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kingofbodyrolls · 3 months ago

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Friendcation (m) | myg | honeymoon special

You and Yoongi travel to Scandinavia for your honeymoon, well more like babymoon. You camp, fish, hike and enjoy nature as you always do, and you even go surfing!

→ Pairing: mechanic!Yoongi x reader (female) → AUs: roadtrip!au, non idol!au, established relationship, mechanic!Yoongi. → Genres: slice of life, humor/crack, smut and fluff → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 8.8k → Warnings (explicit): semi-public sex (in a caravan on a campsite), exhibitionism, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, multiple sex scenes, nudity, oral (female and male receiving), breast play (sucking, slight biting), hickeys, squirting, deepthroating, creampie, impregnation kink, dirty talk, pleasing kink → Author’s note(1): another extra for friendcation is here! 🥳 I hope you enjoy this one too! 💜 → Read on AO3? [link] ✨

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When Yoongi revealed that he had already booked your honeymoon, you envisioned a sun-soaked paradise where you could bask in the golden warmth, bathe in crystal-clear waters, and revel in the essence of summer. But instead of tropical shores, you found yourself in the rugged mountains of Norway, on the cusp of autumn, where nature whispered secrets in the crisp, cool air. Yoongi had chosen this destination, a place forever etched in his heart from a trip with friends many years ago. He longed to share its raw, breathtaking beauty with you, and as you stood there, surrounded by towering peaks and pristine wilderness, you had to admit—the splendor was undeniable. Majestic mountains embraced the horizon, and the forest teemed with life—graceful deer gliding silently among the trees, playful squirrels darting about in a dance of their own.

For nearly a week, you nestled in a quaint cottage deep within the mountains, cocooned in the serene tranquility of nature. Each day, the world seemed to slow down, allowing you to savor every moment in this hidden paradise. But now, a new adventure beckons as your journey takes you onward to Denmark, with the enchanting landscapes of Sweden to explore first. The anticipation of Swedish forests, mirrored lakes, and ancient woodlands fills you with a quiet excitement, promising more adventures and moments of serene beauty.

The weather is a delicate dance between warm sunlight and the early September chill, hinting at the approach of autumn. Your journey from Norway to Sweden unfolds by bus, and upon arrival, a picturesque walk from the bus stop to your next secluded cottage awaits. The lightness of your luggage, carefully packed with warm clothes, turns the trek into an enjoyable prelude to the days ahead. You silently thank Yoongi for the foresight to pack hiking boots, as the rugged terrain tests your endurance. But the challenge is worth it, as each evening is rewarded with the simple pleasure of curling up in Yoongi’s arms, his hands soothing your tired feet as the day’s adventures fade into the warmth of the firelight.

In the Swedish cabin, time flows effortlessly, unburdened by the outside world. Yoongi, ever the thoughtful partner, prepares mouthwatering meals with ingredients fresh from the surrounding land, and with patient hands, he teaches you the art of fishing—a skill that had always eluded you on previous vacations. His steady guidance, coupled with whispered advice to remain silent, keeps the fish from fleeing, and you manage to catch a few, only to release them back into their watery home with a sense of reverence. Days are spent hiking the rolling hills and dense forests, each return to the cabin marked by the comforting embrace of each other’s arms, the crackle of the fire, and the soft murmur of the wilderness outside. Time slips away like water through your fingers, and before you know it, you’re packing for the next chapter of your journey.

The bus carries you southward, where a train awaits to whisk you to Denmark. There, just outside Copenhagen, you rent a car and a charming caravan trailer, your home on wheels for the next leg of your adventure. Denmark’s landscape, while familiar to Sweden’s, carries its own unique charm—its language more rough, its fields more open, a reminder that every place, like every person, has its own distinct personality.

Both you and Yoongi present your driver’s licenses, receive the keys, and locate your vehicles with the excitement of a new journey just beginning. Yoongi takes the wheel, his hands confidently guiding you northward to a place called Thy, a region he had spoken of with a quiet reverence. The local radio station fills the car with the lively tunes of Danish pop music, and as the road unfolds before you, a bridge rises to meet the horizon. You recline into your seat, lulled by the soothing rhythm of the road beneath you, when Yoongi mentions needing a break. He spots a rest stop, effortlessly maneuvering into a spacious parking area, and for a moment, the world outside pauses, allowing you both to take a breath and savor the journey that lies ahead.

Yoongi quickly exits, making a beeline for the restrooms, while you step out, stretching your limbs with a quiet sigh. The late hour casts a golden glow, the sun hanging low on the horizon, bathing the world in a warm, amber light that feels like a fleeting embrace. Around you, the scene is tranquil yet alive—lush green trees stand as silent sentinels, large trucks and trailers rest like sleeping giants, and an array of cars glimmer under the fading daylight. Your gaze drifts to a small store nearby, and you consider the idea of grabbing a meal, but something else catches your attention. A group of young men huddles around a car with its hood propped open, their faces etched with worry, a silent image of distress. Though the intricacies of engines elude you, Yoongi’s knack for mechanics brings a knowing smile to your lips. Almost as if sensing the moment, he appears beside you, his hand finding yours with effortless grace.

You gesture toward the troubled vehicle, your voice soft yet tinged with curiosity. “Do you think we should ask if they need help?”

Yoongi clears his throat, a quiet confidence in his nod, always eager to lend a hand when cars are involved. Together, you approach the trio and their ailing car, a shared purpose drawing you forward.

“Do you need help?” Yoongi asks in English, his voice carrying a note of calm assurance. Two of the young men exchange giggles, their reason a mystery, but the one peering under the hood turns to Yoongi with relief plain in his eyes. “Yeah. I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”

“I’m a mechanic. I don’t mind taking a look,” Yoongi replies, rolling up his sleeves to reveal his veined forearms, a sight that sends a flutter through your chest. “Babe, can you grab me a flashlight?” he asks, his voice gentle, and you’re quick to comply, retrieving it from the rental car. As the sun sinks lower, each sliver of light becomes precious, a fleeting gift for Yoongi’s hands to work by.

With the flashlight in hand, you stand close, watching Yoongi immerse himself in the task, his focus as sharp and radiant as the golden hour surrounding you both. His expertise becomes a quiet melody in the twilight, a dance of hands and metal that feels almost sacred in its simplicity.

“I’m Jonas, by the way. Thanks for looking at the car,” the young man says, stepping away to rejoin his laughing friends, a moment of lightness amidst their concern. You watch him playfully slap one of them on the arm, the sound of laughter briefly filling the air before your attention returns to Yoongi. You adjust the flashlight, its beam following the precise movements of his hands as he examines the engine. Yoongi lets out those soft, endearing noises he makes when deeply engrossed in a task, a habit he likely doesn’t even realize he has, but one that always stirs something deep within you. This moment is no different. Watching him work with such intensity sends warmth through you, a reminder of why you cherish these shared moments, even in the most unexpected places.

Grease begins to smudge his hands as he delves deeper under the hood, reattaching a loose valve and checking fluid levels with the practiced ease of someone who has spent years mastering his craft. Over time, you’ve absorbed a few of his car maintenance tips, knowledge passed on in quiet moments like these. Yoongi steps back from the car, a signal for you to turn off the flashlight, and you comply as Jonas, his brows knit with lingering concern, approaches to hear Yoongi’s verdict.

“I reattached a loose valve,” Yoongi explains, his tone measured and thoughtful, “and you’re low on radiator fluid. Be cautious when you drive; the car could overheat. You should refill it as soon as possible. Do you live nearby? It’s risky to drive far in this condition.”

The young man nods, gratitude and relief mingling in his expression. And as you stand there, bathed in the fading light, you can’t help but feel a quiet satisfaction in the simple act of helping, of being there in that moment with Yoongi, where the beauty of the setting sun is matched only by the warmth of his presence beside you.

Jonas nods, a wave of relief washing over his face. “We live close—we’re almost home. I’ll drive carefully and contact my mechanic tomorrow,” he says, offering a grateful smile. Yet, as his friends snicker behind him, their eyes linger on you with a gaze that feels like a brush of unwelcome heat, as if you’re some forbidden temptation. “Thank you so much for your help,” Jonas adds, shaking Yoongi’s hand with a vigor that speaks to his gratitude, pulling him into a spontaneous hug.

Yoongi returns the gesture with warmth, clearly pleased to have made a difference. As he walks back to you, you notice him wiping his greasy hands together in a futile attempt to clean them, a small smile playing on your lips at the sight.

You greet him with a smoldering gaze, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips, a kiss that holds both affection and a touch of mischief. Are you putting on a show for the boys who ogled you earlier? Absolutely. As you pull away, you lean into his ear, your voice a whisper in English, “You always look so damn hot when you’re working. I can’t wait for you to fuck me later.” Your words are barely audible, yet you catch the sound of one of the guys choking in surprise, a wicked smile curling your lips as you take Yoongi’s hand. With a playful wave to the three gaping men, you turn and saunter back to your rental car, feeling Yoongi’s hand squeeze your ass with a low chuckle.

“You’re such a good and dirty girl,” he murmurs, his words a spark that sends warmth pooling in your core. His praise, his touch, his very presence—everything about him ignites the fire within you.

Slipping back into the car, Yoongi starts the engine, the soft rumble beneath you a prelude to the journey ahead. The night deepens as you drive, the world outside dissolving into shadows and starlight, the road a ribbon of dark velvet stretching toward the unknown. Hours later, you arrive at a quiet camping ground nestled in the northern wilderness. Yoongi picks a spot at random, the exhaustion of the day evident in the slump of your bodies. He parks and turns off the car, the silence of the night settling around you like a blanket.

Yoongi sets to work preparing the caravan, a compact haven of white and beige. Inside, it holds a tiny kitchen with a sink, fridge, and portable stove, a dining area that converts into a bed, bunks that will remain untouched, and a small bathroom. As he transforms the dining space into a bed, you slip out of your clothes and into one of his shirts, the familiar scent of him comforting against your skin. Yoongi follows suit, and after brushing your teeth together, you both crawl into bed, the weight of the day melting away in the warmth of each other’s presence.

He spoons you, his body pressing close, and you feel the unmistakable hardness against your ass, a thrill of desire sparking within you. Unable to resist, you grind back into him, eliciting quick, needy sounds that only fuel your own arousal. You turn to capture his lips in a kiss, your voice breathless as you whisper how much you need him.

Without a word, he turns you over, his hands deftly pulling down your panties and sliding his own underwear aside. The moment he enters you, a sigh escapes your lips, the smooth glide of him filling you completely, a perfect fit that sends waves of pleasure rippling through you. He moves with a rhythm that drives you wild, each thrust deeper, more urgent, as his hand finds your clit, pushing you ever closer to the edge. The pleasure builds, coiling tight within you until it snaps, your climax washing over you in a wave of pure ecstasy. He follows soon after, his warm release filling you as he grunts against your neck, pressing lazy kisses to your shoulder.

In the afterglow, he gently pulls your panties back up, his touch tender as you both settle into the bed, the night wrapping around you like a cocoon. Exhaustion pulls you under, and with the comforting weight of Yoongi beside you, you drift into a deep, contented sleep, the echoes of your shared passion lingering in the quiet night.

Morning breaks with the gentle chorus of birdsong and sunlight spilling into the caravan like liquid gold. You groan softly, stretching your limbs as Yoongi stirs beside you, his warmth anchoring you to the comfort of the moment. The new day whispers promises of fresh adventures, but for now, you linger in the serenity, savoring the feel of his body close to yours.

“Morning, babe,” he murmurs, his voice thick with the remnants of sleep, his hair tousled in a way that only adds to his effortless charm.

“Morning, Yoon,” you reply, your voice soft as you lean in to press a kiss to his lips, a gentle exchange of warmth before you rise to greet the day. The morning routine is simple and sweet—brushing teeth and hair, sharing a light breakfast—each small act grounding you in the shared rhythm of your lives.

Stepping outside, the landscape unfolds before you, vast and open, dotted with tufts of grass and stretches of sand. The air is brisk, carrying the salty tang of the sea and the constant, soothing lull of waves crashing against the distant shore. You inhale deeply, the cold, invigorating air filling your lungs as you take Yoongi’s hand, the two of you setting off to explore the campground, the natural beauty around you awakening with the first light of day. The world is still in its early stirrings, granting you a peaceful solitude, a shared quiet that feels almost sacred.

As you stroll, the calm is broken by the sight of an elderly couple walking past—naked. You exchange a startled glance with Yoongi, his expression mirroring your own surprise. The closer you draw to the beach, the more you realize that everyone around you is unabashedly bare, the air thick with a sense of freedom that feels, to you, both strange and out of place. Overdressed and bemused, you settle down on the sandy shore, leaning into Yoongi as you take in the unexpected scene.

