#the makeup made him a lil unsure so he asked and I said I was a man

[jaxyscreams]

yo,, my voice allowed me to stealth in a convo today whilst cosplaying a female character!!!

Like!! I got to just be a man who was dressed up in a costume!!!

This person thought I was a cis man just from my voice!

[multi-fandom-things730]

Ricky Starks Saves The Day

Summary: Ricky refuses to watch his ship fall apart, and makes it his mission to get Y/N and Hook back together.

Warnings: angst, cussing, arguing, drinking, implied smut, fluff, lil bit of spice

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this imagine!!!!! All the support on my last one has been SO amazing and I cannot express how grateful I am for it!!!!🥹🥰 I love all of you so so so so much!!!!! And once again, a special shoutout to my bestie @99hook !!!!! Ilysm bestie and thank you!!!!🧡🤍 If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be posting this🥹🩷

It was never a good idea to spew words without thinking them through while you're both furious.

Because when the feelings of anger fade, you are left with nothing but sadness and immense regret.

This was something Hook learned a little too late.

All Y/N wanted was for him to spend a little more time with her, and neither of them could even remember why it escalated like it had. But it did.

And then Hook decided to blurt that he thought it might be better for them to break up.

Now both of them were miserable, and everyone could see it.

But Hook was too nervous to approach Y/N, as she had avoided him entirely since that night.

And Y/N had been avoiding him because seeing him made her so sad.

It was just a cycle of sadness, that all of their friends were sick and tired of seeing them be stuck in.

Enter Ricky Starks; who made it his mission to get them back together.

He loved both Hook and Y/N dearly, and just wanted them to be happy. He wasn't gonna sit back and watch true love go to waste.

But at that same time, Y/N had decided enough moping was enough.

And with some encouragement from her best friend Kris Statlander, she found herself considering dating again.

So when Ricky walked into catering and plopped down next to the two women, their conversation almost gave him heart palpitations.

"I'm telling you Y/N, the best way to get over a guy is to get under another" Kris smirks.

Ricky starts choking on his food, making Y/N's eyes widen and she pats his back. "Are you ok Ricky?"

"Y-Yeah" he croaks out, clearing his throat. "You know, personally, I don't really agree with that philosophy"

Kris raises an eyebrow at him. "Oh yeah? And what would you suggest?"

"Um," Ricky falters, unsure of what to say. "I, uh… maybe some ice cream?"

"I like his idea way more" Y/N immediately says.

Ricky feels momentary relief, before Kris scoffs. "Ignore him. Look, just give it a try. Once you go out with another guy, you may realize that you don't miss him as much as you think"

Ricky cringes, as he can tell Y/N is considering it.

"But who would I even go out with?" She asks after a moment.

This makes Kris perk up. "Take your pick hon. I mean, honestly, have you seen yourself?"

"I don't know" Y/N sinks in her chair.

"Hey Y/N" She looks up when she hears her name and sees Darby Allin approaching them.

"Hey Darby, what's up?" She asks with a smile.

"Do you remember that one night you did my face paint when the makeup artist had an emergency and had to leave?" He asks nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah" Y/N answers.

"It's just.. the way you did it was really cool and I wanted to ask if you'd do it again?" He rushes out.

Y/N grins. "Of course I will!"

She sits her plate down and waves goodbye to Ricky and Kris. "I'll see you guys later"

With that, she walks off with Darby.

Ricky scoffs at the pleased look on Kris' face.

This causes Kris to raise an eyebrow. "What?"

Ricky shrugs. "Nothing"

Kris narrows her eyes at him. "Oh hell no! You wanna get her and Hook back together! That’s why you said all that stuff!"

"So what if I do?" Ricky challenges. "Her and Hook are true love! Hook made a stupid mistake, and he wants to fix it"

"Too bad" Kris immediately snaps back. "She is just getting better, and I'll be damned if I let you bring her down again"

"I ain't gonna bring her down!" Ricky defends. "I wanna reunite her with the love of her life!"

Kris scoffs. "I'll believe Hook is sorry when he starts showing it. Until then, expect me to run interference on whatever little plan you have cooked up"

Ricky leans back in his chair with a groan as Kris walks off.

It's then that Hook enters, and raises an eyebrow at the exasperated look on his friend's face. "What's wrong with you?"

Ricky glares at him. "I'm gonna punch you"

"There! All done!" Y/N grins.

Darby opens his eyes and smiles widely when he looks in the mirror. "It looks amazing! Thanks Y/N"

"My pleasure" she smiles back, leaning down to hug him from behind.

He puts his hands on top of her’s and leans back into her. "I have a question"

"Hmm?" Y/N hums.

"Would you like to go out after the show?" Darby asks.

Y/N bites her lip. "Darby.. you’re a really great guy. I just... I don’t think I’m ready to date someone else yet. I’m sorry”

"No!" Darby exclaims. “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that. Not go out like a date. I meant just go out as friends”

Y/N lets out a breath, and they both laugh. "Then I'd love to”

"Yes! You're going on a date!" Kris exclaims obnoxiously loud, making Y/N quickly shush her.

But the damage was done, and Ricky overheard Kris' yells.

Ricky's eyes widen, and he scrambles over to them. "So Y/N, a date, huh?"

"No! It's not-" Y/N tries to explain, but is cut off by Kris.

"It totally is" Kris grins. "Y/N and Darby are getting drinks after the show tonight"

With that, she grabs Y/N's shoulders and guides her away, and looks back to send Ricky a triumphant smirk.

Ricky scoffs and runs off down the halls to find Hook.

He finds him sitting on a crate in the hallway, and Ricky snatches the earbuds out of Hook's ears.

Hook looks up with a glare. "What the hel-"

"No time for pleasantries!" Ricky yells. "You need to get off your ass and apologize to Y/N! I know she still has feelings for you, she's told me! And you still love her! You're just too chicken to tell her that you’re sorry, and she's about to go on a date with Darby so you have officially run out of time! You need to go get your girl and live happily ever after! I'll be damned if Kris will beat me!"

Hook stands up with a scowl on his face. "She's going on a date with that little prick?"

Ricky frantically nods and exasperatedly yells “Yes!"

"Where?" Hook demands, causing a smirk to grow on Ricky's face.

"How do you know they're here?" Hook asks as Ricky pulls into a parking spot at a busy bar.

"I asked her. You know, like talking to her" Ricky deadpans, making Hook shoot him a glare.

"Now get out of my car, and don't come back until you've professed your love to her" Ricky demands.

Hook does get out of the car, and takes a deep breath before entering the building.

Y/N and Darby were tucked away in a booth near the back, talking and laughing without a care in the world.

Hook can feel his face flush when he sees what Y/N is wearing, in both anger and attraction. He knew Kris must have picked it because she always needed to be hyped up a little to wear that damn dress. It was the definition of that little black dress every guy loves. It was a short, fitted bodycon dress, with a bustier top and ruched detail on the skirt that accentuated her curvy waist and hips.

That damn dress made her look both classy and sexy all at once, and Hook wanted to go snatch Y/N away from Darby and take her back to his hotel room and have her all to himself.

It was then that Y/N noticed Darby staring at something over her shoulder.

“What’s wrong? You got quiet” She leans in close to speak in his ear so he can hear, and places her hand on top of his.

Darby hesitates before answering. “Hook just walked in, and he’s coming over here”

Y/N’s head snaps around, and she easily spots Hook making his way through the crowd towards them.

Before she can debate between jumping up and running, or hiding under the table, he’s standing in front of them. “Hey Y/N”

“Why are you here Tyler?” Y/N asks with an annoyed expression.

“Can we talk?” Hook replies, shooting a rude look at Darby which only pisses Y/N off more.

“She obviously doesn’t want to talk to you, man. And we’re busy right now, I’m sure you can talk some other time” Darby says, a clear edge to his tone.

“I wasn’t fucking talking to you Allin” Hook snaps.

“Darby, it’s fine” Y/N cuts in, trying to prevent a fight from breaking out.

But neither one of them listened, and Y/N buries her head in her hands when Darby stands up and gets chest to chest with Hook.

She can’t hear what they’re saying to each other over the music and people, but she scrambles to get between them when Hook’s face hardens after Darby pushes him back.

“Hey! Enough!” Y/N exclaims.

But the two just continue to glare at each other over her head.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes at their childishness before reaching down to snatch up her purse and storm out of the bar.

She walks a little ways down the road, before stopping when she realizes she left her coat as a chill runs through her body.

“You left this” she hears Hook’s nervous voice behind her.

She turns, and the scowl on her face softens when she sees the sad look on his.

She takes the coat he was holding out for her. “Thank you”

“You’re welcome” He answers, shuffling back and forth on his feet.

The two of them stand in awkward silence for a moment before Hook speaks up. “Do you need a ride to the hotel?”

Y/N thinks for a second; while she is mad at Hook for coming here and ruining her fun, she’s also mad at Darby for pushing Hook.

“It won’t just be you and me” He elaborates. “Ricky’s waiting for me in the car”

“Why’d you come here Tyler?” Y/N asks after a short moment of thinking.

“I..” Hook falters, scrambling for an excuse before finally realizing he just needs to tell the truth. “Because Ricky told me you and Darby were going on a date tonight”

“So you came to crash it?!” Y/N snaps.

“Seriously Tyler?! You’re so fucking childish” Y/N rants as she starts speed walking to the parking lot, Hook following close behind. “You broke up with me, but you still think you can control who I go out with?!”

Ricky glances over when he hears yelling, and cringes when he realizes it’s Y/N.

She swings the passenger door open and plops down in the seat, before crossing her arms and leaning her body towards the window.

“Hello Ricky” she grumbles as Hook climbs in the backseat.

“I do not think I have any sort of control over you Y/N” Hook insists. “I just-“

“You just what?!” Y/N interjects, whipping around in her seat to glare back at him.

“I didn’t want you to go out with someone else! But that doesn’t mean I think I have control over you!” Hook yells back.

Ricky lets out an overly dramatic sigh as he starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot.

This was totally not going to plan.

Ricky practically dives out of the car when they get to the hotel, as Y/N and Hook take their time; more concerned about arguing than getting out.

Taz, who was also just arriving at the hotel, stops short of entering when he recognizes the voices of Y/N and Tyler fighting.

He walks over to Ricky. “What the hell’s going on?”

“I heard that Y/N was going on a date with Darby, so I told Hook. Thinking back I wish I hadn’t. And then I found out where they were going and me and Hook went to crash their date so he could tell Y/N that he’s still in love with her. He went inside and the next thing I knew they came out arguing. They’ve been arguing ever since” Ricky rambles out the entire story.

Taz scoffs. “You two are idiots. In what world was crashing her date gonna do anything except piss her off?”

Ricky rubs the back of his neck. “Our world I guess?”

Then Hook gets out of the car, and he goes to open her door but she swiftly opens it herself. “I don’t need you opening my damn door Tyler! I’m more than capable of doing it myself! Just like I’m capable of deciding who I spend my fucking time with!”

“I never fucking said you weren’t!” Hook exclaims.

“Then why even go to the bar?! You still haven’t given me a straight answer!” Y/N fumes.

“Because I’m still fucking in love with you!” He finally exclaims, stopping Y/N in her tracks.

The two stand in silence for a moment, before Hook lets out a shaky breath. “I’m still so in love with you Y/N, ok?” His voice cracks, and tears well up in both of their eyes. “That’s why I went to the bar. Because the thought of you being with someone else makes me feel like someone is trying to rip my heart out of my chest. I know I fucked up that night Y/N. I was mad, and I was just spouting shit, and I caused myself to lose the most important thing in my life. And I know you’ll never fucking forgive me; I know how much I hurt you. And I fucking hate myself for it! And I know you deserve to move on, and I had no right to go there tonight. But- fuck Y/N! I don’t know how to come to terms with losing you! I can’t..”

Y/N stares at him for a moment, and Hook feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest from the anxiousness coursing through his body.

But Y/N was using that moment to attempt and find the right words to say. “It wasn’t a date..”

Hook furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “What? Ricky said..”

“He just overheard Kris” Y/N elaborates. “She’s been trying to get me to go out again. But I couldn’t do it”

“Why not?” Hook dares to ask as she takes a step towards him.

She puts her hands on his tense arms and makes eye contact before answering. “Because I’m still in love with you. And no matter what mistakes you made, I know that no one else will ever make me feel the way I do for you”

And with that, Hook sweeps her up by her waist and hugs her as tight as he can. She lets out a relieved laugh, and hugs back just as tight.

He places her back on the ground, and their lips collide in a messy, but sweet and passionate kiss.

They only pull away from each other when they hear an obnoxiously loud cheer from Ricky, and they turn to face him and Taz with amused laughter.

“Sorry guys! I didn’t mean to break up your moment. I’m just so excited!” Ricky bounces up and down, and Y/N laughs again when she notices he has his phone out recording them.

“Why were you recording us, Ricky?” She asks with a giggle, as Hook leans down to kiss her head.

“Two reasons. One, I needed footage of my ship getting back together. And two, I gotta show this to Ms.Statlander! True love prevails!” He yells with a victorious grin, before running into the hotel to find Kris.

After Ricky’s gone, Taz approaches them and places a hand on Hook’s shoulder with a delighted smile. “I'm glad you two are working this out. I missed you being around Y/N”

She smiles back. “I missed you too Taz”

With that, Taz bids them goodnight and heads up to his room.

Hook places his hand on the small of her back and guides her inside.

He places one more chaste kiss on her lips. “Now that I can kiss you again I don't ever wanna stop”

“Then don’t” Y/N quips back with a cheeky smirk.

He grins down at her when she pecks his lips once again.

“I gotta get us checked in; but after that, your cute little ass is all mine mamas” he whispers lowly in her ear, and his hand trails down to sneakily grab her ass.

“It’s always been your’s” She giggles and stays tucked into his side as they head over to get checked in.

Hook talks to the desk clerk as she pulls out her phone after it buzzes in her pocket.

She laughs when she sees a message from Ricky.

It was a selfie he took of a rather pissed off Kris, and him grinning like a kid in a candy store.

She shows Hook as they’re walking towards the elevator, and he lets out a hearty laugh. “He better stop messing with her before she knocks him out”

When the elevator door opens, they quickly slip out as Hook’s hands start to trail up and down her body.

They get to the room, but as Hook swipes the key card the two of them look up when a yell echos through the hall.

“I told you to shut up Ricky!” They hear Kris yell, followed by more yells from Ricky.

Y/N goes to walk towards the screams, but Hook snakes his arm around her waist and pulls her into the room.

“Tyler!” Y/N chides, but her protests get caught in her throat when he presses her up against the door.

Their bodies are flush against each other, and Hook immediately dips his head down to start trailing kisses along her neck. “They aren’t our problem right now mamas. All I’m concerned with is reminding you how good it feels when I make you scream my name”

[mrsfrecklesmarauders]

"Hello chaps and chapsses!" James exclaimed happily, as he walked in holding Lily's hand.

"Nice lipstick, Lily" Marlene said as soon as James and Lily took a seat for dinner.

"Oh, thanks Marly" Lily answered, unaware of how everyone was trying not to laugh.

"I like your lipstick too, Potter" Marlene added "Red is trending at the moment, I believe"

Lily's eyes widened as she got a sight of what James's lips looked like. Her cheeks went bright red. She gasped, grabbing a napkin and wiping James's mouth. Their friends laughed at that sight.

"Clean yourself"

"What?"

"Clean yourself" Lily smiled embarrassed, checking her reflection in a little mirror and trying to fix it.

"Isn't that my lipstick, darling?" Mary raised an eyebrow.

"Borrowed it, Mary" Lily mumbled with embarrassment "You said it was okay"

"Oh! Red velvet to unleash passion, I remember" Mary nodded.

That made the others laugh more, especially if Lily blushed like that. James raised an eyebrow amused.

"Red velvet passion?"

"I am trying new colors" Lily explained nervously "James helped me experiment a bit with makeup"

"Is that so, Prongsie?" Sirius asked with amusement. "That is your color, darling" we winked.

"Thanks, babe"

"I didn't know you knew about makeup, Prongs" Peter commented, as he played with his food.

"Oh I love trying new lipsticks, their color, their taste, especially if they come from Lily" James winked and hit Sirius's palm, but then whined in pain as Lily kicked his leg under the table.

There were some giggles after that.

"Okay, fine" Lily snapped "I kissed my boyfriend. I don't see there is anything wrong with that" she shrugged at the end.

"You snogged his face more like" Marlene whispered with a smile.

"Of course there is nothing wrong with that" Mary smiled widely.

"Absolutely nothing" James added.

"You should go wild, Lily."

"Mary!" Lily blushed

"Please, go wild" James agreed.

"You deserve it"

"And it benefits me"

Lily gave her boyfriend a nasty look but he just smiled "I love your smooches, baby" he said in a silly voice, making Lily smile. And pushing his face away.

"Shut up, you wanker" Lily rolled her eyes, though she was happy. James was happy too as he put his arm around her "Why don't we eat this delicious dinner, eh? Yum, is that meat pie?"

Remus liked the way James and Lily fitted so well together. He had seen how much James had pinned for Lily. He had heard how he thought Lily was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. But how he was sure she wouldn't feel the same. And Remus had seen how Lily slowly fell for him. How she was unsure about her feelings but she couldn’t deny them at the end. How she used to stare at James wondering if he still felt the same. They looked so happy now. Remus was happy for his two best friends.

"Are you still hungry, Lils? I mean after eating James's face, you must be full" Remus heard his friends laughing as he sipped his juice and that made him smile.

"Nice one, Moony" Sirius hit his palm, between fits of laughter.

"And you call yourself my friend, Lupin" Lily tutted, while Remus blew her a kiss.

[golden-rats]

I'm back with another lil fic. I wanted to keep it short but it somehow got the better of me. Now we're here with roughly 3.5k of Terzo and his vampire gloves.

Terzo x Male reader, NSFW so MDNI, contains bj, spanking and your usual smut

Love Like Needles And Pins

It was an ordinary day. You were roaming the hallways of the ministry, finished with your tasks and not exactly sure what to do until you'd go to rest for the night. It was quiet. Your footsteps echoed in the lonely halls. The only sound disturbing this nocturnal peace. Until your ears picked something up. A faint sound, unsure where it came from. Or what it even was.

Chewing on your bottom lip you were debating if you should go investigate. It's not like you had anything better to do and this was the most eventful this day would probably get. Coming to a halt, trying to locate where it might come from. Your eyes fell on dim lighting coming from beneath a door just down the corridor. The only issue? It was the exact way the Papas had their quarters. Nothing was explicitly said but everyone treated it as an unsaid rule that those premises were off limits for siblings of sin. Except if they had business to do or one of the Papas ordered them there.

It was late. No one would notice, right? You just had to be quiet. Careful. Taking a last look over your shoulder and into the other dark alleys to make sure you'd remain unseen, your legs started moving on their own. The ornated wooden doors had the numerals of each Papa carved into them. Indicating which room belonged to who. That way it was easy to tell the commotion came from within Terzos room. It made something spark inside your chest. Standing so close to him, yet so far. You always admired him, ever since you joined. He was charming, enchanting… arousing. And too busy to notice a simple sibling like you were.

Lifting one hand up, your fingertips trailed over the slightly raised III. Imagining where else those fingers would love to roam. Feeling the cracked wood swirl into intricate designs. Another sound that seemingly resembled a moan startled you. Cursing yourself on the inside as you bumped against the frame. Surely it wasn't loud enough to get his attention. Right? You had to reassure yourself over and over again. Knowing this was a bad idea but the thrill of it all was just too tempting. Holding your breath you stood still as best as you could. Listening focused for any movement inside the room.

Shit. The door swung open. Barely managing to stumble back, a hand already reached out to grab your wrist. Terzo stood right in front of you. Terzo stood right in front of you in nothing but a fancy bathrobe. You had to blink a few times. Eyes busy examining the revealed skin of his chest. Slowly trailing down, taking in the whole view. Swallowing hard.

"May I ask what in the nine circles of hell you're doing here?" Your attention snapped back. His voice cutting through the silence, piercing your ears. Terzo still wore his makeup. It's the first time you've seen him up close. He was beautiful. But something didn't seem quite right. His expression. Seemingly out of breath, his hair a mess. Opening your mouth to answer, nothing came out of it. Unable to find words to excuse your presence. Papa tilted his head. His mismatched eyes searching your face for… for what? He was still waiting for an answer. An answer you couldn't give to him. You flinched as the grip around your wrist tightened. Your legs trembling as he pulled you into the room with him. Swiftly closing the door behind the two of you.

You've never been in any of the Papas rooms. But this isn't what you imagined. Then again, Terzo was full of surprises. It was more or less modern, much open space and minimal decor. The black and white clean color scheme mixing with dark wooden furniture. Your gaze wandered over every detail, getting lost in the thought that you really in fact were standing in your beloved Papas room. Until your eyes met his. He stood right beside you, arms crossed over his chest. Impatiently lifting an eyebrow. "Do I have to repeat myself?"

"I… My apologies Papa!" On top of your nervous stammering, you decided to bow your head. It must've looked so stupid as you could hear low rumbling. A laugh. Looking up through your lashes, you saw him creeping closer.

"Oh, so instead of giving me a satisfying answer you chose to apologize? So you obviously know you did wrong, no?"

"Yes Papa."

"And you know I can't just let that slide?"

"...Yes Papa."

"My my… Now I have to handle this situation. We can't tolerate someone snooping around at night. Especially not such a newer sibling, a youngling."

He knew you were new? He took notice of you? You've been only part of the project for a couple of months and still had to learn. But you integrated yourself into the cause quite nicely. Or so you thought. There haven't been any complaints and you got trusted with your own work. Surely he'd take that into consideration.

At least that's what you hoped.

Circling you like a wild animal stalking its prey. Observing you. Every little move you made. Every time you held your breath. Every swallow. Your slightly trembling hands. "Nervous?" It was a simple question. And the answer was yes. Still, you couldn't bring a single word over your lips. So you just gave him a shy nod. It seemed to satisfy him enough to draw back. Strolling over to his desk. While you just stood there watching.

Terzo sat down in his big armchair. The robe loosely draped over his body by now. You know you should avert your gaze. Look in literally any other direction. But your mind and body were separate persons.

