#she needs her own blog but goddamn

[macveigh]

the way i would love to have a multi w all my muses in one someday but also im too afraid nobody will want to write with morgan since she's my main and instead wanna write with my male ocs instead :///

[terrainofheartfelt]

.

[lightningfilledsaber]

I’ll be talking about the last post I reblogged in the tags of this post for the sake of the person I reblogged it from

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Danger Zone - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 3.0k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy; Secret Relationship; Implied Sexual Content; Suggestive Situations; Angst; Undefined Relationships; Overprotective Family; Background Relationships; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: Your relationship with Jake "Hangman" Seresin wasn't easily defined. But with some unexpected news, you might have to put a label on it soon.

Series Master List

Master List

Growing up with an overprotective older brother and an overprotective father figure, you learned how to be sneaky from a rather young age. It just was not worth the shovel talk every single time that you wanted to go out on a date. You decided a long time ago that what Bradley and Mav didn’t know wouldn’t kill them. 

And in your current predicament, what they didn’t know wouldn’t kill Jake either. 

“Goddamn, Cow Girl,” Jake breathed out with a throaty laugh as he trailed his hand up and down your back. “What a ride.”

“You say that like you did any of the work,” you huffed, picking your head up from his chest. Narrowing your eyes at him playfully, you sat up further and shook your head as Jake’s eye’s immediately dropped to your breasts. “Pillow Princess.”

“I’ll make it up to you next time,” Jake replied with that usual cocky shit-eating grin. Squeezing your hips, he locked eyes with you once again. “A repeat of that weekend up at that beach house with that private balcony.” Sitting up himself, Jake leaned in closer so that your noses brushed. “I had to carry you inside after that, if I remember correctly.”

“You remember everything that boosts your own ego,” you replied, trying to slide off of him. Jake, however, instantly reached out and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you back to his side. Letting out a semi-annoyed laugh, you looked back at him over your shoulder. “Jake, I have to go.”

“They can figure it out without you.”

“They can’t fit my dress to me without me.”

“They’ll figure it out.” Rolling over to try and keep you in his bed for another hour, Jake hovered over you and stared down at your face, like he was trying to memorize it. “Stay.”

“Oh, so now you want to be on top?” you joked, though Jake wasn’t laughing. Sending him a softer look, you sighed. “I have to go. I’m the maid of honor. And Nat will kill the both of us if I’m late for this. You know that.”

“She’s honestly turning into a bridezilla,” Jake stated, causing you to shoot him a dirty look. 

“Maybe because the best man keeps fucking up all of her plans.”

“I’m just trying to improve them,” Jake drawled, earning an eye roll from you. 

“Right. Well, I need to go before you ‘improve’ Nat’s wedding by taking out her maid of honor.”

Rolling out from underneath Jake, you stood up from his bed and headed into the bathroom. Cleaning yourself up quickly and managing to brush your hair down, you walked over to where your clothes were scattered on the ground of Jake’s bedroom. 

“I can’t wait until this wedding is over,” Jake sighed, watching reluctantly as you put your clothes on. “Everyone’s so stressed about it. Javy’s been working on his vows for weeks and he’s gotten one word written.”

“What word?”

“Nat,” Jake explained, causing you to laugh. 

“Poor Javy,” you laughed, buttoning up your shirt. Walking back to where Jake was sitting on the edge of his bed, you leaned down so that you were eye level with him with a soft smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tonight?” Jake tried to convince you.

“I’ll text you when I’m done,” you offered, earning a kiss from Jake. “It could be a while though.”

“I’m a patient man,” Jake replied as you headed out of his bedroom. 

“We both know that’s a lie.”

~~~~~

Your sister-in-law offered to go first for her fitting, leaving you and Phoenix on the couch at the back of the dress shop. Phoenix waited until the door shut to the fitting room before turning to you with a knowing look.

“You were with Bagman, weren’t you?” 

“Emma is right there,” you shushed Phoenix, glancing over at your sister-in-law’s fitting room. “And the last thing that I need is my brother finding out.”

“Emma’s not a snitch,” Phoenix dismissed, still wearing that knowing look. “And besides, it’s not like the two of you are subtle.” Phoenix shook her head and glanced around the room. “I’m still scarred from seeing that shit.”

“And I’ve apologized at least fifteen times.”

“He hasn’t,” Phoenix muttered back. 

“He’s just an exhibitionist,” you mumbled, waving your hand to the side. 

“He’s going to get the two of you caught by someone who’s not going to react as well as Javy and I did,” Phoenix stated, causing you to wince and subconsciously run a hand through your hair to make sure that it didn’t look too much like sex hair. “Did you at least talk to him about defining whatever the hell it is you two have going on?”

“Well . . .” Phoenix groaned on your behalf, causing you to jitter nervously. “What? What’s wrong with just having fun?”

“Let me ask you one question,” Phoenix stated, turning to face you fully. “If Hangman hooked up with another woman, would you be upset?” Before you could even verbally respond, your face gave away your answer. “Exactly. So, you need to have that talk. For your own sanity.”

“Yeah, I know,” you sighed, rubbing your face. “I’ll talk to him. After your wedding. Because I am absolutely focused on your wedding from now until you leave for your honeymoon.”

“I appreciate that,” Phoenix replied calmly with a small smile. “But just be careful with Hangman, okay? He doesn’t exactly have the best reputation with committed relationships. Or any kind of relationship, really.” 

“Can’t people change?” you suggested, causing Phoenix to shrug her shoulders. 

“If they want to, I guess.”

Before you could respond, Emma walked out of the changing room, all done with her fitting. The seamstress walked off with Emma’s dress in hand to put it away and grab yours as Emma walked over to where you and Phoenix were sitting. 

“You alright?” Emma asked you. “You look stressed.”

“I’m fine,” you assured your sister-in-law with a small smile.“How’s the house coming? Did Bradley finally take the stick out of his ass about it?”

“It took some back and forth but they agreed to fix the plumbing problems and the air conditioner and we should all set to close and finally move in sometime next month. And I really hope that it works out. I feel so bad taking over Mav��s house,” Emma stated, sitting down on your other side. 

“Mav doesn’t mind. He’d let you move in permanently if it was what you wanted.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that Bradley wouldn’t go for that,” Emma laughed, probably picturing your brother’s annoyed face. “He said that he feels like a teenager again.”

“Well, he acts like one half the time anyways,” you joked, wearing that classic little sister smirk.

“And he has to make sure that Mav is at least a five mile radius away before he touches me. Something about a traumatic experience.” 

“Oh, yeah, he got caught by Mav with his high school girlfriend when they were sixteen because he’s an idiot and mixed up the days that Mav was supposed to be working late,” you explained, remembering how Bradley wouldn’t even look at Mav for a week after that. “And she dumped him too, I think, because she was too embarrassed.” 

“How the hell have you survived the three months then?” Phoenix asked, doing the math. 

“We’ve taken a lot of long car rides,” Emma replied with a smirk, causing you to gag. 

“Oh, my fucking—I’m leaving,” you stated, getting up from the couch. “Remind me to never step foot into the Bronco ever again. Disgusting.” 

“What about you?” Emma asked, turning back to you. “Going to show up to the wedding with a hot date that you haven’t told anyone about?” 

“Why would I do that?” you asked, turning back to your sister-in-law. 

“You don’t think that anyone’s noticed? You showed up to the Hard Deck one night with a hickey right under your collar.”

“Are you ready for your fitting?” the seamstress asked, causing you to look away from Emma.  

“Yes, please,” you agreed, walking over to her. Turning back to Emma and Phoenix, you shrugged your shoulders innocently. “Sorry, I have to go.” 

The seamstress led you back into the fitting room. Pulling on the blue bridesmaid dress that you ordered months ago, you held it to your chest as the seamstress did up the back of the dress. But you winced as she tugged on the string, tightening your dress uncomfortably around your midriff and breasts. 

“Hmm,” she murmured to herself, loosening the fabric. “A little tight.” 

“Just a little,” you murmured stiffly, trying to adjust the top of the dress. 

“Maybe they took your measurements wrong,” the seamstress replied, which is probably what she told everyone that gained weight right before a fitting. “It’s no problem. We will just loosen it here in the back.”

“Yeah, that should work,” you agreed softly, staring nervously at your reflection in the mirror. 

~~~~~

After you finished up with the dress fittings, Emma insisted that you come back to Maverick’s house for dinner. And even though you were very much interested in going to see Jake again, you agreed since you hadn’t seen your brother or Mav for about a week now. Pulling into the familiar driveway right behind Emma, you followed her inside. Your brother Rooster was in the kitchen, cooking something that you couldn’t yet see. 

“I’m home!” Emma called, causing Rooster to pick his head up and smile.

“Hey, baby,” he returned happily, pulling Emma in for a kiss.

“Please don’t make out in front of me,” you huffed dramatically, hanging up your purse and covering your eyes. 

“Don’t look,” Rooster replied back to you, releasing his wife. 

“Hey, did you finish up those lesson plans with Hangman?” Emma asked, glancing over the food that Rooster was preparing. 

“No. The dickhead keeps dragging his ass about it,” Rooster complained, causing you to glance out the window. “He’s been a bigger pain in the ass than usual.” 

“Just be glad that he promised to not have Javy’s bachelor party in Vegas,” Emma reminded Rooster, bumping his hip with her own. “And that he swore to all of you guys that there would be no strippers at the party.”

“Shocking considering the company that he usually keeps,” Rooster muttered, causing you to pause, taken aback by your brother’s words. “Besides, I’m pretty sure that Nat would have actually strangled him if he got a stripper.” Rooster glanced between you and his wife. “You guys were smart to do the bachelorette party earlier.” 

Rooster reached over and grabbed the cover on the pot of whatever he was cooking and in an instant, the smell hit you like a ton of bricks. Covering your mouth with your hand as your stomach rolled dangerously, you reached quickly for the door to the backyard. 

“Jesus, you look ill,” Rooster commented, earning a sharp look from his wife. 

“What—” Emma called, walking after you, but you were already bent over. 

Emptying what little was left in your stomach onto the ground out behind Mav’s deck, you coughed and gagged as more threatened to come up. 

“Jesus Christ, are you okay!?” Emma yelled, rushing to your side. “You looked a little flushed at the dress shop, but now I think you’re really sick.” 

“It was just fish,” Rooster insisted, stepping out onto the back porch. 

“Fuck off, Brad—oh shit.”

You gripped the edge of the deck harshly, trying to keep what was left in your stomach there. Sweat was starting to drip down your forehead as your stomach rolled again. Emma, unlike your brother, was helpful and brushed your hair out of your face. 

“What did you eat earlier?” Emma asked, waving at her husband to bring some water. 

“Nothing strange,” you replied, gasping a bit. “Just my normal stuff.” 

“Maybe something went bad.” 

“Jesus, what the hell do you have?” he asked, resting a hand on your back as he brought you a glass of water. 

“The urge to push you over the side,” you muttered, glaring over at your brother. 

“What the hell’s going on?” Maverick questioned, walking around the side of the house. 

“Nothing, Mav,” you insisted, taking the tissue from Rooster’s hand. “Just Rooster’s cooking all over again.” 

“You didn’t even eat anything. It was just the smell that set you off.” 

“Probably because you’re a horrible cook,” you muttered, wiping the spit off of your face. “Sorry about that, Mav.” 

“I’ll just wash it away with water,” Maverick insisted, hopping up onto the deck. “Are you sure that you’re feeling alright? Did you need a ride home?” 

“No, no, I'll just drink some water and I’ll be fine.” 

“You sure?”

“Yeah, yeah. I think that seamstress just yanked my dress a little too tight and wobbled up my stomach,” you laughed off, trying not to worry your family. “I’ll be fine.” 

You ended up staying for a few more minutes, but the smell came to be too much and Maverick drove you home, picking up some broth and ginger ale for you on the way. While he was inside the grocery store, you shot Jake a quick text. 

Sorry, I think I’m coming down with something. I won’t be making it over.

After about five seconds, your phone buzzed with Jake’s reply.

Did you want me to come over and take care of you?

You stared down at your phone for a moment before you noticed that Maverick was already walking out of the store and back to your car. 