“What is this place?” you murmur, half-amused, half-bewildered by the sight of naked bodies in every direction. Yoongi chuckles, pulling out his phone to solve the mystery. Moments later, his laughter bubbles up, contagious and bright.

“It’s a nudist campsite and beach,” he explains, his eyes sparkling with amusement as realization dawns on you. Laughter spills from your lips, a shared moment of levity in the midst of this peculiar discovery. There’s something admirable about the courage of those around you, their ease in embracing their natural state, even if it’s not a comfort you share. With a grin, you tell Yoongi that while you can appreciate their confidence, you’d much rather prefer a different campsite—one where the only naked body you see is his, perhaps later tonight.

The day unfolds in a series of light-hearted decisions and shared smiles. Later, you venture into the chilly embrace of the sea, donning your swimwear despite the nudist surroundings. The water is cold, biting against your skin, yet it awakens something within you—an invigorating contrast to the warmth of the morning, cleansing and bracing. Afterward, you drive into a nearby town for lunch, soaking in the lively atmosphere, the air filled with the hum of conversation and the sound of laughter. Hand in hand, you wander through quaint shops, not seeking anything in particular, but relishing the simple pleasure of being together.

The hours pass in a blend of humor and quiet adventure, each moment wrapped in the comfort of Yoongi’s presence. Together, you weave through the day, creating a tapestry of memories that feel destined to become cherished stories—reminders of the joy found in the unexpected, and the beauty of sharing life’s quirks with the one you love.

You return to the campsite, hitching the caravan back to the rental car, eager to find a new haven—a place where the landscape is as private as your desires. The drive is peaceful, the miles slipping away under a sky that deepens into twilight, leading you to a secluded campground far removed from the nudist site. As night falls, you settle into the quiet embrace of nature, the only witnesses to your evening the stars that begin to shimmer above.

Under a canopy of twinkling lights, you and Yoongi sit side by side on a pair of worn stools, warm cups of tea in hand. The night is cool, the air crisp, and the silence between you is companionable, filled with the unspoken understanding that comes from years of shared moments like this. The sky stretches out endlessly above, a vast canvas of dark velvet scattered with diamonds, and you both soak in its serene beauty, letting the tranquility of the moment wrap around you like a comforting blanket.

Later, you retreat to the warmth of your caravan, its small space transformed into a world of your own. Curled up in bed, you lean in for a kiss, the softness of his lips familiar yet always thrilling. Your fingers find the waistband of his boxers, and with a deliberate slowness, you peel them away, revealing his hard cock that you always crave. Your desire for him is insatiable, a fire that never dims, only burns hotter with each passing touch.

Wearing nothing beneath your nightshirt, your slick arousal greets him as you straddle his hips, a low moan escaping your lips as you grind down, the friction intoxicating. The rough texture of his pubic hair against your sensitive skin, the solid heat of his cock against your aching pussy—every sensation drives you wild, fueling the need that pulses through you.

Dripping with want, you wrap your hands around his thick dick, guiding him to your entrance, and with a slow, deliberate motion, you sink down onto him. The stretch is exquisite, your body accommodating him inch by inch until your ass meets his pelvis, the fullness making you gasp.

“Fuck, you’re always so big,” you pant, the words tumbling out as pleasure ripples through you, your head falling back in ecstasy.

His groan is guttural, raw, as his fingers dig into your hips, holding you in place. “You’re so fucking tight,” he growls, his breath hot against your skin, his need for you as urgent as yours for him. “Taking me so good, baby,” he rasps, already breathless, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

You hum in response, setting a steady rhythm as you begin to move, your hands splayed against his chest for balance. Leaning forward, you press kisses to his collarbones, his neck, your breath hitching as you whisper into his ear, “Get me pregnant, Yoon.”

You feel him twitch inside you, a reaction as instant as it is powerful, the mere idea pushing him closer to the edge. His grip tightens, possessive, and he begins to thrust up into you, his movements seeking control as he chases that intoxicating thought. His hips snap against yours with a newfound urgency, his pace relentless as he drives deeper, harder.

He holds you still as he pounds into your warm, wet heat, each thrust tearing a scream from your throat. You try to muffle your cries, aware of the thin caravan walls and the nearby campers, but the pleasure is overwhelming, consuming, and it’s impossible to stay quiet under his relentless onslaught.

Together, you find a rhythm, a perfect synchrony that sends you both hurtling toward the edge. He hits your g-spot with precision, over and over, until the coil in your stomach tightens to the point of breaking. With a choked cry, you unravel around him, your orgasm crashing over you in waves as your body releases a rush of liquid heat, soaking his cock as you convulse in his arms.

Panting, you cling to him, your body shuddering as he continues to move, his pace unyielding until you collapse against his chest, utterly spent. It’s more intimate like this, your bodies pressed close, and as you whisper filthy promises in his ear, nipping at his lobe, he comes inside you with a deep groan, filling you with his warmth as he grunts against your neck, his lips brushing your skin in lazy kisses.

You both gasp for breath, slick with sweat and the mingled scent of your lovemaking. He cleans you gently with a towel, his touch tender, before pulling you back into his arms. You drift off to sleep in his embrace, safe and sated, just as you love to.

The terrain here is gentler, the low elevations a welcome reprieve from the rugged mountains of Norway and Sweden. Your days have been spent in quiet contentment, the two of you fishing in the calm waters, the simplicity of the act bringing a sense of peace. Words aren’t needed in these moments, the silence speaking volumes as you sit side by side, casting lines and sharing smiles.

One day, you take a bus into Aarhus, the city buzzing with life on a cold Friday night. The decision to take public transport is an easy one—no need to worry about driving as you plan to indulge in the vibrant nightlife. The contrast between the quiet days spent in nature and the energy of the city is exhilarating, and you look forward to a night of laughter and exploration, knowing that whatever the evening holds, it will be another memory to cherish with Yoongi by your side.

You’re adorned in a flowing dress that sways with every step, its fabric catching the cool breeze of mid-September. Warm boots hug your feet, grounding you as you navigate the lively streets. Yoongi walks beside you, his own boots echoing softly against the cobblestones. He’s dressed in jeans, a fitted shirt, and a cozy jacket that accentuates his broad shoulders. You’re wrapped in a jacket too, its warmth a welcome shield against the evening chill that settles in like a whisper from autumn itself.

The streets pulse with life, alive with throngs of people—mostly the young and inebriated, their laughter loud and words slurred, their steps unsteady as they weave through the neon-lit night. You and Yoongi sip your drinks, savoring the night with a quiet restraint, the alcohol a gentle warmth rather than a dizzying rush. Neon signs bathe the street in a kaleidoscope of colors, each one calling out the names of bars and clubs, their music spilling into the air, a chaotic symphony of bass and beats.

You step into one of the clubs, but the moment you cross the threshold, the music hits you like a wave, overwhelming and disorienting. The crowd presses in, bodies moving in a fevered dance, leaving no room to breathe. You cringe as strangers brush against you, the invasion of your space unsettling. Yoongi’s discomfort mirrors your own, his eyes scanning the room with a protective edge.

Then, a rasping voice invades your ear, the breath hot and unwelcome. “Well, aren’t you a sweet thing,” the man sneers in English, his tone dripping with an arrogance that sends a shiver of unease down your spine. A hand suddenly grabs your ass, and you know instantly—it’s not Yoongi’s.

Anger flares in you, sharp and hot. With a swift, decisive motion, you swat the offending hand away, spinning to face the drunken stranger. His eyes are wide and unfocused, lost in a haze of alcohol. He leans in, but before he can get any closer, Yoongi steps between you, his presence a solid barrier, gently pushing the man back. The stranger grunts, his voice slurred and angry in a language you don’t understand.

Yoongi turns to you, concern etched in the lines of his face, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. You nod, signaling that you’re okay, but just as you turn to leave, a rough hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you back.

Yoongi’s reaction is immediate, but you step in front of him, a surge of determination coursing through you. The stranger’s grip tightens, but you seize his jaw with your free hand, your fingers digging in with a strength born of irritation. You stare into his startled eyes, your voice low and laced with venom. “I don’t appreciate that,” you hiss, each word deliberate. “I’m happily married, and I don’t want you touching me.”

The force in your grip makes him wince, and he releases your wrist, his bravado crumbling as regret flickers across his face. “Fuck. I’m sorry,” he mumbles, the fight leaving him.

You push him back, asserting your anger one final time before turning away, not wasting another second on him. Grabbing Yoongi’s hand, you pull him toward the exit, the need to escape the stifling club overwhelming. Outside, the cold night air fills your lungs, sharp and cleansing, each breath forming small clouds in the chilly atmosphere. The tension begins to melt away, and you savor the fresh, crisp night, grateful for the comforting presence of Yoongi at your side, his warmth a constant reassurance.

“That was kinda hot,” he murmurs, his voice low as he presses his body against yours, the heat of him seeping into your skin. “The way you handled yourself in there, babe.” His lips brush the sensitive skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine that have nothing to do with the cold.

“Thanks,” you reply, your voice still carrying the edge of disgust from the stranger’s touch. “But it was disgusting. His hands on my ass.”

Yoongi hums in sympathy, his grip on your hand tightening as if to ground you both. “I don’t like other people touching you like that,” he says, his voice filled with a protective anger. “I’m sorry that happened,” he says in a much softer voice, making sure you’re okay.

You chuckle softly, the sound carrying a hint of relief. “Yeah. I know you’re possessive, Yoon.”

“If we’d stayed there a moment longer, I would’ve decked him,” he huffs, the street lamps casting a warm, golden glow on the sidewalk as you walk.

“Oh, I know. But I don’t want you getting arrested in another country—or back home, for that matter,” you laugh lightly, the tension easing from your shoulders. “I had it under control. But thank you for having my back.” You lean in to kiss his cheek, the gesture soft and intimate, and just then, you arrive at the bus station.

The cold air bites at your skin, making you shiver as you wait. Relief washes over you as the bus finally arrives, its doors opening to reveal a sanctuary of warmth. You step inside, the chill of the night giving way to the cozy embrace of heated air. Settling into a seat, you lean against Yoongi’s shoulder, the comfort of his presence grounding you.

“Maybe we’re too old to drink and party,” you muse, your voice a soft murmur that mingles with the hum of the bus.

Yoongi’s laugh is like a melody, soothing and familiar, a sound that feels like home. “Maybe,” he agrees, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“You’re an old man now,” you quip, playfully squeezing his thigh, feeling the solid muscle beneath.

“Hey,” he retorts, mock indignation coloring his tone, “you’re not much younger than me.”

Laughter bubbles up between you, the shared humor easing the tensions of the night. It’s a moment of pure, unfiltered joy, the kind that lingers long after the sound fades.

Back at the caravan, the atmosphere shifts, the night thick with anticipation. A surge of power and desire courses through you, igniting a fire that demands to be quenched. Seizing Yoongi’s jaw with the same assertiveness you’d shown the stranger earlier, you back him against the wall. Your gaze locks onto his, a silent command that he’s all too eager to obey.

With a teasing smile, you lick his chin, tasting the salt of his skin. “I want you, Yoon,” you whisper, your voice a sultry purr that sends shivers down his spine.

His breath hitches, the sound rough and needy. His eyes, darkened with lust, never leave yours as you tighten your grip on his jaw. “I want your tongue on my clit,” you command, the words slipping from your lips like a sinful prayer.

He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

“Now,” you add, your voice brooking no argument.

Yoongi doesn’t need to be told twice. He drops to his knees with a reverence that makes your heart race, his hands sliding up your thighs to hike up your dress. The fabric pools around your waist as he tugs down your panties, his breath warm against your bare skin. You giggle in anticipation, the sound light and breathless.

He teases you first, a slow lick that sends sparks of pleasure through your body, followed by a gentle suck that makes you gasp. But then, with a playful glint in his eyes, he spins you around, your legs hitting the bed. You fall onto it with a soft thud, a surprised laugh escaping your lips. Yoongi chuckles darkly, crawling over you like a predator about to claim his prey.

He spreads your legs, the cool air brushing against your slick heat. And then he’s on you, his mouth finding your clit with a precision that makes your toes curl. His plush tongue licks and sucks, each movement sending you higher, closer to the edge. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as you grind against his mouth, chasing the orgasm that looms just out of reach.

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you pant, your voice a breathless plea as pleasure builds within you, sharp and relentless.

He slurps, the sound obscene and utterly delicious. When you glance down, the sight of him between your legs—his face glistening with your arousal, his eyes alight with desire—undoes you completely. You come apart with a cry, your body trembling as the orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your grip tightens in his hair, holding him to you as he licks you through the aftershocks, his tongue slow and sensual.

When you finally signal it’s enough, he pulls back, his face shining with your essence, drops of it splattered across his cheeks and lips. He looks so fucking hot, and he’s yours—your husband, your love, your everything. The thought swells in your chest, your heart beating a wild rhythm of adoration.

