's like this, not when it's by you. alas, it seems that fate has smiled down on him today.

“yes, hello. what a serendipitous coincidence indeed.”

neuvillette smiles, he can't help it. perhaps, he might grow a soft spot for coincidences, after all.

(you sneak a brief glance at the sky with a squint. ...is it just you or are the clouds clearing up a little?)

⎯ wriothesley's love is beguiling, the kind of adventure that keeps you on your toes. a forthright gentleman; he is the type to know what he wants and he wants you. with him, you'll taste whiplash like never before. butterflies in your stomach, the urge to throw a shoe at him, you'll get it all. but an adventure isn't an adventure without breaks in between and it's at that very moment where you'll find you adore him the most... when he rests his head on your lap, momentarily free from worldly titles, breathing like the man who longs for warmth that he has always been.

it's in the way. . . he always offers you tea when really, he just wants you to stay.

everyone knows that wriothesley enjoys his tea — but that's only because he sees no need to hide his preferences; not his craving for a cup of tea when afternoon arrives nor his fondness for you either.

he doesn't conceal it, but doesn't bring attention to it either. wriothesley likes to think that only those with discerning eyes can pick up on the miniscule (???) hints he drops. that is, if saying “why not stay for some tea?” is even considered a subtle clue at all... maybe, he's mixing up polite courtesy with flirting a bit too much.

but who cares? in the grand scheme of things, the fun is seeing whether you'll figure it out or not. and let's be frank here; wriothesley is a patient man in all aspects, able to play the long game like no other.

don't worry, you may take as long as you want to — ironic since you're technically the only player in this 'game' — but hey, he has faith in your abilities! besides, you get to enjoy a cup of free tea (and with his company, preferably). surely, you can't complain about that? ...hah, he's just teasing you.

tick-tock! tick-tock!

the clock strikes twelve in the afternoon.

“ah, finally a well-deserved break.” the tone in which wriothesley pairs with that grin on his face is nothing less than devious. the glance he throws your way as he set aside the documents on his desk is something. or rather, it's suggesting something.

and frankly, you've experienced this many times enough to know what the underlying meaning is. “let me guess...” you let out a sigh, “you're asking me to have tea with you again?”

the emphasis on the last word is definitely, wholly intentional. you're sure wriothesley knows that too — “bingo,” he hums at you, sounds almost like a whistle. “you're getting more and more clever. must be all the tea i made you.”

“don't flatter yourself,” you roll your eyes at his attempted jest but you take a seat on his office couch, anyway. your own unique and adorable way of saying yes, he learned. still, wriothesley thinks that exasperated look on your face is an absolute marvel... and maybe, that little smile tugging on your lips you're trying to fight, too.

“same as usual?” he asks, pushing back his chair with a proud grin still plastered on his face that you wish you can wipe off.

but instead, you shake your head fondly at his antics. “mhm,” and rest a cheek on your fist. watching him tiredly, you realize you could get used to this. maybe.

wriothesley smiles to himself. looks like you figured out the tea has always been an excuse, after all.

(you've won the game, congrats! a subsidiary reward is a comment from sigewinne about how this tea routine between the two of you bears a resemblance to an elderly human couple's. she means it, innocently sincere.)

⎯ lyney's love can be faceted at first, one with such a smooth surface that you never imagined there would be so many layers underneath. joy and bliss, sorrow and burdens; all cramped and stuffed together behind his mask of perfection on the stage, a mask akin to a child's treasure chest almost bursting at the seams. you can unravel him if you tried, you can take off that mask if you reached out. and when you do, you'll find beautiful violet eyes staring right back at you, thankful, imploring you to go further.

it's in the way. . . his bravado dissipates around you, nerves scattering like confetti that bursts from his hat on stage.

they say that the first impression is the best impression — or at least, lyney hopes that's the case with all of the interesting impressions he has left on you so far. his instinct by nature is to impress, to bedazzle and that hasn't stopped since meeting you for the first time.