"You interrupted me. And that's one of the things I hate most, caro mio…" Only now did it dawn on you what he meant. What those noises were and why he was only wearing so little. Heat shot into your cheeks. Burning from embarrassment. Fuck fuck fuck. You couldn't have chosen a worse time to end up here. Fumbling with your hands you didn't really know what to do. Until your Papa spoke up once more. "Well, will you come and help me already?"

Help him? Did you even hear him right? He held out his arm towards you. Beckoning for you to come closer with a gesture of his fingers. And so you did. Rounding the table you came to a stop in front of his chair. Your pulse rose by the minute. A familiar warmth collecting in your stomach. Trickling deeper into your groin. A smirk on his painted lips signaled you that he noticed as well.

"Perhaps you're the one needing some help first…"

"Ter- Papa I'm sorry for-" He didn't want to hear any of this. Not now. Enclosing your wrist once more he brought you onto his lap. Very visibly still turned on.

"From now on you will only talk when I allow you to. Alright amore?"

You nod.

He smiles.

"Good boy."

Oh Satanas. It will take a lot for you to survive this night. If he keeps talking to you like that. Touching you. Which you only now realized he was doing. A pathetic whimper slipped from your lips. Squeezing your eyes shut as his hands roamed your chest. "Look at me. Don't hide those pretty eyes of yours." At the feeling of a hand touching your cheek, your eyes fluttered open again. Leaning into the motion. Wanting to obey every command given by your desired Papa. Your blush deepened as his other free hand slid down. Parting your lips in a silent moan when he reached your lower stomach.

You wanted to do the same for him. Touch and feel him. Make Terzo enjoy your presence. But you weren't in any position to make demands. So you sat there and enjoyed. Giving into the moment. Until he closed the small gap between you. Sealing his lips with yours. The kiss was surprisingly soft, sweet even. And way too short for your liking. It was over before you could even react.

The next thing you felt were two hands gripping your waist. Lifting you up and shoving you onto the desk. Confused you blinked at the man in front of you, dangling your legs off the table end. He had unbuttoned your pants with his movements when he touched you before. The urge to hide your flushed face behind your hands was growing. Yet you'd never do anything without Papas instruction. So all you could do was watch as he slid his fingers below the waistband of your underwear. Drawing out your already leaking cock.

"This is going to be a delight~" Not being a man who beats around the bush, you almost immediately felt his lips covering your tip. Tongue flicking over the sweet droplets of lust forming at the slit. You couldn’t help yourself and threw your head back. One hand coming up to stroke through his hair, gripping softly. Were you even allowed to? As if he could read your thoughts, Terzo grinned. As much as he was able to in his current position. Not moving your hand or stopping the incredible magic called pleasure going on down below.

It almost sounded like he was purring.

Curses began to form in your throat. Having to actively remind yourself not to speak. All while that alluring man sat in front of you. Almost completely exposed. Having his way with your erection. Swallowing you whole with one drop of his head. Working his tongue around your veins, pressing against the sensitive spot below the head. Hollowing out his cheeks every time his head came back up.

“F-...Fuck”

Then, he stopped. Your hand still entangled in those dark locks. Lifting your head to look at him. Liking his lips and straightening up. The paint was smeared. Following his eyes you could make out some black stains covering your dick. That view was hotter than you could’ve ever imagined. It turned you on so much more than you needed it to.

Clicking his tongue he shook his head. “Ciccino, you’re not behaving very well. You had one task to follow. Just. This. One.” The way he said those words made your cheeks burn with shame. “And look what a filthy little slut you are. We won’t continue anything before you haven’t washed up.”

Tightening his robe again, the retired antipope stood up. Tapping your leg. “Leave your clothes on the chair and follow me.”

Quickly you did just as he instructed. Neatly folding and placing everything down before turning back to him. Getting a little shy at his look. There it was again. He examined you. Leaving no part of you untouched by his curiosity. A nod with his head towards another door signaled you to move. What you found behind was… a bathroom?

Rummaging through a big closet Papa pulled out a big towel embroidered with his initials. It looked incredibly soft. Shimmering in a nice, rich purple. The lettering contrasting in gold. Unsure of what to do next you stood in the doorframe.

“You know how to use a shower? Or do you also need help with that?”

Oh. He really meant what he said before. Taking a deep breath you entered the room fully. Admiring the marble tiles on both floor and walls. The open walk in shower. Big enough to fit several people if you wanted to. As if it was constructed for more than just showering.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up as a breath ghosted over your skin. Arms wrapping around you from behind. A kiss placed on your shoulder blade, your neck, your ear… Whispering. “Go ahead while I prepare something to teach you a lesson. Don’t let me wait too long. My time is precious.” An instant feeling of loneliness filled you once he retreated. Letting go of you and exiting the room without another word. Closing the door behind you to grant you a moment of privacy. Finally you got to breathe. Legs shaking.

What exactly was happening here? Just 20 minutes ago you were minding your own business, mindlessly strolling the ministry grounds. And now you stood in Terzos bathroom with a boner, decorated with his spit and lip paint. Ordered to get clean while getting excited for much more to happen. Or not? Talking about punishment. That thought alone sent a new spark of arousal through your spine and into your cock. Making it twitch. You never knew what that wicked man had in store. He was unpredictable.

Let’s get this over with quick. You turned the water on to feel the temperature before stepping inside. Your stare fell onto a bottle of lube amongst the shampoo and shower gel bottles. Giving you some unholy ideas. Rinsing off the dark smudges on your dick with minimal effort, you grabbed the desired container. Turning it in your hands. It was flavored. Salted caramel. Papa seemed to have a thing for anything salty. Without spending too much further thought on that matter, you popped the cap open. Spreading some of the clear liquid on your fingers in the same move you also spread your legs. Reaching behind you, the cold gel on your rim made you shudder for a moment. Bucking your hips forward a little. Your erection meeting the wall, drawing out a moan. Any physical touch was already torture.

Slick fingers entered your tight behind. First one, then another. Scissoring you open and preparing for that feeling. You had to keep reminding yourself not to go too far. Not to take too long. Having to steady yourself with one hand against the tiles. You worked your way through the first stages of discomfort. Panting slightly as you pulled out. Washing your fingers clean under the hot stream coming from above. Every passing second let the excitement in your lap grow. It was time to meet him. Time to discover what Terzo had in store for you.

Turning off the water, you stepped out of the shower. The towel from earlier resting beside the glass door. It truly was soft. And it smelled heavenly. His own scent mixed with incense. Sandalwood and patchouli. Your heart began to beat faster once you inhaled deeply. Drowning in the soft embrace of his fragrance. Burying your face into it for just a few seconds before drying yourself off. Only to return to what seemed to be his living room, with the purple fabric tied around your waist.

"Take a seat. And get rid of…" He gestured at what obscured your body from his view. So you obeyed. Letting it sink to the floor.

He was still in his robe. Waiting on his big sofa. Wearing his leather gloves. They weren't his usual golden claw ones. But you couldn't quite figure out what the difference was. He patted the seat next to him, waiting for you to join.

As soon as you sat down you felt his hand ghosting over your thigh. It tickled. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Mischief sparkling in his eyes.

"Kneel."

What? The confusion must have been written all over your face. Papa stood up, finally getting rid of his clothing as well. And by lucifer did he look mouth watering. Heat returning to your face. Your chest. Your lap.

"Kneel and show me your pretty back. Arms on the backrest. You might want to hold on tight."

You had to admit, it sparked some type of fear in you. Of the unknown. Having no idea what would await you. Oh but you so happily obliged any of his commands. He didn't even have to try and dominate you.

You gave your whole being to this man.

"Are you ready for me, amore?"

"I am…"

You were not.

A cry escaped your throat as one of your perfectly round cheeks got slapped. And it stung. Hanging your head between your arms you had to take a moment to collect yourself. But Terzo wouldn't give you that. The back of his hand softly rubbed over the already reddening area. Only to follow up with another smack. Gritting your teeth you were determined not to whimper and moan. Not yet.

"These are some fun little helpers, don't you think?" His voice was ringing in your ears. Next thing you knew was that sharp sensation on your other cheek. Pressing against your skin. Into the flesh without puncturing it. Yet.

"You see. I got those gloves specifically made to suit my needs. They work like a charm on little lost lambs like you." Your legs started trembling once more. Out of arousal or panic, you didn't know. You might have bitten off more than you could chew. But it was too late now. Terzo aligned himself with your backside. Groping at your ass and hitting the unmarked side. You started dripping more precum onto the seat below. Sounds of lust rolling over your lips. Increasing as you got widened. He started entering you.

He wasn't a soft and slow one. And he of course noticed your prep. Seeing no need in being careful. The unusual tingling of his spiked gloves wandered towards your hips. Holding you firmly as he moved forward with one single, deep thrust. He filled you good. So good you were worried you'd might break.

"No need to hold back Ciccino. Let me hear how much you enjoy being handled by your Papa~"

It worked like a magic spell. The second he started moving, your lips did too. Letting all that pent up desire flow as cries of affection. Lust taking over your whole body. Overwriting your mind. "I love it.. haah.. Please Papa.. move."

You sounded surprisingly stable considering the position you were in. Starting to sob a little when he continued the motion. Feeling way too overwhelmed. His gloves scraped over your soft fleshy waist. Leaving thin red trails all over. Watching you from above, the antipope leaned forward. One of his hands snaking around your throat. Leaving you breathless without applying any pressure. "Fear not. You're safe with me." You had absolutely no reason not to believe him.

Bucking and rolling his hips in a steady rhythm now. Reaching you farther than anyone before. Every time he hit that sweet spot of yours you only saw stars. Your throat getting dry and raspy from freely letting him hear your pleased hums and moans. Fingernails digging into the backrest of the furniture. Trying to somehow ground you, without much luck. Too great was the sensation. The built up. The next slap.

You started to crave them. The lingering pain. The anticipation. How well it mixed with his unforgiving thrusts.

Your dick started to rub against one of the pillows. With every new move from behind. It was nearly unbearable.

"Papa I-" Barely audible. Your voice hoarse.

"It's okay tesorino. You can come. Let me fuck you through your bliss."

Instead of quickening or slowing down, he concentrated on angling his plunge right. Knowing exactly where to ruin you. Have you a writhing mess. Evoke those sweet sounds once more before your ecstatic climax. Pushing you over the edge and letting you fall. Into a deep abyss of utter satisfaction. It really didn't take you long to cry out his name. To dirty your seat with warm cum. To ache for this overstimulation to stop. Your breath momentarily getting caught in your throat as warm trails of blood started flowing from your hips. He just couldn't contain himself anymore. Hearing the devotion in your voice. Letting go of your neck his hand came back to rest on your behind. Grabbing fiercely. Nearing his own orgasm.

You felt a second heat wash over you as Terzo bathed your insides with his own flowing cum. Hearing him groan was heavenly. Filling the room around the two of you with panting. The air thick.

Again he leaned over you. Placing kisses along your spine. Muttering hushed sweet nothings against your heated skin while trying to regain his breath. It was a nice feeling. One you could get used to but wouldn't dare to crave. You were nothing but a mere sibling of sin. Replaceable. Closing your eyes you basked in the aftermath of your climax.

"I must say… This was better than my original activity. I'll make sure to personally overlook your schedule in the future. There might be times I will need your help with some… Tasks." He sounded almost endearing.

Sliding out of you he let go of your bruised body. Admiring the artwork he created. His lips curving into a smile. "It looks like we need to clean you once more… What do you say about some help this time?"

I finished this at 1 am so excuse the mess. I still think some fellows like @sweatandwoe and @norintha could enjoy it tho

You can also find it on AO3 Here

[namuneulbo]

week sixty-seven

OKAY woah. crazy week. although mainly friday was crazy lol. im just gonna do a short highlight then tell yall ab friday in more detail.

- v ghosted me. or well, he hasnt been in on the app in days so it could be that but im gonna count it as ghosting considering he MUST notice we arent talking, right?

- started talking to j. hes a slow replier although he did tell me quite early on that he is so i dont mind it AS much but ya. i wanna talk to himmmmm more.

- in general ive been getting more matches recently, esp w men. idk how im suddenly in such an era.

- won music quiz ???? me, c, f, p and v shared the price. s had sat w out team and helped us but he wasnt officially in our team so he didnt drink anything. i had mixed vibes ab s but i quite like him now, hes really nice but he reminds me a bit of k but i dont want to think of him as shittily as i do of him just bc he kind of reminds me of him manner-wise. manner-wise as in the way he speaks, not acts.

- ms concert !!!! so good !!! shes so talented !!!!!!!!

okay, so... friday. the day had come. were all doomed.

i went to helsinki by train early in the morning and i arrived in helsinki around 11:30. i had forgotten my sandwiches i had made the night before so i was starving. i went to hesburger and had some food. i was sooooo bored for the like,, 5 hours of freetime i had before the show. i went to check out where the venue was and i was feeling quite happy but my ears started hurting so bad bc it was cold so i after finding the venue i had to find somewhere to warm up for a bit which ended up being in some health center. the area around the venue was so,,, lame. like there was nothing to do at all and it was raining and it was cold so walking outside wasnt my fav activity. i decided to go buy some food for the train ride home and then i struggled figuring out what to do bc like,, i had like two hours of freetime left so i COULDVE gone back to the city center and done some fun stuff but it was kind of that thing of when u have plans at like 4 pm so u cant do ANYTHING before that even though u realistically have the time to do it. yk?

it started raining and i was not feeling myself at all and i had the urge to cry bc i was so overwhelmed but i ended up walking around in a light panic then i went to the venue and just waited outside for like an hour. a group of brits in doomed hoodies came out of a van and walked into the venue and bro i was starting to get nervous lol everything started feeling so real.

the venue opens. ppl rush in and i let some ppl go before me since i didnt want to be first at the m&g. we got a neon orange wristband and then were guided to the wardrobe. i put away my stuff and then went to buy merch. i got the save the bees tee and its so cute. my card declined at first bc of some area ban thingy so i had to fix that real quick before buying it. the staff were so nice though!

i had to pick up my makeup from the wardrobe bc i forgot it in my bag and also i was unsure whether we were meeting dan w masks on or not so in case we werent wearing masks i wanted to fix my makeup. we ended up meeting him w masks on though so i wouldve been fine.

i go to the m&g queue. i didnt even know it had started until i saw dans back on the side of the screen separating him from the queue. he wore a nice outfit. some sweater w a skeleton on the back and ripped jeans. very dan. very on brand. i had a lil freak out and fangirled by myself lol i was so aaaaaa

i was talking w n for a good bit during the queueing and in the midst of it she said i should ask what his fav pok��mon is bc we had been talking ab that a couple of days ago while i was making hama bead stuff for him. i told n id ask him to send her a voice message from my phone. n got excited ab it but told me to not waste my time w him on her but i was so sure i wanted to do this so i just set that as a lil goal.

when i was close to the front i stopped talking w n for a bit and just tried to calm down a bit. i put on the screen rec on my phone when the last person in front of me left to go meet him and once i got to walk in we immediately went in for a hug and bro i was so awkward bc he wanted to hug me above my shoulders bc yk,,, hes tall but i tried doing one of those twisty ones where one arm goes above and one under and broooo. THE TWISTY HUGS R NOT EVEN GOOD LIKE BRO NOOOOOO... anyways, before i start crying ab that, lets continue. he immediately asks if i want anything signed and i hand him my pride flag and make a little joke ab how i thought it was on brand. he asks if the letter in my hand was for him and i misinterpret it as if the pride flag was for him so i just answer awkwardly like “no but i brought u a letter” like OKAY GURL....... anyways... i hand him the letter and make a lil comment on the taemin sticker i used to seal it w. he laughs ab it and says i have taste. he goes in to reach for my phone and asks if i want him to take the pictures and i just say yes and tried to make him notice my cringey wallpaper of him and phil, yk,,, thinking i could make a lil joke ab how i have it as a joke and that i dont have a literal photo of him and phil from like 2009 thinking its the shit (although,,, it kind of is the shit). anyways, he doesnt notice it and just takes a few pics. 5/6 turn out blurry but theyre all cute so its fine, still ly dan lol he starts ending the interaction and being all like “well, i hope u enjoy the show tonight!” and i reply w like “also-” and he was listening attentively again and being all like “yeah?” instead of scurrying me away (bro i feel like im making both him and me sound like douchebags but it was a pleasant experience, it was just a very hectic one). i tell him shortly that me and n met bc of him and phil and he was like “really??” and i asked him if he could send a voice message to her telling her his fav pokémon bc she loves pokémon. hes like “yes, ofc!” and then i hand him my phone w me and ns chat open. he starts a message but doesnt record it so he has to do it again and he reacted so cutely when he realized it wasnt recording PLSS hes so cute. he records it again and then i thank him and he goes in for another hug before i leave and aghhhh i was so shakey afterwards. also, HE SMELLS SO GOOD????? its very obviously lush so i have a mission to find that exact lush product now bc WOAH. i smelt like him for a solid 30 mins afterwards, it was crazy.

the show was so good and my seat was great!!! im so happy w everything and the pre-show pl was amazing. sticker, famous last words, his own diss track??? i loved it. so happy. i love dan sm!!!

sotw: the cure - apart

[relax-and-read-on]

Primarch bio baby headcanon: loyalist edition!!!

(for the anon that was so patient <3)

I have baby brainrot, I just love kids so much, and this is devolving in it's own lil au I supose lmao. Big E definitely made the babys in test tub and sprang them in his kids, because he's an idiot with no self control.

Lion: His first reaction, upon being handled a baby, is to ask if he really has to keep it. Then to ask if any of his sibling want an extra child. When he realise he TRULY is stuck with his kid, he goes back to Caliban, set up an entire team with tutors and nannies, and just... Leave them there. He come by semi often, but he's never an actual father to that child. He never had any parent, and in his opinion, he turned fine. He don't see why he has to work for it when he provide a safe environment for the child... Wich does fuck the kid up quite a bit. They also grow into a cold, distant person, and don't see why they should have any attachment to their father. Surprisingly, those two sociopathe work together in a pretty great way when the child turn into an adult, you just could never guess that they are technically a family.

Leman: He get a baby girl. And it's Daddy's lil princess. She's so spoiled, and loved, and quite overprotected. He often joke that he will have to kill any potential bf she has. But with time... Things become strained. She love her dad! She really, really do!!! But. He doesn't want her to grow up!!! The galaxy is a scary place, and he is so sure that he know what's best for her. She can't go on the battlefield, what if she got *hurt*?!? Wich is very awkward, as she is his wild daughter, riding like a valkyrie and wanting freedom. She's also a hothead, and would scream at her poor confused father about how much he dosn't respect her. They still makeup after every argument, usually by having a fun daughter/Father hunting adventure together.

Vulkan: He love his baby. But the thing is... He loves his sons too, and every humans to some extend. He is always so, so busy. He drag his child with him!!! As much as he can!!! But it's so insanely hard to get one on one time with them. The kid understand, really, they have the patience of a saint. They get that their dad has protect everyone. Become a very compassionate, if slightly sad child. Eventually as an adult, they do express their issues, how they wished that their father had been around more... But they forgive poor Vulkan. It hurt more when he's not there, because when he is, he's the best. He came from a large family, and always loved taking care of kids. Hia child is probably bff with Perturabo's and Angron's ones, making a sweet trio.

Corvus: She is a bit unsure on how to raise them at first as a baby... And unintentionally, she mimic a lot of behavior the her twin, Konrad, is also doing: Raising them collectively with the legion, letting them be a part of the family, focus on their culture, giving all the food... The baby might become a bit weird, as they talk like they are reciting poetry at all time, but they are one of the most well adjusted ones. The one thing that is very surprising is how much Corvus nieces, nephews and niblings just... Seem to adore her and constantly show up. It is partly because she bakes so much, and partly because she is the only "aunt" of the family, a nice feminine presence in this sea of testosterone. She gracefully accept this role.

Ferrus: his kid (who got big boy energy) consider himself to be the "eldest" sibling of their family, and love making fun of Fulgrim's child. The do play fight a lot, but it's never serious. As himself.... He is. So chill. He got the detachment of Ferrus, with the personal insight of Fulgrim. He treat problem like just another part of life. Super into things like philosophie and psychology, he's probably one of those that enjoy spending time with Grandpa Big E the most. When asked about his interest, he simply said that he's perfect mix of his two parents: He like knowing how things work, and he like people. As such: learning how people works. Very tall and handsome, look a lot like Ferrus, if he smiled more. Ferrus is very close to his kid, and love listening to him happily infodump on his various special interest.

Sanguinius: Oh that child. Is perfect. Born as the prettiest baby, who never made a fuss, who was always smiling. They are the smartest and prettiest and the most talented kid in the galaxy. And Sanguinius, the fool, keep saying to them ever. Single. Day. He's so!!! Proud of them!!! Of how perfect and gifted they are!!!! But then one day, the kid is a teen.... And they tried to do a thing. And failed. And were just unable to do it. And it made them break down. Living in the shadow of Horus and Sanguinius, of being the person that people just expect everything off, is so damn hard. The pressure was too much, and Sanguinius then also had a meltdown realising his expectations fucked up his baby. Hapily, his child as a wonderful twin in the person of Horus' brat, who will do EVERYTHING for his sibling, to make them comfortable and ok with themself again.

Roboute: first, I can only imagine Roboute having a baby boy, don't ask me why. And listen... He love his son. So much. But he got McFreaking CURSED with the worst hellraiser of the gang. I'm talking "sneak aboard spaceship at 6" level of ridiculous. It give him grey hair. At the same time... He wouldn't change anything about his child for all the gold in the world. He actually sat down his child when he was 5 and told him, with all the seriousness he could manage, that he could become and do anything he ever wanted, Roboute would love him anyway. And he intent on keeping up those words. Meanwhile, the kid is like, a rogue trader in the making, and probably has warrants to his name in a few systheme... But he still adore his dad. They tease each other a lot, Rob calling his son a rascal, and said kid calling his dad a boring old man. They have the same smile and deadpan humour.