Mav’s here. I’ll be fine. Thanks tho. 

~~~~~

It was a few days before Phoenix and Coyote’s wedding, and despite your sudden illness, you quickly recovered. You went over to Jake’s place like you planned the next day and acted like nothing was wrong in the first place. Though when you mentioned that to Penny during your weekly chat, she seemed concerned. 

“Just the smell of the fish caused you to throw up?” Penny asked as you walked down the boardwalk together. 

“Yeah, but you haven’t seen his usual mess,” you brushed off, not concerned. “He was an absolute trash chef until he met Emma. And now he’s just a slightly less terrible chef.”

“Have you been throwing up recently? Or nauseous?”

“A little here and there with nausea but I haven’t thrown up since that night. But it’s probably just the wedding. Everyone’s on edge about it and I'm the maid of honor. It’s a lot of stress.”

“Definitely,” Penny asked, part of her brain telling her to just leave her hunch alone. You were an adult. You could handle yourself. But then those maternal instincts kicked in. “Any other symptoms that’ve been bothering you?”

“No,” you insisted, laughing off Penny’s concern. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason. Just that with you throwing up just because of the smell of something and you said that you’ve been feeling randomly nauseous lately . . .” Penny trailed off, not wanting to finish her sentence but when you didn’t finish it on your own, she continued. “You’re sure that there aren’t any other symptoms?”

“Penny, are you asking me if I’m pregnant?” you asked, turning to face her. 

“I mean, is there a chance?”

“I’m on birth control,” you insisted quietly. 

“And you’ve never missed a pill?”

“Well . . .” Grabbing your purse nervously, you glanced up and down the boardwalk and turned back to Penny. “Maybe one or two.”

“That happens,” Penny assured you, putting up a brave face. “But if there’s no other symptoms, then I’m sure you’re fine.”

“My dress was a little tight at my fitting,” you added, causing Penny to pause. “But that could just be my weight fluctuating with stress and everything.”

“Of course with the wedding and everything,” Penny agreed, nodding along. “And besides, you use other protection, right?”

“Oh, yeah . . .” you trailed off, voice barely above a whisper. Because there were more than a few times that you and Jake didn’t bother to use a condom. “Most of the time.”

There was a moment of silence that passed between the two of you before you pulled out your keys. Wordlessly, Penny grabbed your shoulder supportively and the two of you turned for the car. You drove down the road to the pharmacy, grabbed a handful of tests, and returned to the Hard Deck. Penny let you into her private bathroom next to her office and handed you the bag. 

“It’s just a precaution,” Penny told you, trying to keep you calm. 

“It’s just a precaution,” you repeated softly. 

Penny sat behind her desk, pretending to do work while her brain moved a thousand miles a minute. The first question was, of course, who the father would be if you were pregnant. And Penny had a guess. A pretty good guess. She saw all and she saw the way that you hung off of Hangman’s arm on the back deck one night when you thought no one was watching. And she saw the way that Hangman’s eyes just seemed to naturally trail after you. 

But she shouldn’t get ahead of herself. She didn’t even know that you were pregnant yet. 

The door to the bathroom opened a few minutes later and you slowly stepped out, holding three different white plastic tests in your shaking hands. Staring down at the tests for a moment, you finally turned to look up at Penny. 

“Well?” she asked, getting up from behind her desk and walking over to you. 

Silently, you handed the tests to Penny. She glanced down at the tests as you felt your stomach roll again. Dropping your purse, you turned and hurried into the bathroom. Penny dropped the tests and hurried after you, pulling back your hair as you heaved. 

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Elementary, Chapter Two

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x teacher!reader

chapter rating: M (no explicit smut but my blog is always 18+ ONLY, just one steamy makeout but the smut show begins next chapter so strap in 😎 as always, i cannot force myself to reread my own writing so this isn’t proofread)

word count: 4.9k

series masterlist | joel masterlist | joel playlist

It was Saturday afternoon, your book club meeting nearly wrapped for the day. You were delighted to see Sarah’s face, half-expecting both her and her father to forget about the meeting, but she was one of the first ones here.

Joel greeted you with a shy wave and a smile as he walked her into the small room in the corner of the library, his grey t-shirt and jeans fitting him far too well.

“Mornin’,” he greeted, both of your eyes trailing away to watch Sarah make a bee-line for the snack table. “That’s my fault, I forgot to make a grocery run.”

“That’s what they’re there for,” you waved off his worry and fixed your eyes on his again.

“I, uh, tried to keep up,” he held up his copy of Sense and Sensibility, surprising you with how far into the book his bookmark rested, not quite where the rest of you were but not too far off. “I don’t know about that Willoughby guy…somethin’ seems off.”

“Oh, yeah?” you chuckled, shifting your weight onto one hip and crossing your arms over your chest as you eagerly waited his assessment. Joel cracked a charming half smirk and nodded confidently.

“Yeah. No man is that perfect.” You snorted a laugh and eagerly agreed. “So I got it, then? He’s a bad guy?”

“No comment,” you replied with an untamable grin, something about his presence filling you with a girlish giddiness you hadn’t felt in years.

“Sarah!” Sarah’s new friend, Jessie, squealed when she entered the classroom and spotted her, causing both you and Joel to look over with proud smiles.

“This was a good idea,” Joel turned back to you. “Hadn’t realized how sheltered she was. It’s nice to see her have a friend.”

“We all deserve friends,” you noted.

“You know, if you ever need a friend…I’m right here,” he offered with a shrug, busying his eyes by looking down at the book he was holding.

“Would Sarah be okay with her dad and teacher being friends?” you asked, Sarah’s well-being your ultimate responsibility and priority over whatever you happened to be feeling for her father.

“Yeah, we, uh, talked about it…I may have made a comment about how pretty you are,” he chuckled in embarrassment and rubbed the back of his neck. “And she’s been teasin’ me about it since.”

“Pretty, huh?” you smirked and relished in the blush you brought to his face, his eyes rolling as a husky chuckle slipped from his lips. “Well, Joel, if I ever need a friend, how can I go about getting in touch with you?”

“Right,” he nodded, frantically reaching into his pocket to pull out his flip phone, your lip caught between your teeth as you watched him struggle to find his phone number—of course he didn’t know it by heart. “Alright, you ready?”

You clicked your pen and pulled out your post-it note/bookmark, jotting down his number as he read it out to you.

“Are we gonna start or what?” Harriet snapped from her wheelchair, making both you and Joel laugh.

“I’ll be back to pick Sarah up at eleven,” he tapped his book with yours before walking out of the room, only stopping to place a kiss on his daughter’s forehead before disappearing, leaving your heart longing for more.

Taking a deep, necessary breath, you turned to the group and smiled. “Alright, how far did everybody get this week?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look at your phone so goddamn much since you got the damn thing,” Tommy teased his older brother as they walked around their favorite H-E-B supermarket, Joel determined to surprise Sarah with a fully stocked fridge and pantry for once.

“Yeah,” Joel mumbled as he swore he felt a buzz in his pocket, tugging his flip phone out for the twentieth time since stepping inside the store, hoping to see a message or an incoming call from you.

“That the plummer for the project on 15th Street?” Tommy asked as he loaded a case of Gatorade into the bottom of the cart.

“No, it’s, uh—“ Joel was nervous, having gone so long without having a romantic life that he started to feel like a teenager again, too embarrassed by the weight of his crush to tell anybody. “Sarah’s at her book club so I’m just makin’ sure I don’t miss her call if she needs me to pick her up early.”

“And her ‘pretty’ teacher ain’t got nothin’ to do with that?” Tommy teased with a grin, amused by the look of betrayal and embarrassment on his older brother’s face.

“Sarah told ya, huh?”

“Yep,” Tommy laughed and took over pushing the cart. “You ask her out yet?”

“Not yet,” Joel sighed, the idea of going on a first date at his stage in life seeming ridiculous. What would they even do? Go to a movie? Go out to dinner? It all seemed too…cliche. “What do people even do for dates anymore?”

“Take her to Lady Bird Lake or a museum or somethin’. She’s a teacher, she’ll be into all that,” Tommy suggested. Joel nodded at the advice, making a mental note of it before being interrupted by the first actual ring of his phone all morning.

“Hello?” Joel answered the unsaved number with a hopeful heart.

“Joel?” your voice responded, bringing a smile to his face.

“Hey,” he greeted, sounding more like himself. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you chirped, but he could tell there was something you were holding back.

“Sarah’s okay, right?”

“Yes! Sarah’s alright, she’s waiting here with me—“Joel heard his daughter greet him in the background. “The meeting ended a bit early, and I was trying to start my car, but it looks like I have a dead battery. Is there anyway I could get a jumpstart?”

“Oh—yeah,” he mouthed to Tommy that they needed to go checkout, Tommy pushing the cart towards the registers without needing any further instruction. “We’re just checkin’ out at H-E-B, but I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

“Sounds good, thank you,” you breathed a sigh of relief.

“No need to thank me. It’s what friends are for,” he hoped his attempt at playfulness didn’t fall flat, and judging by your chuckle, it hadn’t.

“That and lots of other things.” Joel’s heart sped up as he contemplated the other things. “See ya in a bit.”

“So,” Sarah started as she sat beside you in your well-used Ford Focus, the two of you reading as you waited for Joel to arrive. “You married?”

You laughed at her bluntness, looking over at her only to see her deadpanning. “No, I’m not married. Not anything.”

“Why not?” You laughed again, this time incredulously.

“I’ve been wondering that myself.” She didn’t seem satisfied with that answer, making you shrug and giggle again as you tossed your hands up. “I don’t know, maybe it’s the men I go after.”

“Like my dad?” You blushed and turned back to your book, finally pulling a laugh from the girl much wider than her years. “I think it would be cool if you two started to go out.”

“What makes you think we want to go out?” you challenged with a smirk, trying and failing to erase it from your face.

“I haven’t seen my dad try this hard since…well, ever,” she chuckled. “And both of you always have this stupid smile on your face after you see eachother. I’d say that’s a pretty big tell.”

“You’re too observant for your own good,” you noted as you felt your cheeks creep with heat, embarrassed that she’d caught you.

A few quick honks cut off the conversation, both of you stepping out of the hot car to greet Joel as he and another man pulled up in front of where you were parked. Joel climbed out of the passenger seat with a smile, striding over to both of you with two water bottles in hand, giving you each one.

“Drink up, it’s hot as hell today,” he commanded and both of you obeyed.

“Hey,” his companion stepped out of the drivers side and joined the three of you, giving you a nod. “I’m Tommy, Sarah’s uncle.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve heard a lot about you,” you held your hand out for him to shake and he grinned mischievously.

“Likewise.” Your cheeks heated again despite the cold water bottle cooling you down.

“Mind if I pop the hood?” Joel pointed at your car, your head eagerly nodding in response. You watched him closely as he walked over to the drivers side, bending down to find the hood release. His shirt stretched over the broadness of his back, a line of sweat darkening the gray fabric down his spine. With a sudden thirst, you took a healthy chug of your water, hoping it would soothe the fire burning inside of you.

“Thank you guys,” you started as you turned to Tommy, needing to distract yourself from Joel.

“It’s no problem,” Tommy assured, his arm draped around Sarah’s shoulder. “How was, uh, book club?”

“Oh!” Sarah chimed, earning a furrowed brow look from her father as he walked over to the bed of the truck to grab some jumper cables. “Can I go over to Jessie’s house tonight? She’s having a sleepover—“

“I don’t know,” Joel exhaled as he returned. “I need to talk to her parents first.”

“I have their number,” you offered, pulling your phone out of your purse. “If you want it.”

“Sure,” he gave you a tired smile and trailed his eyes over your form properly for the first time since he arrived. Your hair that was once freely falling had now been put up, the sweat on the back of your neck causing your hair to stick to your skin in a way that bugged you. Your makeup was probably well into oily territory, your mascara smudged the last time you checked it in the car’s rearview mirror. The only thing half-presentable about you was the sundress you were wearing, it’s floral, cotton fabric flowing in the warm April breeze. “Uh,” he caught himself staring and quickly turned his gaze back to his daughter as he fished out his cellphone. “Here—you can type it in.”

After giving Sarah the phone number, she and Tommy retired back to the cool a/c in his truck, leaving you and Joel alone. An irresponsible thing for the two of you to be.

“Care to show me how it’s done,” you asked, unable to stop yourself from wanting more from him—more attention, more of his voice, more…everything. Being around him made you feel like you were burning alive, and yet strangely enough, the only time relief came to you was when you got closer to him.

“No one ever taught you how to jumpstart a car?” he teased with a smile, glancing over at you as he clamped the metal prongs onto the negative and positive sides.

“Not really,” you chuckled, pointing at the opposite colors. “So black goes on negative and red goes on positive?”

“Yep,” he nodded before pointing at the inside of the car. “Go on and try to start it up.”

“Just start it?” you asked, worried about messing up.

“Yep, like you normally do,” he encouraged you with a smile, watching you as you sat down in the driver’s seat and turned the ignition. Both of you gasped at the sight and sound of your battery sparking and then smoking. “Shit.” He walked over to the now ruined battery and investigated as you came out to join him. “Wasn’t your fault, my cords must be fucked or somethin’. I’m sorry—just ruined your battery.” He sighed and gave you an apologetic look, but you were quick to brush it off.

“Don’t worry about it,” you placed your hand on his arm and watched as his head turned to look at the contact before locking his eyes with yours. You fought the urge to worship his biceps like your celibate and cavewoman-like hormones were urging you to and pulled your hand away. “I’ll just call a tow truck and have them tow me to an auto-shop.”

“They’ll take you for all you got.” He shook his head and gestured back at the truck. “We can take ya to go get a new battery for almost free.”

“Almost?” you chuckled, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, the only payment I ask for is maybe…a date?” He gave you a bashful but hopeful smile as he tucked his hands in his front pockets. “Maybe tonight?”

You stared at him with a widening grin, pleasantly surprised by his proposition. You hadn’t thought he’d make the first move, at least not this soon. Throwing caution to the wind, you nodded, your stomach fluttering as you watched him sigh in relief.

“Alright, well, let’s work on gettin’ you a new battery and go from there.” Joel waited for you as you locked your car up and joined him again, following him over to the backseat of his truck. He opened the door for you, giving you that warm smile that was beginning to feel like a drug as you climbed in beside Sarah.

Joel remained outside as he unhooked the cables from their working battery to your dead one, shutting the hood of the truck with a firm slam. He ungracefully hopped into the passenger seat, looking over at his brother.

“Take us down to the Autozone,” he ordered, Tommy glancing back at you with a raised brow and smile as he waited for his brother to use his manners. Joel sighed, “Please.”

“That’s better.”

It took under an hour to go get your new battery, bring it back to your car, and have Joel install it. As he bid you goodbye, he let you know he’d give you a call once he figures out a time for your date tonight, and you couldn’t help but beam with excitement.

The entire rest of the afternoon was spent going through your closet, taking the longest shower of your life, and fussing with your hair, wanting to be ready if Joel chose to be last minute with your plans—which normally would thoroughly turn you off, but you were weak when it came to Joel.

Thankfully, Joel called at three, asking if you’d like to join him for a walk at Lady Bird Lake. You eagerly accepted the offer, mildly surprised by the unconventional choice in date but not disappointed with it.

As you sat in the living room, you heard a car approach your house and moved to peek through your window, the same dark pick-up truck from earlier rolling into your driveway. You grinned as you watched him hop out of the drivers seat, dressed in a crisp white t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. He looked so masculine and broad, but there was something in the warmth of his smile, the deepness of his eyes, that showed he was soft, too.

Quickly heading to your front door, you opened it before he could knock, his look of surprise when you swung the door open turning into a smile as he took you in—a sage green wrap dress that fell between your ankles and knees, your makeup soft and complimentary, your smile knee-weakening.

“You look so pretty,” he complimented softly, as though you weren’t meant to hear it. “Uh, got these for you.”

Joel handed you a bouquet of yellow daisies and you gave him a touched frown, kissing your teeth as you pressed the petals to your nose.

“This is very sweet,” you gave him a smitten grin and gestured back into your house. “Let me just go put these in some water. You’re welcome to come in.”

“Alright,” he followed you into your house and down the hall to your kitchen, his eyes scanning the scene as though your home would reveal some hidden secret about you. “This is a nice place.”

“Thanks,” you replied as you filled a vase with water at the sink. “I found it for a really good price last summer, and now the owner’s gonna sell it to me.”

“Take it you like Austin then. You from around here?” He asked, leaning his hip against the counter.

“Nope,” you continued to tell him where you were from. “But I do love it here. Besides, I’m getting older. Seems like a good investment.”

“Old,” he repeated with a smirk. “You ain’t nowhere near old. Me on the other hand—“

“You’re what, mid-thirties?”

“33,” he corrected. “But my body is pushin’ seventy.”

“You haven’t heard the way my bones crack when I get up every morning,” you joked, earning a laugh.

“We’ll just have to be gentle with each other, then,” Joel quipped, not taking much time to think before he spoke. He internally cringed at the way you looked away and chuckled awkwardly, scolding himself for his stupid joke.

“Hopefully not too gently.” You shot him a wink and every worry of his faded into oblivion. “Alright, then, shall we?”

“Yeah,” Joel swallowed his desire and walked you out to the truck, helping you into your side before seating himself. “You ever been to the lake?”

“Nope,” you shook your head. “Is it pretty out there?”

“It’s pretty, but you’re gonna give it a run for it’s money in that dress,” he flirted, shooting you a glance and a peek at the smile he was wearing proudly. Your cheeks turned hot at his compliment and you rolled your eyes, grinning like a lovesick teenager.

“You’re a flirt,” you pointed out.

“Me?” He laughed. “I haven’t flirted in…shit, I don’t know how long it’s been.”

“Well, you’re a natural, then,” you nudged his arm with your elbow and felt dizzy by the sparks shooting through your nerves by the simple contact.

“Sarah gave me a run down of things I should and shouldn’t do tonight,” he filled you in.

“Oh yeah? What are the do’s?” you implored with an amused smile, watching his profile as he drove.

“Pay, open doors, and ask questions,” he replied.

“And dont’s?” Joel chuckled and shook his head.

“She said I’m not supposed to kiss you until the second date.” You scoffed and waved that thought away. “You disagree?”

“Strongly,” you answered him with a laugh, Joel laughing along with you.

“Alright, I’ll keep that in mind, then.” He shot you a wink and you felt like your heart was being shocked back to life. “I haven’t been on a date in so long. You gotta let me know if I’m fuckin’ this up.”

“You’re doing just fine, trust me,” you assured. “I can’t tell you the amount of shitty dates I’ve gone on, so the bar isn’t very high for you tonight.”

“Well, that’s sad,” he chuckled and shot you a lingering look as he stopped at a red light. “Hopefully I can break this streak of shitty dates.”