“You’re so hot when you squirt on my face,” he says, his voice husky with satisfaction as he sticks out his tongue to lick at the drops he can reach. The sight makes your pussy flutter with renewed arousal.

“Fuck,” you moan, the need rising in you again. “I want to suck your dick so bad,” you groan, your voice laced with a desperate, aching need.

Yoongi chuckles, a low, rich sound as he stands and begins to undress completely. You watch him, your eyes drinking in every inch of his body, from the strength in his shoulders to the ridges of muscle that ripple under his skin. He’s a vision, raw and powerful, and the sight of him makes your mouth water.

With a look of pure desire, you drop to your knees before him. His hand finds your jaw, his thumb brushing across your cheek with a tenderness that contrasts with the heat in his eyes. “You look so beautiful. Always,” he murmurs, his voice filled with reverence.

His praise sends a thrill through you, your body responding to the way he worships you with his words and his touch. Humming in appreciation, you reach out to grasp his cock, your hand soft as it glides along his length. Precum beads at the tip, slicking your palm as you stroke him.

You stick your tongue out, gathering saliva before you engulf him in the warmth of your mouth. You suck him like a piece of candy, savoring the taste of him, focusing on the sensitive frenulum and the head of his cock.

His hands land on your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he grunts in need. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your mouth as you work him over with slow, deliberate movements.

You begin to hum, the vibrations sending shivers of pleasure down his length. You love watching him unravel before you, his control slipping as you bring him closer and closer to the edge. His breaths come faster, his grip tightening in your hair as you take him deeper, your mouth a hot, wet haven that he never wants to leave.

“Babe,” he warns, his voice taut with anticipation, a delicious strain that sends shivers down your spine. He’s closer than you anticipated, but you don’t relent. You want to push him over the edge, to taste his release. He tries to pull you off, his hands trembling, but you bat them away with a determined swat, drawing him closer, deeper. Without intending to, you deepthroat him, and his resistance melts into a soft moan, his legs buckling beneath the weight of his pleasure.

You steady your breath, fighting your gag reflex as you close your eyes and do it again, taking him in as deep as you can, your throat tightening around him. Your free hand moves to his balls, feeling the tension there, the tightness that signals just how close he is. A deep, primal groan escapes you as you pull off with a wet pop, only to engulf him again, your pace quickening with purpose.

You can hear it in his voice, the way he moans your name, each syllable a testament to how close he is to unraveling. His breath comes in ragged gasps, his body trembling with the effort to hold back, but you don’t give him that luxury. You push him closer, until, with a broken cry of your name, he spills into your mouth, the warm, salty liquid hitting your tongue in waves.

You watch his face contort in pure ecstasy, every line and shadow a portrait of his pleasure. When he’s spent, you swallow with a satisfied hum, pressing a teasing kiss to the sensitive tip of his cock, making him shudder with the aftershocks of bliss.

Panting, he runs a hand through his tousled hair, still trying to catch his breath. “You know,” he says, his voice still thick with pleasure, “you’re never gonna get pregnant if I come in your mouth.”

You giggle, a light, airy sound that cuts through the lingering heat between you. “Maybe not,” you concede, “but I love this too, you know. And we should have fun while we try.” You glance down, watching as he slowly softens, your heart swelling with affection for him. Leaning up, you capture his lips in a hungry kiss, pulling him down onto the bed where you eventually drift off to sleep, wrapped in the warmth of each other.

A few days later, a strange ache tugs at your stomach, a sensation that’s unfamiliar, different from the usual pangs of your period. You brush it aside, though, too excited about the day ahead. Today, you and Yoongi are going surfing in a place known as ‘Cold Hawaii’, a name that hints at both adventure and the chill that comes with it. Neither of you knows how to surf, but that’s part of the thrill. You’re determined to make the most of it.

You head to a surf shop called ‘West Wind’, the air bristling with the energy of the ocean and the people who live for it. The shop is alive with the scent of saltwater and waxed boards, the sound of wetsuits being zipped up, and the murmur of excited voices. You rent surfboards and wetsuits, changing in nearby stalls, and then you’re off to the sea, the brisk air nipping at your cheeks, but the excitement in your veins keeps you warm.

The beach is a hive of activity, surfers riding the waves with effortless grace, their movements fluid and synchronized with the rhythm of the sea. Your instructor, a local with a laid-back demeanor, walks you through the basics: how to balance, where to place your feet. He makes it seem so simple, so intuitive, but you know it’s anything but.

When the time comes, you lie chest-down on the board, the cold water lapping at your sides as you wait for the right wave. The instructor’s voice guides you, telling you when to paddle, when to pop up. But it’s harder than it looks. Your first few attempts are clumsy, your legs wobbling as you try to stand, only to topple back into the water with a splash. You can’t help but laugh, the sound bright and carefree, mingling with the roar of the waves.

Yoongi, with his natural grace, seems to get the hang of it quicker. You watch in admiration as he balances perfectly on the board, his posture steady, his movements controlled. But just as you think he’s got it, he loses his balance and tumbles into the water, disappearing beneath the surface for a moment before popping back up, his black hair plastered to his face, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips.

You burst out laughing at the sight, the sound of your mirth carrying over the waves. Even the instructor joins in, chuckling at Yoongi’s comical fall. “That was actually good,” he says encouragingly, his tone warm and supportive. “You should both try again.”

Yoongi moves with an effortless grace, a natural on the board, and you can’t help but scuff lightly, rolling your eyes as you watch him balance perfectly, riding the waves as if he were born to them. His ease draws the instructor’s attention more towards you, his voice a steady mantra in your ear, urging you to paddle, paddle, paddle as the wave swells behind you, to pop up and find your balance before the ocean has a chance to pull you under.

You give it your all, and for one brief, glorious moment, you actually manage to stand, your feet finding purchase on the slick surface of the board. But the victory is fleeting; your balance falters so quickly it feels like whiplash, and the next thing you know, you’re crashing into the water, its cold embrace hitting your face hard. Your palms scrape the sandy bottom, and you sputter, your mouth and nose filled with the sting of salty water. The instructor isn’t fazed in the least, his calm demeanor a testament to his experience, and you tell yourself it’s okay—this is so much harder than it looks.

But you’re determined, your resolve like the tide itself, unwavering and persistent. Again and again, you try, each fall more bruising than the last, the surfboard sometimes feeling like it has a vendetta against you. Yet every time you’re knocked down, you get back up, driven by the desire to conquer at least one wave. Yoongi’s big, beaming smile tells you he’s loving every minute of this, his joy infectious even as you struggle.

“Just try again,” the instructor encourages, his tone unwavering, and you do, despite the toll it’s taking on your body. Your muscles ache, sore from the relentless attempts, and a small part of you wonders how long you’ve been at this. Time feels fluid out here, with the waves as your only measure.

Thankfully, the leash tethering you to the board spares you the task of chasing it down after each tumble, a small mercy in the midst of the challenge. You huff out a breath, catching Yoongi’s comforting gaze, his look of support giving you the strength to try once more.

Lying chest down on the board, you let the water cradle you, feeling the swell of a wave approaching. You paddle with renewed determination, and as the wave lifts you, you pop up, finding your balance. This time, you manage to stand, your feet steady beneath you, and the sensation is nothing short of euphoric. A giddy laugh bubbles up from your chest as you ride the wave, a wide smile splitting your face. “Look! I’m doing it!”

And then, inevitably, you hit the water face-first. But when you surface, it’s with a laugh of pure, unbridled joy. You’ve done it. After countless attempts, after losing track of how many times you’ve tried, you finally rode the wave, if only for a moment. And when you see the pride shining in Yoongi’s eyes, your heart swells with a happiness that makes every fall worth it.

Later, after drying off, you treat yourselves to ice cream, savoring the sweet, cold treat as you sit on the beach, wrapped in your warm jackets. The air is crisp, but the warmth between you is enough to keep the chill at bay. You walk hand in hand back to the caravan, the soft crunch of sand beneath your boots, noticing how many other caravans dot the campground. It’s a bustling scene, alive with the laughter of children running and playing, their joy infectious.

As you watch them, your heart warms, and you can’t help but wonder what it will be like when you have kids of your own. The thought lingers, sweet and tender, like the promise of more beautiful moments to come.

“My feet are so sore, Yoon,” you lament, the weight of the day heavy in each step as you both drag your tired bodies back to the warmth of the caravan.

“Mine too,” he admits with a playful lilt in his voice. “How about we give each other a massage?” The suggestion, though innocent in words, carries a hint of something more, and you feel the familiar embers of desire flicker to life within you.

“Yes, please,” you breathe, your words a soft cloud in the crisp night air. The thought of your hands on him, of his hands on you, sends a thrill through your weary body. You can’t wait to get inside, to feel his touch, to see where this simple act of care will lead.

Once inside, you kick off your shoes with a sigh of relief, the warmth of the caravan wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. You share a quick bite, the soft glow of Yoongi’s phone casting shadows across your faces as something plays in the background, though neither of you pays much attention. It’s just a quiet moment, a pause before the real focus begins.

Settling onto the bed, you both sit up, peeling off your socks with a mix of anticipation and fatigue. The first touch of his hands on your feet makes you release a needy sound, the soreness easing under his skilled fingers. Yoongi lets out a similar groan as you knead the tension from his feet, and the shared intimacy sends a wave of warmth straight to your core.

“This has been a wonderful honeymoon, Yoon,” you murmur, your breath a little unsteady as your fingers dig into the arch of his foot.

He hums in response, pleased and content, his eyes closing briefly before he looks at you, love shining in his gaze. “I’m so happy to hear that. You thought we were going someplace exotic, didn’t you?” He chuckles, pulling his foot back for a moment, ticklish under your touch, but then quickly offers it again, craving the comfort of your hands.

“Yeah, I really did,” you admit, smiling at him. “But this has been so lovely. Thank you.” There’s a softness in your voice, a gratitude that comes from the heart.

“I love you,” you say, the words slipping out easily, a simple truth between you.

“I love you too,” he replies, his voice filled with warmth as he grabs your other foot. The touch of his calloused fingers on your tender skin draws a moan from your lips, your body responding instinctively to his care.

The atmosphere shifts, the once innocent massage now tinged with an undercurrent of desire. Your bodies are tired, but the need simmering between you is undeniable. His eyes darken with hunger as he watches you, and the heat in your core intensifies. Letting go of his foot, you crawl toward him, your lips seeking his in a deep, hungry kiss. Your tongues meet in a dance of passion, and your hands move with urgency, tugging at his clothes, helping him shed his shirt, his warmth pressing against you.

You make quick work of his pants, and he follows suit with yours, leaving you both in nothing but your underwear. The kiss deepens, your lips trailing down his body, tasting the salt of his skin. His hands move over you, and you tremble as he pulls your panties off, the cool air brushing against your wetness, sending shivers down your spine.

Yoongi discards his boxers, his arousal evident, and your body quivers with the need to feel him inside you. He pulls you close, removing your bra with practiced ease, your breasts spilling free. His gaze lingers, filled with lust and love, before he leans down, his lips closing around a nipple. The warmth of his mouth, the swirl of his tongue, sends a jolt of pleasure through you, making your back arch off the bed.

“Yoongi,” you pant, your voice thick with desire as he tends to your other breast, his hand teasing and pulling at your nipple, sending sparks of heat to your pussy.

Your chest heaves with each breath, your body alive under his touch, every nerve ending ignited. His mouth moves from one nipple to the other, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, and you tug at his hair, urging him closer, deeper.

“Fuck, Yoongi!” you cry out, the pleasure building to a fever pitch as he alternates between your breasts, his fingers and mouth working in tandem to push you over the edge. You could come just from this, and it wouldn’t be the first time. There’s no embarrassment, just raw desire.

“I’m—,” you moan as your orgasm hits you like a freight train, arching your back into his face as you come undone. Your back arches, your body trembling as you come undone beneath him, his name a breathless whisper on your lips as the world fades away, leaving only the two of you in the aftermath of bliss.

A sudden knock on the door steals the breath from your lungs, and you freeze, eyes wide with shock. The intimacy of the moment shatters like fragile glass, and Yoongi, just as startled, pulls away. Instinctively, you reach for him, not wanting the spell to break, your heart pounding like a wild drum in your chest.

But Yoongi, ever the calm in your storm, quickly grabs a towel and wraps it around his waist. The distance between you feels like a chasm as he opens the door, while you remain on the bed, flushed and breathless, your chest heaving, still glistening with the remnants of his kiss.

“Hi,” comes the low murmur of a man’s voice, intruding into your world as Yoongi runs a hand through his tousled hair, trying to steady his breath.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” the man continues, his tone polite yet firm, “but could you keep it down? My kids are trying to sleep, and it’s getting a bit loud.”

Each word lands like a stone, sinking into the pit of your stomach as mortification blooms within you. The realization that your passion had spilled beyond the walls of your private sanctuary makes you wish the earth would swallow you whole.