Jaghatai: Jaghatai... Is not very sure how he's supposed to handle a baby, in very praticals way. How do you change them??? Is horse milk appropriate??? Why are they so small!!! He does make mistake, and is too stubborn to ask for help. He's lucky that a few of his sons came from large family, and still remember how to do all those things. He's not very attached at first at the little crying machine... But the older they get, the more loving he become. The first time he put them on a lil child sized bike??? Oh god. He may have cried a bit. And things only get better from there. When they turn into a teenager, they have a wonderfully communicative and close relationship. Sure, the kid has some HEAVY wanderlust, and a lot of people think Jaghatai should be a bit more strict with him... But he trust them. They are a good kid, and if they ever need help, he will be there for them.

Rogal: Listen. There might be a few manual on how you are suposed to raise kids... But at some point, you have to be adaptable. Rogal is not. He created a "perfect" schedule on how to raise his kid, and the fact that it's hard to respect is just frustrating. Clearly he is doing something wrong, but he can't figure out what!!! It can't be that hard can't it??? Normal humans do it all the time!! The kid grow up to be a neurotic mess, and is never able to properly express their emotions toward their father. By a stroke of luck (and maybe some of Guilliman pushing), rogal's child is bff with Roboute's son, and he get SOME exemple of what communication is like.

[inkedtae]

rupture; rapture ⇾ kth. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ ex-boyfriend!taehyung x reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾  one shot, angst, smut, f2l(?), e2l(?), ex lovers au, rekindled lovers(?), sculptor au, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾  responding to a late night call for help forces you to revisit truths you so skillfully ignored. was it always meant to fall apart to fall back into place?

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 13.2k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ slight upsetting themes, mentions of a new relationship, mentions of infidelity (tae thinks reader used him to each on her date), vague mention of consuming alcohol, switch!Taehyung, mullet!taehyung, sub!reader, unprotected sex, rough sex, clay/paint/art sex(?), hate-love sex(?), makeup sex(?), size kink, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms (f.), creampie, overstimulation, a lil degradation, a lil face-licking, body worshipping, clit worshipping, a lil clit biting, choking, spanking, motorboating, begging, teasing, swearing, breath play, breast play

anon asked: taehyung19angst asghjkll. U have a prompt list ? So for that. Maybe. If u want to. WOW. Ur awesome. The bestest. Okay. Bye. Love. Me.

#19 ⇝ “You said you knew how to do this.”

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾  i am aware this is supposed to be a drabble but that never seems to be even for taehyung so here’s a one shot instead. also sorry for writing this so late 

☾ banner by ⇾ @editingverse​ (thank you so so so much dear~ please go give her all your love!! this banner is beautiful!!)

☾ beta’d by ⇾ @kkulmoon​ (luff you, my soulmate crackhead~)

☾ le playlist

◖send me a prompt from dabble drabble. i will try to get to it as soon as i can. please note that i have the right to refuse any request i find uncomfortable.◗

Navigating to the chipped yellow door is second nature. Four months of distance does not change how easy it is for you to find your way to his place from across town. Your most haunting regret, however, is accepting his call. You sat around your apartment for months, fantasizing about how powerful you’d feel when your phone rings and you see his name flash only to decline the call. You told yourself that is how you will regain your dignity, how you will reclaim your life. He’s been a big part of it since freshman year. Best friends instantly, lovers only a year down the line. Clicking that red button, rejecting his apologies is how you believed you’d be able to move on and fully erase him from your life for good.

But, in the midst of a drink with someone else’s company, he calls and you do not refuse. Your heart flips only to fall and shatter in the pit of your stomach. You press the green button without much thought and bring the phone to your ear. He sounds so unsure, so nervous. A relieved sigh you didn’t realize you were holding escapes you. Eyes watering, you whisper his name.

The shame creeps upon you, condescendingly soothing your ego. Where’s your dignity now? It’s as nonexistent as when you stormed out of this very door and swore never to return. You can hear the fates snickering, watching your pathetic self stand outside of the door. Shaking out a shiver, you gather up the scattered pieces of your courage and knock on the door.

The screech of metal on metal echoes as he unlocks the door. The sound is more comforting than you expected it to be. You can’t remember the amount of times you’ve nagged him to replace the damned thing. It’s old, rusted, and the scratches of the metal make you cringe as though your bones are rotting. It used to make your jaw ache, now it only comforts you. Little things already undress your confidence. What will seeing him again do? What emotions will it beckon?

Misery leaks from your bones and into your bloodstream. The door opens to a vision of grace. In his clay-smeared jumpsuit, the sleeves wrapped around his waist and his bare chest exposed, he stares back at you. Though frozen from the winter air, you feel your face grow hot. Eyes shaking, you don’t know where to look. You’re not even sure if you can meet his gaze. It intensifies with every ticking second his long bangs fall over his lashes. He let it grow out? You’ve begged him to do so for months and once you’re apart he finally gives in? You knew he’d look good, maybe even better than his shorter cut.

The sight only confirms that you’ll never understand him. But, you suppose, you don’t have to. He’s not yours to understand anymore, not even as a friend. That statement should give you a sense of relief, but it only resurfaces the loneliness you’ve been ignoring for months.

Shakily sighing, you plaster a polite smile and greet, “Hey Tae.”

Taehyung parts his lips, but his voice catches. He stares back at you, gaze dancing up and down your frame. He drinks in the way your black dress pants hug your curves, and how you dare to wear a tube-top under your coat in the freezing weather. Gulping, Taehyung flashes you a kind, tight lipped smile and moves aside to welcome you in. His chain looped earring dangles with his movements. It’s such a simple antic, but you cannot fight off the familiar comfort in your chest upon catching it.

Each step back into his apartment fogs your mind with memories of joy and despair alike. Sometimes, those emotions rise in tandem during the same memory, within the same five minute time span. But other times, those memories are saturated with one emotion or the other. You two could never find that balance; not as lovers anyway, not as you thought.

“Make yourself at hom-” he cuts himself off just as the door shuts.

You turn to face him, raising a brow at his slip up. Funny how things circle back no matter how much either of you try to suppress them. This place has always felt like home to you. In fact, revisiting it proves that it still does. He just never let you make it official.

The gloom of four months ago has followed you back in here as well, it would seem. You gulp down the little scratch in your throat and try your best to flash a smile. His brows raise at the gesture. You assume a teeth braced wince paints your features instead.

Clearing his throat, Taehyung corrects himself, “Comfortable. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab you a hot drink to warm you up.” His gaze shifts to the slanted window over his little studio sectioned in the corner of his apartment. “It’s really coming down out there.”

Setting your clutch down on his work table, you nod. He glares at your action before looking back at you. You are fully aware of his distaste for you to dump your things near his work, even if it happens to be your own sculpting supplies. However, he distrubed your date tonight and that little slip up of his recalls more anger than you care to accept right now. Playing into his pet peeves is the very least you can do to show him that you’re not here for anything else but fixing his sculpture.

With a pleasant smile plastered on your lips, you peel your jacket off and set it down on the table as well. Taehyung sarcastically smirks then makes his way to the kitchen. You know you shouldn’t but you let your eyes linger on his frame and follow him around the kitchen while he prepares something for you. His shoulder blades flex as he reaches for a mug from the top shelf - a detail you always found makes you anxious because the cups can easily slip out of his hand from such a height and break.

He must feel your gaze as he glances back at you. “You must be freezing,” he comments.

Looking down at your half top, you shrug. “Not really. That’s what a jacket is for.” You shouldn’t sass. It always gets on his nerves. But, the way he regards you with such tamed hostility and smirks all knowingly, switches something in you. You cannot hold yourself back and he cannot expect to call you over here in the dead of night for help only to glare and sneer at you.

Out of sheer spite, you sit on one of the stools by the table and bend down to untie your thick heeled boots. He absolutely hates this. Sloppy and messy, is what he tells you when you come into the apartment with your shoes on and take them off near his studio. Taehyung stirs the contents of your mug, tossing daggers at you in his stares.

It is only now, in the thick silence, do you hear the soft voice of Sinatra through the vinyl player. Glancing over at the source, you recognize the album cover immediately. It’s the same one you gifted him for his birthday last year. His next one is in a couple of weeks. The realization unexpectedly twinges your heart with guilt. You feel as though you should have already bought his gift, and planned his party. It’s not your responsibility to do that anymore, but you want to and that’s enough for your tongue to coat with disgusted remorse.

“Want me to get you a sweater?” Taehyung asks.

You sit up straight at the close sound of his voice. He stands in front of you with the mug in his hands, glaring down at your boots. Kicking them off by the heel, you stare down at the puddle you’ve made beneath the chair. You should apologize but, instead, you thank him for the drink, take it from his hands, and make your way to the project he’s been working on. He mutters curses under his breath before cleaning up the mess you’ve made… As he should.

You smirk into your cup before taking a sip. Hot chocolate. It’s all he can make, or cares to make. And though it is not your favourite drink, he still prepares it to your specifications. Extra sweet and creamy, with a dash of ginger. Could the habits of your past be muscle memory he cannot shake either?

The answer never arrives as your thoughts halt at the sight of his sculpture. Though returned back onto its pedestal, the torso seems to have endured a terrible fall. He’s so careful about things like this. How could he have let it happen? Was the inner wiring he used too heavy? Did he not use enough slip, otherwise known as wet clay, to keep additions in place?

You bite the inside of your cheeks to school your features. Still, there is no hiding the truth. Especially when it’s right in front of you. Redemption is nonexistent. The sculpture is ruined. Tilting your head, you stare at the unfinished molding and try to figure out how to fix it without adding more clay, since he claimed on the phone that he doesn’t have enough to start over.

“Well?” He asks behind you.

Looking back at him, you take another sip then hand him the cup to hold. Taehyung accepts it, bringing the mug to his lips. The gesture is so simple, so casual that you almost miss it. He did it a lot when you two were together. You did it too. It was never a pet peeve but rather something you were proud of. It proved how close you two were, how well you meshed. Sharing food is common between lovers. Only now, that’s not at all what you are.

You stare at him, mouth gape. He licks his lips before taking another sip. The action repairs your heart only for your reality to wreck it all over again. Catching your eye, he raises his brows in confusion. You flicker your gaze between him and the cup, hoping the silent gesture is enough to return his senses.

Eyes widening, he holds the cup away from his face. “Oh,” he hums under his breath. “I’ll, uh, get you a new one.”

“Don’t bother,” you shrug before he can even turn towards the kitchen. “It’s not that big a deal.”

It is. You’re not his and neither is that hot chocolate. He should know better. He should pay attention more. He can see this all in your eyes as you continue to silently judge him. It’s not that big a deal, you repeat to yourself. The way his large eyes soften, the way he pouts is not that big a deal. You have a job to do, feelings to ignore, and a person to never see again. All you have to do is remold the clay and be on your way.

Finally returning your attention to the sculpture, you approach it while pulling your hair back. It’s rather large since he scaled it to be life-sized, so you assume he has some structural wiring in there to keep it in place when molding. You might have to take it out and remold the entire section. But maybe you can simply push the wiring back in place? However, if your theory about the wiring being too heavy is correct, you might face another smash to the floor. So it seems easier to just pull it all out.

“Is the clay still wet?” You ask before poking the shoulder.

It’s tacky, but that’s not enough to keep it from drying. You scan the room for the spray bottle, finding it behind you. Being a sculptor yourself, you know that the clay has to stay wet enough to be able to continue to add and mold it. Your scan of the room reflects that he is close to finishing the project. He has the muse’s head and arms wrapped in air-tight bags to keep them from drying. They just need to be slipped, slid, and smoothed into place. The details also need to be added, but for the most part, he’s just about done.

“If you’re gonna figure it out yourself, why did you ask me?” He sighs as he sets the mug down near a cup of paint water.

His tone is uncalled for. Nothing seems to have changed. He still has a temper and makes no effort to readjust his attitude. You toss him a glare over your shoulder. After spraying some water over the sculpture, you start to dig your fingers into the molding. Taehyung sucks in a sharp breath behind you. You can’t blame him for such a reaction. It must be very disturbing to watch someone else dig through your hard work.

You take off the clay bit by bit, looking for the metal structure wires he must’ve used to keep it all shaped well. However, as you place another chunk on the table, you begin to realize that the sculpture is not hollow, meaning wires have not been used. He simply ventilated the slab of clay to help air bubbles escape when it comes time to fire it.

Furrowing your brows, you look over at him in confusion. He leans back against his work table with his arms crossed over his chest, staring at you. Is this a joke? He doesn’t need your help. He could’ve dug through the smushed clay and remorphed it himself. He’s more experienced than you are; he should’ve known this.

Your anger begins to fester in your chest. He must’ve heard. You still share some mutual friends, so he must’ve heard down the line that you were going out with somebody else tonight. Your outfit of choice is a clear indicator as well. He found out about your date, your first date in the last four months you’ve been broken up, and just needed to ruin it for you. Fuck, you can’t believe you seriously bought his lies again. It’s that stupid voice of his. So deep and soulful, you can never resist it’s lulling temptations.

“What?” Taehyung pushes himself off the table and walks towards you. “You’re pouting like you always do just before you’re about to shout. Is it that bad?”

Is that what he’s doing now? He’s trying to remind you how well he knows you, how well he can read you? If this is just another reminder that no one is like him, you just might prove him right and scream out of frustration. Huffing, you roll your eyes at him. No matter how much your heart flips and flutters at his concern, you will not fall for his stupid games.

He watches in confusion as you clean your hands off with a cloth. “God, (Y/N), what is it? I thought you said you knew how to do this.”

With a dry chuckle, you shake your head and mumble, “You’re still the same liar you’ve always been, Taehyung.”

The perplexed sculptor narrows his eyes. “What did I tell you about mumbling?” He questions in a grumble. “And what the hell are you going on about anyways?”

His tendency to be a walking contradiction will never cease to irk you. He tells you not to mumble then does it himself. Just another pet peeve he’s instilled in you that you can never shake. Then there’s the continuous lies he can never seem to stop telling. For once, why can’t he just be honest?

You toss the dirty cloth at him and make your way to his precious work table only to find that he moved your things to the chair by the door. You rush in that direction instead, and Taehyung follows not too far behind. “I can’t believe you’re still pulling this shit even when it’s over,” you scoff with a shake of your head. “You made it seem like you had no idea what to do. You guilted me into coming back here and for what? To ruin the first night I stopped thinking about you? Well, congratulations,” you drily chuckle as you grab your clutch and turn to face him. “You’ve ruined my night and my date.”

Taehyung pauses mid stride. “Oh,” he rasps, eyes roaming over your body once more. “You had a date tonight?”

Eyes wide, softened, and wet, his next words catch in his throat. All you can make out is a quiet rasp. It’s a convincing act, but you know him well enough to spot his feigned innocence from a mile away. Setting your jaw, you shake your head and sigh, “Not any more.”

You reach for your jacket, but Taehyung is quicker. He snatches it first and holds it behind him. You open your mouth to curse at him when he rushes to say, “Wait, wait.” Hand on your waist, he holds you still.

You freeze under his palm. He’s barely used much force. It’s the simple touch itself that sends you into a trance. The memories of being pinned beneath him, or guided into grinding against his hips rush back to you. Breath hitching, you try to wipe the affection from your features. The searching look in his eyes tells you how bad of a job you’re doing.

“I could fix it myself, but not by myself,” he clarifies. “I just didn’t know how to get you here without making it seem like it’s a complete disaster. Be honest, (Y/N), if I told you I wanted you to sculpt with me you wouldn’t have shown up.”

Be honest. When the fuck have you ever lied to him? The question is tempting to ask, sitting right on the tip of your tongue actually, but you can already tell that you’ve made your annoyance known as concern swims in his eyes. He’s trying to find where he went wrong in his explanation. He’s never done that before. He never notices your discomfort during a fight, but always after the fact. That’s enough to have you consider his explanation, to consider the fact that maybe he has not changed completely, but he’s trying. Perhaps you should start trying too.

Besides, he’s not wrong. If he didn’t make it seem like it was irreversible, you wouldn’t have accepted the invitation over or even thought about ditching your date. Chewing on your lip, you sigh and nod. “Fine, I’ll help you fix it.”

A relieved smile plays on his lips. He removes his hand from your waist, muttering a quiet apology then returns your jacket onto the chair. You set your clutch down on there as well, nowhere near his work, and follow him back to the sculpture. He sprays it down as you take another couple of sips from your hot chocolate.

“When is this due?” You ask as you set the mug down.

Taehyung’s gaze shakes. “At nine,” he reluctantly replies. He sets the spray bottle down. You stare at him in confusion.

The time is both seemingly vague and specific. You furrow your brows, blinking rapidly in hopes that you can reprocess the information for more clarity. When that doesn’t work, you ask, “Tonight?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

Thirteen hours? That’s all you two have to remold and detail a life-sized sculpture. This information alone would’ve had you running to help as well. Why didn’t he just tell you this? Why did he have to lie? No, nevermind his lies. You both have thirteen hours to remold the base, attach the head and arms, and add all the details on all four pieces. It may seem like a lot of time but you also have to let the clay sit for a few hours before firing. However, with a sculpture this large, it might need at least three days to dry. How did he expect to finish the rest on his own?

Nothing is adding up. You know Taehyung very well. You’ve shared sculpting classes countless times. His work comes first; always. He sketches and prepares months in advance for a project since the clay can crack or explode during its bake. How could he not have done the same thing here? He should’ve started this at least four months ago… oh.

Taehyung spares you a nervous glance. He can see the realization of his own reality in your eyes. You swallow thickly, knowing you should just pretend that you haven’t noticed anything. Still, you say, “Tae, we both know that’s not enough time. Even if we split the work, it still needs-”

“Don’t worry about that,” he mumbles. His hands smooth over every chunk of clay he reapplies. “Let’s just piece it all together, okay?”

There is a lot you have to force yourself to ignore in his words and tone. He mumbles orders, and expects you to follow. His voice is deep and cold. He gives you his back while he speaks. It’s but another pet peeve of his that makes you want to pull your own hair out. However, most of all, you have to force yourself to ignore how painful it is. Seeing him again, only an arm’s length away, crumbles your anger and hearing his voice reminds you that he still holds every bit of your heart. You have to blink your tears back at the realization. This idea reeked the moment you considered it. But, you can never stop yourself when it comes to him. A year of friendship and two of love; how can you forget all of that in four months?

Taehyung turns to you, his eyes trailing up from your hips to your chest where they linger. Flickering his gaze back up to yours, he offers a tight-lipped smile. You fail to find it in you to return it. He sighs. Hands by his side, voice heavy with sincerity, he says, “I won’t force you to stay, babe- (Y/N).” His slip up has him frozen in place as well. Clearing his throat, he continues, “I need to get this done and you’re the only other person I know who knows how I like it.”

The familiar pet name gives you pause, but the end of that sentence has you hot all over. Your eyes widen at the alternate implication of his words and you can’t help but choke on your next intake of air.

Taehyung’s expression mirrors yours. Face reddening, he’s quick to correct himself. “No, no, I just mean artistically.”

You cannot find the words to say something, anything to make this situation better. Lips parted, all you can voice are quiet croaks of uncertainty. His large eyes, wide with anxiety, watch you carefully. He’s clearly unsure of how else to soothe your discomfort. He goes to say something else but the words fall short. The scene has your skin crawling with shivers. Shaking your head, you walk around him to smooth out the clay he remolded.

“I’ll fix her waist. I think you should get started on the details,” you say, hoping his words can just fizzle away along with the awkward silence that has fallen over the both of you.

Taehyung takes a deep breath. His eyes remain trained on you for a moment, watching as you match the sculpture’s left side to her right. Then, he circles around you and makes his way to his work table.

Though you should be focused on your work, you still have one eye on Taehyung. The jumpsuit sits low on his hips, and his back is bare of any scratches. Your lasting desire to mark up the blank canvas of his back tightens your core. You can feel your black pants dampening at the thought alone. Your hand gently presses into the mold, smoothing out every piece you add.

With Sinatra’s calm voice circling around the room, you and Taehyung fall into a comfortable silence. The rhythm of your actions, the way you move around each other is like muscle memory. You can subconsciously anticipate the other’s next move and react accordingly. He hands you tools before you need to ask and you accept them without a second thought. It’s easy, comfortable, and so familiar that you almost forget he ruined your plans tonight.

Taking a step back, you wipe your wrist over your brow then assess your work. You’ve been trying to sculpt one of the figure’s breasts, adding clay and rounding out the mold. However, it seems like you’ve undershot a bit and made one mound a bit smaller than the other. You sigh and reach for more clay when Taehyung interjects.

“Leave it,” he says from his place beside you.

When did he step back too? He was just detailing one of the sculpture’s hands. “They’re uneven,” you point.

He smirks. “I like them that way.”

His eyes flicker to your chest again before meeting your gaze once more. You shouldn’t look into that gesture too much, but you do. He can’t say something like that, stare at your breasts suggestively and think you wouldn’t notice. Unless, he wants you to notice. You start to wonder how often he’s thought about your breasts and why he feels the need to incorporate them into his project.

While you remain standing in your place, Taehyung returns to his crouched position and continues his work. You can’t bring yourself to move just yet. You stare at the sculpture, at the curve of her stomach and dip of her waist. She’s full-figured and even has stretch marks on her hips, well the side that has not met the floor still has stretch marks. You need to add them on the other side. But, the shape of her body just looks all too familiar.

No, no, it can’t be. He didn’t sculpt your naked body entirely from memory. And why should he? You’re not a couple and he’s made it clear during those four months of silence that he doesn’t want anything to do with you either. No, this is merely just some consequence. You sigh and get back to work. Those thoughts completely boarded shut out of your mind.

“Were you having fun?” He suddenly asks, standing up to start detailing the sculpture’s breasts.

You glance up at him, about to ask what he means when you remember the date. “Oh,” you hum. You’re not sure how much to tell him, or if you should even entertain him with an answer at all. He’s obviously still affected by the break up if he let it get in the way of his project timeline. What was your date’s name anyway? Morgan, Mac, Mark- Mark! Yes, it was Mark something or maybe something Mark. Fuck, you can’t even remember his name. You’re not even sure where you met up for drinks.

Taehyung pauses his sculpting around the figure’s nipple. He chances a quick look at you, raising a brow. “That bad?” He teases with a playful smile.