“I think you’ve already done it,” you laughed. “I mean, I can’t think of a first date that sacrificed hours of his life to replace my car battery on a Saturday afternoon.”

“You’re right, I’m setting the bar high,” he chuckled and shrugged. “Gonna have to change your oil next time just to keep up my reputation, then for the third date maybe rotate your tires—“

“Are these euphemisms?” you asked with mischief in your smile, not knowing the way you made his heart speed up with it.

“You make me nervous,” he admitted with a smile, his cheeks flushed pink. When he turned to look at you, he saw a bitten smirk, his head shaking. “That amuse you?”

“A little,” you nodded.

“Callin’ me a flirt,” he shook his head in mock scolding. “Look at you.”

After your leisurely walk in the park—the green of the grass and array of colors from the flowers and butterflies swarming in the air just as beautiful as Joel attempted to describe it on the way over—you and Joel found yourselves outside of an ice cream shop, sharing a chocolate and strawberry sundae.

“How are you not terrified every day? I only have Sarah to look out for and I can hardly manage, I can’t imagine a class full of ‘em,” Joel spoke, watching you as you spooned the last bit of the ice cream into your mouth.

“It’s scary at first, but then you develop this sort of bond with them—it just happens naturally, and it makes you feel responsible for them. You know? It’s just like…I feel a responsibility to show them some peace and understanding, because who knows what they have going on at home. I show up for them because I might be the only person that’s doing that, you know?” You shrugged, trying not to read into the way he was looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, his posture relaxed as he sat back in the metal patio chair. “You gotta stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” He chuckled, amused by your fluster.

“Like that.” You gestured at his head. “You know exactly what you’re doing, giving me those pretty brown eyes—“

Joel’s laugh cut you off, his head shaking. “I’m just listening to you talk, I have no control over my pretty brown eyes.”

“Mmhm,” you rolled your eyes and chuckled. “Whatever you say.”

“I, uh—Sarah’s away tonight. If you wanted to come over—“ Joel watched as you lifted an eyebrow. “Not for that—well, I mean—but I just meant to continue talking. We have a pool—“

“Why didn’t you start with that?” You stood upright and snapped your fingers at him, earning a grin. “Chop, chop, Mr. Miller.”

Joel made a pit stop at your place so that you could change into a swimsuit, throwing your dress back on over it before hurrying back out to the truck. Once inside his house, you found yourself studying the scene much like he had earlier at yours. It felt almost unreal to be in his space, the intimacy of walking the same halls he walked every morning and night turning you drunk.

“Pools out back, I’m gonna grab us some beers.” You nodded at him as he broke off towards the kitchen while you kept forward towards the sliding glass door to his patio.

Pulling the door open, you were surprised to see a rather nice little backyard set up. He draped yellow string lantern lights in zig zags from fence to fence, illuminating the pool and patio table.

“Here you go,” Joel appeared from behind you, handing you a beer before walking over to the table and taking a seat. You joined him, giving him an expectant but playful smirk as you entered a staring match. “What’s got you smilin’ like that?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged, turning your grin towards the pool. “I’m just having a good time.”

Joel’s chest swole with pride at your confession.

“You wanna get in? It’s heated.” You gave him an impressed up and down, making him chuckle.

“Fancy,” you teased as you stood up, avoiding his eyes as your hands found the knot holding your wrap dress together. Before you could move to untie the knot, Joel’s hands rested over yours, his body now standing tall in front of you. Your eyes shot up to meet his and your breath faltered, his lips just a few inches away.

“May I?” Joel asked for permission as he replaced your fingers on the knot with his own. You gave him a quick nod, your lips parting as you waited with bated breath for him to undress you. Joel slipped the knot undone, the dress falling open. His eyes traveled from your face down the front of your body as he slid the dress off your shoulders, leaving you in just your swimsuit. His hands were quick to touch your skin, a soft gasp spilling from your lips at the fire his skin on yours caused. “You’re too beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful,” you praised, lifting your hand to cup his bearded cheek. Joel’s lips curled up at the sound of your compliment, his hands giving your waist a squeeze. “Remember that rule we talked about breaking earlier?”

“Uh-huh,” Joel nodded, leaning in to fill the gap between your lips until he was crashing into you, your fingers threading into his hair as you accepted the attack. Joel moaned as you tugged on his hair, walking you back against the table and hoisting you onto the metal. “You taste so sweet, baby.”

“I want you,” you whined, earning a growl of desperation as he licked and sucked his way down to your neck, fighting the urge to leave his mark on you.

“Hey, neighbor?” Joel’s older neighbor called from over the fence, interrupted their heated makeout. He sighed and rested his forehead on your shoulder as he tried to gather his composure enough to form a response.

“Yep?” Joel called back.

“Your girl’s locked out, just came knockin’ on our door.” Joel’s brows furrowed and he immediately straightened up, his eyes apologetic as he handed you your dress.

“Thanks,” he called back before placing a kiss on your cheek. “Sorry, baby.”

“It’s okay,” you assured as you tied your dress, the throbbing between your thighs persistent but the sound of him calling you baby was a more-than sufficient distraction, filling your stomach with butterflies.

You sat back down at the table and waited until Joel came back out, your fingers drawing hearts on the dust covering the table. When you caught yourself, you scoffed, disgusted by the cutesy feelings filling you to the brim, and wiped the table with your palm. Walking over to the edge of the pool, you rinsed the dust off and listened as the glass door slid open.

“Hey,” Sarah greeted, her voice nearly making you fall into the water as you weren’t expecting it. “How was the date?”

You stood up and chuckled, ignoring her question by changing the subject. “How was it at Jessie’s?”

“It was good, just didn’t want to spend the night,” she informed as she sat on one of the patio chairs, swinging her feet.

“Where’s your dad?” You weren’t sure what to say to her and desperately wanted Joel to come out to help carry the burden of this awkward tension.

“Using the bathro—“

“Nope,” he interrupted as he stepped outside, mouthing an apology to you as he walked over to her and kissed her head. “Can you go inside for a second?”

“Sure thing,” Sarah gave you a knowing smile as she left the two of you alone, closing the glass door behind her.

“Sorry,” he stepped to you, placing his hands on either side of you face. “Don’t think we’re gonna get to continue that tonight.”

“It’s alright,” you rubbed his chest.

“When can I see you again?” he asked, eyes full of reverence as he looked at you.

“Whenever,” you shrugged, pinching his chin. “I’m free after five every night.”

“I’ll try to talk Tommy into babysitting on Friday.” You grinned at his suggestion and nodded your head. “Lemme grab Sarah and we’ll drive you home.”

“Wait—“ You stopped him before he could get too far, tugging him down for a deep kiss, his arms wrapping around you and squeezing you so tight that you hoped it would last all week until you saw him next, but the minute he let go of you, you already missed him. “One more kiss.”

“One more,” he repeated as he kissed you again, slow, deep, and lingering, the two of you procrastinating. Finally, you gathered the will to pull away, chuckling at your breathlessness. “Alright, if we don’t stop now, I’m just gonna keep on torturin’ myself.”

“Not into that?” you quipped seductively, tilting your head at him as you tucked your hands into the back pockets of his jeans to pull him closer. Joel chuckled and shook his head at you as though you were testing every ounce of his strength.

“I’m gonna have my hands full with you, aren’t I?” he husked, leaning back in to place a feather-light kiss to your lips as you responded with a grin.

“Your hands are already pretty full, wouldn’t you say?” Joel laughed against you and gave your ass a squeeze, his palms having already been firmly planted there.

“Oh, I like you,” Joel hummed, pecking your lips once more before pulling away. “Here,” Joel handed you his keys before pinching your chin. “Start the truck up and I’ll go get Sarah.”

“Sure thing,” you beamed as you watched him start towards the house, stopping him once more with your voice. “Joel?”

“Yeah?”

“I like you too.” You and Joel stood there lovestruck, a chuckle slipping from his lips as he struggled to find the strength to take you back home, not ready for the night to be over. But knowing that the best things come to those who wait, Joel took a breath of patience and smiled.

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

[zyxoxox]

a new face on sixth street.

wise x reader || 1k wc

in which wise is very focused on solely his proxy and manager duties, and is definitely not intrigued by your move to sixth street.

note: new blog, new beginnings! it’s been so long since i’ve written anything, i feel like i’ve forgotten how. wise has been rattling around in my head nonstop for the last two weeks, so here’s some indulgence~

a deep breath.

you needed one; lifting boxes to your flat was the most work you’d ever done in your life. mr.chop was helping, for you’d moved into the room just behind his shop, but it was still a bit much.

sitting down on the ground for a break, you scanned your surroundings. so this was sixth street. quite kind, quite warm- it was new, but you had a feeling you’d like it.

opposite to your door seemed to be the side of a shop. what was it? random play?

“har, ya interested in the video shop?”

mr.chop appeared in front of you, snapping you out of your thoughts. you nodded, and his eyes suddenly lit up, seemingly with an idea.

“you know what? you should take a break to meet the managers! they are your age, you know, and- don’t tell them i said this- but they don’t really talk to anyone but each other i think. yes, yes, this will be good! they ordered some noodles too, you can go give it to them. you will be neighbours after all!”

>>-<<

a deep breath.

wise found himself having to take one when he saw the new face in front of him.

he really had no clue why. was it because you were a new customer? the video store’s business was quite fragile, more people meant it was getting better, so naturally he was excited. that was it, right? right?

the girl walked past all the shelves, scanning their contents, but also seemingly looking for something. she had a bag of noodles from mr.chop’s, which smelt eerily like his own favourite flavour.

“can i help you?”

she jumped, with a bewildered look on her face. wise looked at her widened eyes, and the way she held her hands close to her chest in alarm, and found himself needing to take another breath.

“ah, y-yes! i’m looking for the managers of this store. these noodles are for them, mr.chop asked me to bring it to them.”

another breath.

really, what had gotten into him today? was it because she had come looking specifically for him? wait, no, no, what kind of reason was that?! he was the manager of the store, of course people would look for him!

“well, you’re in luck. you are looking at him right now.”

her eyes lit up. “really! i’m [name], it’s nice to meet you. i’ve moved into the flat just next to this store, so in a way, it’s like we’re neighbours! here, take the noodles. they’re fresh, better eat them when their hot.”

wise reached out to grab it from you. for a fraction of a second, the tip of your fingers touched- it could barely be computed as skin contact, and yet wise felt it through his whole system. the pits of his stomach did a flip, his chest nearly jumped! for the goddamn life of him, he couldn’t think of why?

you were having thoughts of your own. who was this guy? he looks so cool, so handsome? his voice is so clear, why’d he stop talking? would getting a membership to this place mean seeing him m-

“thank you for the delivery , miss [name]. my sister and i are really grateful.”

shit, you were still holding your hand out, even though it no longer had the bag! hastily, you put both you hands behind your back, nodding awkwardly.

your mind was blank for things to say, so you looked around. the shelves were stocked with all sorts of movies and records. you could spot your favourites, as well as titles you’d never heard of before.

“it’s a lovely store you’ve got,” you amused. “quite fitting for you, i should think.”

he raised an eyebrow. “oh? what do you mean by that?”

you felt your cheeks heat up. yeah, what did you mean by that?

“it’s just, this store seems cozy and safe, and you have the composure of someone you’d feel like talking to about anything, you know? i mean it in a good way, really! the store gives off the same energy as you do, and anyone could feel your presence here even if you were away.”

he was silent for a couple of seconds. had you said too much? before your thoughts could go overboard, he broke into a soft laugh. it was so crisp, you found yourself wondering if any of the tapes had a recording of it you could loop for hours.

“well, i’m glad i’ve left a good reputation on you, miss [name]. i hope to see you- ahem, your patronage often.”

“right! and i hope to see you around too, mister manager!”

you waved and turned to leave. barely a day in sixth street and your heart already hummed with a new crush. opening the door, the fresh breeze made a poor attempt to cool down the warmth you felt all over. then suddenly, you remembered-

“your name! mister manager, i don’t know your name!”

he had a soft smile, steadfast and enduring. “it’s wise, miss [name]. i was wondering if you wanted to know,” he shook his head, grinning. you mentally cursed at yourself. how could you forget something so basic!

he walked closer, with a movie tape in his hand. you caught a glimpse of it- Life Before the Hollow; presumably a history documentary. his eyes locked with yours, and he stuffed it in your hand. “consider this a welcome gift.”

he seemed to want to say more, but he didn’t.

you inspected the record in your hands, and the boy who gave it to you. you shouldn’t get your hopes up, and yet-

“i guess i have no choice but to come back again now, mister manager wise! you’d best be here when i do!”

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

My cup runneth over with excellent jql, and we just got confirmation that Cosmetic Playlover will be joining the line up next week. All but one of these are on Gaga; I highly recommend picking them up!

Takara's Treasure

I really love this unassuming little show and how gently it's advancing this relationship. This week reinforced that Taishin is the only one who really sees Takara beyond his popular hot guy reputation. He can tell he is struggling and he notices when he is overcome by sadness. Their adventure helping the tiny child find his way home was a nice way for them to bond and see each other's good qualities, and also to prompt some reflection from Takara about his own relationship with his mother. I am still dying to know more about what happened there.

I Hear the Sunspot

Most of this episode had me chewing glass; I loved every single minute of their camping trip. Seeing Kohei's walls coming down was so rewarding, and I was relieved when he finally stopped holding back and let himself smile. Taichi's ongoing struggle with understanding what he feels for Kohei was also super compelling, and I liked that Kohei got to express some frustration at his obliviousness. He flirts all the time without seeming to realize he's doing it, both with Kohei and with other people, and it's hard for Kohei to hold back when his confession is already laying there between them. Taichi seemed to finally be putting some things together when he confessed that he doesn't hate Kohei's attention. And because I loved all of that so much, it was a bit of a womp womp to then do a time skip only to introduce a new third party to inspire jealousy and set them right back where they were last week. It feels like wheel spinning, so I do hope we'll be moving through that quickly.

Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko

Besties, I AM PISSED OFF. I cannot believe the behavior of the people around Hiroko this week, and I am ready to fight them on her behalf. Let me just say this real clearly: Hiroko does not owe anyone the truth about her sexuality, and if she doesn't want to be out at work, that is her choice and nobody else's goddamn business. Risa is off the best girl list forever after the shit she pulled today. Digging for gossip and outing Hiroko only so she could criticize her to try to sway Ayaka was some ugly shit, and I will not be forgetting it. And I am also side-eyeing Hiroko's "friends" at the bar, who saw Hiroko panic when she ran into those two, heard them call her senpai, and still spilled all her secrets when Risa came poking around (though I appreciate that at least Mama quickly realized they'd fucked up and apologized). I am sad that Hiroko doesn't actually have anyone on her side, and it's clear from the brief flashbacks we keep seeing that she has been betrayed in the past. I am curious to see where they go with Ayaka's quest from here, because continuing to push Hiroko when she's drawn a firm boundary is not the move. Something in the dynamic will need to shift.

Mr. Mitsuya's Planned Feeding

This shoooooooooow. I'm obsessed. Episode 2 is now available on @isaksbestpillow's blog. This week we got more hints about Mitsuya's past and other relationships (just how many boyfriends do you have, sir?), met my new favorite Shige, and learned about Ishida's past baseball career and why he's still feeling a little lost trying to establish himself in a new field. I loved following Mitsuya and Ishida on their long day together; their chemistry feels so natural and the whole sequence with Mitsuya making the tenshinhan was excellent. I was also super excited that Ishida has figured himself out quickly and knows he's crushing on Mitsuya. He's going to need that awareness because he appears to have a lot of competition.

Twilight Out of Focus

Tagging in @twig-tea to talk about this week's episode, which shifted the focus to a new couple.

[xo-cod]

Hi my love! Hope you’re doing well 💕 no pressure, but if you were taking requests, would you be able to do a blurb of the 141 men learning how to braid their daughter’s hair? I’ve been reading your girl dad fics and it makes me so soft!!!! Imagining these burly guys trying to figure out little girl braids makes me laugh lol.

Again I love you blog, you’re incredible 💕 hope you have an amazing day 💕

hi lovely, you're so kind ily 🥹🩷 hope you're doing well! <3 this was so so cute omg, i loved this so bad 😭

i hope this was along the lines of what you wanted :")

price: "goddamn it, not again" lowkey getting very frustrated with himself because it's not turning out the way he wants it to be and he's a perfectionist. he's already run the brush through her hair gently for the umpteenth time, causing her to grumble and wanting to go play instead. but he holds her back carefully, determined to make her braids the prettiest anyone has ever seen. he holds her hair band between his lips as he frowns at the braid again.

"just a second, honey" it's loose and he doesn't know how to tighten it but he's determined. nobody is moving an inch until he perfects that braid. his back curved slightly uncomfortable and he's definitely going to get neck pain, bending a little down to get the best access to her head and he does finally manage to get it accurate. it only took an hour but he's very proud of himself :")

simon: "this bit.... goes underneath right? over the top, underneath the side, down back under.... piece of cake, honey" simon is a dedicated man, his tongue peeking out from his lips as he tried his very hardest to memorise what he had learnt from a youtube video. his daughter sat between his huge thighs, his big fingers working her hair very delicately in order not to pull on any strands. he has the hair grips secured between his lips, eyes narrowed very carefully as he braids her hair trying to get all of the hair. he is a man on a mission and he will carry out the task to the best of his ability.

"bloody hell, that took it out of me" he finally lets out a relieved sigh at his masterpiece, there might be a few strands sticking out and the braid might look a little lopsided but it's unique :") only to have his daughter shake her head once causing the braid to tumble down and his face in pure utter shock and disbelief

gaz: "keep your head straight okay, honey?" gaz should def open a hair place, he's already mastered the technique of braiding from his mom especially because his hair type is different and requires a certain amount of care. so he knows exactly how to braid, call it his secret talent ;) lowkey finds it therapeutic and will 100% decorates his girl's hair with different clips and grips, whatever her little heart desires. he loves brushing his fingers through her locks and he always manages to get the parting accurate on the first time. which saves a ton of tantrums on her end.