trying doesn't always lead to success, however. you stuttered in front of them twice, lynette pointed out after the first time he spoke to you. that fact spooked the poor magician so much he stayed up rethinking the conversation under the cover of his blanket. lynette isn't wrong per se, but lyney firmly believes that he will leave a better impression... one day, somehow, no matter how many times it takes!

he is a magician; charisma and charms should have or rather, already have come easily to him. his persona on the stage is no lie — just a tiny concerted exaggeration, maybe — but you've been among his audience before. you've seen what he is capable of. so surely, you'd know that lyney isn't really as demure and easily flustered as you might think he is... because no punches held back, he acts like that every time you talk to him.

he can't help it and that, exactly, is what makes it worse.

how many times have he cupped his face and mumbled nonsense into his hands for failing to impress you yet again? you're so wonderful and he's just so... miserable. this is unlike him. he has to wonder why you still look for him after each performance when you know you'll be greeted by his being a wreck.

maybe they like you that way, freminet tried to help. or maybe they like you no matter what, lynette chipped in. that had lyney pondering for a long, long, long time which translates into weeks.

will the day come where he presents you with a rainbow rose and professes his feelings for you without losing his nerves? he can only hope (and try, one day).

it never gets old.

when his feet step off the stage and the curtains have fallen, the satisfaction that spreads all the way to his fingertips never fails to disappoint. but with that, also comes the imminent feeling of anticipation.

for each performance he delivers, a visitor is bound to linger. when all members in the audience would head to the entrance of the opera epiclese to leave, one of them would stay. waiting patiently to be beckoned to the backstage. it's been a routine for so long, after all.

“lyney?”

right on cue.

your voice greets his ears, a sound that he can admit he misses only to himself. he exhales, a placating act to shush his beating heart from growing any louder.

“ah, [name]!” the magician enunciates your name with a certain type of fanfare. “here to lend a hand again, i assume?” he tries to shoot you a confident grin, but you aren't gullible enough to not see the tint of red blooming on his cheeks.

you stifle a chuckle at his (attempt at a) bold opening. “of course,“ said with a nod and a silly thought along the lines of: he's cute.

your honest and calm response takes him by surprise. he blinks a tad. oh, it seems the thrill from the show a few minutes prior still hasn't worn off. perhaps, he's still all too used to the crowd's shouts and cheers... not that he expects you to start yelling, of course!

“i see,” lyney feigns a cough to recollect his composure. now that he is cognizant of the fact it's just the two of you, he shrinks down into a more casual version of himself with a nervous chuckle.

“will you... be staying for long?” he asks, bashful. the question sounds more genuine than just a mere pleasantry. his eyes look hopeful, twinkling at the thought of having your presence around. his fingers have even come up to scratch at the side of his neck, you don't think lyney even realizes he is doing that.

who are you to say no? you smile. “well, my schedule's pretty empty today.”

his lips instantly break into a grin, brighter than one he usually has onstage. “that's actually marv—” he starts.

“that's great,” a familiar monotonous voice cuts in. lynette peers from behind you with a hum, “we could use more hands to pack up the new props.” oh, and that brief glint of mischief in her feline eyes as she watches how lyney gapes at her sudden intrusion.

“sure!” you glance back at her, oblivious to it all. “thanks for letting me in, lynette. i'll try my best to help.” even if you admit that one of the reasons you're here is for lyney, but you can't discredit his twin sister for allowing you to enter here in the first place. a free backstage pass in exchange for free labor, quite a fair deal.

with your back turned to him, lyney takes the chance to mouth his own words of disbelief to lynette. incomprehensible except for that one i can't believe you're doing this! that she manages to catch.

“no problem,” she observes her brother over your shoulder with keen interest, “everyone knows how fond lyney is of you.”

there is a series of spluttering noises behind you. a certain magician finds himself at the verge of choking on mere oxygen.

“lynette!”

but really, she has no doubt that lyney has fallen head over heels for you. hook, line and sinker.

— thank you for reading! reblogs and comments are most appreciated. ♡

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (42/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The new bed is here! And Joris isn't happy about it!

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of sex), fluff

Word Count: 3.3k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: LETS GOOOOOOOO!!! FORZA FERRARI!!!