His light-hearted tone shocks you out of your thoughts. Maybe you read the situation wrong. Maybe he is over you. Otherwise, why would he ask you about your date so casually, like you two were friends? Or maybe… he’s seeing someone else himself? Sumni did ask for your permission to date him. She was so kind and understanding in her questioning that you couldn’t refuse her. Even if it was a week ago, she would have already talked to him by now and they could’ve already gone on their own date. The sheer thought of Taehyung dating around makes your throat tighten and stomach ache.

“I didn’t stay long enough to make up my mind,” you reply, trying your best not to mumble. Your voice is small though, and tone shot by misery. A wave of hopelessness washes over you at how final everything between you and him feels again. “I don’t think he’s for me though.”

Taehyung hums in acknowledgment or understanding? You don’t know. You can’t pull yourself out of your self pity long enough to decipher it. “Poor guy,” he mutters as he picks up where he left off on the sculpture’s breast.

You carve uneven lines on the figure’s hips, recreating some stretch marks like he had done to the other side. Raising your brows, you question, “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs a single shoulder. “I just know what it’s like to lose someone as great as you,” he explains in a near whisper. “The poor guy is gonna lose his mind.”

Tears sting your eyes. He can’t do this. He can’t guilt you for leaving him, not when you both know that it’s just as much his fault as it is yours. Still, even in the midst of pain, the kindness laced in his words tugs the corners of your lips into a small smile. Is that what happened to him? Did this poor guy, this poor little sculptor lose his mind when he lost you?

You toss him a sidelong glance, whispering, “He’ll survive.”

“He can only pray to.”

What is this? What is he trying to say? So he regrets the way that things ended, perhaps even that they ended entirely. Does he think you don’t? Nothing can change how you feel for him. Nothing can hide how badly you wish you can still call him your own. But, he said it himself. He does not want you around, in such close proximity to him anymore. Two years into, what you thought was, a serious relationship and he does not want you living with him.

“I’ll grow tired of us,” he said. Or does he not remember? Did he forget how he promised he’d get you a key, or help you pack? Did he forget how high he got your hopes? Has the fear of getting bored of your company finally withered away?

What does it even matter now? You both said things you haven’t even attempted to take back. Not a single apology has been issued either. Whatever relationship you once had is gone. You can never get it back. Still, you don’t have the stomach to break it to him. You can’t destroy the last little bit of hope he has in you. You can’t find it in you to tell him that no amount of prayer will get you to willingly return to such a relationship.

“He hasn’t been in my company for too long to miss me. Actually, I’m worried he’s already grown tired of it,” you reply. Guilt immediately sheds your pettiness. You know you shouldn’t have said that. Though, he did egg you on. How could he have expected to bring up such a subject and think that you wouldn’t retaliate?

Taehyung tenses and shifts his jaw, giving the impression that he’s chewing gum, and turns to glare at you. From experience alone, you know very well that when Taehyung chews on his imaginary piece of gum, he’s either cocky, pissed or both. This time he has tears glassing over his eyes. Shame cringes your heart. You can’t bring yourself to look at him again. Getting even does not feel as dignifying as you thought it would. You cannot even find a shred of pleasure in seeing him so speechless.

Parting your lips, you try to soothe the sting of your words, only they all fall short. Every time you try to recollect them, they wither away. It’s almost like your mind is warning you from worsening the situation. But the silence is deafening. Sinatra's voice cannot even fill it. His disappointment is too loud; the shattering of his heart like an explosion. And your pain can never shut up. All you can hear is how miserable your soul is and how depressed your heart becomes upon every glance his way. It’s the soft look in his eyes, even when he’s glaring, and the little scrunch of his nose.

With a deep breath, you turn back to the sculpture to keep your hands busy. As you use the pad of your pinkie to smoothen out the stretch mark lines you’ve carved, you say, “We had a drink. That’s as far as we got.”

Taehyung clears his throat. His hands pick up where they left off around the nipple. “Had I known you were out, I wouldn’t have called,” he sighs.

You try not to scoff, particularly because he sounds surprisingly sincere. Sneaking a glance up at him from your squatting position on the floor, you try to search for his usual tell-tale signs. He always blinks one too many times in the same two minute span when he’s lying, that’s if he’ll even meet your gaze. He’s already looking at you when you begin to search his features. He holds your stare and you start to worry that you wrongfully cursed him before when you were convinced that he knew.

“You really didn’t know?”

He shakes his head. “Why would anyone tell me you’re going on a date?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Would you want to hear that I have been on one?”

“Have you?”

Internally cringing, you snap your attention back on the sculpture. The question simply slipped out. He must know that. Of course you’re curious about his love life since you’ve left it, but you don’t need him to know that. And even if he was prying into your date tonight, you still don’t feel comfortable with him knowing that you’ve been wondering about him too, worrying that he’s found the love of his life and forgotten all about you.

Taehyung chuckles. “Do you really want to know?”

Three? Four? Five? How many dates did he have to go on to be able to ask such a question? You hold your breath the moment you feel your next intake waver. Running your tongue between the gaps of your teeth, you stand up and begin detailing the left breast.

“I’m not going to beg you,” you grumble under your breath while sculpting the nipple. Your eyes shift from the one you're working on to the one he perfected, making sure they’re at least even.

“Never had a problem with that before.”

He does not mutter it. He does not whisper it. He chuckles through the statement, cockiness dripping from his tone. Shooting him a glare, you find his jaw moving, the imaginary gum returning. Taehyung smirks at you, eyes dancing over your features like he’s figured you all out.

You raise your brows at him, lips slightly parted by a little smile. “Once again, Taehyung, your memory has miserably failed you,” you start only to widen his grin.

“How so?”

“You’ve been on your knees far more times than I’ve been on mine. You’ve whined louder too.”

He leans in, wrist against his stomach as he lets out a hearty laugh. You feel a rush of your arousal pool at your core just from the simple sound. Face growing hot, you realize how much you’ve missed this, missed him. He always laughed with his whole body, clutching onto you when clutching on his stomach never granted him any stability. Sometimes he’d brace his teeth in a boxy smile and let out his deep chuckles that way. So endearing, so cute, Taehyung would always loop you in his laughing fit as well.

Biting on the sides of your cheeks, you keep yourself from joining in this time. “Why is that so funny?”

Taehyung shakes his head at you as his laughter dies down. With a smile still gracing his features, he replies, “You’re always begging for me. Oh, I remember once you were on the table and you won’t let go of me and until I, and I quote, ‘rammed into you with the force of a thousand waterfalls.’”

Shit. You remember that day all too clearly. Taehyung had been painting and you were somewhere in the kitchen sketching his hands from a distance since he would always tease you about that. Somehow you found out he’d been painting you nude from memory and wanted to help him out. You began stripping for him, inching closer with every piece of clothing you shed. He watched you draw closer to him, and there was something about the way his eyes drank you in that you could not shake. It just made you giddy all over, dripping for his love by the time you were fully naked and within his reach. You were so horny, you said anything to make sure he ruined you.

Avoiding his eye, you reluctantly reply, “I do not recall.”

That statement tips him off immediately. His endearing innocence darkens; you don’t even need to look over to witness it happen. You can feel it. You can feel his demeanour change. Taehyung sets whatever tool he’s using down and towers over you. Stilling in place, you let him graze the bridge of his nose in your hair.

“Do you want me to remind you,” he whispers before pressing his lips to your ear, adding, “my muse?”

Knees all but trembling, you have to remind yourself to keep your eyes open. His warm breath fans over your skin, prickling goosebumps all over. His fingertips brush up the length of your spine, streaking your back with clay and leaving a chain of shiver in their wake. Then there’s that little pet name. Your soul shudders to hear it again while your core waters.

What does he even mean? How far is he willing to go to remind you how badly you wanted him?

Breath shaky, you gingerly meet his gaze. Noses brushing, you try to ignore how good he smells. His scent is always a cross between chalky clay and citrusy cherries. A whine threatens to slip out and you have to swallow thickly just to silence it. “You can try,” you whisper only to feel his hands on your hips.

The grey clay stains the hem of your black pants and a majority of your skin. Taehyung turns you towards him then presses himself against you. His semi-hard rubs against your stomach, making him groan. Seems like he’s falling apart faster than you are. Did he miss this too? Miss the way you smell, the way it feels to be near you again?

You rest your arms on his shoulders and he guides you around and back to his work table. It’s almost like a little dance, with the quiet music still playing in the background. Faces only a breath apart, the temptation to kiss him only grows. But giving in would only prove him right. After so many months, you cannot grant him this victory of being right, especially since he was the one in the wrong when you left.

When the back of your thighs meet the edge of the table, Taehyung shifts his hands down to your ass, gripping tightly and he lifts you up against him and onto the table. You have to choke back a moan just from the rough grip. Your lips brush against each other’s, but neither one of you is willing to bite the bullet first.

“Any of this familiar yet?” Taehyung asks. His voice is almost an octave deeper, saturated in lust and desire.

Smirking, you shake your head.

Taehyung tongues his cheek and cocks a brow. He leans back a bit, hands circling around your waist to rest on your thick thighs. His cocky grin widens as he pushes them further apart. One of his hands shifts up to your crotch, thumb grazing the seams. Face lighting up, Taehyung glances down at your crotch and brushes over it once more.

“No panites?” He questions with a chuckle. “This is looking more and more like that night then I thought it would.”

The confidence he oozes should annoy you, but you find yourself only spreading your legs further for him. Whenever he’s acting this egotistic, you cannot help but respond to it by giving yourself to him. This is a fact he knows well and uses to his advantage any time he’s ever felt like it.

You try to keep your wits about you, saying, “I wouldn’t know.”

Taehyung suddenly leans in. Your breath hitches at the realization that he’s swallowing his pride, that he’s finally going to kiss you. You’ve been dreaming about his lips for months, wondering how you’d be able to find someone else who just fits ever so perfectly against your lips. Eyes fluttering closed, lips in a faint pucker, you’ve inhaled deeply only to have him kiss your chin. He chuckles quietly against your skin, licking his way to your jawline all while leaving you breathless.

“You’re about to,” he growls.

As your body is in the midst of reacting, he somehow digs his nails into the seams of your pants and tears them apart. You gasp, shifting your hands from his shoulder to the edge of the table. You cannot help but stare down at the tear in amazement. Questions on how and why die in your throat when you find that Taehyung’s attention is not even on you anymore. He’s tightening his grip on your thighs and gazes down at your pussy. It pulses under his gaze, much to his own amazement.  

Squatting down, he licks his lips at this new angle. “Well, fuck,” he whispers. “How long have you needed me?”

Four months, you wish you had the courage to say. Instead you breathlessly reply, “I’m not sure this is what happened that night.”

“How would you know? I thought you didn’t remember.”

He’s only teasing but his tone is accusatory. You already know it’s because you’ve refused to answer his previous question. And your decision to talk back only adds to his shift in demeanour.  Once cheeky, his features darken into something closer to vexation. You’ve pushed the wrong buttons it would seem.

Narrowing his eyes, he orders, “Tell me, my muse. Tell me how long you’ve been needing me.”

You suck in a sharp breath. Pressing your lips together in a fine line, you refuse to make another sound, let alone utter another word. You’ll be damned if you have to admit that you regret walking away, that you cannot even remember the details of your date because all you could think about was everything he would do differently. Having to admit that for the last four months all you’ve been able to do is touch yourself to the thought of him or cry wouldn’t just be motifying but shameful and pathetic.

With a slow nod, Taehyung sighs. You think this is it. He’s ripped your pants apart, looked at every inch of your barest part, and teased you all for nothing. You’d maybe ask to borrow some pants, and he might give you some. But, other than that, nothing would’ve come from this interaction. The flirty comments and knowing looks would disappear with your relationship, this you feel you are sure of.

Then, he plays against your expectations; something you should have expected. Just when you’re about to bring your legs together, Taehyung spreads them apart further and shoves his face between them. He cannot use his hands there since they are covered in clay and, it seems, he also refuses to use his tongue. You cannot hold back the moans that pour out of you with every ministration. Merely smearing his face into your heat, Taehyung teases your clit. The bridge of his nose trails between your folds, lips pressing wet kisses to your tightening hole. From left to right, he shakes his face against your pussy.

You buck your hips against his lips, lacking shame and restraint. “Tae,” you moan, voice breaking.

Taehyung pulls away. Heaving and eyes half-lidded, he smirks up at you. He’s drenched in your arousal, looking like the cat who got the cream. “How long?” He mewls.

“Gimme your tongue,” you whine.

Taehyung mockly pouts up at you. He always looks prettiest on his knees, pretending to be in charge from such a degrading position. “Would you tell me then, babe?”

Your hips inadvertently roll at the pet name. You love it when he babies you like that, when he makes you feel so precious and fragile even though you both know you can rule over anything you want. Hesitantly, you nod. He raises a brow, waiting for verbal confirmation that you’ll tell him once he gives you his tongue.

With a little shrug of a single shoulder, you reply, “Why don’t you give it a try, TaeTae.”

His left eye twitches. You know exactly how that name affects him. His anger and powerful demeanor tremble when you dwell on him like that. He doesn’t need to tell you that he’s suddenly yours to overtake; his large eyes do the trick.

Swiping his tongue over his lips, Taehyung cleans his mouth from you. One little taste and his pupils expand, blown by lust and hunger. You don’t have to waste anymore time convincing him that you’d answer his question if he goes down on you. Your taste seems to be enough of a factor, in itself. He dips his head back in, tongue out this time. The tip pushes through your hole, lapping up your pooling juices. Leaning back on your hands, you gasp a loud moan. He knows his way around so well. One flick up, and your toes are curling. No amount of time apart has disturbed his memory of you. This may have been something you noticed while sculpting but now you can feel it. Tongue in and out, warm and wet, Taehyung explores your pussy like it’s his first time, only he knows everything about it.

You want to tangle your fingers in his hair, to see how the long strands feel in your hand, but they’re covered in clay too. And you know from experience just how hard it is to get clay out of hair. Once it completely dries, it almost seems like the only other option is to cut it all out. So, instead, you just dig your nails into the table, engraving your presence in the wood.

Rolling your hips into his face, you cry out your pleasure. Your legs are shaking, squeezing around his face, but he can’t seem to care any less. In fact, judging by his groans and growls, he seems to love the suffocation. He even pushes your legs further against his cheeks. Freezing in place, Taehyung only allows his tongue to continue to swirl around your pussy. His fingers harshly press into your thighs, sure to leave bruises, but you don’t care. Having him mark you up just like when you were together, is enough to make your eyes roll back.

You’re so, so close. Pussy clenching, his tongue still pushes its way in. He’s determined to see you through, to have you unfold right in his hands so hard that he still won’t breathe. And though you start to worry a bit, you cannot really pay attention to anything else besides the pleasure.

“Oh, Tae,” you cry. Voice breathy and high-pitched, it’s only a matter of time before-

It hits you hard, fast, and completely off guard. You have felt it growing and knotting in the pit of your stomach, but have no idea it would rush at you this harshly that you completely fall back on the table. Body convulsing, you scream and cream all over his tongue, mouth, and chin. His entire face will smell like you for days.

Taehyung forces your tightening legs apart, gasping for air. Gazing up at you, he sticks his tongue out and against your clit. He’s determined to help you ride out your high and nods his head up and down. You watch him through blurry vision, shamelessly rocking your hips up to meet him halfway. Or, at least you try to. Soon, you become all too sensitive to even hold his gaze, let alone grind against his tongue.

You fight against his hold on your legs, whining loudly. “Okay, okay,” you gasp as you try to seat yourself up.

He doesn’t care. That once yielding look in his eyes flashes into a demanding one. Seeing you so helpless under him shocks him with power once again. “One more time,” he pants against your heat.

“TaeTae,” you mewl, attempting to manipulate your way out of this overstimulated feast.

However, the use of the name this time, only spurs him on. He knows what you’re trying to do and doesn’t at all find it amusing. This time when he repeats his words, he growls, “One more time!”

Lips suctioning around your clit, he harshly sucks. Slurping and swallowing everything you have to offer, Taehyung holds your gaze. You’re a trembling mess. Tears falling freely down your face, you curse him three times over and buck your hips against his mouth. He finds the entire sight so humorous, he can’t help but smirk.

You’re still his little toy, a play thing for him to fool around with and test out some kinks on. The realization should make you curse him again and again, but you can only play into it. Pouting and mewling, you’ve fully sold yourself out just so Taehyung is well fed with your juices.

This is the peak of his games, you think. This is as far as he will go and you expect that you’ll cum in another minute or so. But then his teeth graze your clit once, twice, three times. You come undone within seconds. Arching your back, you let out the neediest cry you’ve ever heard and pathetically cum against his chin. The shudders and shivers of your body are beyond your control, as is your broken voice and any lasting grip you thought you had on reality.

As if biting and sucking your clit isn’t mindbreaking enough, Taehyung dips his tongue back in you to sneak another taste. “Taehyung, please,” you beg. “Please!”

He finally lets up, removing his face from your sopping heat and releasing his hold on your legs. You instantly bring them together and hug them into your chest. Heaving and shedding your last few tears, you try to recompose yourself and the silent atmosphere you once shared while sculpting.

“Strange,” he starts, returning to his feet. He takes his hands in yours, slowly unwrapping the hug you’ve cocooned yourself in. “It sounds a lot like that night. But, that’s not at all what I was doing then to make you this needy.”

To anyone else, you would've looked fucked out and completely ruined. But Taehyung knows that’s not at all the case. He has tested your stamina enough to know that you can most likely go for another round or two. Pulling your legs apart, he stands between them then helps sit you back up.

Faces inches away, you exchange breaths. “How long have you been this needy, my muse?” He asks again.

He really does smell like you. His cheeks, nose, chin, and lips are smeared with your cum. It doesn’t even look like he was feasting. It almost looks like he just wanted to cover his face with your juices. Gulping, you consider his question. You did insinuate that you’d answer the question if he gave you his tongue. And, holy fuck, did he give it to you. However, an insinuation is not a promise. He made that clear during your last argument.

“I don’t remember promising anything,” you whisper in a light pant.

The pain in his eyes cannot be neither mistaken nor missed. Echoing his words all these months later, surely recalls suppressed emotions of misery and betrayal for the both of you. He sneers a smirk, glaring at your lips. “Your memory has failed you,” he hisses. Gripping onto your hips, marking you there with bruises as well, he adds, “But, I won’t.”

“Not again, anyway.”

You sound colder than he does which causes him to hesitate for a moment. His hands fall by his sides as he searches your face for some sort of confirmation to continue. He almost seems like he’s not sure if he really wants to pick up where he left off too, seeing that you’re still upset with him. The guilt of seeing him so fragile and wounded eats away the majority of your anger. But, if he thinks he’s the only one struggling to make sense of this break up, he’s wrong.

Right now, the only way you can think of showing that to him is by first displaying your eagerness to continue in this sexual stroll down memory lane. You lean forward, brushing the tip of your nose against his, and reach down to his crotch. The dent in his jumpsuit throbs in your hand. His hard cock all but pulses under your palm as you rub at it. His breath hitches. You then untie the sleeves of his jumpsuit and watch carefully as his cock comes back into view. Fuck, you’ve forgotten just how pretty it is when it’s all pink tipped and desperate to be pumped. He shifts a bit, you assume to step out of the jumpsuit, and resettles his hands back on your waist.

Not another moment of uncertainty stands between you anymore. Swallowing his pride, Taehyung kisses you first. Lips on lips, the taste of yourself on his tongue has you moaning already. He  seems to take this as a sign to let himself go as well. He pulls you closer to the edge of the table and rolls his hips into yours. The length of his dick rubs between your folds, but he doesn’t enter. Not yet. He simply teases the idea of entering, of ruining you.

But, you’re too overstimulated to enjoy it in its entirety. Your legs resume their little shudders at the tiniest bit of friction when his cock just happens to brush against your clit. Taehyung, upon noticing this, makes sure to touch it with every new grind against you. He smirks when you whimper into his mouth and chuckles a bit when you break the kiss to whine his name.

“What is it, baby,” he coos. He grounds his hips harder into yours, erupting moans from the both of you. “Ah, shit, I could just cum like this,” he hisses as his mouth hovers over yours.

A little smirk tugs on your lips at his words. Yes, you may be helplessly falling apart with every passing second. However, watching him come undone from the impression of your pussy against his cock, is a rather prideful moment. You tilt your head and begin peppering his chin and cheeks with open mouthed kisses, staining his face with your saliva now as well as your cum.

“Then, just cum, TaeTae,” you whine.

Perhaps if you didn’t sound so desperate, he probably would’ve switched back into his own submissive state. But, it’s the squeal in your voice and mischief in your tone that only drives him further down his power trip. He pulls away a bit, holding your horny gaze with an unimpressed one of his own. He realigns his hips as his jaw shifts. He’s pretending to chew gum again. Holy shit, he’s going to fuck you senseless.

He does not push into you though. Instead, he pulls you onto him by the deadly grip he has on your hips. You stare up at him as a loud cry escapes you with every inch that stretches your walls. Taehyung looks back with very little remorse in his eyes. The sight of you so small in his arms, whipped for his cock, makes his tip twitch a bit. But he is not immune to the action of entering you, sucking in a sharp breath.

“I can’t believe I forgot how tight you were,” he whispers, voice breaking.

And you thought you could never forget how big he is, but here you are. Eyes rolling back, you relish in his size like it the first time. “Big,” you mewl as he bottoms out. “Tae, you’re so big.”  You sound just as broken as he does.

He cannot even find it in him to be cocky about it. He hears the realization in your voice. He knows you’ve forgotten too. A flash of pain twinkles in his eyes. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and whisper. “Remind me, Taehyung.” His brows quirk up and you add, “Remind me how good you make me feel. And I’ll remind you the same.”

Taehyung presses a gentle kiss on your forehead. Then, his hips snap in action. Holding you close, he starts hard and fast. He’s naked and growling into your ear with every thrust. You’re clothed and whining with every rumble of his chest and jerk of his hips. You didn’t even have to beg to bring out such a feral side of him. Could it be that he’s looking for the same thing you are? A lost lover?