"my beautiful baby girl" best believe he's whipping out the camera to take pictures of her hair and send it to you, marvelling at how gorgeous she looks. he's all smug when she wants to come to him for her hair but it bites him back in the ass when he's half dressed needing to leave the house in five minutes to head to bade only to be tugged by his child by the wrist to have her hair braided in that specific way she loves.

soap: "christ sake, why would they add so many pieces?" soap definitely underestimated himself, he didn't mean to blow his own horn but now that he has, he doesn't not accept defeat easily at all. will memorise that youtube video back to front, his daughter seated in his lap both of the criss crossed as he works delicately. his face set intently, eyes slightly narrowed as he braids. he's confused by the movement but gets the hang of it after a while and then it's like second nature, he's so happy with himself.

"look at you, little lass. my sweet girl" his little girl perched in his lap as he tightens the braided pony tails, gushing at how cute she is and how perfect the braids he had done on her hair came out. will 100% parade her around so everyone can see how perfect his braids are but no touching his little girl or her hair at all, under any circumstances <3

[thelilypit]

Anatomy of a self-ask

A claim commonly levied against Lily Orchard is that some of the anonymous messages her tumblr receives are, in fact, self-asks. That is, Lily sends herself a question that she wants to answer, but in a way that makes it appear like someone else queried her first.

A claim like this is difficult to verify, since anonymous asks are, by their very nature, anonymous. Trying to analyze these messages for language tics is an imprecise science, one that can easily lead to false positives. If Lily does send herself anonymous questions to answer, it's reasonable to assume that an experienced writer such as herself will be able to mask most of the tell-tale signs.

So let's talk about someone who is bad at it instead.

By now you are probably familiar with @curly-b-blog, for better or worse. Curly's blog is the recipient of a lot of anonymous messages, which is peculiar when you consider that her average note count per post is around... zero*.

*We are talking about mode average in this instance, for the math nerds in the audience.

Earlier today, Curly responded to an anonymous message thus:

Let's break this down:

Anon mentions that "Lily's own ex" got involved in a piece of drama.

Curly is immediately aware that Anon is talking about Britt, without having to ask for any clarification.

This is despite the fact that Lily has more than one ex, and when people in these spheres refer to "Lily's ex" they are more likely to be referring to Lizzy Orchard, rather than Britt.

Prior to this anon being sent, Curly had not brought up Britt's involvement in today's events.

Thus the anonymous asker would have no reason to believe Curly was familiar with the situation, and certainly not enough to understand that "Lily's own ex" would refer to Britt in this instance.

(Not to mention that Britt is not and has not ever been Lily Orchard's ex partner - this is a lie made up by Lily)

Now, I don't send myself anonymous messages all that often, but even I understand that a conversation is meant to have two participants, who will not be privy to the exact same information.

As an example, If someone were to send me the above anon, I would respond with "Wait, which ex are you talking about?" or something similar. Context is important, after all! Even if I had seen Britt's involvement, I would still ask for clarification, because there may have been something that I was not aware of. Maybe Lizzy got involved, who knows?

Curly doesn't need to ask. She knows exactly what the ask is talking about, because she sent the ask to herself.

It's rare that you see a self-ask so blatant in the wild, but we can treat this as a valuable and educational lesson; If you're going to send yourself anon-asks, put some goddamn effort into hiding it.

[annislittleshopofhorrors]

You know, I love your blog and your funny/shady comments about 🐟 unable to handle her husband getting the attention and not her.

But I’ll admit, I always laughed it off because we can say that but nobody really knows what’s happening.

Until yesterday. LMAO. I know, I’m sorry for not really listening to some of y’all… but she needs some serious help and for once, to put down her goddamn phone.

I also realized that I knew she was going to try and do something to put the attention back on her and nothing she does on IG is ever a coincidence. This is the actions of a very manipulative but also very stupid individual with narcissistic tendencies. To her five asskissers, look away.

She follows that light and dwell designer the day after people made fun of her for showing her PT apt (btw, now I wonder if she was hoping people would think it was the house her husband was allegedly building for her in PT like some blogs believe)

When that didn’t work, follow this designer lady back after months (funny how she does this quite often when she’s not getting the attention she wants).

Follows some random directors. She still wants a job. That custom ugly furniture ain’t gunna pay for itself!

Posts a random photo dump of suggestive photos to indicate nothing but also making sure the ones who care will try and figure out if she’s in MA, NY, NYC, Canada, Wherever the narrative of where she lives fits.

meanwhile, her husband is in NYC filming with his attractive female costar who is much more well known than her (even if it’s the nepo baby comments) and has two films of her own coming out this month and her Madame web movie is still doing pretty well on Netflix.

Their pap photos are much better received by the general public and have comments shipping them and wishing they were together instead. Yikes!! Also…they actually do look good together. They fit.

Btw, I don’t think 🐟 is jealous of Dakota because of Chris. TBH, I don’t think she’s into her “husband” at all. From her actions, she doesn’t care about him or his well being. She cares about what his name can do for her. That’s it. And right now his name is being lumped with Dakota and not hers and I think it’s pissing her off. She needs to get those cheap outfits comped one way or another and her Liberia film isn’t cutting it. Miumiu not calling her back and nobody wants to see her in a solo pap walk….so.

Sorry to all the team asslickers on here but even you have to admit yesterday was a hilarious show your ass moment.

Sidenote: I like to think CE is putting on a bigger effort to look like he likes Dakota because Celine song is directing this film and he wants to do well for her. And also, he seems to simply just like Dakota. She’s pretty hilarious in her own right when she’s not being a flat actress 🤣 and maybe…just maybe, he wants to show you all whose watching that he does know how to act like he’s in love with someone. He just didn’t want to the last time he was in that park.

😉❤️

Yep, she doesn't care about him (and I don't think he cares about her). It's all about using his name to be mentioned in some gossip magazines. Otherwise these magazines wouldn't talk about her. And even the Portuguese magazines have to mention him when they talk about her. The Portuguese people don't care about her. I'm not even sure if they know her name.

[st-eve-barnes]

So in light of all the drama,

I guess I should say my part.

Two of the people involved were beloved mutuals, people I enjoyed seeing on my dash, who I reblogged from regularly, who supported me and my writing esp Bel. My god she was one of the sweetest, most supportive people on here. I called her "such a positive presence in the fandom" on many occasions as it seemed (to me) she never got involved with drama and got along with everyone.

I feel so, so stupid now.

I am blindsided by everything that has come to light recently. I wouldn't say I was friends with these ladies as we didn't chat regularly or didn't share personal information (thank god apparently!) but they were Tumblr friends.

Seeing all these screenshots is daunting. And there's more than just a few people involved here. I know some have apologized and owned up to their shit. I respect that but...for a long time all of you engaged happily in bullying and saying the nastiest stuff about so many of us while pretending to be friends here on Tumblr.

It's vile, it's disgusting and I have never seen so much hatred over goddamn fanfic. Some of you need help, I mean this.

I don't care to ask or know if I was ever talked about in those chats, I can only assume. It doesn't matter to me either what some mean girls say about me on the internet, what pisses me off is the whole fake facade around it all. Why pretend to be friends or engage with people when you hate them all and can't stop yourself from talking shit behind their backs? What is the goal here? Followers and popularity? Really?

It's pathetic and sick. And utterly disappointing.

A small group of loud mean girls made this fandom unbearable for a lot of people. I'd like to believe we can all do better now that everything is out in the open but I have to be honest. Right now I feel in no mood to share much with this fandom anymore.

I may fangirl here on my own for a bit, stick to the few blogs I do trust and focus on other things/fandoms where people are just a little bit more sane.

[masquerade-of-misery]

Just some mental health rambling, because I need to let this out somewhere.

If you are sensitive to topics like depression and self-loathing, feel free to keep scrolling.

In the past pair of weeks I've been spiralling deeper into depression again.

A lot has been happening in my life which affect me badly. I feel trapped, hopeless, disappointed, miserable. About life, about myself, about people.

It feels like whenever something remotely good happens, I can start worrying when that good thing will end, when it will turn bad, or what kind of "punishment" life will give me for having a moment of peace and joy.

I've been keeping so much to myself. Even with my family, whom I'm the closest with, can't share certain things, because they just simply wouldn't understand. I have only one person "in real life" that shares my love for Twst and who I can really talk to about everything. We live together, and she's an immigrant living in my country. Every 5 years, the terror overwhelms us when it's time to reapply for her residence permit. We live in constant fear of losing each other, of her application getting rejected. We are each other's life support and have known each other for 10 years now. If that gets taken away... I don't even want to think about it.

My parents and brother always tell me I can share everything with them, and they are here for me no matter what. And I know that, but... I also know that they would never understand my love for Twst and my deep love for Lilia. They would just suggest I see a damn therapist.

They would like to see me in a happy romantic relationship, but I have lost all my interest in meeting people honestly. I have never been lucky with men, and don't think I ever will be. I've been betrayed and ghosted by friends countless times, so I'm tired of trying to form friendships as well.

Also, I have huge self-esteem issues. I hate everything about myself. Every part of my body, my voice, my clumsiness, my social awkwardness, my struggles with verbal communication, my stupid blushing for no reason... I hate it all. I see my reflection in the mirror and have to tear my eyes away from it, because I despise the person looking back at me.

Last weekend, I had to realize just how different my brother and I have become, too. We've always had a strong bond, we were like the "prepare for trouble and make it double" duo. We argued and fought a lot as kids and teens, but we always have been a strong unit. But last Saturday, it became clear that basically I cannot say anything he considers "negative", "hateful", or "complaining", because he will turn it into a goddamn lecture. And the way he tells you his opinion is so condescending as fuck and makes you feel like you are a stupid kid who knows no better and needs to be taught. Even if his intentions are good, he still comes across as... arrogant? Mocking? And then when I said something nice about someone, it basically made me a hypocrite? So, no matter if I cuss at a stranger under my breath or make a kind comment about them, it's a problem??

I don't even know what topics to talk about with him, because our views on life and people have become so vastly different. His heart would also shatter if he found out I don't want to become an aunt and deal with kids, even if they are related to me by blood.

So, I just shut the fuck up from now on and keep most of my thoughts to myself. Even here, on my own damn blog, I'm not sure if I'll find any understanding. People are so damn sensitive nowadays, you cannot express any "negative" thoughts, can't get angry or sad, because then you become "toxic" and "hateful".

And then everyone is surprised why there are so many depressed, lonely, miserable people who don't want to or cannot open up. Or worse, they reach the point where they off themselves.

I'm tired. I'm just so exhausted. Even sleep can't bring me full peace, because my brain just plagues me with disturbing, disgusting, or simply depressing or nonsensical dreams.

I can't see the man I love even in my dreams. I can't hug him, kiss him, laugh with him...

I don't see the point in anything anymore. I just want to disappear.

[daizymax]

a fanciful affair | hjs (m)

summary: your sister is getting married, and you are the maid of honor in the wedding party. to your surprise, the only other person in the wedding party is a previous fling whom you would have rather never encountered again, so maybe it's the “love in the air” that makes you agree to round two.

pairing: jisung x fem reader

genre: some angst, smut

word count: 8.9k

rating: mature (18+)

warnings & features: profanity; alcohol consumption; mentions of sibling favoritism; mentions of societal/parental pressures; some heteronormativity; the wedding takes place in a church but there aren’t any heavy religious elements; pessimistic views towards marriage; jisung and the reader have poor communication at first but eventually they start to get on the right track; graphic sexual content; mentions of (past) casual & drunken sex; some dirty talk; a little bit of foot play; vaginal fingering; oral sex; semi-public sex

author’s note: reuploaded from my old blog and rewritten for stray kids bc i wanted to. i hope you enjoy!

{ click here if you prefer to read on AO3 }

---

“I’m on my way right now.”

That part is essentially true. 

“Yeah, I’m in the car.” 

That part is a downright lie. 

“Yes! Stop worrying so much. It's just the rehearsal, isn’t it?”

It takes two heartbeats for you to realize your mistake, at which point your heart practically stops. You close your eyes curse your loose lips. You hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud — it just slipped. 

Detonation imminent in three... two... one... 

“Just the rehearsal?!” Jihye screeches. “Are you kidding me right now? I mean, yeah, I guess it's just the rehearsal. …For my goddamn wedding! It’s only the practice for the most important event of my life. It needs to be perfect, and my Maid of Honor is probably still at home, probably not even dressed yet, telling me it's just the rehearsal. So typical of you, Y/N. Oh, and for the record, Mom and Dad aren't happy about you not being here yet, either.” 

You reopen your eyes just to roll them, then return to fishing your car keys out of your bag. 

They may not be happy, but it's not like your parents can be surprised by your tardiness. It’s their younger daughter — the perfect student, the perfect athlete, the perfect musician — who is the stable, reliable one. 

Sure, you know for a fact that your mother and father love you. They’d do anything for you, give you anything and everything they can. But you’re also well aware that Jihye’s compliant, placating nature takes a lot less of a toll on them. Your parents must be beyond grateful for her. Their nerves are frayed and frazzled from suffering through your rambunctious “phase” that still hasn’t passed. 

Your teenage years can be summed up in a series of jaundiced words, whiny protests, and indignant groans from your side of the ring, and stern lectures tapering off to exhausted sighs from your parents’ end. Whenever your attitude became too much, your mother and father would turn their attention to Jihye. She would present them with yet another trophy or academic achievement to soothe their souls and assure them that they were capable of raising a “successful” human being in the eyes of society. 

These days, you are keeping your trend alive and well by refusing to conform to your parents’ expectations of settling down in a monogamous heterosexual relationship for the purpose of “stability” and starting a family of your own. And, just like always, your parents have turned to Jihye for comfort. They are spending a fortune on your baby sister’s wedding, a clear display that they favor the direction her life is going. 

But Jihye — like most everyone else in the world — deserves happiness, of course, so why not try to make this special day as perfect as possible for her? If she wants to get married, she is certainly entitled to her dream wedding. 

Just shy of four months ago, in a show of sibling camaraderie and familial commitment you knew would please your parents, you had promised to be nothing but supportive of all of your sister’s wedding plans, from the humblest of requests to the most exorbitant demands. Your stamina had kept up fairly well, but you are gradually losing steam as the end draws nearer. 

Only a little over twenty-four more hours to go, you remind yourself with dull cheer. 

Though, if you’re being completely honest, you aren’t even sure that Jihye getting married is such a good idea. At least not so soon, anyway. 

She and her boyfriend (fiancé now, of course) had only been dating for eight months when he proposed. Surely that was not a long enough period of time to truly get to know another person, and you blatantly told her as much. But Jihye was over the moon and she couldn’t — wouldn’t — hear of it. She swore up and down that she knew in her bones Chris is definitely the one, which took you aback. Your sister was never one to be overly romantic. Jihye always, always keeps a calm, disciplined, pragmatic head on her shoulders. So even while you are quite skeptical of her declaration of having found her so-called soul mate, you also trust her judgment. She is the smartest person you know, after all. 

Besides, you can’t deny that by the rigid standards of society which your parents hold in such high esteem, Chris is everything a husband “should” be. He is charming, handsome, clever, funny, financially stable, and the epitome of etiquette. And, above all, he seems to make Jihye genuinely happy. He hasn’t changed her, but he does get your uptight, austere little sister to giggle and joke and relax and adore life. You have to admit you’d be hard-pressed to find a better partner for her to spend the rest of her life with. 

But do they have to be so hasty about it? And do they have to get married on their one-year-anniversary? It makes you want to gag. 

Presently, you collect yourself and say, “I know, honey, I'm sorry. Still trying to get my shit together and act like I’m the older sister here.” 

Jihye sighs quietly on the other end of the line. When she speaks again, her voice is much calmer and softer. “I didn’t mean it like—” 

“Yeah, I know,” you say. “I'll be there in ten minutes, okay? And for the record, I am dressed.” 

She giggles, and you know you’re on your way to being forgiven. “Okay. Drive safely, Y/N. See you soon.” 

---

Everyone who arrived at the church on time gives you peculiar looks when you join them inside seventeen minutes later. 

It takes a moment for you to realize it is because they all dressed up for the rehearsal while you are still clad in a pair of ripped, black denim shorts and a white tank top with the name of your favorite band advertised across your chest. Evidently the universe decided you just needed something else to mentally kick yourself over today. You only hope that Jihye and your parents will be too absorbed in other, more crucial details to waste energy scolding you. 

No such luck. 

In a flash, your mother is on you like a vulture to carrion. 

“I thought we told you this would be semi-formal!” she whisper-hisses in your ear as she hugs you. 

“Hi Mom,” you say with an unapologetic smirk. “Hi Dad.” 

“Hi pumpkin, glad you could make it,” says your father. He leans down and pecks the air near your temple. 

“Oh look, hon!” your mother exclaims to your father. Something behind you has caught her attention. “That must be Chris’s sister and her two kids. When did they get here? Let’s go say hello...” 

As quickly as that, your mother ushers your father away to leave you standing alone, but only for a second. 

“There you are!” 

Oh no, it’s the Bridezilla! you panic playfully, turning towards the sound. Jihye waves excitedly and hurries towards you with quick and dainty stiletto’d steps. Her fiancé follows her at a much more leisurely pace, hands in his pockets. 

Chris catches your gaze and smiles. Then he glances at the back of Jihye’s head, gives a slight shrug of his shoulders, and looks to you again with raised eyebrows as if to fondly say, Yeah, she’s been a little much today, but we love her.

You grin back at him from over your sister’s shoulder as she slams her frame into yours and wraps her arms around your neck affectionately. The scent of her signature shampoo makes you think of home.  

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” you say. “I'm the worst.” 