“Shit. We’re so sorry,” Yoongi replies, his voice steady and apologetic as he bows slightly, the English words rolling off his tongue with ease. “We’ll be quieter. Sorry again.” With that, he closes the door, and the world narrows back down to just the two of you. For a moment, you just stare at each other, and the air feels thick with unspoken tension and embarrassment. Your breathing is still quick and you feel like you want to disappear, but Yoongi’s eyes ground you, and his soft smile lets you know it’s okay. The silence is stretching on, until Yoongi bursts out laughing, showing his perfect gums, which in turn makes you laugh too. Suddenly, you don’t feel so embarrassed, the laughter making way for the absurdity of the situation to dissipate a bit, and you just giggle, the atmosphere contagious.

He crosses the short distance to the bed, a smirk playing on his lips as he looks down at you, eyes glinting with mischief. “I’d suggest stuffing your mouth with my cock to keep you quiet,” he says, voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. You barely catch your breath as he adds, “But if you want to get pregnant this cycle, it needs to be in your vagina.”

His words set your heart racing anew, desire pooling hot and urgent within you. You stare at him, feeling the wetness between your thighs grow, your body responding to his every word.

“You’re ovulating, right?” he asks, his voice teasing, but there’s a serious edge to his gaze.

You blink, the realization dawning like a slow sunrise. The ache in your stomach—it all makes sense. “I think I am, yeah,” you murmur, your voice trembling with anticipation.

A devilish smile spreads across his face. “Well,” he clicks his tongue, his eyes darkening with intent, “then I’m going to fuck you, but you’ll have to be silent. There are people sleeping.”

You nod, breath hitching as the room seems to shrink around the two of you.

With a practiced ease, Yoongi discards the towel and returns to the bed, his presence overwhelming as he hovers over you, still hard and ready. He takes himself in hand, giving a few slow pumps before his fingers find your wetness. “You’re so wet,” he murmurs, his voice thick with approval. “Bet I’ll slide right in.”

You bite your lip, suppressing a moan, knowing he’s right.

He aligns himself with your entrance, and with a smooth, unhurried thrust, he’s inside you, filling you completely. The pleasure is instant and intense, but you remember the man’s words, biting into Yoongi’s discarded shirt to stifle your cries.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Yoongi rasps, his voice strained with the effort of keeping quiet as he begins to move, his pace steady and deep. The sound of your bodies meeting, slick and needy, fills the small caravan, mingling with the quiet grunts and whispered breaths.

With strong hands, he grips your thighs, spreading them wide and lifting them onto his shoulders. His thrusts quicken, each one bringing you closer to the edge, his breath coming in harsh pants as he fights to keep his own volume down.

“This pussy,” he whispers, his voice reverent as he pulls one leg down to reach between your bodies. His fingers find your clit, already swollen and sensitive, and he circles it with expert precision. “It’s mine, and it’s so gorgeous.”

Your vision blurs, your body trembling as a new wave of pleasure builds deep inside. You mumble incoherently into the shirt, but it doesn’t matter—Yoongi knows you’re close, can feel it in the way your walls clench around him.

He keeps his rhythm steady, his fingers teasing your clit while his cock hits that perfect spot inside you. The tension coils tighter and tighter until, with a final, whispered plea of his name, you unravel completely, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your body spasms, and you push the shirt out of your mouth, gasping for air as you whisper his name, the sound broken and desperate.

“Fuck, babe,” Yoongi groans, his pace faltering as he chases his own release. The way your body grips him, the way you moan his name—it’s too much. With a low growl, he thrusts deep one last time, his cock throbbing as he spills into you, warmth flooding your walls as he pants your name.

The world narrows to the feeling of him, the heat of his body pressed against yours as he collapses on top of you, both of you breathless and sated. You don’t mind the weight of him, your arms wrapping around his back as you press a tender kiss to his temple.

“I can’t wait to have a baby with you,” he whispers against your skin, his voice soft and filled with love.

“I can’t wait either,” you reply, your voice equally tender as you kiss him again, pouring all the love and gratitude you feel into that simple, sweet gesture.

Taglist: @idkjustlovingbts@constancelayon@wobblewobble822@ktownshizzle@moonchild1 @ultimatefangirl0 @baechugff @jimintaemin @parapiop7 @fckkntired @iluvfndms @citypop-princess @tarahardcore @bergandysam @massivelyfullenthusiast @tatyhend @gimeow @jeonsbabygirlsworld

*I don't know why the fuck the taglist doesn't want to work anymore T_T I hope you all find it anyway!

Author’s note(2): I really hope you liked it! I have two more extras planned for this series and they’re coming soon! Please let me know in a comment, reblog or ask what you liked 💜 And please, remember it’s just fiction.

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joeys-babe · 1 year ago

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Joey B Imagines: Don’t Give up on Me

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Summary: When being the girlfriend of an NFL heartthrob starts to feel suffocating, and you feel like running, Joe tries to convince you to stay with him.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

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*no specific date for this fic!*

You couldn't take it anymore. It was just that simple.

Getting together with Joe back in September of 2022 felt like a fever dream. He gave you everything you could want or need in a boyfriend and you seriously loved him.

At one point you might've even said he was the one.

Joe himself hadn't done anything to change that idea, it was the fans and the attention that came with him.

After dating for a year, Joe finally proposed the idea of going public. You guys weren't necessarily hiding your relationship since you went to games and such, but it hadn't been openly proclaimed.

You were excited and giddy, sitting on the couch next to Joe as you both curated Instagram posts of pictures of you two. After tagging one another and hitting the post button, you and Joe turned your phones off and spent the evening just with each other.

Joe was ecstatic that his relationship with you was out in the open, everyone finally knew he was taken and he was taken by the girl he thought he was going to marry.

Later that night when Joe was fast asleep next to you in bed, you turned your phone back on and went through the comments.

“Not cute…”

“He could totally do better…”

“Sad that he's choosing to settle.”

“She has to be fire in bed or smt 💀.”

“She doesn't even have a body.”

“Obviously he went for personality.”

“He def cheats on her every day.”

“Gold Digger!”

“Using him for status Fs.”

“He could have a model but chose that?”

It seemed like the comments had turned into an endless stream of hate, all against you.

The words made you start to think things that you never would have thought before tonight. You felt secure in your relationship with Joe, but now? Now it felt like at any moment he was able to walk out on you and find someone better.

Sitting in bed staring at your phone as a waterfall-like flow of tears streaming down your face, it suddenly felt like you couldn't breathe.

You jumped out of bed and ran out of the room. Hearing Joe yelling behind you, you kept running. You ran till you were down the stairs, through the kitchen, and out of the back door.

Everything was a blur from how hard you were crying but you could barely make out the porch swing and fell into it.

Sobbing into your hands, you had never felt so small, useless, ugly, and so much more.

“y/n? Are you okay? What happened?” - Joe

Flinching when you felt a hand on the top of your head, you pulled away from your own hands to look up at Joe.

He stood there looking scared for what you were going to say, fearing the worst.

“The fans, Joe… they hate me.” - you

Joe almost felt his own heart shatter when he heard those words leave your lips. You were the woman he was in love with and this was all because of the people who call themselves his fans?

“Baby… don't pay attention to what they say. Any person who says negative things about you is no fan of mine. Look at me.” - Joe

Looking up at Joe, he cupped your jaw with his hand and rubbed over your cheek with his thumb.

“Don't read those comments and if you do, don't listen to what they say. They don't know you, they don’t know me, and they don't know us. I love you with every fiber of my being, please don't feel wary because of something someone else said...” - Joe

At that moment a little bit of security came back, but you still felt like total shit that was unworthy of how good of a man Joe was.

Joe had made a statement during a press conference the following day, addressing the hate and how much he detested it and resented anyone who spoke such words to be a fan of his.

He had promised you that things would change in a week, but a week later they hadn't. In fact, it got worse.

That's why you made the hardest decision of your life and decided to part ways from him.

It was the best for you and your well-being, as much as you loved Joe. You pondered and pondered this decision but knew it was the right one. There didn't seem to be a life that you could picture without Joe in it, but for now, you needed to be away.

Joe was at practice when you started packing your things up. You planned to be gone by the time he was home because you knew saying goodbye to him face-to-face would just make things harder.

That's why you froze in place when you heard the garage door open.

How was he home an hour before practice was supposed to even end?

You were finishing the goodbye letter when Joe walked into the kitchen through the door from the garage.

“Hey baby, the practice was so good that Zac cut it short.” - Joe

It broke your heart when you looked up to see his smiling face, knowing it was probably the last time you would see it.

“Hey…” - you moved your suitcases from out behind the kitchen counter

Joe’s smile dropped and he looked at you confused. His heart rate was getting increasingly fast and he was internally freaking out.

“What's that for?” - Joe

You couldn't choke out an answer and Joe asked another question.

“Going on a surprise trip?” - Joe nervously laughed

“No uhm… I'm going home.” - you

“Home? What do you mean? You are home.” - Joe

“I’m moving back in with my friend in Columbus. I can't take it anymore Joe. The backlash is too much… and I hate myself because of what they say.” - you

He stared blankly as he felt his stomach drop. This couldn't be happening.

“You're leav- leaving m-me?” - Joe

“I’m so sorry Joe. It wasn't you at all, you showed me what it was like to truly be loved. I just can't find myself staying in a relationship where I get constantly hated on just because I like a boy. Don't take it personally.” - you

“y/n… please don't leave. I love you. I love you more than anyone else that has ever been in my life. You mean more to me than anything in this world… I- I can't go on without you.” - Joe

By this point, you guys were both crying your eyes out.

“You have to learn how to Joe.” - you cried

“I don't want to learn! I want you!” - Joe

“Maybe there's a life where we work out… but it's not this one.” - you

Joe walked towards you, he thought you were going to reject him but you opened your arms. He cried into your neck and held you so tight, like if he let go you were going to disappear. Which in a way, was true.

“Don’t go. Please don't go. I can't live without you. I’m so sorry that being with me hurt you so much, but as much as I try to I can't control it.” - Joe

He was hiccuping and so close to hyperventilating that it scared you. You knew the breakup would hurt but you didn't think it would affect him this much.

“Breath, Joe. You're gonna hyperventilate.” - you

You held him and rubbed his back until his breathing slowed down, but his crying hadn't. Something about what he said resonated with you. He couldn't control what they said, as much as he tried to prevent it. It wasn't his fault. You knew that, but did you know it? Was leaving him really the best option?

Joe pulled away from my neck and looked at me with red puffy eyes.

“y/n… please don't give up on me.” - Joe

His eyes looked pleading. He was begging you.

“I’ll do anything. Tell me something and I’ll do it… please. Tell me something.” - Joe

“You don’t have to do anything.” - you

“Wh-what?” - Joe

“I change my mind. Leaving you isn't the best option. I can't run away from my problems, I have to face them.” - you

“And I'll face them with you. I'll always be right by your side y/n. You're it for me.” - Joe

“You’re it for me.” - you

He hugged me tight again before pulling away and taking hold of my suitcases.

“Fuck I don't think I've ever been so scared in my life. I thought I was going to pass out.” - Joe

“Sorry.” - you

“No, it's okay. But can you make it clear that you're staying because you want to, not just for my sake?” - Joe

“I’m staying because I want to. With you is where I want to be. I'm sorry I almost threw everything away over some stupid hate comments.” - you

“Baby they aren't stupid. Your feelings are important and I’m proud of you for putting your well-being first.” - Joe

You didn't know what to say so you just nodded.

Joe led you upstairs and put your suitcases back in the bedroom.

“Let's just take a warm bath and relax, sound okay?” - Joe

“Mhm.” - you

5 minutes later you both were submerged in warm water, you were sitting between Joe’s legs with your back to his chest as you laid your head on his shoulder.

Joe spread soft kisses on your shoulder blades, collarbones, and neck. This moment felt more intimate than it normally would since it felt like Joe was proving to you he was worth it.

“You are the strongest, loyal, beautiful, smart, humble, courageous, amazing woman. I'm so lucky to be your boyfriend.” - Joe

You hummed and nuzzled yourself into his neck.

“I love you, Joe.” - you

Joe was like a screwdriver. Unscrewing and uninstalling every negative word that had been drilled into your mind within the past week, one at a time. You were so lucky to have him in your tool belt.

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Authors note: first angsty imagine and I loved writing it! Shout out to the anons coming in clutch with the fun requests!!!

Request for this fic;

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joey b #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic

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sensualnoiree · 9 months ago

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astro notes: venus ♾

Venus, in both alchemical and esoteric traditions, holds profound significance as one of the classical planets. Its symbolism extends far beyond its astronomical presence, delving into realms of love, beauty, balance, and transformation.