“It was really nice of you to take the photos for Enzo and Charlotte,” Charles says as you both get into the car in the afternoon. He buckles up and starts the engine. 

“It's my job, after all,” you smile and make yourself comfortable in the passenger seat. 

Charles steers the car out of the driveway. "Well, actually it's your job to take pictures of me, not of my brother's engagement," he corrects you, for which you gently punch him on the shoulder. 

“I still enjoyed doing it,” you say. "I'm very happy for Enzo and Charlotte. They seem like the perfect couple.”

Charles purses his lips and nods. "They've been together for a long time. We were all wondering when he would finally pop the question. But I didn't think he'd actually do it during Christmas.”

You look at him. ”Why not?”

“I don't know,“ he replies, shrugging his shoulders. "I would have thought he would have done it in the summer, after a nice day on the boat and then maybe at dinner.”

You look at him. "Maybe he wanted to combine it with something nice – and Christmas is a celebration of love.” You can't help but grin. “And he didn't have to buy her a Christmas present, just a ring.”

Your roommate laughs. “Should I do the same to you next year? Just propose to you so I don't have to get you a gift?” 

You know it's a joke, but when the words leave his mouth, you feel warm. You roll your eyes in mock annoyance. “Absolutely not.”

The Monegasque steers the car through the streets of his home country. “And how should I propose then? Do you want a trip in a hot air balloon? At Times Square, where everyone is watching? Or at a Taylor Swift concert while she sings Love Story?”

You can't suppress a giggle. ”None of that, please.”

“Then tell me.” He reaches out and grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. 

“Mmm. I've never really thought about it much. But I think I'd rather have a moment that's just for the two of us. Where no one else is watching, where we're on our own. No onlookers, no one to talk about it. Just the two of us – I think that would be perfect.”

Charles squeezes your hand twice. “Good to know.” He smiles at you briefly before looking back at the road. “By the way, I asked Pierre and Kika if they wanted to go to Lando's party with us tonight. I hope that was okay.”

“Absolutely. I feel like I haven't seen Kika in ages. But it was only – what – four days ago?” 

“I think so. They want to come around seven, so you two can get ready together and maybe have a drink.” 

Without thinking about it, you lean over and kiss his cheek. "You're the best, Charles." You can see the blush rising in his face, but you let it go uncommented.

“I know,” he says with a grin as he turns into the underground parking garage. When the car comes to a stop, you both get out and you press the elevator button while Charles takes your bags out of the trunk. 

“What are the parties like in Monaco?” you ask him as you both enter the elevator. ‘Do you have to dress particularly chic or does it depend on the club? How much money do I need to take with me? Is my ID card enough or do I need to take anything else?’ you bombard him with questions. 

Charles has to laugh. ”Haven't you ever been out partying?”

You shake your head and press the button for your floor. “Not in Monaco, no.”

The elevator doors close and you feel it transport you upwards. The Monegasque looks down at you. “The club where Lando's friend performs is chic, but not super chic. If you like –”

“Where the fuck have you been?” an angry Joris bellows at you as the elevator door opens. 

You almost have a heart attack from the shock, but Charles just looks at his best friend in confusion.

“Since when did you stop checking your cell phones? I've tried to reach you ten thousand times!” Joris's face is as red as a tomato as he snarls at you angrily and you get out of the elevator without saying a word. ”I was still asleep! And I didn't even get to eat breakfast!”

Charles puts your two bags down next to the apartment door. "And a good morning to you, Joris. How can I help you?” He walks past him, deeper into the apartment, Joris follows him, seething. You follow them in silence.

“How you can help me?” Joris asks snappishly, leaning on the kitchen worktop with his hands, before pointing at a few sheets in front of him with his index finger. “Next time you order furniture, at least be home when it's delivered, or leave your own cell phone number so they can call you if they ring the doorbell and you don't open it.” 

Charles opens his eyes wide. ”Our bed.”

Joris sneers. “This shitty bed has cost me valuable hours of sleep. And I certainly shouldn't have driven here.”