“You are not, don’t say that. It’s fine, Y/N.” She might be reassuring herself more than you, but you’ll take it. 

Jihye pulls back and squeezes your bare biceps. Her eyes sweep over your outfit in the same judging manner as your mother’s did, but she manages to hold her tongue. She’s trying to keep it together for the rest of the day. 

“I’m just glad you’re here now,” she says instead, smiling warmly. “This should all be really simple. The minister already talked me, Chris, Mom, and Dad through most of it. We just need to ‘act it out.’ If we can just find your partner now, I think we’ll be ready to get started...” 

By “partner” you know she means whoever Chris elected as his Best Man, whom you have never met before. His and Jihye’s relationship has been such a whirlwind that you’ve never gotten the chance. 

It will just be you and the Best Man in the wedding party, which is one decision of Jihye’s for which you are admittedly thankful. Large wedding parties are typically too ostentatious in your opinion. Though you can’t help but wonder if there would have been more people involved if your sister had only given herself more time to plan. 

Jihye peers around with sharp eyes. “Darling, have you seen Jisung?” 

Chris also makes a cursory inspection around the place at her request. 

“Hmm... Well, I don’t- Ah, here he comes now, sweetheart,” he says with a gesture of his hand somewhere to your left and Jihye’s right. You look to where he is indicating and see a man making his way towards the three of you from between the pews. 

The immediate thought that registers in your mind is that he is extremely good-looking. Thick dark hair parted slightly off-center, eyes the color of bitter coffee, wide shoulders. The sleeves of his button-down shirt are rolled up to his elbows, granting a nice view of veined and sinewy forearms. He isn’t especially tall, but his legs are a bit long for his body proportions. His smile is wide but a little nervous for some reason…

… Oh no ...

You’ve seen him somewhere before. 

You’ve spoken with him before. 

You’ve slept with him before. 

And he was one of the worst one-night-stands you have ever had. 

It was something around six months ago when you had gone out with a group of friends to one of the city’s hottest night clubs. It was a scene you felt like you were starting to outgrow, to be honest, but your mission success rate had always been one-hundred-percent, and you were in the mood to score that night. The mission was simple: get laid. 

It was always easy to find someone to take home or leave with for the night, sometimes scarily so. It was nothing a form-flattering dress, sexy heels, and a boat load of confidence had ever failed to accomplish, in your experience. 

It was two shots and half a cocktail into the night when you spotted his friends dragging him to the dance floor. He was laughing, that much was clear. You think you may have even heard the sound of it over the chatter and thumping music. Maybe that was why you continued to watch him. 

He was awkward getting started, likely embarrassed, but he was good when he finally let himself go and really dance. His friends were objectively better — their moves were sharper, cleaner — but it was he who held your attention. Even from a distance, you could see his bangs were damp from his exertions and the heat of the suffocating crowd. His face was dewy and glowing. Even while dancing, he didn’t stop laughing and talking with his friends. 

“He’s cute,” said one of your girlfriends. “And he looks like he’s having a good time.” 

You didn’t need to follow her line of sight to know who she was talking about — you’d already been staring at him for minutes. 

It was when you had finally lowered your eyes to the dregs at the bottom of your glass when your friend had leaned in closer and said, “He's looking at you!” 

You remember snapping your eyes up to find she was right. The music had changed, and the man didn’t look awkward at all as he stared right back at you. He must have caught you staring. 

The events between then and when you entered his apartment were a thrilling mix of drinking, laughter, and shameless flirting. Some memories have been blurred by the shots you consumed, but others you remember vividly. His touch on the small of your back when he ushered you out the door. The heavy cloud of stale smoke in the Uber to his place. The exact angle of the tent in his pants while taking the elevator up to his apartment. 

If only the X-rated scenes that transpired after tumbling into his bed were as worthy of such detailed remembrance. 

He had been a messy kisser, but that was something easily excused by the healthy stream of alcohol muddying his veins. Unfortunately, it did not help his head skills as you’d hoped it would. His fervent desire to go down on you had initially turned you on greatly, but you soon grew frustrated at the sloppy way his tongue lapped at your folds — never in the right spots, and never with the right consistency. Several times you had climbed close to your climax, only to never quite crest. 

Frustrated, you opted for urging him to just fuck you already with the prayer that having him inside of you would be better. And it was better... until he came within five minutes of entering you, pulled out, then slumped to the side. 

Unfortunately, he was not the first man you had hooked up with to finish so quickly and leave you unsatisfied, but he was the first one to fall dead asleep within seconds afterward. He didn't even bother to remove the soiled condom from his softening dick first. You also left it right where it was and fled his place as quickly as possible, feeling an odd sense of petty payback while thinking of the gross mess he would have to deal with in the morning. 

On your way home, you sulked over the disappointing night that you thought held so much potential. There had been such chemistry between the two of you at first, after all. Sadly, he ended up just being some hot guy you enjoyed flirting with for a couple hours and a pitiful story you could tell your friends about later. 

You never expected to see or hear from him again, yet here he is. What a small, funny world. 

Except you are far from laughing. 

Your heart kicks into overdrive with worry and fear over the impending awkward situation, but you do your best not to let it show on your face. In fact, you resolve not to mention your previous acquaintance with Jisung at all. Definitely not in front of your sister and her fiancé at their wedding rehearsal. 

You manage to get your heart rate down to what you estimate to be a smooth one-hundred-ten beats per minute by the time Jisung the Terrible Lay is standing directly in front of you. 

“Hi,” he says, still smiling. “I'm Jisung. You must be Jihye’s Maid of Honor?” 

Oh, so he’s also going to play dumb. Good. 

You nod and introduce yourself (again) while giving his outstretched hand the briefest of shakes. 

“So, how do you know Chris?” You mentally applaud yourself for the calm steadiness of your voice. 

“Best friends since middle school,” is Jisung’s simple answer. 

“I wish you two could have met ahead of time,” Jihye chimes in apologetically. “It would have been nice if you had gotten to know each other at least a little bit before the wedding. I should have made the time for all of us to go out to lunch or something, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry, it’s no big deal,” says Jisung. His smiling eyes do not leave yours. “I mean, it’s not like we’re the ones getting married.” 

He has the nerve to punctuate his stupid jest with a wink. You pretend to be flustered by forcing out a giggle in harmony with Jihye’s. 

Your sister glances back and forth between you and Jisung for a moment, and you can practically see the gears turning in her head. It wouldn’t be a surprise if she took a stab at playing matchmaker at some point today to hook the two of you up. 

Already beat you to it, you brood silently. 

“Shall we get this show on the road, then?” Chris asks. 

“Please,” agrees Jihye. She waves to the minister to signal she is ready, and he nods. 

The minister takes his place near the alter and requests that everyone else congregate at the other end of the chapel. Jisung sidles up next to you at a proximity that is a bit too close to just be friendly, but you refuse to acknowledge him by even moving away. 

It’s funny how senses work — a whiff of his cologne takes you straight back to that night. Your memory flashes you a vision of you leaning against his arm on wobbly legs, and you suddenly remember the feeling of his warm, slightly callused hands cupping your elbows to steady you. You swear you can even remember the sound of his amused laughter at your inelegant state, and the taste of his beer breath in the air. 

You force yourself out of your reverie before you become lost in it. 

“It’ll be very simple, everyone,” assures the minister, echoing Jihye’s earlier words. “I think everyone has already been made aware of the seating arrangements, so let’s just get straight into the processional order, and then do a rundown of what the ceremony itself will entail...” 

As more instructions are given, Jisung leans into you and murmurs under his breath, “You look nice today.” 

A laugh almost escapes you at his unexpected comment. He utters it with the perfect ratio of humor and sincerity. 

You manage to play off the smile on your lips by flashing it towards the woman your mother said to be Chris’s sister when you suddenly catch her eye. 

“Uh, thanks,” you say to Jisung in an equally hushed tone. 

“I mean it,” he insists. “You look every bit as pretty as when I saw you in the club.” 

You ignore his compliment and try to move your lips as little as possible as you say, “Can we please not talk about that here?” 

Jisung lets out a soft snort of laughter. “Sure, no problem.” 

He leaves your side when his turn comes to practice standing behind Chris near the alter, and you follow immediately after to take your place on the opposite side, all too aware of his eyes on you for the remainder of the rehearsal. 

---

His eyes are still on you when you take a seat directly across from him at the dinner table. 

Jihye, in her mildly Bridezilla-esque way, opted to forgo the big, customary rehearsal dinner with the families in favor of a more intimate meal with just her fiancé, her fiancé’s Best Man, and her Maid of Honor. Your parents were more than a little offended about not being included, and perhaps Chris’s were, too, but who were they to deny a bride’s request on the eve of her wedding day? What they don’t realize is that this is the cordial outing Jihye wished she’d planned for just the four of you months ago. It took everything in you not to roll your eyes when she suggested this arrangement back at the chapel, but you weren’t at liberty to reject her wishes any more than your parents were. 

“Ah, I’m so glad we’re doing this now!” Jihye says buoyantly. She even bounces a little in her seat to show how physically overcome with joy she is. She beams back and forth between you, Jisung, Chris, and back to you again. Sometimes you still see your kid sister in her. 

“Absolutely,” Chris agrees at once. 

“Yeah, this is... lovely,” you decide unenthusiastically. You swivel your eyes back to your menu when your sister shoots you a scolding look that says: Be nice. 

“So, have you guys been here before?” Jisung asks the betrothed couple conversationally, waving a hand through the air to show he is talking about the restaurant. 

“We came here on our first date, actually,” Jihye answers in a chipper tone. She scrunches her nose at Chris in a cutesy way and proceeds to tell the table all about the memory. 

In the spirit of neatly categorizing him back into place amongst your other lousy one-night stands and nothing more, you try not to grant Jisung too much of your attention when you fall into the conversation. It proves to be quite difficult, however. Listening to and observing him in this casual, non-sexually-charged scenario is intriguing. It also brings to mind a thought that had not occurred to you before: Jisung could make a wonderful boyfriend. 

You had been so wrapped up in your mission of merely hooking up that night months ago that you never stopped to think about whether or not the person you went home with could be more than a one-night-stand, or could even be dating material. 

But Jisung is. 

He’s witty but not arrogant. Funny but not obnoxious. Charming but not cheesy. Gorgeous but not conceited. His smile is distracting and compelling. His stories are interesting and comical. His laughter is merry and infectious. 

No wonder he’s best friends with perfect-fucking-Chris. But there has to be something wrong with him... 

And then you remember there is, in fact, a catch: his bedroom manner. 

That thought makes you snort out loud into your drink, and you sweep away the romantic notions clouding your mind. 

Some time between dinner and dessert, a local band begins to play music near the dance floor, and Chris whisks a giggling Jihye away from the table. As soon as they are gone, you contemplate making up an excuse to slip out, but Jisung is already speaking to you. 

“Good, we’re alone now,” he says. 

“Good? How so?” The question spoken with a different tone could sound cute and flirty, but the flat disinterest in your mumbled words is moody and a bit harsh even to your own ears. It doesn’t appear to dampen Jisung’s sunny demeanor, though. 

He simply grins and says, “Because now we can talk to each other.” 

You shrug your shoulders. “We’ve been talking.” 

“Don’t play coy with me, pretty lady,” he says. “You know what I mean. We can talk about the night we met, and why we haven’t met up since.” 

You groan and cross your arms over your chest as you lean back in your chair. “I’d really rather not.” 

Is he really that clueless? If he truly has no idea what went wrong that night, it is not worth your time explaining it to him. But god damn him for being so handsome and likable otherwise... 

“Okay...” Jisung says slowly. “If you don’t want to talk, then how about a dance?” 

“What, here? Now? I don't think so.” 

“What if I put it this way: we can sit here and talk like adults, or we can dance and I won’t say a word. What do you think?” 

The silent dance is definitely the lesser of two evils in your mind, but you are afraid of what other nostalgic feelings could be dredged up while in that intimate situation. Your only real option is to elude the decision he wants you to make. 

“You can’t make me do either,” you say. 

Jisung’s grin widens. “Is that a challenge? What if I picked you up and carried you to the dance floor?” 

You allow yourself a laugh at his joke. “Do you think that would be cute or something? I think everyone else in this restaurant would throw your ass out for trying, especially if I was kicking and screaming the whole way.” 

“You wouldn’t dare cause a scene like that, would you?” 

“You wouldn't cause a scene like that, would you?” you throw back at him. 

“I just might.” 

“Do it, then. I dare you.” 

The pair of you sit there smirking across the table at each other in a weird sort of stand-off, waiting for the other to make a move. He caves first by breaking the silence. 

“Dance with me,” Jisung implores in a soft, honeyed tone. His eyes twinkle brightly. He looks wholly unafraid of being rejected. 

God, he really is clueless, isn’t he? 

“No, thank you,” you answer shortly, stubbornness getting the better of you. 

“Would you dance with me if I was the last man on Earth?” 

His follow-up question comes as a surprise. He must be determined to get some sort of positive answer from you tonight. 

The best you can do is laugh away the silly question and wish him a good night. When you get up to leave, Jisung offers to at least walk you to your car, and after a moment of hesitation, you agree. 

You both say hasty goodbyes to Jihye and Chris on your way out. Jihye pouts a little at your abrupt departure, but she doesn’t complain, and you know it is because she is pleased to see you walking out with Jisung. Everything looks to be going according to plan in her brilliant match-making mind. 

When you and Jisung reach your car in the parking lot, you turn to tell him goodbye once again. 

“You were really awful in bed,” you find yourself blurting, apparently unable to keep the words bottled a single second longer. 

Jisung at least has the decency to flinch at your blunt assessment. The wrinkle of his face is noticeable before he turns his head away and takes a step back from you. You wait for him to retort, but he stays silent. 

Unbelievable, you think. He’s not even going to defend himself. 

Just as you turn to leave, his fingers close around your wrist. True to the nature of electricity, a spark jolts through you nearly instantaneously. His hold is delicate but it feels as though you are being branded. You whip your head around to regard him curiously. 

“Sorry,” he says, letting go of your wrist as quickly as he grabbed it. “Just— please wait. Let me say something. Please.” He emphasizes the pleasantry as if it means all the difference. He takes a deep breath; it goes in shaky and comes out resigned. “I know I was terrible. I could make excuses about being drunk and about you being so fucking pretty that I couldn’t help myself from coming so quickly. Both of which are true, for the record, but they’re shitty excuses and you deserve better because from what I can tell, you’re a pretty great woman. All I can say is that I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Y/N, you don’t even know how sorry I am. And I know you don’t owe me anything, but I would love to have a chance for us to start over.” 

At the end of his little speech, he reaches out for your wrist again and gives your hand a little squeeze. It is a soft gesture and over in a flash, but a warm tingle still ripples through your body and doesn’t fade. 

You can still feel it on the drive home... in the shower... when you climb into bed. 

You can still see his smile reflected in your windshield... against the tiles in your bathroom... in the blackness of your room. 

You can still hear his laughter in the lonely car ride... over the drumming of the water in the tub... over the serenade of crickets outside your window. 

And you can’t understand why it matters to you so much that he was terrible in bed that one single time. 

---

The ceremony went off without a hitch. 

The decorated chapel — stuffed with flowers, wreaths, streamers, candles, bows, as well as people donned in silk, lace, velvet, perfume, diamonds, gold and pearls — was a vision worthy of any bridal magazine showcasing the “ideal” wedding. Beyond the floor-length glass windows, the sky was dyed like cotton candy from the fading sunlight. A violinist stood to one side and played light, dreamy tones before and during the processional, then the classic Wedding March for the bride’s entrance. 

Jihye played the part of the radiant bride beautifully. Seeing your little sister’s eyes coated in glassy tears as she walked down the aisle on your father’s arm, then hearing the tremble in her normally steady and authoritative voice as she vowed her devotion to another person (all while wearing a several-thousand-dollar dress meant for this one single occasion) was almost enough to make you cry, too. 

Several times during the vows, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking across the aisle just to see the beautiful smile on Jisung’s face. It had been there since he met you at the other end of the aisle and presented you with a beautiful, white orchid corsage to match the boutonniere pinned to his lapel. When he slipped it onto your wrist, the touch of his slender fingers started to rekindle the spark the two of you had had months ago. 

“You look beautiful,” Jisung had whispered in your ear. “You are beautiful.” 

The same could have been said of him in his dapper black tuxedo and bow tie, but you could not locate your voice to tell him as much. 

The nervous flutter of your heart was made visibly apparent in the way your fingers trembled when he lifted them to kiss the back of your hand, but Jisung couldn’t take notice because his gaze was fixed on your face, and yours was fixed on his in return. The pools of his eyes were so easy to drown in. 

In that moment, immersed in the whimsical atmosphere all around you, you were prepared to give him the answer you couldn’t give him last night when he proposed to starting over. You were ready to tell him you had been foolish for not giving him a second thought all these months, and you would appreciate a do-over very much. 

But then Jihye was hissing from somewhere off to the side for Jisung to get moving, and you lost the chance to speak your wishes. Something about the small bounce in Jisung’s gait down the aisle told you he already knew what you had wanted to say, however. 

Now, here at the reception, it is time to forget about such sappy things and get drunk. 

If only the waiter with the tray of champagne would circle back around so you don’t have to go chasing after him and start up some “alcoholic spinster” rumors for your family to enjoy at your expense. 

“Hi!” Jisung appears at your side like a miracle, bearing a knowing grin and two flutes of the same champagne you were just ogling. “You looked like you needed a drink,” he says, letting you lift one from between his fingers. 

Your lips are already around the edge of the glass. “Was it that obvious?” 

“A little, but hey, who cares? It’s a party.” He pauses for a sip of his own drink, then says, “I liked your Maid of Honor speech, by the way. The story about your little car surfing adventure was hilarious.” 

“Oh, thanks,” you giggle. “I’m afraid my parents didn’t find it quite as funny.” 