Venus is actually much more than just the planet of love and beauty; it's considered the embodiment of the soul's essence. Venus represents the substance of the soul, the harmony of beauty, and the talent for art. It symbolizes grace, intelligence in proportion and rhythm, and the principle of "relatedness."

This relatedness is crucial, as it's the expression of the soul of the world and the feminine aspect of Divinity. Venus acts as a vibratory field that resonates between different aspects of existence—between individuals ("me" and "you"), between the ego and the soul, and even between the unit and the universe.

When this resonance is ignited, it sparks love and reveals the soul's fire. This essence of Venus is always present, like an awaitingness for mutual "relevance" to emerge between seemingly indifferent parts of life. This relevance can manifest in various ways, such as when social interactions transform into genuine connections, when artistic endeavors become infused with deep feeling, or when nature's beauty evokes a profound response.

Venus symbolizes a latent field and flow of relatedness that permeates the fabric of the world. This concept is often symbolized by the infinity symbol (∞), which represents the structure of the Ajna center ruled by Venus, or by the number 8, associated with the soul principle and the Christ consciousness. This symbol of infinity reflects how the universe's life of relationship is the substance of its relative infinity.

The pentagram, or five-pointed star, also has deep symbolic significance in various esoteric traditions, including alchemy, astrology, and mysticism. Each point of the star represents one of the four elements – earth, air, fire, and water – with the fifth point symbolizing spirit or ether, the quintessence that unites the elements. The pentagram is often used as a symbol of protection, balance, and spiritual transformation.

Earth: Represents stability, materiality, and the physical realm.

Air: Symbolizes intellect, communication, and the realm of thought.

Fire: Represents passion, creativity, and transformation.

Water: Symbolizes emotions, intuition, and the subconscious.

The fifth point, symbolizing spirit or ether, represents the divine spark within each individual and the higher spiritual aspects that transcend the material world. Venus, as the harmonizing force, is associated with the pentagram because it represents the balance and unity of these elements. Venus's influence helps to bring these elements into equilibrium, fostering spiritual growth and transformation.

Taurus (April 20 - May 20): Venus is the ruling planet of Taurus, emphasizing qualities such as sensuality, stability, and material abundance. Taurus is associated with the earth element, reflecting Venus's connection to the physical world and its pleasures. Under Venus's influence, Taurus seeks comfort, security, and beauty in life, often valuing stability and the finer things in life.

Libra (September 23 - October 22): Venus is also the ruling planet of Libra, but here its influence is more focused on partnerships, diplomacy, and aesthetic pursuits. Libra is an air sign, reflecting Venus's influence on intellectual pursuits, social interactions, and the arts. Libra seeks balance, harmony, and beauty in relationships and the world around them, often valuing fairness, cooperation, and justice.

In both Taurus and Libra, Venus's influence enriches the symbolism of the pentagram, emphasizing the importance of balance, harmony, and transformation in both the material and spiritual realms. Venus's role as a ruling planet further highlights its significance in astrology and its impact on the human experience.

follow for more astro insights like this and support me over on yt @quenysefields or instagram sensualnoiree

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sgiandubh · 6 days ago

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Flaunting the narrative

I just came back from a nice dinner & drinks in town, with friends who visit from Athens. Lo and behold, my DMs are on fire again, but my (in)famous Inbox is, as expected, resoundingly quiet. [Later edit: not for long].

It would seem S's latest interview for yet another one of those glossy magazines one usually spots untouched in any random Main Street dentist's cabinet or real estate office did manage to raise a couple of eyebrows, after all. With very few data publicly available, Flaunt Magazine is the kind of media outlet with four times less Instagram followers than S, so this begs the question to whom the murder interview really profits:

There is very little out there about Flaunt Magazine, indeed. Other than it was founded in September 1998 by three amigos (Alex Barajas, Jim Turner and Long Nguyen), all of whom were also part of the editorial team of the (now defunct?) Detour Magazine, there is virtually nothing else. This does or should ring a bell about the real importance and relevance of this media stunt - not much to add here, either. Other than that, past issues of Flaunt seem to be traded between fans of celebrities who (more or less) regularly grace its pages, in what I do think are paid/in kind op-eds written by people with no clear professional print, in agreement and by prior arrangement with the talent's PR:

Compared to Flaunt, a real lifestyle press behemoth such as Harper's Bazaar (this blogger has subscribed to for many years, ahem) has a quite different audience level and marketing approach:

Six times more Instagram followers and a clearly more friendly pricing policy:

[Sorry, what I managed to find is the UK offer - blame it on their regional settings, I suppose: however, I think the US offer might not be that different].

In other words, I am beginning to suspect more and more Flaunt is that kind of vanity/hybrid press product, where costs and risks are more or less evenly split between the printer/publisher and the client. Therefore, you would be naive to expect anything else than some tightly controlled, neat-o narrative aligned content. Especially considering the targeted audience, which is (of course) the American fandom, albeit with a tinge of 'sophistication' and a totally artificial 'whimsical twist' (California, here I come).

Onwards to the candid bullshittery.

The article opens with a precise timeline reference:

[Source: https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/cy0g2p47xd5o]

Therefore, the interview happened somewhere between 11 and 14 October 2024, just about the time S was overseas and C was spotted having dinner in London with the Rothschilds and no Tracula in sight. And there is another thing that immediately screamed at me from that pixelated page: George Mallory. Which brought me exactly here:

Yes, absolutely. The Golden Goose that never was. That still hurts, judging by the melancholy with which S talks about Everest, not climbing it after all, still planning to visit next December:

Perhaps with Jake Norton, a reputed Scottish American mountaineer (I think you were right on the money, darling - you know who you are, 😘😘❤️), S met and stroke a friendship with since 2023:

The December reference is not innocent at all. It is there to sparkle endless speculation about what S will be doing on Xmas and Hogmanay, too (and with whom, of course - and there you have all the factions dutifully served with an extra side of bullshite to dissect). Fan wars galore, fuming and flaming DMs and inboxes to boot. He/his PR know that and apparently they still need that Idiotenspiel at play for a while. Also, December's got 31 days, something that Stans worldwide seem to suddenly ignore.

Once the proper tone is set and given, the rest flows almost naturally: zero reference to C (1500% expected) and what is a clearly tailored, yet fizzling, bomb:

'I'm really on the precipice': now that is some extraordinary choice of words, isn't it? This and the 'I don't know' are probably the only authentic reactions in the very strange quote I underlined.

'Being on the precipice' is almost always negatively connotated. It logically has nothing to do with the idea of starting a new journey, but it has everything to do with the idea that he is now confronted with the lack of security and comfort and with the potential loss of notoriety the end of OL might bring. Something he very clumsily tries to disguise as 'I feel I'm no longer tied by Outlander', which must also be the counterfactual understatement of the year, really. There is legally and factually no way he wouldn't still be tied by Outlander, irrespective of how tedious that might feel. He still needs the Mommies' hardcore clientele pool, while he is commendably trying to diversify his sales and marketing strategy. These things do not happen in the blink of an eye and he knows it very well. However, he also really needs to portray himself as something else than a one trick pony, in order to remain bankable in Hollywood and elsewhere. Hence the 'I am not tied to OL anymore', I am able to do bigger and better things, and in the long run I would also like to make a springboard, not a dead end out of it.

Finally, there is no way he would be legally untied from OL. Contracts are still contracts. They include clauses and obligations that will be enforced most probably until after the show's last season will be aired. There is very little to zero leeway around it, for the time being. By the time those clauses and obligations will be rendered obsolete, very few of those Anons and Stans and Mommies and Onlies will still be around to even give a flying duck about the whole life situation.

And then, we have the 'maybe I'll start a family'. Despite what all of my Anons are shrieking right now in my inbox, this is not even the first time he hints at it, and I seriously do not understand why the sudden hysterical surge. Anons probably think I am amnesic, or something:

That is a direct quote from Waypoints. He announced nothing. It's been there, in plain sight, for a long time already and if anything, it is consistent with the narrative.

The rest is borderline irrelevant, visually and conceptually incoherent ('nude scenes are difficult and even dangerous to shoot, when dealt with in a non-professional way, but here is a shirtless bucolic pic that will make my Onlies drool and buy collector's issues at extortionate prices'). The overall impression it gave me was of a hastily cobbled and not very clever circumstance paper. Nothing more, nothing less.

There is no amount of wishful thinking that is going to immediately and magically change the current state of play. Reasonable people should expect mild, but constant turbulence ahead, with a sprinkle of cuteness and innuendo just to keep all the fandom's factions engaged and present, which translates to S/C/SC being relevant for potential employers, agents, the press, etc. In a nutshell, absolutely nothing new. You can screech, you won't change an iota of what I know is true and my position is firmer than ever, no matter how ridiculously hard you try to intimidate or harass me. That's all.

#fandom #shitshow #The Flaunt interview November 2024

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spid3namy · 1 year ago

Text

— AUGUST

pairing : e!42 miles x mixed!female reader

summary : rumors spread like wildfire around school, everyone knew everyone's business. who knew the only rumor about you and your boyfriend would be true...?

contains : angst, cheating, song inspired (obviously), they are mid to late teens, miles lowkey stupid asf, implied lying (kind of), might have some incorrect spanish, cussing, not proof read

divider creds : saradika

word count : 2031

notes : lowkey, i only wrote this cus i literally love this song and figured why not write angst. this is my way of being productive while also being lazy asf LMAO. i probably might start a taglist for people who wanna be tagged when i post new things but we’ll see. anyways, i hope you enjoy the story <3

“Will you call when you're back at school...?”

Summer vacation.

For some, it was a great way to get away from school. To hang out with friends, to spend time with family. Others, it was nothing but a cruel and long three and a half months.

For you, it was supposed to be a great three and a half months!

Until you found out that you were being shipped away to your grandparents house to spend time with them. Sure, you loved your grandparents but they were just.. so old. Summer was supposed to be the time when you hung out with your best friends!

And most importantly, your boyfriend! But no.

Before you knew it, you had been packed up and sent on a flight all the way up to the shitty state of Washington. And that’s cruelly how you spent your summer vacation. Being around old people for a long three and a half months literally sucked.

September 18.

The day school started was a nightmare.

Rumors spread around like wild-fire at Visions Academy. Well, you knew that much. Especially with all the rumors that happened last year about the girl that had gotten pregnant. Of course, that rumor had been a lie. But everyone knew about it in the spam of like 20 minutes.

“Y/N! Have you heard yet?”

Your best friend, Juno, is the first one to come up to you the moment you walk through the doors. She was always so pretty when she came to school. If you all didn’t have to wear uniforms, she’d probably be the hottest girl in school with those fire ass fits you knew she owned.

“Heard what exactly?”

“Okay, so I’m guessing you haven’t heard then.”

You look at the girl and raise an eyebrow, brushing your braids behind your shoulder to flow down your back. What the hell was she on about now? Juno was your best friend, yes, but she was too into the gossip the school had going on. Most times, you couldn’t even believe the words she said.

“Well, are ya gonna tell me?”

Juno stared at you for a few moments before she shrugged, figuring that if you really wanted to know then she would tell you. Even if she knew it was gonna hurt you, it was best if you found out from her and not some random stranger who probably would tell it in the worst way possible.

“Promise you won’t get mad?”

“Uh.. okay? I promise.”

Juno let out a breath and gripped the strap of her tote bag tightly before she spoke in a mess of jumbled up words. “Okay so basically, I heard from Dorothea who heard it from Suki who heard it from Rose who heard it from Verity who heard it from Betty who heard it from Venus, herself, that she and Miles had a little fling over the summer.”

You blink as you watch Juno suck in a huge intake of air. She was acting as though she had been waiting a long time to gain some type of air in her lungs.

You soon burst out into laughter and shook your head, holding your stomach as you laughed. Juno watched you with confusion clear on your face; she clearly didn’t understand what the hell was funny.

Once you had slowly started to calm down, you wiped an imaginary tear from your eye and shook your head, looking at the female.

“Whew, thanks Jun, I really needed a laugh today.”

“I’m being serious, Y/N. I totally think it’s true too!”

“That’s ridiculous, Miles would never do anything like that. Me and he are locked in.”

Juno stares at you before she shrugged; the two of you started your descent down the hallway to where your shared first class was.

“‘M just sayin’ what I heard. Only Miles would really know what happened. Just hope he doesn’t lie to you.”

You snort and roll your eyes playfully, nudging her with your shoulder and looking over at her. “He would never lie to me.”

“Whatever you say, Y/N. But just remember: men ain’t shit”

“Tha.. thank you for that, Juno. But you’re not really the greatest person to say that. Especially since you’re biased as hell.”

“What? I am not biased!”

“Yes you are”

Juno rolled her eyes as the two of you walked into the classroom. Anatomy, the board read.

Great, seeing bodies and stuff at 8 in the morning was gonna be so fun. And it was a block class. How fun.