Charles can hardly keep a grin off his face as he turns around and opens the fridge. "How many bottles of wine did you drink yesterday?", he asks, placing eggs, vegetables and bacon on the counter in front of him. 

“Two.”

Your roommate gets a bowl and a pan out of a drawer before he starts to crack the eggs into them. “Did you throw up in your front yard?”

Joris rolls his eyes and watches as Charles prepares his hangover breakfast. "No.”

“Then congratulations,’ Charles grins. ”Then you had a successful Christmas.”

The omelette tastes so good that Joris's anger disappears with the first bite. He talks about Christmas dinner with his parents and his brother and the family vacation planned for next year, while he shovels the omelette into himself like a bulldozer. In between, Charles slides him coffee across the counter in a cup, but doesn't dare get closer to his hungry and hungover friend. 

“By the way, the bed is very nice,” Joris finally says, pushing the empty plate away. ‘You could have at least warned me.”

“I'm sorry,’ Charles apologizes with pursed lips. ”Are we friends again?”

Joris sighs. “Of course,” he smiles, getting up from his chair to embrace his oldest friend. They both pat each other on the back before letting go. “I have to go now. By the way, I gave the delivery man a €150 tip for kindly setting up the bed. Thank God you had some money lying around.”

Charles watches his friend go in the direction of the apartment door with confusion. “The setup was already included in the price.“

The photographer purses his lips. "At least they got a nice tip," he finally says, before leaving the apartment and leaving you two alone. 

Without saying a word, you take the dirty dishes and wash them in the sink while Charles puts your bags in the bedroom. When he returns, he stands directly behind you. You can feel the warmth of his skin through your clothes. 

“We also have a dishwasher, you know?” he whispers, laying his chin on your shoulder. His arms wrap around your middle, his chest pressing against your back. 

You nod and lean against him. “But we don't need to run the dishwasher for that,” you reply, breathing in as his hand slowly slides under your sweater. “It was very nice of you to make Joris breakfast, even though it's already afternoon.”

“Mm-hmm,” Charles hums softly. "It was the least I could do. It was really nice of him to come here to take delivery of the bed. I'd completely forgotten that I put down his cell phone number." 

“Joris is a good friend.”

“He is,” he murmurs and kisses your cheek. ‘But I prefer to have you lying in my new bed." He gently pulls you out of the kitchen towards the bedroom where the new bed is. Joris was even kind enough to make the bed; dark gray sheets are smoothly stretched over the mattress and you would love to snuggle up in them. 

“It looks incredibly cozy,“ you smile. 

“Come on.” Charles gently pushes you towards the bed. “I told you I wanted you in it.” He watches you with eagle eyes as you slowly crawl onto the bed and slip under the covers, putting your cell phone on the nightstand. As if you've been conditioned, you have to yawn. 

“The bed was definitely the right decision,” you smile and stretch your arms to fold them behind your head. "But it was definitely the wrong decision to trick me to get into it.”

“Why?’ your roommate chuckles. ”Too comfortable?”

“Definitely. I'd love to stay here forever.” You tap the empty side of the bed next to you. ”Come and try it out.”

Without wasting another moment, Charles circles the bed and lies down next to you. His arm wraps around your middle again and pulls you towards him so that your chests are touching. “I see your point. It is pretty comfortable.” His hand slides up your back under your sweater until it finds its place between your shoulder blades. 

You close your eyes and breathe out. “Do we have to go out partying tonight? I mean, can't we just order take-out and stay in?”

“Of course we could do that,” he smiles. 'But I highly doubt you want to cancel on Kika and Lando.”

You sigh. ‘We could invite everyone here," you suggest. ”The bed is big enough for all of us and –”

“Absolutely not,” he interrupts you and shakes his head vehemently. ‘The only ones allowed in this bed are already in it. Nobody else is allowed to snuggle up in the covers. Besides, I don't like the thought of you lying in a bed with Lando.”

You raise your hand and gently run your fingers through his brown curls. "Are you jealous?”

A deep growl escapes Charles' throat. “Maybe.”

You lean forward and kiss his stubbled cheek. ”You do know that Lando is the reason we're friends again, right? Because he called you when you were in Italy?”