“Well, no, but they wouldn’t, would they?” Jisung laughs. “But they did like the part when you said that Jihye getting married is far braver than all your teenage stunts combined.” 

You hum in agreement. “Hm. Yeah. Luckily, they don’t seem to know the difference between bravery and stupidity.” 

Jisung’s grin tilts lopsidedly at your comment. “Not a big, uh, proponent of the whole marriage thing, I take it?” 

“Nah,” you dismiss at once. “There are billions and billions of people in this world, and folks want to tie themselves to just one with a sheet of paper recognized by the government? To some person they met in a teeny tiny corner of the world without ever having stepped outside of the thirty mile radius they’ve lived in for their entire life?” The bubbly alcohol in your glass sloshes haphazardly as your hands become animated, but you pay it no mind. “And so many marriages just end in divorce anyway, so then people have to go through that whole fuckery. Lose half their money, half their shit. And the things they do get to keep, they have to look at and get a big fat reminder of how they picked it out with their ex-spouse during a time when they thought they were in love. They probably went to the store that day hand-in-hand and had no idea things were going to totally implode spectacularly—” 

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute,” Jisung interrupts, laughing loudly. “How drunk are you right now? Maybe I should take that back...” 

“I'm not drunk!” you say hotly and a bit too loudly, jerking your glass away even though he isn’t actually reaching for it. A few nearby heads turn in your direction, so you lower your voice and grit, “I’m not drunk.” 

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” The expression on his face does not look particularly sorry. “Can I ask you something else without you going off on a rant?” 

You deflate with a sigh, calming yourself before saying, “Sure, what is it?” 

“Dance with me?” 

You force the corners of your mouth down a bit to prevent your smile from growing too wide at the sparkle of amusement in his eyes. 

“Sure.” 

He does take your drink now, setting it aside with his before taking your hand next. 

If people are watching the two of you when you step onto the dance floor together, you are oblivious. The only thing you can focus on is the warmth of Jisung’s other hand radiating through your dress from its place on the small of your back when he pulls you in close, and the solid plane of his chest heating you from the front. You absently wonder if he can feel your heart racing. You think maybe you can feel his. 

“I haven’t looked around in a minute,” Jisung says quietly when you both settle into the soft rhythm of the music and begin gently rotating. “But am I suddenly the last man on Earth?” 

An ungraceful bark of laughter pops out of your mouth. Too late, you cover your lips with your fingers, but Jisung does not accept the movement of your hand. He reaches and brings it back to his shoulder, then gives it a few pats as if to embed it firmly into place. 

“You’re not the last man on Earth,” you admit without looking at him. 

“So you want to dance with me?” he presses, playfully ducking his face into your view to force your eyes on him. 

You exhale a softer laugh. “I do.” 

“Funny. Your sister said those exact same words a little while ago.” 

“So did your best friend.” 

Jisung curls his lips down and protrudes his chin thoughtfully. “I guess that makes them both stupid.” 

“Or brave,” you argue matter-of-factly. 

“Yeah. Or brave.” 

A few silent twirls go by before he speaks up again. 

“I have another question,” he begins slowly, then goes quiet for long enough that you eventually look at him questioningly. The resident smile is gone from his face because his lips are pressed together rather seriously. 

“What’s your question, Jisung?” 

He parts his tight lips and whispers, “If I were to kiss you right now, would you consider it brave or stupid of me?” 

If he could not adequately feel your heartbeat a moment ago, he certainly should be able to now. 

You take a moment to consider your words. “Neither,” you finally decide. “I’d consider it cliché.” 

“Ah. Well, what do you think about cliché, then?” 

You swallow hard. “I think I can handle it.” 

To put that statement to the test, Jisung suddenly dips you backwards, and you squeak in surprise. He keeps his eyes locked on yours while waiting to see if you will protest. After a long enough moment of receiving no resistance, he leans in after you and matches his grinning lips to yours. 

Several whistles and cat calls ring out all around you. The supportive sounds encourage Jisung to lift you back upright and continue the kiss ardently, which you reciprocate in full. Instead of simply enjoying it, your brain chooses to analyze the kiss and how much it differs from the last time you did this with him — in a good way. Either he has been practicing or alcohol completely abolishes all sense of his coordination. 

With that thought, you start to laugh until you are unable to maintain contact with his lips. Jisung celebrates your laughter by beaming and squeezing you tightly. 

The audience of people crowded around begins to applaud at the endearing display. Even the bride and groom — the people who should be the sole center of attention all night — are standing on the sidelines clapping their approval. It’s as if none of them have ever witnessed two people kissing before. 

Then you see the unmistakably hopeful look on your parents’ faces, and it dawns on you that they are excited by the prospect of you entering an actual relationship with someone. You know how their minds work. No doubt they are already going so far as marrying you off to Jisung despite the fact that he is essentially a stranger to them — and to you. 

Those bothersome thoughts threaten to spoil your cheerful mood, but Jisung reels you back in by pecking your mouth chastely. It feels like the punctuation to an unspoken agreement to a new start. 

You gift him with a flattered smile and allow him to lead you back into another dance, and everyone else resumes their own business. 

The fast pace of the next song immediately reminds you of the infamous night that has been on your mind ever since Jisung reappeared in your life yesterday. The way his eyes are following the motion of your hips tells you that he is remembering, too. With just a few well-timed shakes and some not-so-accidental brushes, things quickly alter from sweet and charming to hot and tense. 

Jisung brings his lips to the edge of your cheek and whispers towards your earlobe, “You’re giving me some dangerous thoughts right now, baby.” 

Boldly, you entreat, “Tell me.” 

He sucks in a breath through his teeth. “I’m thinking about asking if you want to get out of here, but I don’t think I should.” 

The scent of his cologne tinged with just a hint of sweat is positively intoxicating. The tips of his fingers grazing along your hips makes you lightheaded in the best possible way. 

“Why not?” you ask. 

“Well, you see, the last time I left with you like that, I screwed up and didn’t see you for six months,” he tells you. The smile on his face is a bit forlorn. “I don’t want to make the mistake of sleeping with you too soon again. I want this new start to be perfect.” 

His words are wise. You put your hormones on pause for a moment and envision yourself going on sweet dates with him in all the usual places — to the beach, to an amusement park, to his favorite café — before one night the two of you finally make love to each other in a perfectly romantic setting. 

As darling as all of that would be, you have no patience for it now. There will be plenty of time for those fanciful scenarios later. Or at least, that’s what you’re planning on. 

“The problem wasn’t us sleeping together too soon,” you explain. “The problem was that you were bad.” You pinch his earlobe to let him know you mean what you say, but in a playful manner. 

Jisung snorts and shakes his head away from your fingers. He seems unwilling to say more on the matter, so you have to continue and make your desires known. 

“Jisung, I’ve been waiting for months to get laid at this reception, and you’re the only one here I’m interested in following through with now,” you level seriously. “Besides, if we’re starting over, I need to know that the first time was a fluke.” 

“It was a fluke,” he insists. 

You press your lips to the shell of his ear. “So prove it.” 

When you pull back, there is still a somewhat hesitant expression on Jisung’s face, but the desire in his eyes is growing; the brown that used to be there is being swallowed by black lust. His gentlemanly resolve is crumbling. 

“Can the Best Man and the Maid of Honor even leave the reception?” he worries, still clinging to his better judgment. 

Good question. Honestly, you have no idea what the standard protocol is for the wedding party’s attendance after the ceremony is finished and the obligatory speeches have already been made at the reception. 

You contemplate just going to Jihye and telling her outright that you and Jisung are leaving. Certainly she has no further need for you to be here. But then again, there is probably something more you are supposed to be doing for her. Helping with the gifts or cleaning up the mess afterward, perhaps. But didn’t she hire a crew for that? You can’t remember. In any case, you can hear her incredulous tone now, scolding you for wanting to duck out early on her big night just to hook up with Jisung — even though she wants you two to become a thing. 

You gaze around and spot your sister sitting beside her new husband at their specially reserved table, feeding him a bite from her fork and laughing. She seems distracted enough for the moment. 

“We don’t have to leave. We just have to be quick,” you say, taking Jisung’s hand and tugging determinedly. “Come on.” 

You half expect him to remain rooted in place and hiss another anxious remark at you, but he comes along willingly. The things you assume of him never go as expected; you should probably stop assuming things altogether. 

Without stopping to survey the curious looks that you know are being shot in your direction — because it is clear that you are moving with a purpose and Jisung is along for the ride — you lead Jisung straight to a side room containing the gifts you were just wondering about and shut the door behind you. Not a second is spared before you grab the flaps of Jisung’s tuxedo jacket to pull him in for a more heated kiss. 

“This is crazy,” he laughs after you release his lips again with a wet suction noise. 

It is crazy, but it is also too thrilling to stop. 

“Well, it wouldn’t be my sister’s wedding reception if I didn’t try to cause some sort of scandal,” you joke off-handedly. 

“You mean your speech wasn’t inappropriate enou- hnghh, holy shit.” Jisung’s laughter dries up when he witnesses you sliding your panties off from beneath your dress. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he gulps. 

With a smirk, you say, “Come on, we have to be quick, remember?”  

Your fingers work quickly at unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. Your hand slides past the band of his underwear to find him not very hard, but not completely soft, either. His breath hitches at your touch. 

“Ffffuck,” Jisung breathes. “You really want it, don’t you?” 

You grin wickedly. “Mhm. Really want to be fucked the way I should have been months ago.” 

You give his cock a squeeze, earning a full moan from him. You rub him up and down as best as you can from the angle permitted by the confines of his clothing. His cock stiffens rapidly and a lustful sigh overflows from his mouth. 

With a few quick shifts and yanks, you guide his erection out of his pants and boxers and drop to your knees in front of it. You don’t remember it being quite this thick, but you’re pleased. It looks so delicious. The head is ruby red, and the vein curving around the smooth underside looks fit to burst. 

Jisung gasps at the first kittenish lick you draw on the slit of his cock. One of his hands comes down to hold the side of your face. You peer up at him through your lashes and smile as you press the head of his cock against the tip of your tongue. He groans lowly in his chest at the sight. 

“We don’t have much time,” he tells you as though you haven’t already told him as much. His voice is already getting husky. “So we’d better make the most of it.” 

Unexpectedly, he curls his hands around your arms and pulls you back up to your feet. The action utterly confuses you. No man you have ever been with has ever stopped a blowjob before it has even started, and there is no way he could have misinterpreted your intentions. Is he afraid of coming too soon again? That’s certainly a likely possibility. 

Before you can question him, Jisung takes the back of your head and brings you in so he can slant his mouth over yours. The force with which he crashes into you is enough to bruise your delicate lips, but oddly enough, you don’t mind. The sincere passion he is pouring into the kiss is burning you from the inside out. He moves to assault your neck next, freeing you to speak. 

“Jisung, what—” You clear the rasp in your voice and start again. “Why did you stop me? I wanted to—” 

He interrupts you with a moan that rattles against your collarbone. “I know, baby. As much as I would love to have your lips around my dick, the point of this is to make you feel good right now. We can worry about me later.” 

He breaks away from your skin to glance around the room. There isn’t exactly a four-poster bed in the vicinity, so he decides the best option is to sit you down in a small chair. Either that or the gift table, but that feels like it would be a bit too disrespectful to Jihye and Chris. 

Jisung kneels in front of you and removes your heels carefully as you take a seat. His thumbs rub gentle circles into your smooth skin as he shuffles closer to you on his knees and leans in to peck your lips twice. His touch is sweet and relaxing, letting you know without words that he is going to take good care of you. The anticipation is nearly overwhelming. 

Soon, Jisung’s fingers trail upwards, following the muscled lines of your calves under the skirt of your dress. You swiftly drag the expensive fabric up over your thighs to give him unfettered access. He grins at you then looks down at the view you have so generously granted him. His hands creep higher and higher on your legs until he is tantalizingly close to where you need him most. 

“Jisung, we can’t take too long,” you remind him impatiently. The whine in your tone is apparent, but you don’t care. 

“I know, baby,” he says again. One of his index fingers skims just over the lips of your pussy. “Indulge me for just a minute, please.” 

He distracts you with another kiss, and you meet his probing tongue with a whimper of need. Since using words isn’t an option at the moment, you try to convey in other ways how much you need him right now. You pull on his arms and at his hair. Your feet glide along his legs and he opens them wider. When your toes bump against his cock still standing out from his pants, he groans loudly against your mouth, and you can tell it is not out of pain. He likes it. Emboldened by his reaction, you press the ball of your foot directly against his cockhead with a bit more pressure. 

“Fuck, that feels good,” he pants against your chin. “I bet you’re good with your feet.” 

Honestly, you have never tried serious foot play, but he sounds turned on enough to make you want to try. 

“Maybe you’ll find out,” you tease with a giggle. “Right now I want you to prove you’re good with your fingers.” 

“You got it, baby.” 

He finally pushes a thick finger between your folds and curls it, beckoning a gasp into your lungs. Your hips automatically jerk forward to seek more friction. Jisung obliges your body language and buries a second finger deep inside your walls alongside the first. 

“Shit. Your pussy is even tighter than I remember.” 

“Have you thought about my pussy a lot these past six months?” 

“Absolutely,” Jisung admits freely, and you have no reply for his honesty because you were not expecting it. 

He draws his fingers out to just the tips, then plunges them back inside without delay. He repeats the motion again and again, gradually increasing the pace. The sounds coming from your core are sticky and obscene. Your eyes roll back in your head, and your head falls back as well. 

“Fuck, just like that,” you urge breathlessly. “Touch my clit, too, please. I need more.” 

Jisung lets out a hungry moan. Instead of using his thumb like you figured he would, he bends forward to brush his tongue against your swollen bud. Your thighs twitch reflexively at the sudden contact on your most sensitive area, ready to either snap against his head to stop him or fall away even further to invite him in. They decide on the latter. 

A whimper squeezes out of you, along with a string of barely coherent encouragements. 

“Oh God, J-Jisung. Yes, yes, y-yes! Like that. Don’t stop. F-Fingers a little s-slower. Tongue faster. Please. Oh f-fuck, yes!” 

He redistributes his weight on his knees to get comfortable between your legs, then hastens to follow your commands. His tongue sharpens and digs relentlessly into your clit. The points of his fingers graze against your g-spot with each deliberate stroke, and that’s when you twist your fingers in his hair. 

“God d-damn it, Jisung,” you moan. Your body starts to writhe uncontrollably, trying to ride his face to your finish. 

“Yes, baby,” he coos sweetly, face still planted firmly against you. The vibrations of his voice tickle your clit gloriously, and you can feel his grin against your hot skin. “You taste like fucking heaven. Is this good? Does it feel good?” 

“Yes, fuck, oh, fuck, k-keep going.” 

He hums and continues with renewed vigor. 

Every time his fingers drag backwards from your pussy, you suck them right back in with a tight squeeze. His lips wrap around your clit and his tongue slips under the hood. The ministrations on your raw bundle of nerves drive you straight to the edge of madness. 

Your fingers curl against Jisung’s warm scalp. Your toes curl against the cold tile floor. Your back stiffens to keep your center firmly locked against Jisung’s face. Your breath hangs suspended in your chest for a long moment... 

...then suddenly you’re exhaling it with an expletive cry of satisfaction when you tumble over that blissful edge. Spasms wrack through your body repeatedly as it struggles to harbor the intense pleasure crashing over you. 

Somewhere in your electrified mind, you are aware of Jisung’s other hand on one of your hips, trying to pin you back down to the chair. You let go of him and move back quickly when you realize you must be suffocating him, and his fingers slip from you in the process with one last parting squelch. When you look down at him, you can clearly see the glisten of your juices slathered over his nose and chin and mouth. 

His grinning mouth. 

“I think you enjoyed that, baby,” he comments proudly, “considering I just about drowned just now.” 

You huff out a laugh and shake your fuzzy head. “Fucking hell, Jisung. Why the fuck couldn’t you have been that good the first time?” 

“I wish I could have been. Then I would’ve been doing this with you this whole time.” 

“Oh, you think so? You think we would’ve stayed together up to now?” You grin at him and push your toes against his shoulder playfully. 

He doesn’t answer you right away. First, he takes your foot and brings it up to his sticky lips to kiss the pads of your toes gently, one by one. Your smile falters when your mouth droops open at the strangely erotic sight, but his smile only widens. 

“Yeah, that’s what I think, pretty lady.” 

His presumptuous yet sweet admission leaves you speechless. All you can do is tug him towards you to kiss him with newfound admiration, heedless of the mess still glued to his lips. Truthfully, you relish the taste of yourself on him; you think of it as proof of the capabilities you thought he lacked, and you have never been happier to stand corrected. 

Jisung is the one to break away first, still smiling. “Can I have one more dance before I take you out of here to make you come some more? Preferably on my dick this time?” 

The bizarre combination of endearing and lewd words makes you laugh heartily. What a surprising man he has turned out to be. 

“Absolutely.” 

---

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copyright © 2023 by daizymax. all rights reserved. back to masterlist

[chaifootsteps]

(Studio Anon here) I saw those screenshots for episode four and… yeah I think I’m about done with everything Viv related.

I love shitting on her as a person and her ‘work ethic’. The fact that I constantly and consistently find more things wrong with her is hilarious and horrible at the same time. Somehow, without fail, she always manages to make herself worse with things like transphobia, zoophilia, and even spending her family’s (and other people’s) money for her own benefit (i.e those goddamn peacocks.).

But… rape? On screen? On episode four no less.

How. How on this goddamn earth did Viv think in her right mind that it was okay to not only have this scene, but to actively make sex jokes along with it.

Viv is a horrible, abusive scum that deserves nothing.

She throws away the people who helped her get to where she is, she takes money from her audience, she manipulates her stans to attack those who ‘just don’t get it’, then turns around and does this.

To not get too personal but needed context, I am a sex-repulsed asexual. I never found any of the sex jokes funny, but I tolerated it to see what a clusterfuck this show would be.

I kid you not I felt like vomiting as soon as I saw those screenshots were real.