✰

Lunch. Possibly the only good thing about being at this stupid school. You and Juno stand in line together, looking at all the options of food you can pick out. It’s not much. Pizza, nachos, salads, and hot dogs. Barf.

You let out a sigh and grabbed a plate that had a pretty decent sized slice of pizza. Juno looks over at you and makes a face before she reaches over to grab a salad. The two of you quickly scan your school ids to pay for the food before you walk over to a table where Miles had been sitting. He had been there alone for a while now.

He was fortunate enough to have his own food.

Juno sits in front of you two before she nudges her head over to the male who was too busy drawing in his stupid sketchbook to even notice that you were even there. You give a look before you sit down next to your boyfriend, peering over his shoulder a little to see what he was doing.

“Whatcha drawin’?”

“You.”

The answer was so flat, so blunt. It caused your cheeks to heat up when you realized that he was, in fact, drawing you. Miles had always been so good at drawing. It was one of his many talents.

“You two make me sick.”

“You’re just jealous, Jun. It’s not our fault that your mystery girl doesn’t know you exist.”

Juno lets out a dramatic cry and puts her head down when you mention the girl she had a crush on since 8th grade. It was a little cute that she’s liked her for so long. Yet, she has never even attempted to make a move on her.

“I just wish Leni would notice me.”

“Just talk to her, it ain’t that hard.” That earned Miles a glare despite the fact that he didn’t even really see it. Not like he really cared. He was just speaking the truth.

“Not everyone is brave enough for that, Miles.”

“Jus’ quit being a fuckin’ pussy and talk to her.”

Juno glared at him more and started to stand up. You shake your head quickly to get her to sit down. You already knew where this was headed and you really didn’t want the two of them to get into a huge argument. Not again. Not this school year.

Juno lets out a noise of frustration before she sits back down, her hand gripping the fork in her hands tightly.

“At least, I didn’t cheat on my girlfriend.”

That seemed to gain his attention. Miles looked up from his sketchbook and quickly put his pencil down, looking at her with a look that could only be described as anger.

“Where the hell did you hear that from?”

“Miles..”

“Callarse la boca”

You look offended by his words but you don’t have time to dwell on it before Miles speaks again, his voice clear with annoyance.

“Where did you hear that from, Juno? Huh?!”

“Dorothea told me.”

Miles takes a deep breath at that, his nostrils flaring slightly as he lets out a deep and heavy exhale. He was screwed because now you knew about it. And he knew how you were going to act now that you knew.

“Why are you gettin’ so upset, babe? It’s not like it’s true, right?”

Miles looks over at you and sighs, his shoulders tensing up as he clears his throat awkwardly. Guess it was time to be honest now.

“Mi vida, listen... it-”

You blink and stare at you, anger slowly starting to fill up your body. You don’t even let him get another word out before you raise your hand and slap him. The feeling caused his face to sting, his face turned to the side from the impact. He lets out a slow breath and nods to himself; he knew he deserved it.

“Fuck you, Morales.”

And with those harsh words spat, you get up and walk away from him. Juno and Miles both watch as you leave before Juno looks over at him, shaking her head and letting out a sigh.

“You fucked up man.”

“No, really? Thanks for the news flash, sherlock.”

“Don’t get smart with me, boy.”

Miles glares at the girl as she gets up and goes after you. God, he was so fucking stupid!

✰

It’s been a week since you last spoke to Miles. You have been avoiding him at school and even went as far as changing seats in the classes you shared with him. You did everything in your power to try and be as far away from him as possible. Miles didn’t seem to let that affect him.

Even if you were far away from him, he would still do his very hardest to talk to you. To explain what happened between him and Venus over the summer. But of course, you didn’t listen. Couldn’t listen to a word he said. It would be nothing but a lie.

Juno was right; men ain’t shit.

It was almost sickening to think that your once loyal and sweet boyfriend would turn out to be a dirty, rotten cheater! And to think it only took one summer for him to change. That was so fucked up man. You hated how easily you had allowed yourself to be betrayed.

How could someone be so sweet one minute then betray you the first chance they got? It really made no sense to you.

A knock on your bedroom door was enough to pull yourself from your thoughts. Your head snapped up just as the door opened to reveal Juno, a sheepish smile on her face as she practically jumped on you.

“What are you doin’ here, Jun?”

“I was summoned by your father.”

You let out a snort and roll your eyes, moving over slightly to give her more room to sit on the bed. It was sweet how she wanted to comfort you but you already knew it wasn’t going to work. You were too hurt to ever feel better after just a few visits but you appreciate the effort.

“Should I beat his ass?”

“No.. it’s fine, Jun. I don’t really care, ya know? I already got over it!”

“Mhm. and is that why you’re still avoiding him?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Juno lets out a chuckle and moves closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder gently and pulling you closer for a side hug. It was the best thing she could think of doing right now.

“Ya know.. He’s stupid for doing that to you. He don’t know what he’s missing.”

And that did it. Before you knew it, you had burst out into tears. Juno rubbed the side of your arm gently and allowed you to cry on her shoulder, soaking her shirt with your tears. She knew you probably needed this right now.

“I fuckin’ hate him, Jun.”

“I know, Y/N.”

“I wish I never met him!”

“I know, Y/N”

The two of you stay like that for an hour. Maybe longer. Who knew? It didn’t matter anyway. Juno was too busy trying to comfort you while you bawled your eyes out. It hurt so fucking much.

All the trust that you had put into Miles was now gone.

And it was all his fault.

Seeing him everyday at school hurt worse than any pain imaginable. But at least you had Juno by your side, you knew she would never hurt you. She was your best friend. She was different than him.

You wish you had never fallen in love with Miles Morales.

#☆ namy writes #e42 miles #earth 42 miles morales x reader #angst #earth 42 miles angst #earth 42 miles morales angst #e42 angst #e42 miles morales angst #e42 miles morales x reader #across the spider verse angst #across the spiderverse

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popopretty · 1 year ago

Text

BSD Chapter 109

Well I'm late to the party becuz I overslept and missed the chapter drop etc. but just in case anyone still wants a summary, here it is.

Please note that I am not fluent in either English or Japanese so forgive me if I am making any mistake.

SPOILERS AHEAD

Sigma decided to touch Fyodor anyway knowing that might be the last choice of his life. Fyodor asks him what he wants to know and he says "all of your secret". They touch and Sigma feels a huge flow of information going through him. He finally knows what Fyodor reallys is and think that he has to tell the ADA, then collapses.

Aya and Bram are witnessing the activation of One Order. Aya tries to look for something that can help her remove the sword. She notices a hole on the glass that Akutaga must have left when carrying them out to the tower and is able to get inside through that. She finds a table, which she plans to tie to the sword and drop it to remove the sword. She tries to move the table but it is too heavy for me. While she is struggling, she sees flashback of hew own father lecturing her about how to properly use strength.

Chuuya arrives in front of Dazai. Dazai tells him to come and give him a punch but Fyodor stops Chuuya, telling him to use a gun instead, because if Chuuya touches Dazai, he will nullify the vampirism. Chuuya takes out a gun and shoot Dazai in the shoulder, for which Dazai yells at him for his terrible aim. Fyodor then has Chuuya put the gun to Dazai's forehead. Dazai then starts talk about how bad his situation is, that it hurts, and he is losing to Fyodor, and he is going to be killed by Chuuya. Fyodor assumes Dazai has run out of plan. Dazai then says that he wonders if he started blabbering cheesy stuff right now, maybe miracle will happen and Chuuya will return to normal. Then he tells Chuuya to "open his eyes", and that "our destiny cannot end in such a place, because we are destined to..." Chuuya pulls the trigger before he could finishes his sentence. Dazai is seen shot in the head, presumably dead. Chuuya is seen standing there, staring at his corpse while Fyodor says good-bye to him through the monitor screen.

Fukuchi opens One Order and gives a command for all armies to open fire. Missiles are going to be lauched, and armies are heading to battles. At the same time, Aya finally manages to get the table to the edge of the tower, ties it to Bram's sword and push it off the edge, hoping it will be enough to remove the sword.

The chapter ends here. Next one wil be released on September 4, 2023. Thank you for reading.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #summary #bsd spoilers #spoilers #dazai osamu #fyodor dostoevsky #bram stoker #aya koda #nakahara chuuya #sigma #fukuchi ouchi

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thicctails · 3 months ago

Text

Hidden Saplings | Under The Falls AU

A lil ficlet of Stan discovering the twins after the death of their dad, Sherman Pines. Tw: Minor character death, unintentional child abandonment, vomiting

It was early September when Stanley got the letter.

He'd just gotten done helping Rico with some "friendly negotiations" and had pushed open the door of the run down motel he'd been staying at, intent on jumping into the shower and then passing out for however long his body allowed him to, when he noticed an envelope resting on the dingy carpet.

Ignoring the way his bruised knuckles ached, Stanley scooped the envelope up and squinted at it, trying to make out the writing in the dim evening light. His brows raised when he saw his mother's frilly, flowing handwriting printed on the face of the envelope, and he quickly produced a small knife from his pocket, slicing it open as he made his way over to his bed.

He hadn't spoken to his mother in... God, six, seven months? He always feared that it would be his father who picked up the phone, so although his gambles had paid off so far, he wasn't about to tempt fate. He wondered what was so important that she would go to the effort of writing to him.

Sliding the letter out, Stanley set the knife and envelope aside before rubbing the grit out of his eyes and glancing down at the paper.

"My dearest Stanley,

I'm not entirely sure how to write to you about this, but I know that I must somehow find the words.

Your father and I were visited by the police the other day. They told us that Sherman's home had been broken into by a violent criminal while he and his wife were sleeping."

"I don't know how to-

They're gone, Stanley. Someone found out our secret and murdered them. My little angel is gone because someone wanted to take his scales or have some kind of sick trophy. Thankfully, the magic is still working to trick everyone, so everyone believes that Shermie was just a Halloween enthusiast.

Words cannot describe how I'm feeling, and I'm so sorry that you have to find out this way.

I know you didn't get to know Sherman very well, since he came home so little, but I have a favor to ask of you. The funeral is being delayed while the investigation finishes, but the police are allowing us to visit the house to retrieve some personal items and photos. I'd like you to go to Sherman's house and pick out a few photos for the funeral and send them to me. I know it's far for you, but your father and I have to organize the funeral, and your brother hasn't been answering my calls.

I've put Shermie's address below. I'm so sorry, my little free spirit. I know you probably won't be able to come to the funeral. I know you want to, and that you loved your brother. I miss you, I love you, and again, I'm sorry I had to write to you about this.

-Ma"

Stanley dropped the letter, eyes still locked on the spot where it had been. It felt as though time had stopped, and he wasn't sure if he was going to throw up or pass out.

'Throwing up it is.' he thought numbly as nausea bubbled up in his gut. Stanley shot up and staggered into the bathroom, just barely managing to grip the seat of the toilet as his dinner came rushing back up his throat. Stomach acid and cheap liquor burned like fire as he heaved into the toilet, wincing and hacking.

The contents of the letter jostled around like a jar of shaken hornets, and forming a cohesive thought seem to be as difficult as keeping hold of sand. Once his stomach stopped rejecting everything, Stanley wiped ah his mouth and shakily pushed himself up. Turning, he reached for the shower taps and set them both to full strength. Shucking off his grimy clothes, Stanley all but threw himself into the water as his glamour slipped.

A long, powerful red tail bashed painfully against the filthy shower wall, his tailfin curling to accommodate the lack of space. His earfins lay flat against his head as Stanley slumped down, letting the lukewarm water spray onto him. His gills fluttered, relieved that he was finally allowing them to be out. Carding his claws through his greasy hair, Stanley let the shower water soothe his aching body as he tried to come to terms with what he'd just learned.

||||||||•••|||||||||•••||||||||•••||||||||•••|||||||•••||||||||•••|||||||•••|||||||

Stanley hadn't expected to find himself standing outside his older brother's house in the early hours of the morning under these circumstances.

Well, to be honest, he hadn't ever pictured himself standing outside Sherman's house at all. The two of them had never been close, and Stanley had only ever seen him a few times throughout his life. Shermie had been in the war, and he'd come back different, more distant and reserved, but even before then he'd never been around much. He and Pa just... never seemed to get along. The last time Stanley had seen him was at at his wedding years ago.

'Well, at least it wasn't just me he didn't like.' Stanley thought, before taking a deep breath and turning the door handle.

Shermie's house was almost picturesque. It was a little townhouse, light yellow in color with white shutters and a matching white picket fence. A garden was growing well in the front yard, and Stanley could see a few little decorative animals sprinkled here and there. It was soft and cutesy; the exact kind of place where no one thought anything bad could ever happen.

Ironically, places like that often ended up being the backdrop of the most horrific crimes possible.