“I am aware,“ he mumbles, pressing you closer. "Doesn't mean you have to share a bed, though.’ 

“You don't have to worry about that,” you grin. “There's only one man I want to share a bed with.” He looks at you with a raised eyebrow. “Don't worry, Charlie. You're the one I mean, of course.”

“Perfect.”

You lie in bed for a while, legs tangled and snuggled together. You gently run your fingers through his hair while his fingertips caress your back. Lying here with him feels so normal, so familiar, that you don't ever want to be in a bed without him again. 

“You still haven't answered my questions about tonight,” you say eventually, and your hand gently caresses the soft skin at the nape of his neck. 

Charles almost moans, his eyes closed. "I'll pay for you.”

“But I can pay for myself," you smile, even though he's not looking at you.

“Doesn't matter.” Your fingers pause in their movement. Charles fidgets a little, wanting for you to continue.

“You're about to fall asleep, Charlie," you giggle, but comply with his silent request. 

He moves closer to you and cuddles his face into the hollow between your jaw and your shoulder before taking a deep breath. “I'm not,” he replies softly. “But lying here with you is so comfortable.” He leisurely pulls at your sweater to reveal the skin on your neck and places feather-light kisses where your pulse is beating. Goosebumps spread across your body. 

“Charles...”

“Let's cancel on everyone,” he whispers, and his hand moves to your thigh to drape your leg over his hip so that you are literally pressed against each other, body to body. You feel his hardness against your clothed core. 

You sigh. “But you just said that we can't cancel,” you reply. “Besides, you already said yes to Lando and invited Pierre and Kika.”

“I don't care,” he breathes. “Let's be crappy friends and cancel at the last minute. I'm sure the others will understand.”

“What will they understand, hm? That the bed is so comfortable that we don't want to leave it?“ you ask him quietly. 

“That I'd rather be here in bed with you than standing in a crowded club.” His breath caresses your neck gently. “That I'd rather test out the new bed with you than yell at you over the loud music just to be able to talk to you.”

His words make your face heat up. You hope he doesn't notice. “Then we'd be very bad friends.”

“Then let's be very bad friends,” he grins against your neck before pressing a final kiss on your pulse. “We can make it up to them sometime. Just not today. Today I want you all to myself. Now that I finally have you back with me.”

You feel him press his boner against you and you absentmindedly tighten your leg around his waist. Your fingers gently press into his neck muscles and his breathy moans reach your ears. You can feel your arousal pool in your panties and you want to give in so bad. 

You want to stay home with him. In this bed. You want to repeat last night at his mom’s house, but this time the both of you would be able to show how much pleasure you give each other. You desperately want to hear him groan again, but now without the barrier of your hand on his mouth. You want to feel his cock against your pussy, sliding through your folds and gathering your juices. 

God, you want to repeat last night but without any clothes on. His cock nudging against your clit, sending jolts of electricity through your veins. His hands grabbing your ass and moving you over his length. You want to feel the the tip of his dick catching in your entrance before finally sliding in, stretching you deliciously. 

You want to fuck him so bad that it’s making you dizzy.

“What are you thinking about, mon amour?” Charles asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

Before you can answer him – which you don't really want to do anyway – your cell phone rings. The Monegasque reaches for it without hesitation, answers the call and puts the person on speakerphone. 

“Allo?”

“Hello, you two,“ Kika's voice sounds from your cell phone. ‘How are you? What are you doing?”

“We're testing my new bed,’ Charles replies with a grin, and you hide your face in the duvet. 

“You can't say that,” you say, reaching for your cell phone, but your roommate extends his arm so you can't get to it. 

“Why?“ Charles asks hypocritically. "It's true, isn't it?”

“Charles!”

Kika laughs loudly. "Should I call back in a minute? I don't want to disturb you guys doing whatever it is you're doing.”

“It's fine,” you call to her, although she would have understood you even if you had spoken normally. “What can I do for you?”

The Portuguese woman giggles. “I just wanted to ask what you would like to drink and what you are going to wear.”