You cannot joke about rape or rapists. You cannot introduce heavy themes like sexual violence with a smile and laugh. You cannot and should not ever have themes like this and never expect some whiplash.

I’ll probably still be around your blog, Chai, since I find solace in knowing so, so many people are just as disgusted as I am. I’m about done voicing my opinions.

Fuck you Vivienne Medrano. I hope your broadway demon show was worth it.

That's very fair! Everyone's got their limit, and kudos on even making it this deep into the slog.

Hope to hear from you at some point down the road, but if not, thank you for all the insights and happy lurking!

[mrsjavierp]

Where you belong?

Chapter 11 - Hell and Back

Javier Peña x latin!f!reader

Summary: Running away from life as you always knew to start a new position as Head Chief on a DEA Office, far away, on Colombia. There, you'll face violence, as you never thought you could. There, you'll meet Javier Peña, your stubborn agent...

Warnings (to the whole fic): +18!, MDNI!, age gap, angst, smut, cheating, last relationships, prostitution, violence, dub-con, drug dealing - Narcos Universe, bad spanish, english is my second language, use of Y/N and Y/LN. No physical description of the reader, only clothes (sometimes). The POVs are shifting between reader (first person and Narrator in 3rd person)

(If I forgot anything, tell me, pls!)

Word Count: 2,8k

A/N: I'm sorry for keeping you waiting, loves! so much happened: i started a new job, i'm studying again, so i'm on crazy hours... anyway, i just hope you like it!

Dividers: @saradika-graphics

Tag: @creedslove | @pedrostories | @mjoee13 | @immyowndefender | @iamsherlocked-1998 | @pedroswife69 | @szde8-blog |

Narrator’s POV

After you busted out of your own office, your mind was rushing, thinking about what to do, people to alert. Ben was, indeed, dangerous, and he had help getting out.

Who's help was the most important and dangerous thing to know.

It had to be big.

Javier counted up until 10 and went up to look for you.

When Javier started to get closer to his and Steve's desk, Steve said:

“Archive room, Peña. But hey, I need to talk to you later.”

Javier just nodded, not being able to relate what Steve meant by that.

As Javier stepped into the messy room, it looked like a messy library.

“Missed me?” - a female voice called Javi, as random hands tried to grab him.

“What the fuck!” - He yelled, dodging the touch. The lights were off, he didn't see who touched him at first, but he knew it wasn't you: the perfume was wrong.

“Oh, Javi, it's me, Valerie… I missed you…” - her voice was making both of you sick. You were jealous, Javi was nauseated.

She tried to kiss him again, but he took a step back.

“Don't touch me, Valerie. Back the hell off!”

You were hidden in the back, hugging your file, hearing Valerie and Javier.

You didn't know what to do, so you waited. You took a breath, calming yourself down.

Your mind was going crazy enough.

“Was there anyone who he didn't sleep with? Oh fuck!” - you thought.

“But Javi…” - her whine annoyed both of you. If you rolled your eyes, Javier probably did the same.

“Valerie, leave me the hell alone! You were a quicky in this archive room. Don't flatter yourself.” - Javier were really fucking rude with her.

You heard steps in heels leaving and the door shutting.

You almost wished to see her face.

“Cariño, I know you're here. I'm not leaving until you act like a goddamn grown-up!” - Javier yelled at you.

“I don't wanna talk, Peña. Not now. I don't wanna say or do anything I might regret.” - You continued to hide.

“Cariño, don't make me find you. You're not gonna like me when I'm mad.” - his tone seemed serious. - “I know I went behind your back, but so did you. It's your last chance to appear.”

You didn't move.

“Your funeral, cariño. Ready or not, here I go…” - He spoke to the darkness.

It felt like a sick joke to you: play hide and seek with Javier.

God, you wish you could kill him.

You had two options: escape the archive room and, by all means, escape once more of Javier or let him catch you.

You scoffed low.

“As if I'd let you win, Peña… Come and get me.” - You thought.

You both started a kind of hunt: you had to get out through the door and Javier had to catch you before it. The room was poorly illuminated by hot, weak yellow lights, while filled with bookshelves and file storage cabinets.

And lots of paper, of course.

You could almost feel Javier get too close sometimes, when you realized: your heels were the ones to blame - clapping on the floor, telling on you.

You took them off, fast and as quietly as you could, and tiptoed around the room, like a kitten.

“Cariño, you can't hide forever… If not now, it's gonna be way worse when I have time to plan on what to do.” - He spoke again, in a way that mixed pain and pleasure, like only Javier knew how.

It went straight to your folds, as if he was just right next.

Any sound seemed like a loud noise and you were trying so hard to keep it down… It all felt like a labyrinth, messing up your senses.

Even breathing was loud.

Your muscles tensed up, you really felt like a prey, a little bunny being hunted by a wolf.

God knows Javier wouldn't have mercy on you. And you needed to buy time.

For a moment, you felt you could run to the door, felt hope that Javier would only hear the door closing and you could escape.

And you did: you ran, but as you arrived at the door, you felt Javier’s hands on your waist, holding you against him.

And as on the first night, you were pressed on the door, facing him. Your file and your shoes were all over the floor.

You could feel his hot breath on you, his body tensed as he touched you. Javier’s blood was boiling with rage and desire.

“Gotcha, cariño… You're gonna hear me, whether you like it or not." - He whispered in your ear.

You tried to move your body, but Javier turned your back to him, held your hands tight and threw his body on you, making it even harder for you to do anything.

Truth be told, he manhandled you like he would do to a criminal.

“Peña, we're here for too long, we need to get out…” - You were nervous, your mind struggling to make a point, while he held you and you could smell his perfume mixed with his scent and sweat, his dick going even harder in your ass. - “It's been too long already, people will talk… We can talk about it later, at my place…” - you're trying to make a deal.

But your voice was barely a whisper.

“No, cariño. You had your shot.” - Javier grunted. - “I'm done with your running away. I'm gonna make my point now, and you're going to pay attention. Are we clear?”

You swallowed hard and nodded positively.

He pinned you with his hips, pissed. You could feel his length getting harder and bigger. Unconsciously, you arched your back like a cat, letting him go further.

Be damned the moment you decided to use pants.

“Words, cariño… Are you gonna listen to me?”

“Yeah, Peña, I'll listen.” - your voice was still low and weak.

It's not like you had a choice, anyway.

“No, cariño, I'm not Peña now. Do it over.”

Javier, for the first time, was being ruthless against you.

“Yes, Javi, I'll listen.”

“See? You really can be a good girl when you want to… Now, here's the thing: We're gonna discuss it in more detail, but, for now, I'm gonna sum it up. I know a little about you and your ex… I know he was a dirty cop, I know you arrested him. Yes, to me, that note was a threat, since we discovered together that he's out. That's what I know. Yes, I went behind your back and talked to Joe about it, I called him. And yes, before we found out about Ben, I was jealous. It's been two months and I already feel like you're mine.” - His tone was low and deep. He said those words, and you wanted to believe him, but you were afraid.

“Peña, I…”

His grip tightened around your fists.

“No, cariño, I'm not Peña now.” - He repeated.

“Javi, come on… I need to get back to work.” - neither you could convince yourself.

“We'll be back in a few, cariño. First things first… Tell me you understood what I said.”

“I did, Javi.” - You continued to feel him getting under your skin. - “Javi, please…”

“Good girl, cariño… Do you believe me?”

His question was sincere. He needed you to believe him.

And as much as your brain insisted you didn't, your heart responded for you:

“I do. I wish I didn't, but I do.”

He also believed you. Javier knew how hard it was for you to admit it, and he would take it under consideration when he punishes you.

His grip loses a bit, so he could hold you with just one of his hands and grab your hair.

God, if you could, you would kill him: you were supposed to be mad, not horny… You could feel your core getting even wetter.

“You're, indeed, such a good girl when you wanna be, cariño…” - he had such a husky voice. It went straight to your folds, as your pussy clenched over nothing. - “After our shift today, I'm going to your place, with a good bottle and an even better cigar. And we're gonna actually have a full conversation about it. Be home at 7.”

You gulped, overwhelmed and sensitive.

“Yes, Javi.”

Javier let go of you, slowly. He got on his knees, just like the first time, as you turned to look at him.

You wanted him to do what he did best: make you cum.

He picked up your heels, put them on your feet, one by one, calmly. He picked up your file, got up, handed to you and said:

“You can go now.” - He got up and kept a friendly distance, as if you never touched each other.

“Why are you so far away, you're not even kissing me goodbye?” - you complained, feeling empty without his touch.

“I'm not touching you again, at least not until we walk through this.”

You roll your eyes, annoyed, and left for your office, banging the door.

At 18:55, you were already at home, ready and waiting for Javier.

“That bastard…” - you cursed Javier.

You spent the whole day rubbing your thighs against each other, craving for Javier. Unholy be that man, who not only teased you in that archive room, but during the day, saying things in a way that kept you still throbbing… Your mind played with his words, his discreet, yet noticed by you, looks, lightly touches that no other human being would suspect.

At seven o'clock sharp, Javier knocked at your door. As you opened the door, he was holding an incredible bottle of whiskey and your favorite cigar.

“Are you gonna let me in?” - he asked, with a playful tone that, right now, you were hating.

“That depends, Peña… Where you want to come in?”- your words had the same tone he used the whole day.

He raised his eyebrows and responded:

“For now? At your apartment, cariño.”

You take a step back and let him in.

At that point, he knew where you kept your things, so he just went to the kitchen cabinet and picked up the scotch glasses and your ashtray.

You observed Javier, it was kinda funny how he just belonged there.

It felt right.

Bother line painful right.

“There you go, cariño. It's probably older than you, this one.” - He handed you a scotch glass, and raised his. - “A toast?”

“To?”

“Solving things up.”

You toasted with him, in silence.

Your mind was still rushing from all that had happened.

“So… Who's gonna start?” - Javier asked as you sat down on the couch.

“I'll, Javi. I gotta warn you, it's bad.”

Javier took a deep breath and held your hand.

“I'm here, cariño. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you.”

“Okay, Javi… Leave the questions to the end, please. I promise that I'll do my best to answer.”

Javier just nodded.

“My parents never wanted me to be a cop, but never prohibited me as well. They wanted me to be a lawyer or an ADA, whatever. I joined the academy at the same time as college. It was intense, but I knew I was at the right place. I met Ben as soon as I got into the academy. He was already an officer, just before he got promoted to be a detective. As we both know, the drug war is going nuts in the whole US… I was transferred to the DEA.”

You take a sip, as Javier observed you.

“Ben and I…” - you took a deep breath. - “We were an okay couple: people seemed to like us and I liked him. We had a normal life: dates, our families liked us and each other. Nothing alarming… But something always felt… Wrong. Ben never used the word “slut”, but his comments were things like: “why do you wanna try these things? Who fucked you like that?” Or “why do you need a vibrator, I'm not good enough for you?”... In such a mean tone, making me feel bad for having curiosity or desire.”

“Fucking asshole…” - Javier scoffed.

“Until I started an investigation among prostitutes and cicarios that traced all back here to Colombia. Ben wanted me to let him join the investigation, but I couldn't. He wasn't DEA… As it got bigger, we had a closed door operation… Looking back, the rumors started just after… I remember the looks, the pitty, the gossip.” - You scoffed, mocking yourself.

“Cariño…”

“Joe told you, didn't he?”

Javier just nodded.

“ ‘She's such a good cop, but can't even notice what's happening under her nose’ or ‘if he's doing this, probably isn't getting any at home’... but my favorite was ‘she probably knows and ignores it. A woman shouldn't be a cop.’... I only found out about it later. And Ben was so fake…” - your voice had a bitter tone. - “He pretended to support me. He wanted to know how it was going… He said he didn't mind me getting home late and leaving early. He knew it was temporary, that we were meant to be for life… God, how stupid was I…”

Javier tried to hug me, but I raised my hand, holding him back a bit.

“Until the investigation was always traced back to the same NYPD… Ben's station, by the way… Cops were involved, FBI got involved.”

Javi raised his eyebrows, knowing what that meant.

“Weeks later, the day to bust into the main brothel arrived. The adrenaline was so intense inside my veins… My gut was weird, like it was preparing me. We busted in, silent, aiming to the main office. I asked to lock all the “clients” room, arrested the main cicario, it was so satisfying… The clients tried to escape, but couldn't. Joe and I invaded Ben's room, by coincidence, it was the closest to the office. Joe arrested the prostitute and I slapped Ben's face. Joe knew better than saying anything. We had a fight, he tried to be violent to me… But I held him, my rage and frustration gave me the strength. When I showed up with him, everyone was in shock… We took everybody to the station to book'em, but the stupid rookie didn't search Ben properly, and he had a knife. The cicarios all had a specific signature knife, and as Ben was one of them, the cartel gave him one. I interrogated him, it escalated to a physical fight, when Joel and the others came in, he had stabbed me… but not before I gave him a few too…” - You laughed, a bit ironic.

“Joe didn't tell me he stabbed you, Y/N…”

“He feels guilty for it. He was supposed to be there with me, but I didn't let him.” - I responded.

I finally picked my file on the table and showed him a few pictures, investigation, data and records.

“Remember I said to you my brother is an ADA? He was the one who did the trial. It became a family matter… My brother sold himself to the devil to be the prosecutor on this case and it worked. I don't know what he did nor who he sucked up to, but it worked… Ben was convicted, but I don't know how or why he got out.”

“Fuck, cariño…” - Javier didn’t know what to do or what to say.

“I talked to him earlier, they all know, the FBI is protecting everyone's family. If I had to bet, the FBI is investigating something about the US’ judiciary and Ben is the bait.”

In an impulsive act, Javier hugged you, as if he was going to protect you from everything and everyone. His hand went to your scar, caressing it, his hand under your shirt.

You closed your eyes, feeling his soft touch, your eyes watering.

“You never asked about my scar…” - you said.

“Since you told me it was a field scar, I kinda just let it be.” - Javier admitted. - “Now that I know the story… I fucking hate your ex… More than when I talked to Joe.”

You giggle.

Javier caressed your face, played with your hair, like you're gonna break.

“Javi, I'm not a fragile little thing…” - You complained, while he was drying your tears.

“I know…” - He said, holding your cheek, looking deeply in your eyes. He knew you weren't, but he wanted and needed to take care of you.

You, in the other way, needed to feel alive again. You needed to make it hurt.

You needed Javier to make it hurt again.

“Javi...” - you started, with your eyes closed, almost purring. - “Make it go away, please.”

“Cariño, what do you mean?” - he asked, still holding your face in his hands.

“I need to feel alive again, Javi. Make me forget about everything… Make me hurt, please. Like that night, when we got back together.” - You put your hands on his, holding them.

“Cariño…”

“Please, Javi, please…” - You beg, looking at him, desperate.

Next

[portaltothevoid]

you're losing me part ix -- copia x reader

warnings: all the angst, brief mention of blood

word count: 4.8k

taglist: @bitchywitchygardener @calitmediondell @copias-juicebox @copiasprincipessa @da-rulah @deetz-ghuleh @fishwithtitz @ghostfangirlsweden @ivycasket @justa19 @ladyrevealedofcloak @lurancyvenom @sodoswitchimage @water-ghoulette @zombiesnips-blog (divider by @gothdaddyissues!)

Copia bursted through Sister Imperator’s office door, emotions still running high. “Where is she?!”

“Who– Where– What?” Her tired eyes showed a slight disdain at someone barging in unannounced yet again. She pinched the bridge of her nose with a lengthy sigh. “What happened now?”

“Fucking Terzo! All of a sudden he’s been talking to Infernals and saying there’s more about the goddamn prophecy!”

“Such as…?”

“‘By her side remains one of the halves from the sacred consanguineous line. Together, they bring forth a new age.”

Imperator pursed her lips together, a look of concern eclipsed her face before she slammed her hand on the table in frustration. “We need those fucking books from Rome.”

“With all due respect, but what good are some books going to do?” 

“Cardi, listen to me. You and I both know Terzo cannot be the one by her side. I don’t care what the Infernals are saying to anyone. She needs to complete her first summoning ritual immediately and you– you need to summon an Infernal.” Her tone was stern, words commanding.

“He threatened to send me back to Italia,” Copia said, briskly and quietly.

Imperator let out a cold laugh. “Ha! He can try. Let me worry about that. Right now, you need to worry about finding her.”

Copia ran his hand through his hair as he let out a breath of disdain. “I’ve looked everywhere for her. There’s only so many places she could be!”

The sound of running could be heard from outside the office. Copia opened the door and stuck his head to see what the commotion was. Ghouls were bolting towards Terzo’s office. One looked at Copia and broke away from the others by his side. Copia presumed it was Swiss. He dragged Copia out of the office as he casted a glance back at Imperator, who hurried to follow them. “Wh-what’s going on? Is she in trouble?” Swiss only nodded in the response as he picked up the pace, quickly catching up with the other Ghouls.

That’s when Copia realized exactly where they were headed:  Terzo’s office. Anger instantly fueled up inside him. They burst through the door to find Terzo near purple and about to pass out with your hands wrapped around his throat. The determination in your eyes, the anger… No, the hatred that exuded from you. It permeated the whole room. 

Two of Terzo’s own Ghouls, Alpha and Omega, pulled you off of him. Your reaction, near animalistic. This wasn’t you. This wasn’t who you were. It couldn’t be. With your arms pinned down, you stopped thrashing your legs, realizing you weren’t going to be freed anytime soon. 

You were panting. Your eyes, crazed and wild, despite being completely black. A snarl was still plastered onto your face. Your eyes followed Copia as he approached you. You were too far gone to recognize him right away. 

In an instant, all sounds faded, everyone remained still, frozen in place. and then Copia felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“My child, it’s time we’ve had a talk, isn’t it?” 

His muscles tensed and his eyes widened. Slowly, he turned around to face a man, slightly younger than himself with pale white hair that cascaded down past his shoulders. His angular features made his beauty ethereal as did his brilliantly deep, crimson eyes. Copia didn’t even need an introduction; he knew exactly who was finally appearing before him.

Taking the hand on his shoulder in his, he turned and knelt down to kiss the ring on the man’s finger. “Lord Lucifer,” he greeted. 

“I truly admire your devotion, but I’m afraid we’re short on time. You’re on your knees enough for me already as it is,” he lightly chuckled, motioning him to stand up. Once Copia was at eye level with Lucifer, he continued, “I need you to forgive my tardiness. It seems we have a rogue part of The Trilogy who takes a liking to meddle in things.” He casted a weary glance at Terzo’s slumped form. With a heavy sigh, he turned back to Copia. “You are just as valuable as either of them. Just because I haven’t blessed you with a vision, doesn’t mean you are any less worthy than he is. Do you understand?”

Copia blinked at the Dark One in front of him, shellshocked. His worth was something he always struggled with. It’s partly why he was as high up in the Clergy as he was; he had to prove he deserved to be there. He had to do everything and more to make sure there was at least that one thing that stood out about him, above all else. Finally he nodded. “Y-yes. I– I understand,” he stuttered.