The interior of the house was pleasant enough to look at, but there was a strange air of wrongness that put Stanley on edge. There was something inherently chilling standing in a place that had once held life, and now lay empty.

Brushing off the feeling, Stanley made his way inside, kicking off his boots and setting off down the hall. He looked over the various pictures on the wall; all featuring Shermie and his wife, Sally. Stanley hardly knew her, but she'd seemed like a nice gal when he met her at her and Sherms' wedding, and his brother clearly adored her, what with how he'd looked at her that day like she hung all the stars in the sky.

Seeing their smiling faces laid out before him just made the knife of misery and grief twist deeper. They were a young, happy couple. His brother was a good man, and he'd gotten outta Glass Shard with someone who loved him.

Neither of them had deserved this.

Turning away, he noticed a flight of stairs. Figuring that was a good place to start searching for more photos, Stanley made his way upstairs, peering down the hallway that met him at the top. There were two rooms; a bathroom, decorated with all manor of sea creature paraphernalia, and a bedroom.

Stanley pushed open the bedroom door, stepping onto the room's plush, carpeted floor. The room was as charming as the rest of the house, painted a light cream colour and decorated with lavender purple curtains, a king sized bed with a comforter that matched the curtains, a wooden dresser, and a closet in the corner.

'Guess I'll check the dresser first.' Stanley thought to himself, walking over to it. It looked worn, likely purchased second hand, and sported three drawers. Pulling open the top one, he found a bunch of women's clothes and a few socks. Not wanting to mess with Sally's things, he shut the drawer and moved onto the next one.

This drawer looked like it belonged to Sherman. Stanley gently moved some of his brother's clothes around, but there was nothing else to find. Sighing, Stanley shut the drawer and crouched down to open the final one.

This drawer was far more bare than the other two. There were no clothes inside, only a few small, soft blankets and, perplexingly, baby toys.

Stanley stared at the contents of the dresser drawer, confused. He plucked one of the toys from the drawer, a blue teddy bear, and sniffed at it. He could pick up the mildly familiar scent of Sherman, the chemical-laden scent of vanilla perfume, and...

Stanley sniffed the toy again, not sure if he was really smelling what he thought he was, or if it was just his imagination.

The scent of milk hit his nose, sweet and rich.

Stanley froze, alarms bells suddenly screaming in his head. He stood up as fast as he could, ignoring the swooping rush of dizziness that washed over him, and began to scent the air, praying that his brother was just holding onto the toys for a friend or something.

Now that he was looking for it, however, the milk scent was everywhere. It permeated the air in the same way that Shermie and Sally's scents still did, fading but noticable. There had been a pup here.

Shermie didn't have a pup.

...did he?

Stanley ran a hand through his hair, pulling at it slightly. Sure, Shermie and Pa didn't get along at all, but surely, surely he would have let him know if he had a fucking kid, for Ma's sake at least. Right?

Right?

'You wouldn't.' a quiet, vicious little voice hissed, 'You wouldn't say a damn thing, because that would mean facing Pa again. Who's to say Shermie just didn't want to deal with him yet?'

But if that was true, if Stanley wasn't just finally going crazy from loneliness...

...then where was the pup?

Panic began to build in Stanley's chest. Sherman would have hidden his pup, just in case they had an unexpected visitor, but that meant that no one knew that they were even here. How long had they been alone? How long had they gone without food?

Stanley sniffed at the air once again, trying to track down where the scent was strongest. He prowled around the room and stopped by the closet door. He yanked it open and ripped all the clothes off their hangers, ducking his head inside. It was dark, but that wasn't a problem to Stanley, and after a few moments he spotted something out of place. There was a small dip in the wall, like there was a door or panel.

Stanley reached for it, and his fingers found a handle. He pulled, and the wall opened, revealing a hidden doorway. He waisted no time, stepping into the short hallway and poking his head into the room that waited at the end.

The room was a small nursery. It was painted a pleasant blue color, and the room was illuminated by the gentle glow of a night light. There was a modified baby pool on the ground, the bottom padded with soft foam. The water, likely once pristine, looked muddied with filth.

And in that pool were two tiny, mewling pups.

A pair of twins, shivering and shaking, barely able to open their eyes, curling around each other for comfort. They had curly brown hair, just a few shades lighter than Stanley's own, and were coated in the pale white spots that all young pups had. One had pink scales and purple-pink fins, while the other had blue scales and orangey-red fins.

Stanley's body moved before his mind did. He crossed the room in record time and scooped the pups up into his arms, shaking as he did so. They were so, so light and so tiny, barely weighing anything as he picked them up. The pups twitched at the sudden sensation, chirping and crying loudly when they realized that someone had finally come back to them. They looked pale and washed out, their scales faded and their little bodies far too thin. Stanley wasn't an expert on pups, but his instincts were screaming at him that this was bad.

'Shit.' Stanley blanched as he realized that he wasn't just "not an expert" on pups, he had no idea how to care for them, 'Shit shit shit SHIT.'

Okay, he couldn't afford to breakdown right now, not while he was holding two pups that were probably starving and definitely needed to be cleaned up.

"Fuck. Okay, food first, then a bath, then... God, I don't know." Stanley murmered to himself, quickly leaving the nursery and heading back out into the bedroom. The bright lighting and open layout of the room made Stanley's hackles raise, and he had to fight the urge to find somewhere dark and defensible to hide himself and the two squirming bodies in his arms away.

The pups needed to eat. He could suffer through his instincts going haywire for a bit. He had long since learned to take his fear and shove it wayyyy down deep within himself.

Oh so carefully, Stanley made his way back down stairs and made a beeline for the kitchen. Shifting the twins so that he was holding both pups in one arm, he set about rummaging through the cupboards in search of formula. That was something pups ate, right? He didn't think that they could chew fish or anything like that yet.

God he hoped Sally didn't breastfeed.

'Fucking score.' Stanley mentally cheered as he spotted a can of the coveted formula tucked in behind various cans. He snatched it up and peered at the instructions for a moment before setting to work.

He awkwardly washed his hands, tore up the kitchen looking for bottles, and put all of his focus into not fucking up making the actual bottles. Once they were ready, he warmed them up a bit under the tap, tested the milk temperature, and eased himself onto Sherman's couch as he gave the twins the formula.

The pups all but snatched the bottles from him, their screeching quieting down into hungry growls as they suckled. Now that he wasn't worried that they would drop dead in his arms from starvation, Stanley took a minute to gather himself and actually look at the pups.

They were definitely twins. If you ignored the color of their scales, they looked the same. Close as they were now, Stanley could tell that the blue scaled twin was a little boy, while the pink scaled one was a little girl. Both of them had pudgy pup fat, but there was far less than there should have been.

"Sweet Moses, you poor things." Stanley croaked, nuzzling the pups, "I'm so sorry. I'm probably the worst person you coulda ended up with. God, I hope I haven't screwed things up somehow."

As he pulled back, he noticed something on the boy's forehead. Stanley brushed his brown locs aside and sucked in a breath.

A perfect recreation of the Big Dipper was on the kid's forehead, a striking birthmark that set him apart from his twin.

An anomaly.

"Heh, I guess it isn't just twins that runs in the family." he laughed wetly, "Man, Sixer would love you, kid."

Holy shit, Ford. He needed to call Ford. His twin needed to be caught up on what had happened.

Stanley felt his stomach flip at the thought, and he blew out a long gust of air. He had tried calling his brother a few times over the years, but he'd always been too chicken shit to actually do it.

Now, though, he couldn't afford to hang up again. He was going to have to man up and actually talk to his brother.

"Fuck." he cursed, slamming his head back against the couch. "I really don't wanna do that."

A quiet sound made him raise his head again, and he saw that the pups had finished their bottles and were now gnawing on the rubber nipples. Stanley sighed and got to his feet, gently pulling the bottles away. He didn't want to talk to Ford, but he had to. His twin deserved to know what had happened, and these pups deserved a guardian that wasn't a total fuck up.

But first, he was going to give these kids a bath. Bath first, dealing with deep personal problems later.

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takosan388 · 4 months ago

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Splatoon 3 Grand Festival trailer details you might have missed:

1) Arriving at the Grand Festival:

You are greeted by this gate of ink streams flowing down. Pink, Orange, Yellow, Green, Cyan, close to the colors of the rainbow! Also a big sign with the GRAND FESTIVAL logo on top.

"Sometimes when colors clash and mix, you end up with mud. But every now and then you get to see a beautiful rainbow!"

2) Fest duration, day/night cycles, idols outfits.

The fest lasts 72h-starting September 13th (Friday) 01:00 GMT+1 and ending September 16th (Monday) 01:00 GMT +1.

Fridays always have a sunset during events!

We can notice that the idols are wearing their default outfits during the sunset and are in separate stages-split into their groups.

Squid Sisters, Off the Hook, Deep Cut in their original outfits.

Weekends always have nighttime!

In both different stage settings (will go into more detail bellow) the idols are wearing their new special Grand Festival outfits.

Squid Sisters, Off the Hook, Deep Cut in their Grand Festival outfits.

3) Concert stage settings and details

3.1) Sunset/Friday: Setting 1

The shows take place under a big tent with lit up walls!

Squid Sisters, Deep Cut using the same stage setup. (There isn't any footage of Off the Hook using this setup, but we can assume they will use it as well)

The wall projections switch between a diamond-shapped pattern and images of Squids/Octopi.

Projections of the diamond-shapped pattern and the images of Squids/Octopi.

Floating projections of diamond shapes and images of Squids/Octopi appear close to the stage-same as the wall projection at the time.

Floating projections of the diamond shapes and images of the Squids/Octopi.

3.2) Sunset/Friday: Setting 2

It appears to be a different stage setup which is also used during the sunset. It's an outdoors stage facing the new plaza.

Off the Hook, Deep Cut using the same stage setup. (There isn't any footage of the Squid Sisters using this setup, but we can assume they will use it as well)

* * Editor's note* * My guess here is that: a) either one of the two will be used early in the final week and the other one later during the week or b) there's a third stage which we weren't shown, (I got that idea since both setups can only host one group) so that all the idols perform in different stages at the same time. And under some criteria, they switch stages-probably just by going through a loading screen. Or you can choose.

3.3) Saturday

All the idols are wearing their new outfits! They are gathered on one big venue which contains 3 different platforms-one for each group.

Squid Sisters in the center, Off the Hook on the left, Deep Cut on the right.

* * Editor's note * * They can switch positions! Maybe depending on the song, or randomly every time the plaza loads. Or maybe the platforms switch positions by moving counter-clockwise every few minutes. It can be seen in the images bellow:

First image: Middle SS, left OtH, right DC Second image: Middle OtH, left DC, right SS Third image: Middle DC, left SS, right OtH

Stage details:

Depending on which idol is singing, their respective lights on stage turn on. (It's easily noticeable here where you can see Pearl's mouth move as her light is on while Callie and Marie aren't moving their mouths and their lights are off.)

SS: Callie - Magenta, Marie - Lime green

OtH: Pearl - Pink, Marina - Teal

DC: Shiver - Blue, Big Man - Red, Frye - Yellow

The idols on stage with their respective lights shown lit up.

3.4) Sunday

Now or Never Seven join the stage which is a single platform this time! They will be singing a new mix or a brand new song! Also there are stage fire machines and the edges of the wall around the stage is on fire. How cool is that

From left to right they are positioned as: Marina-Callie, Frye-Big Man-Pearl, Shiver-Marie.

Now or Never Seven during their intro.

4) Background decorations/characters

Wide view of an area away from the concert stages.

On the left can be seen posters of Big Man (green), Marie (Pink), Marina (Purple), Shiver (Green), Callie (Pink) all in the artstyle of Splatoon 2 OtH posters.

On the right, the tour bus for Now or Never Seven.

Close to the bus, posters of Shiver (Green), Frye (Green), Big Man (Green) all in the artstyle of Splatoon 2 OtH posters.

Jellyfish made out of paper floating in the sky attached to thin lines.

Boat in gold colour that resembles the wooden dinghy seen in the Grizzco lobby. It contains the giant Statues from the plazas also painted in gold, and some appear to not be completely built.

This band on "Sunset: Setting 2" is from Mahi Mahi Resort! (Thanks @Rachoogian for noticing it)

A poster near the Grand Festival gate that depicts DJ Octavio!!

A very cool security guard standing close to the "Sunset: Setting 1" stage.

5) The logos of the theme, a cool little detail.

Past is supported by the Squid Sisters, from Splatoon 1 and looks one-dimensional.

Present is supported by Off the Hook, from Splatoon 2 and looks two-dimensional.

Future is supported by Deep Cut, from Splatoon 3, and looks three-dimensional.

(These are just my speculations from analysing the trailer-don't take them for granted.) I could go on and on to comment about their outfits but maybe in a future post, this ended up way longer than I expected.

Let me know if I got something wrong or want me to comment on anything that I missed! Or something you didn't know and found out about now!