You open your eyes wide. "Um, I have no idea. What do people wear in the clubs here?" You repeat the question you've already asked your roommate. 

“How about this?” She begins. "Pierre and I will come a little earlier and go through your closet together? The guys can play video games or something. And we'll get ready in peace and quiet."

You like her suggestion. ”That would be great.”

“Great. Pierre and I are going out for a quick shopping trip and want to buy some wine. You drink sweet, right? Then I'll bring you something.”

“Thanks!” you reply and with a big stretch you finally get to your phone in Charles's hand. "See you in a bit!" You hang up and put the phone back on the bedside table. When you turn to your friend, he's pouting. ”What's wrong?”

He turns on his back and crosses his arms over his chest, which is a little difficult considering your leg is still wrapped around his waist. “I was kind of hoping you'd cancel on them.”

A smile spreads across your face. You slide closer to him again and reach for his arms to separate them before you roll onto him. Your knees are next to his hips on the mattress and instinctively, his big hands find your ass. 

“I'm sorry, Charles,” you whisper, leaning down so that you are completely on top of him. Your elbows are next to his shoulders and your hands are finding their way into his hair again. ”We don't have to stay long.”

The Monegasque exhales. “As long as you promise me that we'll stay in bed tomorrow, that's okay with me.” When you purse your lips, he groans in annoyance and pushes his head back into the pillow. “Do I have to go to camp with Andrea tomorrow?”

You nod slightly. ”I'm afraid so.”

“That's terrible,” he complains, wrapping his arms around you. ”Then we won't see each other again until New Year's Eve! What will I do without you during that time?”

You don't want to think about spending the next few days without him, which is why you change the subject back to tonight. 

“How about this: Kika and Pierre are coming over soon and we'll party later with Lando and his DJ friend,” you begin your suggestion. 

Charles raises an eyebrow. ”I don't see any compromise I'm willing to make.”

You roll your eyes in mock exasperation. “Just let me finish. So - we're all going out to party in a bit, and when we get back home we can make ourselves comfortable in bed here, watch another movie and not get out of bed until noon tomorrow.”

“Do we have to be dressed to watch the movie?” he asks mischievously, and as you move to roll away from him, he turns you both so that he is now on top of you. He grabs your thighs and puts your legs back around his waist, and as he nestles against you, almost crushing you under his weight – which feels better than you care to admit. You feel his boner between your legs. 

“Charles,“ you moan softly as his cock softly nudges against your clothed clit. 

“Do we have to be dressed?” he repeats his question and slides his hand under your sweater, his fingers spreading over your sides. 

You breathe in his scent and bask in his warmth. “We don't have to,” you reply without giving a thought to what it means for you. But you couldn't care less about that right now. 

Charles's lips breathe light kisses on your neck. “Then it's a deal,” he whispers before withdrawing completely – leaving you high and dry. “Come on. Our friends will be here soon. And I doubt you'll want to be in our bed then. No matter how comfortable it is,“ he grins and leaves the bedroom. But as he walks through the door, you can still see him put his hand in his sweatpants to fix his erection. 

Somehow you're glad you have the same effect on him as he does on you. 

Hot blood courses through your veins when you think about how the evening will end. You would love to pull Charles back into bed, rip his clothes off and let him ravish you until you can't walk anymore. 

That will have to wait. 

But anticipation is half the fun.

[creamflix]

character insert x female reader; 18+ content, minors and blank blogs do not interact. established relationship, modern au. dom!reader. lots of teasing. (addicted to the) weird girl pussy ! #needthat. — masterlist here ☆

people never quite understood you.

a "weird girl," they called you — quiet, withdrawn, someone who didn’t fit into their neatly packaged little worlds. but what baffled them more than your oddities was the fact that he was with you. the most sought-after man, someone who could have anyone he wanted, yet he trailed behind you like a lost puppy. the whispers, the stares, the judgment — you could feel them everywhere, gnawing at your back as you walked hand-in-hand with him, like you didn’t belong.