“Good! Between you and I… if I could choose who is by her side,” he said, pointing at you, “it would be you. Nothing against dear Terzo here, but he can be, eh… irresponsible at times. Whereas you are able to keep a level-head and stay steadfast. That being said, freewill does play a part in this…” Lucifer sighed and shrugged. “So, no matter what happens, you keep that in the back of your mind.”

“I– Heh… thank you, Your Eminence.” 

“You have a way with people, Copia. You understand them. You can lead them. And I know that’s no easy task. The rituals of ascension will be… demanding. Extremely demanding, but I’ve chosen you three, because I know you all can handle it. There’s just one thing you must remember. She may still love Terzo,” a look of pain shot through Copia’s eyes, “but she does love you too. You bring balance to her life; you keep her grounded. She needs that now more than ever.”

“Something happened between her and Terzo that started all of this, didn’t it?” His voice was quiet and soft. The question just sort of slipped out of him as he voiced his musings.

Lucifer nodded. “But that’s not my story to tell. You have a great deal of power, my child. Never underestimate the power of seeing, of understanding those around you. That will give you an upper hand… should you need it.” Copia furrowed his brows. He opened his mouth to speak, but Lucifer held his hand up, stopping him. “I’m sorry for the ambiguity, but I fear our time here must come to a close due to the state our beloved is in. But before I return you, I need you to give Sister Imperator a message for me.” Copia nodded. “She needs to stop hiding the truth. It won’t do anyone any good if she continues to keep her secrets.”

As quickly as He appeared, He was gone. It was like the play button on the scene around him had been pressed. Your snarling filled his ears. His head was swimming with what had just happened and the overload of information, but his attention was focused on you. 

Without hesitation, he strode over to you, cupping your face in his hands. You tried to thrash your head side to side to avoid his gaze. Your wild eyes bored into Terzo as he lay crumpled on the floor still.

Not that he had time to really register what he was feeling, but Copia’s white eye started to tingle the longer he looked at you. He changed his grip so he was holding your head tightly enough to stop your incessant thrashing. Shaking you, he forced you to look at him. “Come back to me,” he commanded, giving you another shake. Your eyes landed on his, which made the prickling sensation increase to the point where he was fully aware of it. Similar to pins and needles, it intensified to a burning feeling as your eyes locked. “This isn’t you, amore,” he added gently.

You blinked, his words enveloping you like a blanket after a day out in the cold as if warming you, comforting you. Slowly you feltl the darkness fade from you. Copia’s hold on you loosens as his hands slip to your shoulders, allowing you to take in the scene before you. 

First you see the look of total concern and worry etched into Copia’s features, then it hit you that you're being held by ghouls. Cautiously, your eyes find Terzo who had stopped his dramatic display on the floor and had sat up, resting his head in hands on his knees. He looked up at you, hearing your commotion stop. You see the bruises, in the shapes of hands, starting to form on his neck, and his beaten and bloodied face. His eyes met yours, fear instantly widening his, while tears formed in yours.

Abruptly, you turn away, shame diverting your gaze. You practically go limp in the ghouls’ hold as tears fall. They release you and you slump forward, Copia’s arms fly out to steady you. He could be looking at you with sympathy, with anger and frustration, or with hurt. After everything, it’s almost impossible for you to distinguish between them. 

Quickly your eyes dart towards the exit, your body twitching as if you’re about to make a run for it, but when you see Sister Imperator, Primo, and Secondo standing there, you stay frozen.

“Lucifer in Hell…” Sister Imperator gasps, clutching her grucifix. With a shake of her head, she doesn’t waste a single moment getting straight to business. “Copia, get her back to your quarters and out of sight. Primo, Secondo, you are to start preparing for the first ritual – her ghoul summoning. She’s left us no choice; we must start the ascension. Tomorrow it begins,” she barked.

Secondo nodded and turned to leave. Primo couldn’t help his eyes darting from Terzo, to you, and to Copia, then back to Terzo. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out. A pained look in his eye at what had befallen his family. “Andiamo, Primo,” Secondo said softly to him, as he tried to turn him away from the scene in front of them. All the oldest Emeritus brother could do was sigh and nod as he followed his brother to begin the preparations.

Omega looked like he was watching a tennis match with the way his eyes jumped from Sister Imperator, to you, and to Terzo, waiting for something to give him a command. 

Impatiently, she said, “Omega, take Terzo back to his chambers and get him cleaned up. And make sure his vocal chords aren’t damaged. We are set to leave for the last Meliora shows in Mexico the day after tomorrow!” She squinted her eyes at you, simultaneously blaming you for this mess and warning you not to fuck it up further.

Omega and Terzo pass by you on their way. He was practically clinging to his ghoul, but his eyes showed a forlornness that made you think he at least felt some sort of guilt towards all of this. You bowed your head, feeling nothing but shame and remorse.

“Sister, what if the siblings see?” Copia asked.

“It’s dinner, the chances of anyone besides ghouls roaming about are slim, but we need to act quickly. Move! Get her out of here!” 

Alpha places a hand on your shoulder. Are you strong enough to walk, Your Eminence? 

You nod at him. Just don’t ask me to run a marathon. You could see the ghoul’s shoulders shake from a fleeting burst of laughter. You took a deep breath and wiped the remaining tears from your face. After straightening out your clothes, you nod once, keeping your head held high as you make the trek back to Copia’s.

The apartment is silent except for the movement from Cannoli in his cage. After taking a shower and changing, you took your usual place on the couch. Copia opted for the chair. A telltale sign the unreadable expression on his face leans towards your earlier assessment of him possibly being angry with you might not be far off; he always sat on the couch with you, always. 

“What were you doing in Terzo’s office? Aside from trying to kill him,” he asked, breaking the deafening silence. You winced at his tone.

“I… He wanted to talk to me about something.” 

Copia raised an eyebrow at you. “How long were you in his office?” 

You chewed on your lip, avoiding his eyes. Consequences, dear child… you heard ringing through your thoughts. Needing an outlet for the surmounting anxiety, your leg wouldn’t stop bouncing. “Not that long…”

With a shake of his head, he tossed a glance towards the ceiling. “Don’t fucking lie to me,” he said through barely parted lips. His exhausted tone was somehow worse than if he had yelled. “Were you there when I was?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words came up empty. The shame had opened a hole in the ground and swallowed you whole – or at least, you wished it would. Solemnly, you nodded.

“Why? Why were you even there? Why were you hiding? What were you tw–?”

“Because I was terrified of what he would do to me!” you cut him off as your words rushed out. “If I didn’t see him… I didn’t know what– how he would retaliate, s-so I went to his office when I didn’t hear from him. I was scared… I wasn’t sure if it was a test or not.”

“Terrified? What did he–?”

“I can’t talk about it, Copia. I promised… I can’t lose you. I can’t. I–” You pulled your quivering bottom lip in between your teeth, biting down just enough to try to keep the levy of tears from breaking. 

“He can’t send me away, if that was his threat, which isn’t even a new threat now that he said it to me himself. Sister Imperator would never allow it anyway,” he said as he waved his hand dismissively before he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You haven’t been yourself since the summons, all the changes aside. Just… tell me what happened.”

“It was my fault; this is my fault,” you mumbled. “I should have stopped– stopped it, o-or stopped him. And– and I didn’t.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. A tear slipped down your cheek and you turned quickly to wipe it away. You sucked in a shuddering breath through your teeth. Nothing could hold back the tears now that you were left without a choice but to confess everything.

“What happened, cara?” he stressed. “Did he hurt you?” He shifted to the edge of his seat like he was seconds away from finishing what you had started.

Your eyes shut tightly again as you shook your head. “No, no. Not physically. I– we–” you stammered, before your voice turned into a meek whisper. “I think… I think there was a part of me that… that liked it…” What was the point of hiding anything now? You looked up and rapidly blinked, doing your best to keep the tears away.

Even without seeing him, you could feel the emotion draining from him. His posture turned rigid and tense. His jaw clenched and the leather of his gloves creaked under the strain of his hands balling into fists. He knew now exactly what had transpired. And that caused the levee to break and the tears to freely flow while the words flew from your mouth in a stream of consciousness. 

“I didn’t want to. I didn’t. I told him to stop. I pushed him away. Please, please believe me. I didn’t want to hurt you. But… H-he said if I kept fighting him or I breathed one word of this to you… he’d send you away and I couldn’t– I didn’t know… And then there was this voice, telling me to… submit? And I just… I let him do whatever he wanted to me. I let him…” Your eyes scrunched shut, a look of pain casted over your face as you shook your head. “When he was done with me… when it was over… he said again if I said one syllable of this to you, you’d be gone. And that I was his. And I think that’s when… it happened. I don’t remember anything but rage after that. Pure rage. But it was my fault. It was all my fault I let him. And then I… I left s-something in his office and he texted me last night that I had to get them today and I just didn’t know what he would do. I didn’t know if he’d try and– try and hurt me again or hurt you if I didn’t. Even after the hex I casted, I just– I didn’t know what to do. So I went and then he told me everything. And I thought… It was like he was back, like my Terzo was back. And before I knew it, I– we were… we kissed and– but then he mentioned you and I pushed him away. And he kept saying how it would be him, it’s always gonna be him, and he promised to be better, but the promise… I just– That’s when I snapped. I tried to kill him. I tried. I just wanted to make it stop. But it’s all my fault.” Your voice finally broke after everything flew out of your mouth in a burst. When you finally looked at him, you couldn’t even register what emotions were on his face, if any. Your eyesight was so blurry with tears. So you flew off the couch, kneeling in front of him, sobbing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m s-so sorr-rry,” you repeated over and over.

Copia slid out of the chair and onto the floor to hold you as you sobbed. He didn’t say anything. He allowed you the space to cry, the space to mumble your string of apologies between gulps of air and wails of despair. 

When you calmed down enough to almost be able to breathe normally, he was shocked when you pushed away from him suddenly. You pushed yourself back until you hit the couch, frantically shaking your head. “No, no, no. Why aren’t you– You should hate me. You should be— What are you doing? I don’t deserve this. I– I’m…” The pain that flashed through your eyes was nearly indescribable. Your voice sounded so strained as you tried to speak through your gasping intakes of breaths. “I’m– just– like– him.”

There was no way for you to see the utter look of shock and hurt and remorse that came over him. You missed how his eyes watered with tears he couldn’t let fall, because you needed someone strong, you needed someone to hold you up as everything crumbled around you. Leaning forward on his knees, he placed a hand beside on the couch to hold him up as he leaned over you. His other hand found its way to your chin, trying to gently convince you to look at him. 

“Dolcezza, look at me…” he spoke gently. “Look at me.” Reluctantly you obliged. “You are nothing like him. You will never be anything close to the monster that he is, do you understand me?” You couldn’t do anything but stare at him as your eyes continued to well up with even more tears. “He manipulated you, cara. He used you. Time and time again. The only way for that bastard to change is for his soul to leave his body,” he growled. He shut his eyes briefly, taking a deeping to regain his composure.

You shook your head, sliding away from him, trying to create distance. “No, I’m worse.” You hugged your knees to your chest. 

“You’re n–”

“I tried to kill him, Copia. I wanted to kill him.” Your eyes grew distant as you stared ahead. “I could have, too… if no one stopped me. Y-you don’t know what it’s like to lose control like that – to not have any control.” A humorless laugh fell from your lips as you shook your head almost in disbelief. “And then there’s everything I did to you.” Your lips curled over your teeth as you pressed them into a straight line in a feeble attempt to fight the next onslaught of tears. You turned your head away from him as one managed to escape.

Your eyes stayed shut as you heard the rustling of fabric as he got up, sighing as he did so. His soft footsteps told you he was walking around the coffee table to kneel beside you. “Cara, I was aware of the precariousness of our… relationship well before it began.” You weren’t sure what direction he was going with this, so your eyes snapped open in time to watch as he avoided looking at you. “What surprises me the most is that I didn’t see this coming.”

When his eyes met yours, you could feel the searing pain of your guilt slashing your heart with shallow cuts. He’s upset because he should have expected this of you? For a split second you thought about getting defensive. You opened your mouth, but quickly shut it. Copia was probably the only person outside of your relationship with Terzo who knew the ins and outs of it. You had confided in him time and time again; you sought him out for comfort. He knew the pain and devastation you felt. And he knew how much you had truly loved Terzo.

“I–I– I’m sorry,” you stammered. “I didn’t want to lose you and… I thought if I could hide it from you, it would hurt you less. It– I was– Everything is just so fucking complicated now.” You ran your hands through your hair, gripping it frustration.

“I just need you to answer one question for me. Will you be able to resist being intimate with him again if the opportunity arises?”

Hands falling to your side, you took in a shuddering breath, slowly turning to look at him with a dumbfounded expression. Your stomach dropped and you could feel the thundering in your chest as your hands trembled. There was no choice but to tell the truth. “I can’t…” you shook your head. “Copia, I can’t promise that…” you breathed out the words in shame.

He nodded once. His face hardened with stoicism akin to a marble sculpture. “Grazie per la tua onestà (thank you for your honesty),” he said with his voice devoid of any emotion as he stood up. “We need to tell Sister Imperator about what happened to you. She needs to know for the sake of the upcoming rituals.” He took out his phone and began to call her as he went into the bedroom. You couldn’t hear exactly what was said, but you knew enough that he had informed her of how urgently she needed to see the two of you. 

Somehow you were able to force yourself to stand up and get yourself a glass of water as you hopelessly tried to pull yourself together. He didn’t have to tell you that Sister Imperator was on her way. You weren’t sure how long you stood at the kitchen sink, staring off into nothing, until three sharp knocks at the door pulled you out of your trance-like state. 

She eyed you as you let her into the small apartment. You casted your solemn eyes down. Copia emerged out of the bedroom and gestured towards the chair, “Sister, please sit.” 

“So what is the arduous new development now?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“The truth about her awakening,” stated Copia bluntly. 

“Ah. Of course. There had to be more than a mere conversation to set you off.”

You fought physically cringing, taking a deep breath to prepare yourself. Copia leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He couldn’t look at you, his eyes trained to a spot on the ground. Sister waved her hand impatiently to tell you to get on with it. 

“He— Terzo, um…” you sputtered at first before you just spewed the story out without taking a breath. “Terzo forced himself on me and threatened to send Copia back to Italy if I said anything at all to anyone about what happened and said I was ‘his’ and I just remember the rage I felt after that and today I was hiding in office when Copia was there so I heard everything but he told me everything because Asmodeus came to both of us but then he made a dig at Copia and I tried to kill him.” You took a deep breath as you finished, sheepishly looking at Sister Imperator. During your small monologue you kept your gaze fixed on your restless hands in your lap, missing how quickly Copia’s eyes darted to you when you mentioned the visit from Asmodeus. 

Imperator’s mouth dropped slightly as listened. “Lucifer in Hell…” she breathed as she shook her head in dismay. “Do not utter a word of this to anyone, but the problem that is Papa Emeritus III will be dealt with in the coming days. I will not divulge any information on what is to happen for your safety; it is best you know as little as possible.”

“That’s not all, Sister,” Copia spoke up. “Something also happened — to me — today.” Both yours and Sister Imperator’s brows furrowed quizzically as your heads turned to face Copia. “I don’t think we need to, eh, prepare a ritual for me to summon an Infernal.” Deeper cuts from your guilt and shame slashed your heart further. He was sharing this information with Sister Imperator, not you. He probably would have shared this with you first and foremost, but not after the knife you just twisted into his heart.

Sister Imperator put two and two together. She recalled both you and Terzo having seen Asmodeus, which meant all three involved were having the visions concurrent with the awakening. The look of bewilderment etched itself deeper into the lines of her face. 

“Who did you see?” you asked, your voice sounded rattled and cautious. 

He rubbed the back of his neck as his eyes sheepishly darted between the ladies in front of him. “Lucifer himself, eheh.” 

“Copia that… That’s amazing. What did he say? What happened?” you asked, moving to the edge of your seat. Having not seen Lucifer yourself, you knew how significant this was.

“Terzo has really fucked things up, which was apparently the reason He hadn’t shown himself to me. He stressed that freewill plays a large role in your choice. So, um,” he cleared his throat, “in the end, the choice is yours and it will be respected. But, Sister… He– He had a message for you. He said that you need to start telling the truth and continuing to keep secrets won’t do anyone any good.”

You watched as the color drained from Sister Imperator’s face. She clasped her hand around her grucifix as she closed her eyes, probably muttering a silent prayer of strength. “C… I– I had wanted to tell you when I felt the time was right, but if The Dark One says that time is now…” She was stalling, trying to put together the right words. After taking a deep breath, she bared her secret she had been carrying around for decades. “There is a reason you have the Emeritus Eye. The claim you are not part of this bloodline simply is not true. This– Not even Papa Nihil is aware of what I am about to tell you. Maybe at one point he was, but I think we’re lucky he even knows his own name these days. I digress.” She paused as her hand covered her mouth for a moment. Her eyes scanned a distant spot in front of her as if she was searching for the next piece of the story she would tell.

“Before the awakening started, I was working on making it so that the rightful heir to the papal seat would be chosen. I suppose that process is now being rushed. Copia, you are the next in line to be Papa.” 

His mouth dropped, hanging open in shock. Your eyes widened. 

“Times were very different when you were born…” she continued. “The reason you will be our next Papa is because of your parents. It is true, Papa Nihil is, unfortunately, in fact your father, but why you deserve this is due to who your mother is.”

Copia blinked repeatedly before he interrupted, “But– But they told me my mother felt she was too young to have a child and dropped me off al Ministero della Roma (at the Ministry of Rome) with nothing but a note. How… How do you know?”

“That part is true. Your mother did feel she was too young to adequately care for a child, especially considering the antics of your father and his parenting, or lack thereof, of your brothers. It was best for you to be raised by the Sisters of Sin who could show you the care you deserve.” Copia scoffed. “Primo taking you under his wing was the best thing that could have happened.”

“But how do you know?” he repeated through his teeth. “What does my mother have to do with me being next in line for Papa?”

“Because, Copia, I am your mother.”

part viii | part x