Clay smeared fingers pressing into his skin, you push away that thought and scratch at his back. That once blank canvas of muscle and skin will now be lined with your lov- lust. This is just lust. You have to remind yourself of this fact every time he pushes into you.

He quietly hisses with each streak until he pauses his thrusts. You pout, leaning back a bit to ask if anything is wrong. But before you can even part your lips, Taehyung is readjusting his grip from your hips to your tube top.

“You’re a fucking slut to dress like this for him,” he growls. Then, in one swift motion, he pulls it down. You gasp as your breasts spill out, not out of exposure, but simply shock. He grips onto the rolled down top and smirks. “They’re a little uneven,” he points out. “But, I like that about them. Does he too? Does he get to see you like this, slut?”

You’ve got it wrong. It’s not your use of his nickname that has sent him spiralling into a pit of dominance, but rather that you went out to see another man. Is that why he ripped your pants apart? He’s destroying the outfit he thinks you wore for somebody else. Not only that, but his words only confirm that he is indeed sculpting you. All from memory, Taehyung has been molding your naked body down to the precise imperfection of your slightly uneven breasts.

And while you’re still trying to make sense of it all, he slaps one of them causing you to moan and throw your head back. Taehyung grabs a hold of your chin and drags your head back down to meet his gaze. “Answer me,” he seethes. “How much of you does he have?”

“None!” You shout. Your breathing is uneven, and you have to swallow the lump in your throat to continue, “I don’t even remember his name; he’s irrelevant.”

Taehyung circles his hips around yours, clearly pleased with your reply. But he does not pick up where he left off. “You haven’t been able to remember a lot tonight. Is that all irrelevant to you too?”

The shake of your head is reactive. You barely even had to think about it. This act of pretending that you don’t feel anything for him anymore has clearly fallen. “That’s not it, Taehyung,” you whine, hooking a leg around his waist. He wipes the tears streaming down your face as you continue, “I just didn’t want to remember us.”

Licking his lips, Taehyung slowly pulls out and eases himself back in. You tremble, watery eyes twitching in bliss. “Tell me how long you’ve been needy, baby,” he whispers.

“Have I not said enough already?”

You clutch onto his biceps and buck your hips up to meet his. He gasps, unable to hide his smile. You can tell he wants to finish this conversation but, with the way your walls are tightening around him, he doesn’t seem like he’s able to. One look in his eyes and you can tell he’s consumed by the pleasure all too much to reply.

Taehyung lets one hand fall to his side when he starts to pick up his pace. You shift one of your hands to his shoulders while the other holds onto the table’s edge. He holds you by the grip he has on your rolled tube top and smacks his hips against yours. It’s almost as if he’s riding a horse with the way he’s fucking you. And if you don’t whine loud enough, he’d slap each of your tits and force those screams out of you, growling, “You can do better than that.”

Removing your hands off him and back to the table, you accidentally rest your hand on one of his palettes. You gasp, looking over to find your hand smeared with blue and yellow hues. Taehyung laughs and rams into you faster. “You’re just making a mess wherever you go, hmm?” he teases.

You pout. He’s having too much fun making a mockery of you. Granted, you’re loving the attention, the way he’s fucking you into submission and realization, but you cannot let all this go to his head too much. As he smacks your breasts once more, nipples a little raw as they sting, you wipe your hand on him, down from his cheek to his collarbone.

He gasps, but his hips never stutter. Before you can even register his actions, Taehyung readjusts his grip from your top to your breasts and shoves his face between them. He transfers the swirl of dark blue and gold all over you as he fucks you as senseless as you predicted.

And as he playfully punishes you, blowing raspberries into your chest, you find yourself missing this, missing him. How could you have forgotten he likes to get playful, that he can switch between his two demeanours so seamlessly? He giggles when he pushes your breast into his face and further stains them with paint.

“The only one making a mess is you,” you rush to whine as your impending orgasm nears.

Dipping your hand in more paint, you rub the colours on his back and shoulders. You’re going to colour him yours if this is the last thing the two of you do together. Paint on his skin, in his hair, all over him, you’re going to make your impression here last through all the moans and whines and lewd slouches of your sensitive wetness around him.

Taehyung kisses his way up to your lips. He slips his tongue in once he reaches them and rolls his hips into you particularly harder than before. He can feel that he’s got you trailing the edge of your high. Thrust upwards, Taehyung reaches your most sensitive place. Every ram into it makes you shudder, toes curling and moans pouring into his mouth. One of his hands shifts up to your breast, massaging the smeared paint in, while the other holds your hips in place.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whines against your lips. “Come back to me.”

He can’t do this. He can’t beg you to come back with his dick shoved so deep in you like this. You’re so fucking close and he knows this. He can feel every inch of you tighten around him and desperate to be released. It’s cruel of him to manipulate you like this, to kiss you like he’s lost in the moment when he’s really just lost in you.

Kissing his way to your ear, Taehyung feels your pussy quiver. He smirks, thrusting hard enough to move the table back, and growls in your ear, “Come back to me, my muse. Cum.”

You fall back onto the table, body a total shaking shock as your orgasm washes over every inch of you. With one hand trembling over your lips, your other grabs onto one of your tits in an effort to brace yourself from the rush of ecstasy that overcomes you. The moans and whines that leave you are no exception to your convulsing state. Their breathless, broken, and blaring as you practically scream out in bliss.

Taehyung enjoys the show, watching you forget how to breathe from his place between your legs. He’s still going fast and hard, groaning when he feels you coat his cock in your cum. Mesmerized by the sight of your unheld breast bouncing with each of his thrust, he slaps it. You squeal at the sting.

And as you try to look at him, still riding out your orgasm, Taehyung’s cock twitches only to paint your inner walls with his missed affections. He falls forward, over you, burying his face between your tits again. You push them into his face and shake them against his cheeks, hearing him growl over your heart.

At some point, he stops thrusting and opts to circling his hips into yours. It’s all the same to you. Your legs continue to shake and your heart still races. Drenched in sweat, paint, and clay, you two lie there for a second longer. Even while growing limp, Taehyung feels so full in you.

He peels himself off you. His face, glistening in paint, looks like Van Gogh’s starry night, his eyes being the sparkling stars. He smirks down at you before trailing his gaze lower. That smile falls with every part of you he realizes he has ruined. Your chest is exposed and covered in colours, shirt non existent, pants clay stained and torn straight down the middle, and pussy a sopping mess of your mixed cum when he pulls out.

“I did make a mess,” he pants.

One step back, then two, then three. He distances himself from you as if ashamed of his work. You slowly sit up and cross your legs. Already, they feel strained and sore. But, they’re the least of your worries. It's the way that Taehyung winces at the sight of you, that has your heart somersaulting into your stomach. You swallow thickly between heaving pants and watch him carefully. He’s completely bare and looks even more broke than you do. His gaze looks vague and face sickly. Shaking his head, Taehyung runs a hand through his hair. He looks so annoyed with himself, he cannot even find it in him to laugh at the fact that he only got more paint in his hair.

Crossing your arms over your chest to cover yourself up a bit, you say, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He blinks repeatedly, snapping his attention back up at you. “Why aren’t you disturbed by this?” He questions, voice all but breaking.

Your eyes scan up and down his frame before your brows knit together in confusion. Is he referring to his naked body, or that the two of you just came to the thought of dating each other again? Still, why is either of those things worth being disturbed over? A naked Taehyung post sex has never been a bad sight and, though things did end horribly, the thought of being with him again doesn’t seem so bad now. Did he not mean it when he asked you to come back? Was it just something to get off to? Are you just something to get off to?

“What?” You whisper now that your anxious train of thought has robbed your voice.

“Aren’t you dating?” He clarifies. “That poor guy. I can’t believe I just let us do that.”

You’ve never seen him this distressed. He walks back to you, just to grab his jumpsuit and briefs. He can’t even bear to look at you as you stare back at him in complete confusion. What does he think happened here? That you cheated? Clenching your jaw, you can't believe that he could think that low of you. Then again, you never did blatantly say that it was your first date since the break up. In fact, now that you think about it, you did make it seem like you were in a relationship with someone else.

Taehyung hastily gets dressed as you try to hop off the table without falling on your face from how weak your legs are after such a fucking. “Tae,” you start only to have him walk away. With a sigh, you call after him. He ignores you.

What the hell are you supposed to do now? You sure as hell can’t follow him with your legs so sore and he doesn’t seem to want to talk to you. And even if you could walk, your clothes are ruined and it would take a while for an uber to get here with all the snow coming down out there. The distant spray of the shower directs your attention to the hallway Taehyung escaped down to get away from you. Great, he’s showering and left you here to figure this all out yourself.

Taking a seat on the floor, you decide to give your legs a moment to rest before ordering yourself an uber and hoping that this night ends soon. You should’ve listened to your gut and rejected his call. You shouldn’t have agreed to this, or come here, or let him remind you just how much you miss and love him. All you ever wanted was- is him. If it haven’t been for this whole stupid issue about moving in, you’d still have him.

But, no. You had to force him into a step he wasn’t ready for. You lost him then and you came back to watch yourself lose him again. Is that it? Is that why you didn’t even explain yourself to the poor guy that was sitting across from you at Rollos. Yes, Rollos; that’s where you went for drinks. Wow, your memory really hasn’t served you well tonight. You hope you forget this tomorrow. You hope you'll be able to forget how pathetic you feel, how hurt he sounds, and how you lost him all over again.

“Get up,” Taehyung orders. His voice is rough, like he had been sobbing.

Looking over to him, you find that could’ve actually been the case. His face is tear streaked now as well as paint smeared. He stands a good few feet away from you, glaring down at your woefully ruined frame. “Taehyung, I’m not-”

He doesn’t seem to want to hear any of it. “Get up,” he repeats. “Go shower. I have some clothes for you to wear then I’m taking you home.”

“Tae, just liste-”

“Delete my number. We never talk about this again. And if you’re at all like the person I loved, you’d tell him the truth.”

Is he seriously judging you right now? You’ve barely even had a chance to explain yourself. He really doesn’t want to listen to anything you have to say, cutting you off like you’re less than him. You cannot help but scoff at him and his words.

Taehyung sighs. “Just please get up, (Y/N).”

“I’m not dating anyone.”

His superiority falls. The life returns to his face as he approaches you but you recoil into yourself the moment he steps forward. Pausing, he tilts his head at you. “What is it?”

What is it? This man is going to be the death of you. “You just shamed me for something that wasn’t true, Taehyung!” You shout.

“I thought you were cheating with me!”

You use the table to help yourself up and dryly chuckle. “Ha, yeah because lying is such a normal thing to do, right? I’m as twisted as you, Taehyung.”

“I lied because I knew saying no would hurt you. Why can’t you see that I was just looking out for you?”

That one sentence makes you freeze in place. Is he really that fucking dense? He can’t seriously believe that looking out for someone you love involves lying. Slowly turning to face him, you don't even make an effort to hide your tears anymore. “You were looking out for yourself and you know it!”

“I just didn’t-”

“Want to grow tired of me.” You finish for him in a mocking tone.

Taehyung huffs, shaking his head. “That’s not what I was going to say. Would you just let me finish?”

You’re done with this stupid conversation. All you want to do is go home and get as far away as possible from him and the way he smells and the fact that even though you hate him so much right now, you want him to come and hug you and tell you everything is going to be okay. But, he’s just so annoying. And you can’t bear to look at him anymore with that cold glare consistently being directed towards you. You’ll wait outside for the uber. Hell, you’ll just walk back to your apartment. Anything to get out of here and away from him.

In an attempt to follow through, you try to make your way towards the door, but your legs almost instantly give out.

“Jesus, babe,” Taehyung hisses, rushing to your side.

It’s not even just the fact that you’re sore but your ripped pants are starting to rub up against your cum leaking pussy. You whine a bit and try to shake him off in order to jump back onto the table. But, you’re thankful he stays by your side because you definitely cannot get up there alone with your lacking upper body strength.

His hands linger on your thighs, softening eyes locked on yours. A hint of a smirk plays on his lips before he says, “I remember doing this to you often.”

Yes, leaving you limping around the apartment was his favourite pastimes. He liked to watch you struggle to walk after every intimate moment. In fact, he always felt like he didn’t do his job right if you’re not limping. He’d go ten times rougher the next time around and then cuddle you to his chest, cooing reassurances in your ear. Was it bad that you wanted that all the time? That you wanted to sleep and wake up in the same bed he does everyday?

Slow tears roll down your face as you take his hand art stained in yours. “It was my first date since our break up,” you confess. “Sumni asked for your number… and for permission to go out with you. I just felt a little hurt that you were moving on.”

“She called.”

Your heart has shattered too many times tonight to even react to his words, but you can feel your soul shudder. She called. And did he answer? Did he have a drink with her too? You want to ask but your pride swallows your questions whole. All you can bring yourself to say is, “She’s a nice girl.”

He nods. Squeezing your hand, Taehyung wraps his arm loosely around your waist and stands in front of you. “I told her I wasn’t really ready to see anyone else yet,” he tells you, pressing himself against you.

The gesture is not at all sexual and you do not interpret it as such. Rather, it is tender and comforting. He releases his hold on your hand to wipe your tears, letting his own fall. Licking his lips, he whispers, “What’s his name?”

You shrug.

“Come on,” he half-heartedly nudges your legs. “Tell me.”

Does he think you’re trying to spare his feelings? Meeting his gaze, you can’t help but smile. He looks so cute, so precious in front of you. Playing with his hand, your fingers looping around his, you reply, “I don’t remember. I only spoke to him for half an hour or something.”

He cannot hide his smile, but avoids your gaze. Even still, you can see the relief within them. He seems to be pleased that you’re just as miserable as he is, pining after someone you cannot have any more.

“Is that why you came over?”

You shake your head before you can even think the action through. And the words leave your lips just the same, “I just missed you.”

“I really missed you too,” he croaks, rushing to say the words like he can’t believe them himself. “God, I’ve just wanted you back for so long.”

He’s all but sobbing in front of you. Parting your lips, you’re about to tell him that he doesn’t have you, not yet anyways. The fact is that he still lied, and has continued to lie to manipulate you. This cannot be forgiven so easily. You love and miss him dearly, but surely you cannot just take him back without discussing the cause of your break up first.

But then, Taehyung burrows his face into the crook of your neck and lets himself fall apart. Hugging you close, he cries into your skin. You cannot hold back the sob that tears through your throat just from the mere sound of his choked breaths and wet tears against you.

“I’m so sorry,” he cries as you cradle his head. “I’m sorry.”

The broken tone of his voice is enough to make you whimper into his hair. He sounds so fragile. This break up, you realize, has torn him inside out too. Pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, you try to console both of your fears. But every sob trembles your courage and every drop of his tears makes you recoil in guilt and shame. How could you have done this to him, to your relationship?

He shudders a breath as he pulls away. Red in the face, wet streaks staining his painted cheeks, he cups his hands under your jaw and says, “Look, you can move in right now, okay? Alright? I’ll get your things tomorrow. I’ll give you Jungkook’s key. He only comes here to steal our food anyways.” Just stay, please (Y/N).”

His voice is shaky and tone all but heartbreaking as he chuckles at his own little joke. The desperation is real and hard to deny. You cannot even open your mouth to even voice your reservations about dating again. Clutching onto his jumpsuit, you try to revert your gaze to your lap in hopes to find your courage and tell him that you need to talk first. Only, Taehyung dips his head low to catch your eyes again. He’s determined to have you stay. And your silence only provokes more tears.

“I promise I’ll never tell another lie,” he sobs. “I promise I’ll never let my worries get in between us again. Please, baby, just please stay. Say that you’ll stay.”

You cannot watch this for another moment longer. There’s lots you still have left to discuss, like why he’s so worried about growing tired of you, and why he felt the need to lie in the first place. But his promise to never do it again is enough for now. And you just can’t sit here watching him cry any longer. You pull him towards you, pepper his cheeks with gentle kisses then cradle his head.

“I’m not going anywhere, Tae,” you mutter into his hair. “Mostly because I can’t.”

Your attempt at a joke causes him to choke out a chuckle. He showers the crook of your neck with wet kisses, muttering into your skin, “I love you.”

Rapturing in a relieved frenzy, your nerves dance within your bloodstream and repair your ruptured heart. You let out a deep breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. “I love you too,” you cry.

The last four months haven’t granted you a shred of peace. You’ve lived and re-lived that argument over and over again, praying you can just go back and fix it all there and then. But, maybe… maybe it all needed to fall apart to fall back into place. Maybe it needed to rupture to rapture.

tags: @miinoongi​, @jenotation​, @allannahmalik​, @taeshuworld​

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

[thedumpsterqueen]

Standards of Performance, Chapter 12: What Happens in Alleyways

From the Beginning,  Previous Chapter

AO3 Link

Sorry it's a lil short, it's more of a transition chapter to actually jumping into this case and Reader's now even more confusing "relationship" with Hotch. Things get kinkier and angrier and more explicit from here, but I'll do my best to tag stuff. Thanks for your patience as always, guys, especially amidst the dumpster fire that is current events right now <3 Your reblogs and tags slay me and I love it.

Summary: You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter Summary: Turns out, the world doesn't stop on its axis just because you had sex with your boss. You’re unsure whether or not that’s a good thing.

Words: 1,882

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Violence, dark themes, explicit sexual content. More specific warnings on AO3.

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

You awoke to the dim light of the dawn, rain gently pattering on the windows, and the blaring sound of Hotch’s ringtone three feet from your face.

“Jesus christ, old man,” you groaned, blinking your eyes open, “turn your hearing aids up.”

Already sitting up in bed, he paused with the phone halfway to his ear.

Shit. You were being too casual - waking up in his bed, joking with him. Acting like you belonged there. You didn’t know how he felt about what happened, for all you knew he regretted every second and-

“You’re paying for that later,” he smiled before answering the call.

The playful threat filled you with relief before it made your stomach flip, and the memories of last night came flooding back. His body, his eyes, his hands all burned inside your eyelids as if you’d been staring directly at the sun. You’d never been in this situation before - waking up next to someone you’d spent the night with and desperately hoping it was the first time rather than the last. But you’d also never felt your body sing with the white-hot pleasure it did when it was touched by the seemingly unattainable man who did so last night, so. There was that.

The low rumble of his voice brought you back to the present, and you looked up at his face to find it was twisted up in concentration, resignation, and something else.

“I’ll be right down,” he said, standing up swiftly and pulling his work clothes on with practiced speed. “Don’t let anyone touch anything.”

He shoved his phone in his suit pocket and looked at you, still tangled up in his sheets.

“Get dressed and meet me downstairs,” he said, terse. “There’s a body in the alley outside the building.”

“Outside this building?”

“Yes,” he responded, “and there’s a note.”

As he swept out the door, leaving you reeling, you realized what the other expression on his face was. Fear.

***

Hotch had gotten ready and exited the apartment before you had even processed the situation, and your mind was racing a mile a minute as you flung yourself out of bed and scrambled to get dressed. The logical assumption, of course, was that the stalker had left the body. People didn’t just end up dead in alleyways in this part of town, and certainly not in the middle of a rainstorm mere floors from where the BAU Unit Chief slept - not without a reason.

You threw on your coat and boots, forgoing contacts and makeup in favor of your glasses and a hat to cover the tangled mess last night’s tryst had made of your hair. Without even pausing to look in a mirror, you scurried down the stairwell and exited the lobby into the cold October wind.

It was easy to tell which alley the body occupied - there were an excess of thirty people milling in and out of the space to the right of the building. Crime scene investigators, policemen, and other personnel talked in hushed voices. You spotted a clearing in the sea of people and knew that’s where the victim would be, given a wide berth per Hotch’s instruction.

The team hung out at the edge of the circle watching Reid, who was kneeling in front of the body slumped against the side of the apartment building. Moving closer, you could tell he was in the middle of one of his spiels, gesturing wildly while the everyone nodded along. You joined the group that had formed around him and caught the middle of what seemed to be a hypothesis about victimology.

“ -no patterns, obviously, but if we assume similar characteristics would be present in all his victims, it’s hard to discern what statement he could be making. Positing a male in his mid-to-late twenties is statistically most likely, but stalkers of this age group also frequently have some sort of sexual motivation, and if the autopsy is consistent with what we can observe now,” he gestured to the body, “I don’t think that’s the case here.”

Throughout his speech, you’d been scrutinizing the victim - a brunette women who looked to be no older than 20, arranged in a half-sitting position against the wall behind her. There was no blood anywhere you could see, in fact, she barely looked dead at all, likely thanks to the below-freezing temperatures last night that had put a pause on the early stages of decomposition. Pinned to her shirt was a white envelope that bore an ominous message in bold, black ink:

“For my friends at the BAU.”

Not hard to guess who had killed this woman.

“Can you determine cause of death, Spence?” Prentiss asked, her arms folded.

“I’m not sure, but if I had to guess…” he used his pen to push the victim’s hair to the side, exposing a neck mottled with stark blue bruises. 

“Anger, then,” you offered, speaking to the psychological drivers behind strangulation, “but I doubt we’ll find any sign of sexual assault. The unsub made it clear that his disdain is directed towards us; it’s not likely that would extend to his victim.”

The rest of the team nodded in thought, but Hotch looked at you in surprise, as if just noticing your presence. As his eyes glued on yours, his face changed, and he grabbed your arm in an unpleasantly tight grip.

“Open the note. I’ll just be a moment.”

Unaware of his boss’ sudden change in demeanor and the vice on your elbow, Morgan gloved up and reached for the envelope. Hotch, meanwhile, unceremoniously dragged you down the alleyway and around to the deserted back side of the building.

“What the hell?” you hissed, yanking your arm out of his grip.

“Did you fail to look in a mirror before you came down here?” Hotch’s narrowed stare betrayed nothing but contempt, and you scrambled to determine the implication of his question.

“I’m sorry, did you want me to take a shower before looking at the dead body? I did the best I could, it seemed urgent -”

“No,” he snapped, “I’m referring to the fact that your neck looks worse off than our victim’s does.”

You processed his words for a moment before the implication hit you.

“Are you talking about the hickies?! Christ, Hotch, I’ll get a scarf then. Just give me a second!”

“Please do. I’d like my agents to appear professional, not like they’re college kids coming off a one night stand.”

His words halted your stomp back into the building, and you turned back, furious.