“what does she have on him?” “he’s probably dating her for a dare.” “god, she’s so strange, why would he be with her?”

you heard it all. and so did he. but while you brushed it off, your presence sent him spiraling into need. it wasn't what they thought — you had the upper hand here. and he knew it too well.

you caught him staring again, his eyes glued to you, his lips parted like he was about to say something, but didn’t. just the sight of you standing there, minding your own business, was enough to make him lose his composure. his reputation as the confident, cocky guy who could charm anyone disappeared the moment he was alone with you. because when it came to you, he was nothing more than a whiney, needy mess.

he tugged on your sleeve, his voice already trembling. “c-can we go? please?”

you shot him a lazy glance, raising an eyebrow as if you didn’t already know what he wanted. “go where?” you teased, feigning ignorance.

his lips pressed into a thin line, his fingers twitching as they brushed your arm, but he didn’t meet your eyes. “you know where,” he mumbled, voice low, practically choking on his own need.

you smiled, but it wasn’t the soft kind. no, it was the kind that made him squirm. he was the one with the power, the money, the looks — but when it came to you? it was like he couldn’t even think straight.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, voice soft but teasing. you took a step closer, and his breath hitched, his eyes darting to the ground as if that could hide the pink dusting his cheeks.

you heard the whispers behind you again — the mocking laughter, the mean-spirited comments. they thought you were a nobody. to them, you were the odd one out. but they didn’t see how his entire demeanor crumbled in your presence, how the proud, arrogant man they knew became this — a whining, desperate mess, practically begging for your attention.

“can’t we just go home?” his voice cracked, and you couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips.

“why?” you asked, feigning innocence again. your fingers trailed up his arm, watching as he sucked in a shaky breath, his lips parting just slightly. “don’t you like these gatherings?”

his gaze finally met yours, eyes wide, pupils blown, desperation written all over his face. “it’s… i… you know i can’t focus when you’re around like this,” he muttered, his voice dropping into a whine that made you want to laugh. how could someone like him get so worked up over someone like you?

but you knew why. it was because he was pussy drunk — so drunk off you, off the way you held his attention without even trying. the neediness in his voice, the way he fidgeted under your gaze, it was all because he couldn’t control himself around you.

“is that my problem?” you asked, your voice dripping with amusement, as you leaned in closer, brushing your lips lightly against his ear. “or yours?”

he let out a shaky breath, his hand gripping your wrist like he couldn’t stand it anymore. “please… please, i need you.” his voice was barely a whisper now, just a shaky breath against your skin. the confidence he showed everyone else was gone, replaced by this vulnerable, desperate version of himself that only you ever saw. and god, you loved it.

you could hear the wet sound of his lips parting as he kissed your neck, his hands shaking as they gripped your waist, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t bear even an inch of distance between you. “can’t we just leave? i need… i can’t think straight,” he begged, his breath hot against your skin.

and you knew why. it wasn’t because he was embarrassed of you, like people assumed — no, it was because he couldn’t stop thinking about you. he couldn’t stop picturing your sweet, slick pussy, couldn’t stop imagining how you tasted, how you felt. he needed you, and he needed you now. but you weren’t going to make it easy for him. not when he was like this — so damn whiney, so desperate, so willing to give in to whatever you wanted.

“you’re such a mess,” you said softly, running your fingers through his hair as he buried his face in your neck, groaning at the contact.

he let out a soft whimper, one that made your stomach flip with satisfaction. “please,” he begged, his voice so small, so needy. “just let me —”

you could feel the way his fingers tightened around you, the way his breath became ragged as his mouth brushed your collarbone, leaving hot, wet kisses in its wake. “can’t… can’t control myself,” he mumbled between kisses, his voice strained. “you’re driving me insane.”

the sound of his desperation was music to your ears, the way his lips made those soft, wet noises as he pressed them against your skin, the little whimpers and groans escaping him as he lost himself in the moment. he was barely holding it together, practically trembling with need, and you loved watching him like this — knowing that you were the reason he was falling apart.