Thank you for reading and enjoy the Splatfest! くコ:彡Ｃ:。ミ

#splatoon #splatoon 2 #splatoon 3 #nintendo switch #trailer #analysis #squid sisters #off the hook #deep cut #splatfest #grand festival #final fest #past present future #dj octavio #mahi mahi resort #splatlands #concert

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bless-my-demons · 1 year ago

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Redamancy: Chapter Fifteen

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: So much fucking angst, and ya know - cuss words.

Notes: Okay so this was the chapter that started it all, it’s the very first thing I wrote for this story and it just grew from there. I wanted something that rivaled when Edward left Bella minus the concerning leave her in a forest at night shit. Listen to Don’t Leave Me Now - Emelie Hollow if you want to really hurt after this chapter lol

Word Count: 2335

Series Masterlist

• September 13th, 2005 • Cullen Residence •

Reader

Numb.

It’s a weird feeling - the tingling in your fingers, the ringing in your ears, the copper tang from biting your tongue. I don’t think I’ve even blinked since… Well, since Alice removed me from the war path of her brother.

It was almost as if someone else was in my body, watching this train wreck of a birthday party.

Everything was fine. I was cozied up to Jasper, he was whispering kisses into my hair and rubbing mindless patterns on my back as he held me close. Warm, safe, content, protected.

Until I wasn’t.

Until Alice wrapped an arm around my waist after Bella opened the envelope from Esme and Carlisle. Next thing I knew, I was across the room and Bella had a paper cut.

Chaos was an understatement.

Jasper met my eyes, pitch black hunger showed back instead of the person I was familiar with and a cold shiver ran down my spine. Rose flashed in front of me, drawing his predatory gaze before it finally landed on Isabella. Edward, sensing the turn in Jasper’s attention, pushed Bella away to intercept his brother’s loss of control.

It all happened so quickly, my eyes could barely track what transpired.

Edward shoved Jasper across the room, right into the grand piano under the second floor landing, causing a gasp to rip from my throat. Bella was knocked into a table, colliding with glass that tore open her bicep. Carlilse was torn between helping Emmett restrain Jasper and staunching the blood flow from Bella’s larger cut. I started shaking, one hand covering my mouth and the other gripping Rose’s arm, Alice’s arm still around me and Rose standing before me protectively.

This has to be a nightmare. How did this turn so quickly?

Once Emmett wrestled his brother outside, the Cullen’s took their leave one by one, leaving Bella and I with Carlisle. Escorting Bella to his office to patch her arm up, I'm left alone in a room that looks like a bomb had been set off just moments ago. And it had, our fragile mortality just decimated what was supposed to be a night of celebration. After a few moments of spiraling out, I feel a hand on my elbow bring me back to the present - Esme.

“Dear, let me clean, I don’t want you to accidentally… C’mon.” She tells me in that light motherly tone, trying to be gentle and kind as she leads me away from the shattered glass covered rug.

I can’t accidentally cut myself, not if I want to be around Jasper.

Jasper.

“Where is he?” I ask in a daze.

“Sweetheart-“ but I interrupt her.

“I need to check on him, the others will… make sure I’m alright.” The words are acid in my mouth, it’s almost unfathomable to even doubt my safety in the presence of him.

Almost. And it breaks my heart.

“Garage.” She answers gently.

Jasper

I can’t breathe.

Not that vampires need oxygen, but I’m probably as close to getting a panic attack as one could get.

“Breathe man, everything is fine.” Emmett tries to reassure me, but it’s futile. I’m pacing back and forth in the driveway, while the rest of my adopted siblings watch from the garage.

“Everything is not fine.” Edward states, still as a statue from the corner.

“Dude, not fucking helping.” Rose fires back with a flash of teeth.

I continue my pacing, my fingers tugging on my blonde strands in an effort to ground myself and it’s doing nothing for my anxiety. What did I do? Is Bella alright? Is Y/n? I need to get a fucking grip on this hunger. A paper cut sending me into a spiral, you’ve got to be shitting me-

My internal monologue is interrupted by the door to the house opening from in the garage, the object of my thoughts emerging as if I summoned her.

“Y/n you can’t-“ Emmett starts, but she cuts him off, her eyes only on me.

“Alice, I’ll be fine, right?” She asks my sister without looking in her direction.

After a moment’s pause, “Yes, but-“

“No ‘but’s’, I need to speak with him alone. I trust him completely.” Stubborn and headstrong.

“We’ll be inside.” Alice acquiesces, to whom I’m not really sure.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Rosalie hesitate, protectiveness dripping from her, deliberate and aware that I could feel it. After a short nod from Y/n, she turns sharply to follow the rest of them inside. Odd, the one who abhors humans the most would feel the need to… protect one that’s threatened her way of life.

Before tonight I would’ve laughed, but now? Now I’m not so sure I even trust myself around her.

“Are you alright?” She asks me in the smallest voice I’ve ever heard from her, standing eight feet from where I pace but it might as well be the fucking Pacific Ocean.

I laugh, “Am I alright?” I repeat back to her.

“That was a stupid question, I was just-“

“I’m not fucking alright!” I explode, reaching the end of my sanity. I hear her suck in a breath and I immediately regret the tone in which I threw the words at her, but my thoughts keep flowing.

Reader

“I can’t do this! Not when it’s so easy for me to flip a switch and hurt you!” He exclaims desperately, eyes wild.

“What are you talking about? What do you mean you can’t do this?” I know he could feel the anguish pour out of me in droves at just the thought of what he’s implying. He wouldn’t actually leave over something so small, would he?

“You don’t fucking get it, darlin’... I have to go-I can’t do this, I won’t hurt you. Not if I can help it.” Turning away I stop him in his tracks.

“I love you.” The confession slips before I could reign it in. His back tenses before spinning around in a split second flash.

“Y/n-“ He gapes like a fish out of water, the look on his face is nothing but pure agony as he turns and disappears into the night.

Did he?

Did he just leave?

Even the forest is silent, like it’s waiting with bated breath for my next move.

How did this night start so wonderfully, then turn into this? My mind is empty and too full at the same time... And breathing? When did that become such a task? In and out - but how can I force air in when my heart is in my throat? My lips start to tingle, cheeks prickling painfully.

I close my eyes and shake my head like it’s some Magic 8 ball, trying for a different answer-a different outcome.

This can’t be, denial starts flooding in to try and put out this burning in my chest. There’s no way Jasper Hale just decided so quickly-so easily, to leave me.

There’s no way.

I love him.

That’s enough, right?

I must’ve been standing here for hours. Hours, days, months, years it’s felt like since I was staring into those gorgeous dark eyes filled with such self-hatred.

I jolt out of my thoughts when a pair of cold hands find my shoulders, I glance up to see Emmett’s concerned face. I feel as though the cold has seeped right through my skin, straight to the bone. It’s almost like I’m in this bubble. I see his mouth moving what seems to be a mile a minute, but the ringing in my ears drowns his words out.

Is this what that feels like? Shock? Focus Y/N, focus.

I feel a gentle shake from Emmett’s hold on my shoulders, “Are you alright? What are you doing standing in the driveway alone? Where’s Jasper?”

“He’s gone, Em.” I whisper, turning robotically to where I last saw him.

Emmett’s eyes widened, “He-he what?” I see him glance towards the woods that line the driveway, “I’ll find him and-”

“Emmett no, let him go. No one will change his mind, not right now anyways. Please,” I say a little quieter, “Don’t go.”

He envelopes me in a massive hug, “Never, Y/n/n.”

After a few moments and a small squeeze, he starts to lead me back inside to face the rest of the Cullens, where do I even begin to explain this mess to them?

Everyone gathered in the living room, silent after Emmett gave them a short explanation as to why we were missing a member while I stood next to him with my eyes glued to my shoes.

Looking around to see everyone’s reaction, I first notice a bandage wrapped around Bella’s bicep - Carlisle’s handiwork underneath, no doubt. Standing an awkward distance away from his girlfriend I notice Edward scarily still, no trace of emotion on his face which causes a shiver to snake down my spine. I turn, seeing Esme have what looks like a silent conversation with her husband through meaningful and pained expressions, I quickly look away knowing it’ll break my heart even more to watch the exchange. Rosalie walks over to take Emmett’s hand on his opposite side, his other still on my upper back - grounding me. Her face was a perfect depiction of concern directed at her mate, I couldn’t deal with that either, so I glanced at the last face in the room - Alice. Her features are torn and taught, like she’s searching the future and not liking what she’s seeing.

I feel like my life is just slipping from beyond my control, this has to be a horrible dream. It couldn’t have been more than an hour ago that I was standing right here, in this room, with Jasper’s arm draped around my waist, watching Bella descend those stairs.

I wonder a few steps beyond Emmett’s reach and stop, needing out of this house but not quite ready to be alone, I turn back around to my best friend and plead, “Em, take me home?”

Sparing a glance to his girlfriend who tilts her head in a nod of understanding, “Of course, let me grab the keys to the Jeep.”

It only takes a second with his speed to stand in front of me again, “Alright, let’s get out of here.”

I turn to Esme before I’m fully out the door, “Thank you for hosting the party tonight, it was lovely while it lasted.”

Her face scrunches in sadness, “Oh honey-“

“Goodnight everyone.” I say as Emmett steers me into the garage.

“Don’t do that, you don’t have to-“

“Have to what?” I cut him off as I shut the passenger door, the sound reverberating in the enclosed space.

“You don’t always have to spare everyone’s feelings at the expense of your own.” He climbs in himself and jams the keys in the ignition, the familiar rumble of his beloved machine filling the silence.

“It’s fine-everything is fine, this isn’t happening. It can’t be.”

“Y/n-“ He starts, but I cut him off as he activates the garage door and pulls out.

“No Em, it’s-I just can’t okay? I don’t know my head from my heart right now and I just need to hold myself together like this for just a little bit longer, alright? My sanity is dangling by a thread.” Running my fingers through my hair, I turn towards the passenger door to lean on it.

The rest of the ride is spent in silence. I know he wants to talk, to say the magic words that fix this widening hole in my heart that’s growing by the second, but he can’t. No words can fix this, nothing fixes this sudden loneliness that Jasper created the moment he decided this course of action in our situationship. So I stare out my window, trees flying by, the outside world a blur.

Pulling up in front of my house, I spy the porch light my mom must’ve left on for me, assuming I’d get home late. I hear the engine cut off and turn to my left, surely he isn’t going-

“I’m coming up.” His eyes set like he’s on a mission.

“Are you crazy? Hell no, I’m not about to let you sulk in the corner while I bawl my eyes out like some pathetic pity party!” Throwing my hands up.

“Listen, Y/n-“

“Besides, your Jeep in the driveway is going to look suspicious! Even if you park it down the street, my mom is familiar with it.” I try to reason with him.

“But-” Emmett continues to try and sway me.

“Em, I’ll be fine,” I whine, “I know you’re worried, I’ll have my phone and I’ll text you tomorrow. This isn’t your responsibility to fix, I just think I need to be alone right now.”

He lets loose a deep sigh, “I’m just worried about you is all.”

“I know, I’m sorry. You’re just looking out for me and I appreciate it.” I look back to my house, “Maybe come over in a day or two? When I’ve had some time to process it all?”

“Of course, I’ll see if I can find this idiot and figure out where his head is at. Maybe beat him up for ditching my best friend in the dark.” He shoots me a playful grin, trying to lighten the mood.

“Emmett...” My eyebrows push together, his thoughtfulness constricting my throat.

“Go to bed, call me if you need to talk or whatever, everything will be fine.” He pats my leg in reassurance.

I climbed out of his massive Jeep and shut the door. Glancing behind me as I walk away, he gives me his signature lopsided smile as the engine turns over and he begins backing out of the drive.

Everything will be fine, yeah?

Yeah fucking right.

Who knew that was the last time I would see them, two weeks ago.

Everything was most definitely not fine.

Taglist:

@aoi-targaryen @min-jianhyung @pbbsl @timelordhunterandmysterysolver @sheerangermany @clearwater-hoe @blackbluerose666 @ivy-plays @random-human02 @delightfulbluebirdstarlight @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gaymazinglula @l3ejm @angelfuzzy2 @losa12308 @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @flyawayprincess @ropickle @catbusloki @deviat3dsn0wf0x @lovesanimals0000 @unrevived @h-naec @cutesnakemum @zudooms @itsmytimetoodream @stinkii-boii @acoolnight @anothercoffeeblogx @irishblend10 @from-now-on-im-switzerland @kyraslife2 @naolvshan @kiiwiigii @rosedpetal @kiaraandrea

For some reason I can’t tag some of you🥺

#bless-my-demons #redamancy series #jasper hale x reader #twilight fanfiction #twilight #jasper whitlock hale #jasper hale fanfiction #jasper hale #jasper hale x female!reader #female reader insert

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