“You put them there! How is this my fault?”

“I didn’t think I would have to be this explicit about the fact that I don’t want the fact that we had sex last night broadcast to everyone at the crime scene.”

You gaped at him in disbelief.

“Are you embarrassed or something? I’m sorry if you regret what happened, but you don’t need to lash out at me like this -”

“I’m not lashing out,” he interrupted, “I’m informing you of my expectations for my agents. Is there a problem?”

You wanted to scream at him. You wanted to smack that perfectly raised eyebrow and controlled expression right off his face. But he was boxing you in - speaking to you as your boss and not the man you slept with last night, and as much as you hated him for it, your sense of self-preservation won out.

“There’s no problem,” you mumbled, unable to make eye contact as you slipped past him and around the building.

You made it halfway up the stairwell before the tears started flowing. Had you really thought sleeping with him was going to change something? That he was going to ask you to be his fucking girlfriend, like he wasn’t the chief of your unit and you weren’t a twenty-something intern? For all you knew, he did this all the time. His level of skill in the area certainly made it seem like he did.

That wasn’t true, though, you knew it. He may not reveal much, but you could tell it had been a fraught decision to let your relationship develop the way it had. Perhaps even a decision he regretted now - and it certainly seemed so, given his behavior.

Wiping tears on your sleeve, you fumbled with the spare key he’d given you to his apartment and walked in. You glanced in the mirror by the entrance and your eyes nearly bugged out of your head. Hotch wasn’t exaggerating when he likened the marks to strangulation - indigo smudges, still peppered with the angry red of burst capillaries, circled your throat.

It was a juvenile, possessive, ridiculous display, and Hotch was absolutely right to label it unprofessional. And yet, the thought that you’d walked onto the scene bearing the marks he’d given you filled you with a thrill so intense you had to brace yourself against the entryway table and clamp your legs together.

Breathe. There’s still a fucking murder scene downstairs.

You steadied yourself and headed for your duffel bag, where you’d thankfully packed a scarf in preparation for the cold snap that was predicted to hit the state this week. Midway through unzipping your bag, though, your eyes landed on his dresser and the devil sitting on your shoulder, buzzing with a deadly combination of anger and arousal, whispered a terrible, reckless idea in your ear.

***

You practically skipped downstairs to rejoin the team, who appeared to be engaged in a lively debate about the contents of the envelope Morgan was holding. After gloving up, you reached out a hand towards him.

“Can I read it?”

He handed it over, distracted by another stream of consciousness from Reid. Hotch took note of your return and glanced in your direction before turning back to the conversation.

You pretended to read the note and waited for him to notice.

You waited all of three seconds.

He whipped his head back so comically fast you struggled to suppress a snort, and you knew exactly what he was looking at. A midnight blue cashmere scarf, nicked from his dresser and wrapped artfully around your neck to cover the bruises, just like he’d asked. The first compliment you’d ever paid him was in regards to this scarf; tentatively whispered when he’d worn it to a chilly 2 am crime scene. He’d accepted the compliment passively, but the optimistic part of you had noted that he seemed to wear it much more frequently after that.

You weren’t entirely sure what statement you were intending to make by wearing it, but his reaction told you you’d certainly succeeded at provoking something.

Morgan reached back out for the note you were still pretending to read and dropped it in an evidence bag. If he noticed Hotch steaming from the ears next to you, he didn’t say so.

“They’re ready to pack everything up and head back to the lab. Let’s meet ‘em there?”

Everyone nodded in the affirmative and headed back to the SUVs.

“You riding with me?” Morgan asked, nudging your ribs with an elbow.

“No,” Hotch answered for you, an unseen hand suddenly gripping the back of your neck. “She’s not.”

Taglist (message me to be added!):  @klinenovakwinchester @stop-drop-and-drumroll @cevanswhre @addie5264 @honeyshores @violentvulgarvolatile @masumiyetimziyanoldu @violetclifford @pipersaccomplice​ @itsmytimetoodream​ @groovygoob​ @captainhyenafan​ @thebadassbitchqueen​ @softboystyles​ @witchcraftandwit​ @call-me-mrsreid​ @ssahoodrathotchner​ @fanficscuziranout​ @rintheemolion​ @scrumptiousroadponymoney​ @iconicc @thelux47 @bellaswanismysoulmate​ @possum-pancakes  @sweatydiplomatshepherdzine @spencers-hoodrat @totalmess191 @sunshine-and-riverwater @sunflowersandotherthings @chelseyjoyce @helloladyvanilla @mac99martin

[fakeloveaskblog]

Hi Logan, how do I even start? Save this number, if you want to. I have been supporting Remy through texts for a bit. They have revealed to me some very troubling things in the past. Things like, their boyfriend kicking their cane from under them as a ‘joke’? Those kinds of things.

Virgil, that's his name by the way, also kind of yells at them a lot at times, and tells them they're worthless except for the use he can give to their body and that nobody else will ever love them. They believe they are horrible. They believe they deserve it. They appear to think their disability makes them only a burden to him and nothing else and while I have tried to convince them to the contrary I honestly don't believe I can when they're still trapped by choice in such a toxic environment.

I have tried to help and give them the tools to better their self-esteem and combat that, and send them nice text messages in general, but that hasn't helped in anything more than a superficial level. If you can do something, anything, or could take their case to someone who can something, I'd really appreciate that.

(Words: 2088)

(Talk of U!Virgil)

Logan: "That is...That is" He took a moment to gather himself "That is even worse than I had estimated"

"This must have been happening the other times we met them too right? And we didn't notice anything. We should have- we-" Patty mumbled out. Her voice was shaky.

She had just gotten home half an hour ago or so, she wasn't even fully out of her cosplay makeup. Logan had immediately pulled her into a hug which wasn't uncommon but he'd held onto her so hard it hurt and he’d been close to collapsing into the hug.

All it took was her asking if he was alright for him to tell her everything. He couldn't keep a secret from her even if he tried.

Now they sat in the couch. Logan had his head leaned on her chest and she had moved her arms around his waist. All they'd eaten was some of the leftover pie from Lo's date a few days ago because both of them were far too worked up to even think about cooking.

Patty pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to think "Okay well if they're being emotionally abused as what we know suggest then...I..is there even anyone we can contact that could help. I mean there's no- there's no evidence right? Or well- it's just- it's their word against Virgil's and if they won't even say Virgil is abusing them then there's nothing!"

"We can kidnap them" Logan pointed out.

"That we can"

Logan sighed “Do you think talking to them would even make a difference? They seem to already hate me so now it’s even less likely that they’ll listen”

“Well honey you can always try. They go to the same therapist as Janus right? So you can just casually ‘run into them’ right?” She gave him a loving kiss “I know my lil smarty-sweetheart can help them”

He sent her a tired smile “I’ll try”

--

Remy wasn’t as upset from the therapy session as they usually were. It had mostly been discussing how they felt about maybe being poly. They still thought they deserved a smoke break afterwards though so now they sat on bench right outside the entrance, they were on their third cigarette.

They had their head leaned against the back of the bench and was looking up at the greying sky and falling leaves so they didn’t notice when Logan sat down. He kept his distance to not startle them but cleared his throat to get their attention.

“Are you also waiting for someone?” He asked.

They glanced over to him “Girl go fuck yourself with a rake”

“Noted. I will put it in my calender. I for one am here to pick up Janus after his therapy is over for the day. Mayhaps I will show him some more star trek”

“Okay great gal. Then I’m just like waiting for Remus I guess” They pressed the cigarette into their leather jacket to put it out so they could leave as soon as they saw their cru- friend.

Logan inched closer “Is your bruise healing well?”

“Just ‘cause we’re in the same place doesn’t mean we have to talk to each other!” They snapped back.

“Exscuse me, I was simply worried about your physical health”

They rolled their eyes and crossed their arms before mumbling out “It’s fine. It’s whatever. I haven’t done it again so like forget it” 

“I am relieved to hear that”

Silence fell over them. Remy refused to look at him. Logan tried to figure out what was the best way to ask them about Virgil.

“....Your boyfriend did not insult you once you came home right?” He asked them in such a soft tone as if any slight wrong saying would make them implode on themself.

“Girl there you go again with your stupid fucking bullshit. I don’t wanna like talk about it!....Not ‘cause anything happened but ‘cause I hate you! You don’t- we don’t- we’re not friends! Why are you just like forcing yourself in on my private life! It’s like- it’s like fucking stalking!”

Logan reached out his hand to comfort them but quickly stopped himself “I am sorry. I don’t know how to best formulate this but I sincerely don’t mean to upset you like, neither do I know how to not upset you. All I know is that I want you to be okay and that if my partner treated me like yours seem to do I wouldn’t be able to stay”

Remy’s hair fell in front of their face as they leant their head in their plams “You don’t get it” They muttered.

“I am sure I don-”

“IT’S NOT THAT FUCKING EASY! It’s not like I have any savings an-and I’m not able to keep a job and without Virgil I have no way to buy medicine and- Like do you just want me to walk out and become homeless and like starve to death? Is that it? Like even if I wanted to leave, which I don’t, It’s not like I have a choice!”

A quiet sniffle came from them. Logan gave them a moment to gather their breathe.

“I...I didn’t mean to make it sound like leaving was easy” Logan murmured “I understand that you have probably been forced to think like you have no choice but to stay. I am aware of how crippling manipulation like that can be” 

He leaned closer and even though they didn’t look at him he still sent them his most caring look as he continued.

“But I promise you that there are other options. You aren’t stuck. I am willing to let you stay at my apartment for however long you need and if you aren’t comfortable with that I am sure Janus or Remus would let you stay as well. I can even pay for a motel if that would be better. Depending on what part of your disability is making you unable to work I am sure that could be fixed. For example a wheelchair could help! My point is that you do have a choice, even if it’s very understandably hard to think that”

Remy’s shoulders were shaking. Logan gently placed his hand on top of their bony shoulder. Every vein was visible through their light skin.

At just the hint of his touch they flinched away. They stumbled up from the bench and took a few steps away. They looked at him with reddened eyes.

“No. No. Girl you- you just don’t get it! That’s all!” They spat out, their voice was shaky as well “You haven’t like lived with me. Once you or Remus o-or anyone spends enough time with me you’ll realize what an annoying overemotional burden I am! An-and then I’ll get thrown out! Okay!? So-so it’s not really- I don’t actually have a choice ‘cause I’ll just get thrown out. Virgil is the only who will ever bother to deal with me for this long! ‘cause he loves me! And no one else will love me like he does. S-so just shut up!”

Logan stood up as well and took an unsure step towards them. They looked so weak, as if a single push from the wind would make them crumble. 

“It’s okay. I hear what you are saying” Logan assured.

“An-and it’s like- Virgil needs me! And I need him! That’s like how it works! I can’t just leave him! What if- who will calm him down from his panic attacks?! And if I leave what if he gets s-so upset and like anxious he hurts himself! He’s said there was a chance he would!! I can’t risk it! I have to stay! He needs me! I-I need- I can’t- I can’t leave”

Logan nodded along “It’s okay. I understand. I understand”

“You don’t! You’re a idiotic bitch! I hope all your stupid fucking ties get destroyed in the washer!” Remy was close to yelling.

“Harsh but I see your point. To be honest everything you have said has made me even more worried. From my experience a relationship shouldn’t make you feel this way! It shouldn’t make you come up with reasons to stay! It shouldn’t hurt you!” Logan reached out to comfort them once more. “I promise it shouldn’t hurt”

“It’s not hurting me! YOU are hurting me!”

Logan was taken aback. He didn’t know what to say. His arms moved to hang helplessly along his sides. Remy opened their mouth to say something more but then

“Hey uh what’s going on? Are you roleplaying a death match?” Remus stood in the entrance to the building. He glanced between the two of them.

“This idiot is trying to destroy my relationship!” Remy exclaimed.

“While it is not my place to explain the full situation without their permission I can assure you that I am merely worrying for their mental and physical health and I am unsure if their relationship is good for them from what I’ve heard” Logan explained.

Remus barely even hesitated before moving in front of Remy. He moved his arms out and let them lean against him to catch their breathe, like he was a human shield protecting them from Logan. 

Logan hadn’t seen Remus angry before and he didn’t look fully enraged, but there was a hint of anger in eyes as he sneered at him.

“Well I’m sorry Loganson but not every relationship is totally perfect and works without any arguments like you and your wife relationship apparently does!” He spat out.

“I can assure you that me and my wife’s relationship hasn’t been argument free but that doesn’t mean I have ever even thought about insulting her like Remy’s boyfriend seemingly ha-”

“You’re not Remy!” Remus snapped “You’re a guy who dresses like a 40 year old math teacher who is losing the children in the divorce! Leave them alone!” 

Remy was bordering on cowering behind Remus. Their whole body seemed to shake as a few tears spilled down their cheeks. They met Logan’s eyes.

“If the bullshit you’re saying is true, which it like isn’t but if it was that- that means I’ve spent my whole life being abused” They forced out through tears “How can you Ever you expect me to live with that?”

Logan didn’t have an answer to that. He watched on as Remus placed his hands on Remy’s shoulders and gently guided them to turn away. He bonked their foreheads together and wiped their tears away.

“C’mon beanie-boo I can take you to the amusement park to cheer you up! Or we can find some lsd and get high so you can hallucinate beating the shit out of the stinky Log guy!” Remus exclaimed as they walked away.

A headache began to form in Logan’s head as he slumped back down on the bench. He stared out at the nearly empty parking lot. He didn’t understand what he did wrong. 

He wished he could talk to Virgil. He wished he could see him eye to eye and chew him out for ever making Remy feel like a burden, for ever making them feel trapped. A part of him wanted to punch him.

He was so zoned out into the overthinking he didn’t realize how much time was passing until Janus got out from his therapy session. As soon as Jan saw his boyfriend he let up into a shining smile and hurried over to him.

“Hi dear! Aww did you miss me so much you had to come pick me up! How charming!” Janus hesitated before kissing Logan on the lips. It still made him all giggly.

Normally seeing him so giddy would have made Logan overabundant with happiness....but now all he could think about was if he should tell Janus about Remy’s situation or not. They were friends right? Could it help? Would they listen to their friend?

Logan’s head hurt so bad. None of it made sense. There was no logical answer. How Janus reacted could make everything worse. He didn’t want to ruin everything more than he already had.

“Darling? Are you feeling alright? Has something happened?” Janus asked while taking his hand.

“I....I....” Logan looked over to you.

Logan: “I am so sorry to do this but do you have any idea what to do? The human emotion and it’s reactions are so illogical I don’t- I don’t understand- I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry- Should I tell Janus about the suspected abuse or should I lie?”

[kettlequills]

affinity

unsure at this point whether elenwen would benefit more from a long course of therapy or a good dicking. luckily, neither of these are in store for her, so enjoy an elenwen who is not hinged at all plus sybille, who is having a very bad day. TW: blood drinking, cutting, violence, manipulation and threat, sexual themes, and character death. implied sybille/istlod, a lil elenwen/elisif, uhh idk if youd say this is elenwen/sybille but hm. enjoy, and gimme a shout if you think it needs an extra tag. a03

Elenwen discovers Sybille's secret, and has ... words.

The Thalmor Ambassador had come to Solitude and found an empty palace. No one else was there but Sybille, left to frustratedly amuse the Ambassador while someone hurried to fetch the steward, the Jarl, somebody. Anybody, but Sybille Stentor. Some dispute had drawn them away – some fluster in the training yard – Sybille neither knew nor cared, except that Falk was not here to ask the Ambassador why she had come to darken their door, nor even Elisif, to gracefully offer wine and bread to the sour-faced elf.

Even if it had not been months since she had last slaked her thirst in the prisons beneath Solitude, Sybille still would have had little patience for this. The Thalmor irritated her, with their poorly-hidden disdain, their smugness, their superiority. As it was, her head pounded, her throat ached, and moving around in the dim evening sunlight was painful enough that it made her vision blur red. She had begun to hear heartbeats in the chests of her friends, the Jarl she was trying to become loyal to, and each night was an exercise in self control growing monumental in difficulty.

And there was Elenwen standing with her hands behind her ramrod back, looking as if she had sniffed something foul. Her expression was so forbidding, so bleak, so threatening that Sybille immediately perceived why the weak-willed guards had found someplace else to be. For once, she was completely alone, unflanked by unsmiling justiciars.

Foolish, or another spiteful little snub. No, Elenwen had nothing to fear in the heart of the Blue Palace – as much as they might whisper into their pillows how much they hated Thalmor oversight, Thalmor gold still sweated in their palms as they tipped their toothless necks back for the glutting. Why bother with guards, when you had the helmless court of Solitude on a leash?

Oh, Istlod. How he would be ashamed, to see his court reduced to this.

“Ambassador,” Sybille ground out, hating this. She wasn’t supposed to be the one greeting dignitaries come to pander and parley. That was Falk’s job, or the Jarl’s – but Istlod was long gone, and Torygg was dead, now.

Torygg, Torygg. He’d been just a boy; Sybille remembered as if it had been yesterday his chubby hands grabbing on the front of her robes, his lisping pronunciation of “ibble!” before he’d learnt to say her name. A gangly teen, pimple-faced but trying desperately to be noble, the pride of Istlod’s eye, blushing-bold. Bare years after, before even the flower of his prime – dead, dead and cold on the cobbles. Sybille had promised Istlod to keep him safe. But she’d failed. She failed, and Torygg was dead, his murderer walking free and all that was left was … Elisif.

Elisif. A dear girl but… not Torygg. Young, foolish, easily swayed. Inexperienced. Weak, when they needed strength. When Sybille needed Torygg. She was fond enough of her but Elisif looked at her like she was drowning, always begging for advice, and when Sybille met her eyes all she saw was the moment when Torygg had heard Ulfric’s challenge ashen-faced, then turned to his bright young wife and visibly steeled himself.

Ready to die, rather than dishonour her, disappoint her.

It wasn’t Elisif’s fault that she had survived Ulfric when Torygg had not, but Sybille could not stop blaming her. Still, Sybille wished she was here now. The young Jarl was better at this, the inane courtesies, the lies, than Sybille was. Even if Sybille thought she was far friendlier to the Thalmor Ambassador than was wise.

“Court Mage,” Elenwen greeted, polite as picture. In her clipped Dominion accent, the two words sounded loathsome as a curse. Her lip curled upwards in an estimation of what she probably thought a smile was supposed to look like. It was all sneer, and like most of the Emissary's facial expressions, was tinged with pointed disgust.

She was standing rigidly in the main hall of the deserted emptiness of the Blue Palace like a stubborn brick over a fire. Choking all the air out of the room, stifling, her presence as oppressive as a lead weight. The maids had all found themselves somewhere else to be, fearing, no doubt, the Ambassador’s legendarily cutting tongue and Sybille’s own displeasure at being left to entertain. As if she did not have a thousand more pressing matters to attend to, and barely the patience besides.

Not even when she was well-fed, which she was not.

They stood in silence for a moment, Sybille warring with herself, before she grudgingly asked, “Are you in need of refreshments, Ambassador?”

Hospitality, to a pit viper. If Sybille had not been what she was, the thought would be funny. As it was, it only insulted – Solitude did not need any more secret teeth tracking the prey that would not be missed. Sybille had heard the rumours, like everyone else, of secret Thalmor dungeons, and screams from beneath the solar so loud that they could be heard over the music during the parties. The prisoners of Solitude – such as they were – were Sybille’s domain.

“No,” said Elenwen, a pinch too swiftly, as if the very idea was nauseating, “And yourself, Court Mage?”

Sybille's control of her face was not so slight that she blinked, but she was aware of a tightening around the skin of her knuckles. The words, the consideration, were so odd in Elenwen’s cold, autocratic tones that at first she was certain she had misheard.

“I fail to see how that is any concern of yours,” Sybille said rudely, and suddenly, Elenwen changed.

She turned fluidly towards Sybille and prowled closer, the stiffness as if she was daring not to breathe for fear of inhaling foul scent gone. Her sneer vanished, smoothed into a smile, wide and full, completely genuine, utterly threatening. Her eyes glittered flatly, like mirrors. Her movements were slow and slinking. Gone were the sharp clicks of her boots, muffled by some trick of her step that left her silent as a panther.

Sybille was left feeling like the world had suddenly shifted to the left and left her behind, as dizzy as if a rug had been pulled out from underneath her. A moment ago, the Thalmor Ambassador had stood in front of her, haughty as ever, unbending with her stiff Altmeri pride – but this hungry, prowling creature was not her.

Her teeth sharpened in her mouth at the implicit threat that rolled off Elenwen, at her approaching closeness, the blood Sybille could sense flushing the capillaries under her skin, pounding through the chambers of her cold Altmeri heart. At once, Sybille was immensely aware that there was no one to observe them; no one at all.

And it had been weeks, weeks since Sybille had drunk her fill.

“How quickly these mortal children wane compared to the lifetime of an elf,” Elenwen murmured. Her voice was throaty and rich, the sharpness of the consonants blurred by a coastal accent that Sybille swore she had not had before. “How we see them pass us and consign the summers of our childhoods to the distant realm of myth and mystery as they bloom and fade in the blink of an eye. Truly, I am impressed at how faithfully you served the late Jarl Torygg, like you served his father Istlod before him. Tell me, how many of them have ... failed to see?"

Elenwen's horrible smile stretched wider.

"But I see, Court Mage.”

“I am perfectly well-appreciated within my position, Ambassador,” Sybille said coldly.

She was beginning to feel somewhat uncomfortable. There was no possible way that Elenwen knew her secret, but the damn elf seemed far too smug for Sybille’s liking. She hated these types, the twisted double-talk that meant something else entirely. Was she attempting to recruit Sybille to the Thalmor? She had to know that Sybille would never have agreed to that, for Istlod’s sake, who had been miserable at the news of the Concordat, if nothing else. Now, if only they were somewhere a little more secluded, then Sybille could teach her some proper manners –

Except no, she couldn’t, that was the Thalmor Ambassador. People would notice if she visited the Solitude dungeons and came back with marks on her neck and a hunger to be bitten, drained deep, pliant in the arms of a predator, better attitude notwithstanding. And Sybille couldn’t kill her. Not without reprisal.