“what’s the matter, baby?” you cooed, running your hand through his hair again, watching as he looked up at you with those wide, pleading eyes. “can’t handle it?”

he shook his head, his breath shaky as his fingers trailed lower, grazing the waistband of your pants. “no… can’t handle it,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “need you… please.”

and god, the sound of him begging was everything. they thought he was some untouchable, cocky man, but here he was, completely undone because of you. no one would believe it if they saw — the same man who commanded rooms and left people hanging on his every word was now on his knees, hands shaking, lips wet, and voice trembling, all because he couldn’t get enough of your touch.

“you’re such a good boy,” you whispered, letting him kiss your skin, loving the way his lips trailed down your stomach, leaving a hot, wet trail. his mouth hovered over your pussy, and he whimpered again, his lips parting as if he could taste you already.

and you? you’d let him have it. because you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

#needthat

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[keepthedelta]

thinking about the rosberg family and how a kardashian or dts style documentary about them would be amazing.

you have keke rosberg, a hard racing cigar smoking legend of motorsport from one of it's most dangerous eras, whose name literally means pixie rose mountain. the man who basically invented formula one in finland but was hated by his own media for being too cosmopolitan and when they tried to recognise his achievements refused to let them put his face on a postage stamp because he wouldn't make money off of it. studied to be a dentist but missed the entrance exam and became a racing driver instead. got out of having to take german in school by persuading the master that he would never need it but as soon as he met a hot older german woman went so insane over her that he proposed just months after meeting her and agreed to make it their primary language at home. set a record for the fastest lap in f1 history that lasted until 2004, won his first f1 race and then won a world championship before he won his second. known as a crazy racer who would go through you if you didn't let him past. also the softest dad who loves his baby boy more than anything else.

then there's sina, the coolest person in the rosberg family. was so hot and smart and talented that a man willingly sacrificed his cultural identity to be her husband. professional interpreter who knows a bunch of languages and taught them to her polyglot son. married a f1 world champion but hated his driving so much that she drove herself everywhere, even to events that she attended with him. showed up finland's independence day ball in a suit and bow tie against all dress customs. planned to give birth on her own because it's basically the same thing as going to the dentist, and she doesn't need a man for that. has an f1 champion husband and son and still banned f1 talk in her house for nico's entire career. got so nervous watching her baby race that she vacuumed the entire apartment each time. ditched her husband in dubai so that she could make it to the track to see nico become world champion in person. got drunk and talked about keke's sperm on live television.

nico rosberg, the saddest wettest kitten who ever lived. the most beloved baby in the world. cried at everything as a child. cried when he lost at tennis and when he won. uber competitive. incredibly athletic, competing internationally in karting and tennis. total nerd who had no trouble with his schoolwork despite missing school constantly and got accepted into imperial college london to study engineering. at the time the youngest person to ever drive an f1 car. the biggest single cause of sexuality crises in motorsport since 2006. was once sponsored by the german version of mtv. nicknamed after a teen pop sensation. met the love of his life when he was four and hit her over the head with a bucket while they were making sandcastles. had an incredibly difficult incredibly public divorce from a man he was never legally married to. dropped the mic said thank u, next and is so so happy in his retirement. has stripped down to his underwear on television and done a river clean up in designer coats. boy mom to an orange cat, girl dad to human children. loves his daughters more than anything, the kind of man who will leave a 2 million dollar car on a hill to hitchhike, with his videographer, to his daughters's christmas party. can pinpoint the amount of time lost in a corner exactly and needs everyone to know about it. deeply annoying, absolutely hilarious, incredibly kind.

and of course, vivian. ceo of the rosberg family. still planning the long game revenge on nico for hitting her with a bucket when they were children, born in germany, studied design in milan, can party harder than f1 drivers. has done the interior design for private jets, because apparently that's a thing. owner, creator and namesake of the best rated ice cream shop in the balearics. makes her daughters matching outfits for a taylor swift concert and publicly teases her husband for not being a fan. stages elaborate christmas photos with a different colour theme every year. wore a white dress with turquoise louboutins and chanel bag to match nico's race suit in one of the most iconic and yet deeply underappreciated wag moments in f1 history. ruined them with champagne but didn't care. wants her children to be happy. definitely pegs her husband.

most interesting motorsport family of all time. forget dts, i just want to know about them