Istlod would have wanted Sybille to kill Elenwen. Except – no, he had agreed to the peace too. Her fangs pressed insistently, dully, on her tongue.

Elenwen’s smile widened. Sybille saw every one of her straight teeth. Too white, too even, lined up like regiment soldiers or grave-markers for war-dead. Some of them were fake, she was willing to bet. This wide, the makeup caking her cheeks folded around her smile unflatteringly, the thick foundation hazed with cracks. Fake, fake, but the blood that ran under her skin was real.

Sybille could force her to bleed, force her to feel spark-bright pain, force her to reveal the truth under her teeth, her claws, her little boot knife. Even an ice-spike would do, chill that golden flesh high and taut until it pebbled with goosebumps and she was shivery and damp, and the heat of her blood spilling over her chest made her gasp at the shock of warmth.

That would make her speak straight and true, if nothing else would.

“It has been a dry spell in the prisons, hasn’t it?” Elenwen purred, soft, sympathetic, as if she was commiserating over something truly terrible, “My condolences, truly, you have been much more patient than I would. But tell me, have any of your beloved young humans noticed you have not aged a day?”

“Many humans are not aware of the life spans of an elf,” she said, to hide the fluttering of something that was beginning to feel like panic or fury. “I am Dunmer, a few decades are no great time to me.”

“Could you go decades, I wonder?” Elenwen’s smile dropped, but the look that replaced it was worse, coquettish, sly. She contrived some way of looking up at Sybille through her eyelashes painted and curled with oil despite her taller height and took a falsely-nervous step closer, all awkward shoulders and sliding foot, just as if she was a wheedling young lover begging her first kiss. But her eyes danced brightly, privately, as if this entire interaction was nothing but a game they were playing, just the two of them. “I rather think you’re hungry now.”

“I ate this morning,” Sybille lied flatly, “with the rest of the hall.”

“Tch,” said Elenwen, as if Sybille had missed a step, and belatedly, Sybille realised it would not be any hardship for a spy group as developed as the Thalmor to verify that lie, “Are you sure, Court Mage? We could test it, if you like. How much of you would be left, after decades? It’s been such a short time, and yet, I can see it in how you look at me.” She came closer, thrilled and faux-breathless. "You are hungry."

“I am quite sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sybille bluffed, but she knew she had lost. Whatever game the Ambassador was playing, Sybille did not know the dance. She glanced haphazardly around the room, but they were truly alone. She could not hear so much as a scuffing slipper or clank of mail.

“Two months, three, since you last drank blood,” Elenwen clarified, so there was no possibility at all of pretending that she did not know, and smiled, smiled, smiled wide at the look of horror on Sybille’s face. Ice poured down Sybille’s spine. The floor dropped out from underneath her. No, no no, the Thalmor could not know.

“Were you fucking his father?” Elenwen asked conversationally, in the silence that fell, “Torygg’s, I mean.”

“I don’t… That is a serious accusation, Ambassador!” Sybille hissed, ignoring her, unable to name the feeling that started icy in her fingertips and spread dully and low up into her breastbone until she ached the whole way through. Her stomach knotted and writhed.

“Aren’t you thirsty, Sybille Stentor?”

Elenwen was so close now. So close that Sybille had to step back, her tall shadow casting her in gloom. Her eyes were half-moons behind the sun, and the light gilded her blonde hair like it was strands of gold. A strand drifted out of its aggressive pinning as Elenwen bent forward, swaying into Sybille like she was magnetised, and tickled there along her artificially-blushed cheek. Sybille could smell the powders, the hotness of her skin trapped beneath it. She had bleached with lemon oil recently, a faint scent clung to her, almost drowned by the floral drench of cosmetics.

“I don’t have time for this nonsense,” Sybille snapped, mouth dry as bone, and Elenwen laughed. It was full and unrestrained, a laugh from the stomach, and nothing at all like the stiff, courteous little smirks she gave as ambassador. It rang, rich and loud, through the entire hall, down the stairs and over the thrones, and Sybille heard it with a sinking feeling of a lock snapping shut.

Elenwen would never have laughed so loudly, so out of her stiff Ambassador performance, if she thought it was possible she could be overheard. Would she? Was this a bluff?

Sybille’s gaze darted again to the dark eyes of the doorways, but the palace seemed empty. Were there Thalmor in the wings? Elisif. Was the Jarl safe? She should be – though had not Sybille sent a servant to fetch the Jarl, the steward? Was Elenwen planning to unmask her before the court?

“Come on now,” said Elenwen, warmly, her smile conspiratorial like they shared a secret, just her and Sybille, “We’re all alone now, and I’m right here. Why don’t you bite me? Look,” She undid the first two buttons of her uniform, exposing a long line of pale gold throat. “I’ll make it easy. Do you like it easy?”

“Are you insane?!” Sybille snapped. There was no other possible response to that.

Nonetheless, her eyes were drawn to the expanse of bared skin, the delicate lines of the veins and tendons in Elenwen’s neck. She could see the forklike line of her jugular, the thinner softnesses of her veins. Vulnerable. The skin here had not been painted and powdered, hidden as it normally was under her collar. It was paler, yellower, like Elenwen did not get enough sun. Sybille wondered how she bruised. Whether she would paint over the bruises Sybille would leave her, when she woke in the morning, and wondered how she had struck her neck in the night.

Sybille swallowed around a mouth pooling with spit. It had been too long.

She could see the hollow where Elenwen’s pulse fluttered, waiting for Sybille to sink her teeth home. What would she taste like? Could anyone truly blame her, if she took just a little taste, just the tiniest mouthful, to sate her burning throat?

Surely, if she was doomed already, it would not hurt.

“Bite me,” ordered Elenwen, steely. Softer, she said, “Bite me, Sybille Stentor. You must be so thirsty. Doesn’t it feel like flames in your throat?”

It did, it felt like each inhale peeled dry chunks of her throat off with all the gentleness of searing sandpaper. Elenwen was so close now that Sybille could lift her chin and kiss her, close enough that her breath, warm, alive, smelling vaguely of summer-wine, brushed Sybille’s cold cheeks. Elenwen’s warmth was like another creature between them, the impossibility of Sybille being the dead one, with Elenwen’s eyes like a mirror to every fear Sybille had ever banished.

“You must have confused me with someone else,” Sybille said faintly as Elenwen stepped even closer. Their bodies brushed, her breath fanned hotly over Sybille’s forehead.

Elenwen hummed a little, disappointed. “Perhaps,” she said, and suddenly there was a dagger in her hand, so quick even Sybille’s vampiric eyes could not spot it. Just as fast, the dagger flashed, once, twice – and then the heavenly aroma of fresh blood reached Sybille’s nose. On Elenwen’s neck, either side of her tendons, two deep slices welled fresh red, deep, deep enough that after the first droplet rolled enticingly towards her collarbones another followed.

Sybille swallowed. She could smell it, thick as perfume, tantalising as an oasis in the desert. Elenwen’s blood was fresh, healthy, and right there. It was bright red, scandalously scarlet, against the warm gold of her throat, like a slash of silk. The candlelight from Sybille’s little alcove shone and shimmered in the droplet like the magicka in it sparked and sung, for Sybille alone. Begging her, almost, to lean forward – barely any movement at all, to chase the droplet with her tongue, lap up along that proud, stiff neck to the wet gash that fluttered like breathless lips waiting to be kissed.

How fast was Elenwen’s heart beating, to push such quick, steady little pulses down her neck? The collar of her robes was darkening to a liquid blackness, but Elenwen did not seem faint at all. Would she be strong til the end, Sybille wondered, would her heart hammer and struggle against her lips, her hands, her body and Sybille’s mouth? Would she pant and gasp and writhe, or would she fall still and silent, terror-glazed eyes and frozen muscles, or best of all, would she struggle and strain, drum weakening hands against the firm cage of Sybille’s arms?

“It’s a bad time to be a vampire in Solitude, isn’t it?” Elenwen asked, friendly, almost sweet, “With all that terrible news about undead stirring in the catacombs. A death sentence for you if anyone should find out, I expect.”

Sybille opened her mouth but her fangs were beginning to protrude, and venom ran eagerly down her chin. Elenwen’s gaze tracked the wetness in her mouth, and her voice dropped an octave when she spoke again.

“But I’m right here, and I’m offering,” said Elenwen, soft as a spider, warm as the blood Sybille could not tear her eyes from. “I could do so much for you if you enthralled me. All the power of the Thalmor at your fingertips…”

She chuckled, darkly. This close, Sybille felt it vibrate through her chest into Sybille’s own. The movement of her shoulders had a droplet of blood, teetering on the steep ridge of her tendon, tumble headlong into the sleek curve of the dip where her collarbones joined her neck. The swipe of red glistened wetly.

“… and I have so many more little puppets dancing for me than you could ever guess, Sybille Stentor. You would never have to fear being found again. All it would take is… a taste. Bite me.”

Pressing her shoulders back against the wall, Sybille turned her head away stubbornly. The stone was cold through her robes. Elenwen’s warmth was dizzying by contrast. Sybille was hot with bloodlust, had never wanted so badly. She was aware, as if it was happening to someone else, that she was trembling.

Involuntarily, she considered Elenwen’s offer. Imagined stepping forward, grasping the elf’s thin waist, following the trail of blood with her tongue. Licking up that taunting trail over the rigid line of her tendon, sucking hard and strong on the slash she’d cut into her own neck, the bones of Elenwen’s hips fine as glass under her grip. Imagined how Elenwen would go moaning-soft and boneless as butter in her arms, her long ears brushing over Sybille’s hood as her head drooped. How Sybille would have to catch her when her knees buckled, the reflexive way she would go to push Sybille away turned to a trembling grasp, rigid at first by the pain, then softened by the venom, how her brilliant, hard blazing eyes would go soft, dark, round with venom and bloodloss euphoria, when Sybille imposed her will over her, how Sybille would drink, and drink, and drink-

But no – it was broad daylight in the middle of the fucking Blue Palace, there was no way that Sybille could drain Elenwen or thrall her quick enough to avoid discovery, and that was only if Elenwen didn’t have some other plan. There was no way that Sybille would go along with some Thalmor plot out of – hunger, hunger alone.

What would Istlod say?

Elenwen pressed close until she was crowding Sybille against the wall. Her body was thin and bony, the buckles of her uniform dug into Sybille’s breastbone. Her lips brushed the tip of Sybille’s ear through her hood when she spoke. This close, the smell of blood was intoxicating.

But Sybille was not strong enough to push her away.

“Drink,” Elenwen cajoled. “It’s been so long since you last had a prisoner, hasn’t it? …Such unfortunate accidents.”

Sybille heard the shift of cloth, that and outrage had her turning her head back to glare at Elenwen, but she was too close, and instead Sybille’s nose butted against her smooth cheek. Her skin was searing hot, a fine dust from her makeup tickled Sybille’s nose. Sybille felt Elenwen’s repressed shiver at the chilly brush of Sybille’s dead skin against hers in the pit of her stomach. “You-?”

“Me,” Elenwen confirmed, smile widening in Sybille’s peripheral vision.

Sybille was transfixed as Elenwen lifted her finger to the bleeding wound on her neck and shoved her finger in, stark, bold, crass. Her smile never wavered at all at the pain. Her bright, bright eyes were focused on Sybille. The part of Sybille that had been mortal once was horrified at her disregard, the part of her that thirsted so badly for blood it barely cared anymore found it unbearably erotic.

She behaved like a venom-drunk thrall, but she smelled rich and fresh, unbitten, untainted. Did she feel no pain, or did she not care? … Did she like it?

The deepened wound gushed redly down her neck, and Elenwen leaned even closer, until the warmth of her body pressed Sybille’s cold one through their robes, like she wanted to become one with her bones, buckles and all. She was thin, thinner than Sybille had expected her to be; she could feel the ridges of Elenwen’s ribs, her small breasts, the cavernous flutter of her stomach.

Elenwen’s finger, glistening with her own blood, raised towards Sybille’s watering mouth.

There was nowhere to go. She turned her head, straining, but Elenwen chased her, cornered her, and Sybille’s mouth parted involuntarily to stop it from painting her lips red. If she tasted the blood – even a droplet – Sybille knew she couldn’t hold back. She choked out a little moan when Elenwen let her finger rest there inside Sybille’s mouth without touching her at all, breathing in the scent of her, so strong, so present. Slender and long, she could have tickled the back of Sybille’s throat if she chose, made her cough and gag and choke, but she did not, instead she teased, not touching, not tasting, forcing Sybille to breathe around the inescapable allure of her.

“I must confess a little professional curiosity,” Elenwen told her, intimate as a lover’s whisper, “I’ve never met a vampire before, and I’ve always wondered how it compares. The blood of Alinor’s finest surely ought to taste better than the swill in the dungeons, though personally, I can’t say I’ve ever tasted much of a difference – Nord, Altmer, Dunmer, we’re all good in wine.” She smirked a little at that. “Won’t you taste, for me?”

The saliva pooled down around Sybille’s fangs and over her chin. She closed her eyes in humiliation.

Elenwen tutted. “I suppose not. Perhaps this will help.” She drew closer, closer, nudging under Sybille’s hood, until her breath puffed over Sybille’s ear, waking long dead nerves with a shiver. Her free hand bracketed the wall above Sybille’s head, then stroked down over the back of her neck and seized the base of her skull. Her fingers knotted into the hair there, each one hot as a brand.

Sybille forced her tongue against her teeth, trying to ground herself through the strain in her jaw. Elenwen’s blooded finger in her mouth was a burning beacon, commanding attention. Spit and venom drooled continuously down her chin. Elenwen’s thready heartbeat – affected, now, by the bloodloss – pounded underneath Sybille’s ribs like a call to war.

“I killed Torygg,” Elenwen breathed into Sybille’s ear. “I told Ulfric to kill him. I broke his mind and I told him to murder poor King Torygg. I was told he squealed like a stuck pig when Ulfric knocked him down, broke his darling bones with one of those beastly shouts of his. Did you hear them break? There’s a certain sound a bone makes when it shatters beyond repair, and the look in a plaything’s eyes, when they realise they are only breakable meat – well, you don’t need me telling you how sweet that is. … I envy you. I wish I could have seen it.”

Elenwen’s gory detail was not needed. That day was burned into Sybille’s memory, the dull wet pops, the snaps and cracks of Torygg’s bones, the horrible thud and the wail he’d made in the thunderous after-shocks of that terrible Shout, the bitter venom in Sybille’s mouth when Ulfric contemptuously cut his head from what remained of his shoulders with one swipe. Ruby-red, it spurted from the messy stump, it had puddled in the grooves of the courtyard’s cobbles, and weeks after rust-red flecks were found, splattering shoes and hems. Torygg had contained so much blood in him, so much of Istlod, and his iron scent was seared into her nose, her mind, mixing with the tantalising barely-there taste of Elenwen in her mouth.

Sybille gurgled on a gasp. She closed her eyes harder, overwrought, fighting to restrain the tears that welled there. That broke through the blood-haze. She’d known. She’d known it had been too simple, that it hadn’t made sense. But – the Thalmor, killing Torygg? Manipulating Stormcloak?

Elenwen moaned at something on Sybille’s face, tearing her concentration. The vibration stirred Sybille’s chest, the quiver of her ear, and Elenwen’s hips ground against hers in subtle, excited circles. It was vile. It was seductive. Sybille had never wanted to break more than she did now. She deserved to die. Wouldn’t it be worth it? Grief, sick desire, warred with prudence. But – this was what she wanted, Sybille fought to remember, the Ambassador was trying to manipulate Sybille to – to –

She was so thirsty.

Sybille’s teary glare did not seem to faze Elenwen at all. This close, she could see the breaks in the makeup that covered Elenwen’s skin, the artificial wrinkles that made her look older than she truly was. Everything fake, a performance. She made a negative sound around the venom bubbling out of her mouth, and Elenwen smiled. It was not a nice smile.

“And I think I might fuck that idiot doll you’ve got on the throne, too,” Elenwen whispered, and Sybille’s jaw muscle jumped. Her catlike eyes warmed with glee. “Oh, I know you were warning her off my little parties. Came back in too much of a state once, did she? The funny thing is that she approaches me – you should be thanking me, really, all that whining about her poor husband, but she cheers right up if you get a little summerwine into her, turns right into quite the … bold … little … slut.”

That last word was delivered in a hiss, lips brushing Sybille’s ear, and at once, she couldn’t take it any longer. She jerked to snarl back, and Elenwen’s bloodied finger rubbed the soft wetness of the inside of Sybille’s mouth. The rich taste of fresh blood overwhelmed her, blanked her mind. Sybille sucked reflexively, and Elenwen’s breath stuttered in her chest. She threw back her head, exposing her bloody neck, and ground hungrily into Sybille.

“Does your doll like knives?” Elenwen panted. “I do.”

Then, she laughed, delighted and breathless, as Sybille’s hands left the wall and found themselves somehow on Elenwen’s back, pressing her close, wrinkling her robes beneath clenched fists. She bit the flesh between her teeth, dazed, searching tongue prodding for all the blood she could smell but not taste. Her own venom burned her throat when she swallowed.

“Oh, though I suppose it doesn’t matter,” Elenwen continued, tugging her finger free, “She will learn to, if I want her.”

Her body tensed as if she meant to move back, but Sybille shot forward faster than lightning with a bloodcurdling snarl. She seized Elenwen’s hair and waist in a vicious grip, bringing her face close to the dripping wounds. The blood, hot and wet, the revenge, the wanting. At last, Sybille dared a tentative lick, a long, sure line up Elenwen’s neck, chasing the path of the bleeding. She tasted like magic, sun, knives, sharp and a little acrid. Intoxicating. Sybille smoothed over the wetness of the open wound, and she hesitated there, damnation at her lips.

A man’s face was before her eyes, fuzzy Nord-beard, mournful wrinkle-sagged stare. …Istlod?

Elenwen did not fight her at all, though Sybille felt the prick of her dagger against her ribs, a second from slipping into her heart, even as she whimpered at the tightness of Sybille’s grip on her fine hair. It was soft, thin as insect-wings over Sybille’s fist. Elenwen’s body hummed with tension like a live-wire, she breathed in gasps, and she trembled faintly with an unbearable want that Sybille could feel straining to pierce the skin, meet its echo in the parched emptiness of Sybille’s bloodless gut. But her knife tickled at Sybille’s robes, warning and promise both.

“Go on,” Elenwen goaded, her voice strained, a little breathy, cracked with desperation, “Hurt me. You must want to. I killed him, I starved you. Hurt me.”

Could she drain Elenwen before Elenwen stabbed her? There was some reason why Sybille could not drink, she knew that, but all thought deserted her every time she breathed, every time she couldn’t help herself and licked the welling blood before it reached Elenwen’s collar, tracing the topography of her willing throat. Elenwen made sounds, beautiful and ragged, when Sybille lapped at her with her cold tongue, shivered in her arms, all eager sighs and clutching hands and poised knives. But still, Sybille did not affix her mouth over the pumping vein and drain, drain, drain her dry.

“Just-!” Elenwen bit out, “What’s wrong with you? Just – do it…”

Sybille strained against her desires. A battleground between her self-control, the mind of the mage who had served loyally for years, and the hungry animal that howled for blood. Istlod. Torygg. The sweetness of the elfsblood – sunlight and sweat, blade-tip lick – in her mouth. The iron reek of Torygg splattering over the cobbles. Elenwen’s gasps, overlaid with the symphony of Torygg’s body breaking, shattering, pulping under the force of Ulfric’s rage. The world had quaked then, now it whimpered in Sybille’s arms, immobilised by her grip. Istlod at peace on his bed, still smiling his last smile. Torygg’s tears. Elisif wailing, when the sword came down. The war-prisoners in the dungeon, hollow-eyed men whose blood tasted of death and despair. The Thalmor’s snake-whisper, hurt me.

Sybille felt Elenwen’s ear twitch against her hand. A moment later, footsteps rushing towards them.

“Out of time, vampire,” Elenwen cooed, almost a disappointed sigh, and when she pulled back this time Sybille felt her numb fingers release her.

She swallowed, copiously, trying to empty her mouth of spit, and burned hotly with indignation.

“You dare,” Sybille rasped, but Elenwen only quirked her lips, apathetic to Sybille’s fury.

A flash of light and the marks were gone, eaten by healing magic. The dagger disappeared into the folds of her robes, the buttons done up, the stray hair smoothed back into its severe imprisonment. She stood an easy few paces away, as if she had never dared to come so close to a starved vampire, a vampire she had starved. It took moments, and through it all Elenwen’s expression was bored, not a hint of fluster, not even a breath of that wretched amusement or nauseating intrigue.

“I’ll send a prisoner or two your way,” Elenwen promised in a flat voice, plucking at the neckline of her robe. “Do think of me when you drink them, won’t you?”

She drew herself up, and suddenly the Ambassador was back, rigid and stern.

“The Thalmor appreciates your cooperation in this matter, Court Mage,” she said sniffily, the accent disappearing as if it had never been there in exchange for the ringing, cold tones Sybille was used to from her. Pinched about her eyes there was nothing but vague disdain, as if she knew nothing about Sybille, as if she had never clung to Sybille and all-but-pleaded to her, and in fact, considered her just as interesting as a cockroach beneath her heel.

She turned away when Falk rushed out of the bowels of the Blue Palace and greeted her with a flurry of apologies. There was not a wrinkle on her uniform. Her heels clicked loudly on the marble as she followed Falk, reverberating into Sybille’s ears, as if she was the only sound.

Sybille sagged against the wall, and cursed Elenwen in every tongue she knew. Sybille considered herself good at reading people, had thought herself safe, well-protected here at the heart of the court. But the damned Thalmor had her over a barrel. She had no doubt these prisoners of Elenwen’s would be nothing but good men and women who had simply fallen on the wrong side of the Dominion, and Sybille nothing more than a convenient way of disposing of them. She could not see a way out of this trap easily – Elenwen could expose her with a word, had proven her control over Sybille’s food source, had threatened the last dregs of the family Sybille had loved.

Sybille needed blood from those who wouldn’t be missed, needed secrecy, needed to be in court even more than ever to protect Elisif and Solitude now she had glimpsed the danger Elenwen posed: the disdainful Ambassador, the eager prey, the gloating predator, glossed in her makeup to falsely age herself, in her uniform that hid her thinness, with her secrets and her contradictory masks. And yet, the most troubling of all was that Sybille could not tell which of the sides of Elenwen she had seen was the truth, and which was the lie.

[chilling-seavey]

Since we witnessed Avalon and Daniel fighting a lot can we have a cute lil first date with them👉👈

Of course you can! 🥰 And a lil themed title stripe with faceclaims to set the qtvtp mood...

Warnings: Bit of spice but nothing too detailed 

Avalon clutched her phone to her ear, sitting in her car in the parking lot behind Bluestone Lane after her shift. The line rang once…twice…she rechecked the number that was scribbled on the receipt in her hand. She felt like a fool. What was she trying to gain from this? The line rang a third time. She shifted nervously in her seat and nearly gasped when the ringing stopped a voice came through the line,

“Hello?”

Avalon hesitated.

“Hello?” he tried again.

“H-Hi.” Avalon spit out. She mentally cringed at the wavering of her voice. “Is this…” she glanced back down at the receipt as if she hadn’t read it enough times to perfectly well know his name, “Daniel?”

There was a small shuffle through the phone as she could almost hear him smile, “Avalon.”

“Yeah.” she exhaled in near relief.

“Part of me wasn’t expecting you to call.”

“Why’s that?”

“I dunno. You didn’t seem like the type to take much bullshit.”

“I don’t.”

“Well I’ll thank my lucky stars you gave me a shot then.”

There was a pause and Avalon bit her lip to hide from no one the smile that was starting to form itself on her face. She pressed her hand to her cheek and rested her elbow on the window ledge of her car.

Daniel shuffled around through the phone before continuing, braking their momentary silence, “Would you like to go out with me this weekend?”

Avalon wasn’t sure what she had expected him to say when she called him but his question had her heart fluttering with nervousness. Despite this, she played it cool, “Where would you take me?”

Daniel chuckled, “Does Santa Monica sound good?”

“The Pier?” Avalon squinted out the car window in the afternoon sun, “Alright.”

“Good. Text me your address and I’ll pick you up on Saturday. 6?”

“6 is fine.”

June 17, 2017

Here

Avalon stared down at the simple word on her phone screen. Four simple letters that she had no clue would honestly change the course of her life from that point onwards. She stood in front of her full length mirror in her living room and eyed her soft reddish brown dress, suddenly very unsure about her choice in outfit – she had already changed three times that evening and it seemed four wasn’t the lucky number.

But she had no time to go change again because Daniel was already there to pick her up – even if he was a few minutes late. She grabbed her purse and her keys and hurried out of the door and down the hall, trying to ignore the nervous butterflies that were filling her stomach.

He was stood outside her apartment complex, leaning against a shiny white Tesla in jeans and a patterned button up covered by a burgundy jacket. She could see him eyeing her up as she exited the building and approached him, her cheeks dusting a little pink under her gentle makeup and she discreetly held her arms in front of herself. She wished she didn’t wear a dress.

“Hi.” she said softly.

“Hi.” Daniel replied, eyes lingering on her as she fell to a stop a few small paces away.

“I didn’t know if this was appropriate to wear but…it’s warm tonight so…” Avalon faded out nervously.

“No,” Daniel shut her nerves down quickly, “You look amazing.”

Avalon could only blush lightly and thank him, and then once more when he opened the door for her. She eyed the interior of the car when he closed the door and walked around to the other side and she took that moment to take a deep breath. She had been on a good amount of dates in her lifetime – all twenty-one years of it – and yet this one made her feel like a shy little girl again. It wasn’t shallow enough to be his obvious money that intimidated her and it maybe wasn’t necessarily his attractiveness, but there was something about him that had those butterflies fluttering excitedly and nervously inside her.

Daniel climbed in the drivers side and started the car. He directed a question to her as he pulled away from the curb, “Did you eat already?”

“Just something small.” Avalon said.

“You’ll make it to the pier then?”

“Yes. I think I’ll survive.” Avalon giggled.

Daniel smiled and she caught it, glancing at him as he stared out the windshield as he drove them through the downtown streets of Los Angeles. The sun was still up but getting lower on the horizon and it sent sparkles of light across the ocean as they approached the beaches. They were quiet for a moment.

“You are older than eighteen, right?” Daniel asked to break the silence.

“Yeah. I’m twenty-one. Twenty-two in December.” Avalon assured him easily.

“Good…nice. I turned twenty-two in April.”

Avalon eyed him for a moment as he drove, “You’re only twenty-two?”

“What, do I look old or something?” he chuckled.

“No,” Avalon answered quickly as she eyed the Tesla logo between his hands on the steering wheel, “You just…seem to have a lot of money for someone so young. $100 tip isn’t something to be brushed off.”

“Well I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.” Daniel shrugged. “My best friend and I had the right connections out of university last year and right away our record company has been catching like wildfire. It’s incredible. I’m truly blessed. Just bought this beaut of a car last month; bit of a late birthday gift to myself.”

“That’s…amazing. I’m just a waitress.” Avalon chuckled lightly.

“No dream job on the horizon?” he asked.

Avalon shrugged, “Not really. I volunteer at the kids club by the beach sometimes but nothing in life seems to be calling to me…at least not yet.”

“That’s okay too. You have lots of time.”

Daniel parked the car by the beach, navigating through the crowds that were making their way down the boardwalk towards the brightly lit pier. The sky was painted a light orange as evening was falling and the day was ending but their night was only just beginning. Daniel and Avalon got out of the car and he locked it behind them as they made their way to the pier.

“So are you from LA?” he asked.

“Oregon originally.” Avalon answered.

“Really? Me too. Whereabouts?”

“Bit outside Salem…just east. You?”

“My family bounced across the river between Portland and Vancouver a bit. Couldn’t seem to decide between Oregon and Washington but I was born in Oregon.”

“Small world.” Avalon chuckled lightly. She eyed him beside her for a moment as they walked. He was taller than her by a few inches and the angle she was at had the sun casting a warm glow over his face. She looked away again, turning to the boardwalk they walked along, “Work brought you here then?”

“Yep. University of Washington grad just like my brothers but life had higher hopes for me than it did them.”

“They’re not here?”

“My eldest brother moved to Nashville for real estate and my second brother is in LA too…trying his luck with acting.”

“Acting.” Avalon breathed.

“Yeah.” Daniel chuckled lightly. “Bit of a stretch but he’d never hear me say that.”

“Of course not.” Avalon smiled softly.

They approached the ticket booth and Daniel ordered them a roll of tickets paid in cash with a slide of a $50 bill. Avalon had her hands resting nervously on her purse as she watched him pay without second guessing…she hated when people bought things for her…she always felt far too much of a burden.

Daniel seemed to sense her hesitation when he turned back to her with the roll of faire tickets in his hand, “I asked you out. I pay.”

Avalon only smiled lightly and nodded. He set his hand on the small of her back – barely ghosting her body – to lead her farther onto the pier and under the large sign that read Pacific Park. She shivered at his simple touch but his hand was gone before it could even be processed. With the sun setting, the neon lights of the fair began to turn on and soon the pier was lively with nightlife of families and young adults alike running between rides and arcade games.

At this time in the world, Daniel’s career was new so he could still generally go through public life ‘unnoticed’ which made the night that much more special. He didn’t have to worry about publicity or work and he just had fun. It was easy to have fun with Avalon, especially when she was screaming on the roller coaster at the top of her lungs. She was carefree and genuine and pretty and Daniel couldn’t help but realize he might be falling for her already.

After a few rides, they shared a funnel cake on a bench over looking the beach and the ocean as the sun finally dipped below the horizon. They sat side by side as they chatted and ate, nearly so close that their thighs were touching. They talked about growing up and their jobs and their favourite things from films to family vacations.

“Do you snowboard?” Daniel asked through a mouthful of funnel cake.

Avalon giggled at the way it morphed his voice and then shook her head, “No. Never.”

“Never?” Daniel gaped at her. They both moved in for another piece and their plastic forks bumped. “Well then, I’ll just have to take you snowboarding one weekend.”

Avalon smiled bashfully as he obviously was already thinking about seeing her again, “That would be fun.”

When their snack was done, the sun was completely set and the night sky was polluted with city lights and the neon stripes that filled the pier. Life was still bustling around them as strangers made the most of the fair and Santa Monica was filled with lively screams and noises of games and rides. Daniel and Avalon walked side by side through the fair and she stopped when he did.

He glanced at the game booth he stopped beside and sent her a cheeky smile, “Is it cliché for me to win you a bear?”

“Disgustingly cliché.” Avalon agreed.

“Let me do it anyway?”

“Of course.” she stepped up beside him. “Let’s see that arm, Daniel.”

He handed the clerk two of their dwindling roll of tickets in exchange for three balls. The objective was to knock down the three horses each at varying distances from the player and if you got all three, you won the largest prize.

Avalon watched intently as Daniel picked up one of the balls and tossed it in the air as if to get a feeling for it. He glanced at her, sent her a cocky smirk, and then aimed and threw it to one of the targets. Clear miss.

“Goddamn.” Daniel mumbled.

Avalon laughed lightly and leaned forward on the wooden counter ledge as he picked up another ball. She watched him lick his lips and then narrow his light eyes in concentration and he threw the second. Miss.

“What the fuck.” Daniel grumbled, grabbing the last one. His cheeks were slightly pink in embarrassment. He missed the last one too by only an inch or so. “Oh come on.”

Avalon hid her laughter behind her hands.

Daniel looked to the clerk who was retrieving the balls, “How much for the bear?”

“They’re not for sale.” the man said with an amused smirk.

“Please?” Daniel nearly begged. “I just want a bear to impress this pretty girl. Do me a solid, bro.”

“Should have better aim then, dude.” the clerk retorted. He fished around behind the counter and set a rubber duck with a little sailors hat on the surface, “Best I can give you is this.”

“Oh, great.” Daniel said sarcastically. “A pity prize.”

“Don’t be such a sore loser. My turn.” Avalon nudged him to the side. She handed over her two tickets and got three balls in return.

Daniel was left shocked as she hit every horse down and was passed one of the large teddy bears off the shelf.

“Thank you!” Avalon said to the clerk as she struggled to hold the bear that was almost the size of her. She turned to look at Daniel behind the bear as they started walking away, “Here. I won you the bear you wanted so badly.”

“What the hell? How did you do that?” Daniel gaped, helping her to hold the bear up off the ground.

“I played softball for a few years.” she said proudly.

“Damn.” Daniel tisked.

“Don’t be jealous. You got a cute duckie.” Avalon nudged him.

Daniel frowned down at the rubber duck in his hand.

Their last stop was the ferris wheel and after a bit of a lineup they were buckled into their seats with the huge teddy bear tucked between them. They fell into natural silence for a bit as the wheel spun them around slowly and at the top they could see a lot of Los Angeles lit up through the night. Daniel stared at her for a while as she looked out across the city and when he finally turned to admire the ocean, she stared at him. He must have been one of – if not the – most handsome men she had ever seen.

When the ride was over and their tickets were all used up, they headed back up the pier towards the parking lot by the beach. As they walked away from the fair the lights faded a little and Daniel glanced at her and her light fabric dress she wore.

“Are you cold?” he asked, breaking their quiet.

Avalon looked over at him but she couldn’t answer before he was shrugging off his jacket and draping it over her shoulders. She smiled softly and thanked him with a whisper.

They continued in peaceful silence and Daniel glanced down between them to her hand that wasn’t holding her bear. He discreetly reached out to brush his fingers over hers just to hear her gasp under her breath in surprise. They didn’t speak as they walked slowly and he slid his hand into hers, carefully lacing their fingers together as if he were treading in dangerous waters. But Avalon only looked up at him and smiled sweetly, holding his hand nice and snugly. He made her heart race.

They soon reached the car and he unlocked it so she could tuck the bear into the backseat. He stood a few paces away to just watch her, how she set the stuffed animal in the seat to make it look like it was actually sitting and buckled in. He was falling for her. He had never fallen for anyone and, gosh, it was only the first date.

Avalon closed the door and turned to smile at him, “He’s all buckled in.”

“Good.” Daniel whispered gently in reply.

He stepped closer as she opened the passenger door and he cautiously grabbed her arm to stop her. Her little gasp filled the space between them as he turned her around and gently leaned her back against the side of his car. The parking lot was quiet and they both took a second to stare at each other, standing so close they could feel each other’s body heat.

She could see the lights from the near distant pier reflecting in his eyes. He could see the stars in hers. His eyes focused on her face, down her nose, her neck, and lingered on her collarbones and curves of her breasts that pushed up the material of her soft brown dress. His jacket that was draped around her shoulder was slightly big on her.

Daniel spoke in a whisper, “Can I kis-”

She finished his question for him as she set her hand on his chest and leaned up to push her lips on his. They both froze for a moment in time, unmoving, still except for the light ocean breeze that ruffled their hair. Daniel’s hands finally moved to her cheeks, locking her lips with his in a soft kiss as they breathed in time together. They shared long lingering kisses, lips meeting and parting slowly in the nighttime air to the faint waves of the ocean on the shore.

Avalon’s arms slid around his shoulders and she tilted her head slightly to kiss him deeper, welcoming the flick of his tongue against hers with a small inhale. Their kisses were careful and still slightly hesitant but only growing deeper with time as tongues pushed gently against each other between mostly closed mouthed kisses.

Daniel moved his hands from her face down to her hips and gently led her back, breaking their kiss. They still stayed close as their noses brushed and lungs breathed in the sea air together as if they had known each other far longer than merely two days. He sighed lightly and left a few more soft kisses to her lips and she could feel his lashes brushing her cheeks when he moved and she inhaled the woodsy smell of his cologne as her eyes stayed closed a moment longer.

“Wanna come over?”

His words fell between them like a simple breath, holding the status of their early-stage relationship in its grasp. With eyes still closed, Avalon bit back a little smile and nodded gently, sliding her hands from around his neck to his shoulders.

“Yeah?” Daniel clarified.

“Yeah.” she whispered, pushing another kiss to his lips.

Both of them barely remembered getting in the car or driving out of the parking lot and the ride through the city streets was perfectly peacefully silent. They both had little smiles on their faces and Avalon was looking out the side window holding the little rubber duck in her hands on her lap, her lips tingling from where he had kissed her. He somehow managed to take her breath away so easily.

Daniel’s head was spinning. He was twenty-two, he had experiences with girls, but there was something about Avalon that was the first one to make him nervous. It felt so easy at Bluestone. He flirted, he sent his sweet smile, and got her number, but once he got to know her, it all felt so…real. He pulled up to a red light and coasted a stop. The roads were almost empty and the streetlamps that lined the sidewalks cast shadows and light across the interior of the expensive car. They made her dark eyes sparkle to the point where he reached over to set his finger on the side of her face and turned her to face him as he leaned in for another kiss. He couldn’t get enough of her.

Avalon smiled softly into it, gladly kissing him back, letting her eyes close and her senses to be captivated by him. She was already addicted. The light turned green and they barely even noticed until the car behind them honked. They shared nervous little chuckles as they continued through LA and towards Daniel’s house.

He surprisingly didn’t live in a mansion – Avalon had expected one for some reason – but Daniel pulled up into the driveway of a white-painted single storey house in the neighbourhood just out of downtown. It was nice. They both got out, not speaking a word as he plugged in his car and then led her up to the front porch. The teddy bear was left in the backseat.

The moment they were inside and the front door was closed, their lips found each other again like instinct. It was a mess of kicking off shoes and him leading her down the hallway to his room all while trying to stay connected by their mouths ungracefully. Avalon barely had a chance to even take in the sleek white and black accents of his bedroom before he was pushing off his jacket from her shoulders and she was working on the buttons on his shirt.

The rubber duck that was still tucked in her hand was haphazardly set on his side table as they fell onto his king size bed in a mess of sheets, limbs, and fiery kisses.

When their cravings had been filled and the sweat of the evening warmed their skin, they laid side by side under the white sheets, chests rising and falling in perfect time. Daniel had his arm around her shoulders and Avalon had hers resting against his bare chest, both of them laying in perfect silence as they wrapped their minds around the evening.

“I don’t sleep with guys on the first date.” she whispered.

Daniel shifted slightly to look her in the eye, “Was that…”

“No. It wasn’t my first time.” Avalon finished for him. “But I…I’ve just never…I’ve never slept with someone so quickly.”

“Is that a problem?” Daniel asked quietly, brushing her tangled blonde hair back from her face.

She propped herself up on her one arm and smiled softly and shook her head, “Not with you.”

Daniel swiped his thumb over her bottom lip, “Well…I don’t ever like women as much as I like you.”

Avalon’s cheeks flushed pinker than they already were and she leaned down to kiss him once.

“Stay the night?” he asked through a soft breath, dusting his lips across her cheek until shivers slunk down her arms.

Avalon smiled happily and nodded, resting her head down against his chest. Daniel pet her hair back and kissed the top of her head and she fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. The first night of the rest of their lives.

Detective Team: @jonahlovescoffee @randomlimelightxxx @stuffofseaveyy @hopinglimelight @tempus-ut-luceant @br4nd1s @xkelsev @hiya-its-amber @the-girl-who-cried-wolf @bessonbae

[the-fiction-witch]

Painting

TV SHOW PISTOL COUPLE MALCOLM X READER RATING SMUT

I hurried back to the usual place not really hard to miss heading upstairs to the flat where I saw him 

"Hello baby bird" he smiled to me coming to give me a cuddle and a kiss "your back early figured you'd be gone a little longer"

"Well, it was just a quick one" I smiled

"Good. You know I don't like you gone too long" he cooed kissing my head "uhh Viv is here"

"Ah. Okay" I nodded a little unsure how to feel about it but I couldn't exactly kick up

"Oh. y/n" she sighed as she stood by the table in her usual dress some paperwork in her bag and a baby on her hip 

"Vivienne" I nodded as much as I once admired her she had made no secret her distaste for me and we had grown even more angry and resentful towards each other as time went on 

"We were just leaving" she snapped getting her things and quickly heading out 

"What was she here for?" I asked the moment the door closed 

"She wanted some old design stuff, and tried to dump the baby on me" he explained before he gave my cheek a kiss "your cute when your jealous"

"I'm not jealous"

"Liar" he smirked slapping my butt as he walked off to do something else

"Malcolm?" I asked

"Yes?" He smirked leaning on the kitchen counter

"Do you and vivienne… do stuff when I'm not around?" 

"No. Why would we? It's been over a long time now. She just pops over for work and to see if she can dump the baby with me. That's it" he laughs, pulling me closer to stand between his legs "why would I wanna shack up with some moldy old crone? When I can have my cute, sexy baby bird?"

"What about… you know?'

"Her? Really? She's my ex wife relax I barely see her and even when I do she tries to kill me"

"Over her boy"

"He's not mine. We've been over this"

"But Viv's is?"

"Yeah, he is. Will you relax? You get so jealous it's adorable" 

"What about when I'm Viv's age? Will I be an old crone then? Will you want a new baby bird?"

"Awww you will always be my baby bird" he cooes, kissing me gently and pulling me so there wasn't an inch between us "lil got you thinking didn't she?"

"She did"

"I can tell. That's okay I know it's not easy for you to trust me" he says stroking my hair 

"I trust you" I smiled hugging him close "so? What are we gonna do today?" I asked and I felt his smirk against my skin before I looked up and saw him twiddling a paint brush in his hand and I glared a little 

"Come on, you promised"

"Okay" I giggled 

"Go on, baby bird. I'll get set up" he says slapping my butt as he pushed me towards the bedroom I giggled and went into the bedroom where most of my stuff was located I smiled and gently took my clothes off slipping each thing off leaving them on the floor until I stood naked in our long mirror I grabbed a little towel I often use for my hair holding it tight to my body to cover myself even if I only covered what really was essential to cover I went back to the living room, the lights down low and a few candles lit, the record player spinning some gentle sweetie tunes and saw malcolm stood with his book that he draws and paints in standing against the chair he looked me up and down and instantly smirked "beautiful." he smirked doing the little come here signal with his finger so I went over tiptoeing across the wooden floor 

"How would you like me?"

"I think you know how I want you" he growled "what's this for?" He asked tugging on my towel a little but I held it close

"Just so I don't get cold while your sketching" I smiled

"Cold? Okay baby bird" he smiled kissing my head "on the sofa lay nice and beautiful for me" he says so I smiled and went to the sofa laying down in a way I thought I looked pretty and that I was comfortable in so he sat on the chair and began sketching me looking up from his paper over and over examining me carefully making sure to get the lines just right "can you move it now? I need to do that bit of you" he smirked sharpening his pencil

"I'm sure your knowledgeable enough about it by now malcolm" I laughed

"... I am." He smirked "but I want to see how your breasts fall, how your sweet curves sit, how that sexy ass squishes itself, how my favorite place looks with you like this," he smirked "besides the angle would be wrong I'm used to looking at it when your laid on your back with your legs open, so… come on baby bird" he cooed 

I smiled and pushed the towel off me leaving me laid naked on the sofa nothing to protect me at all he looked me over gently growling under his breath "beautiful, you are going to make such a beautiful picture" he smiled as he continued to work "umm must be cold in here,"

"Why?"

"There perky" he smirked, staring at my breasts I looked and noticed how hard and perky they were due to the chill of the apartment "or is my baby bird just excited?"

"Both" I smiled

"Good" he smirked as he was obviously finishing up 

"Can I see?" I smiled

"Ah ah ah not till I'm done" he smirked putting his pencils away and getting the box from the side and his paintbrush he turned the lamp on above the chair letting the harsh orange light cascade over us both he smirked and undid his shirt pulling it off him "don't want to get paint all over me do I?" He smirked so I shook my head and did my best not to move from the position I was in as he began to paint the picture keeping his tongue between his lips as he worked he sighed a moment and kneeled by the sofa putting some of his paint on my stomach but the colour didn't match "damn it" he sighed mixing more colours in and trying again "nope. You are so damn difficult" he complained 

"Sorry" I blushed 

"It's not your fault, your just a hard colour to mix is all" he says trying again but still off so he tried again and i stopped his hand as he mixed 

"A little more Yellow and that's the colour foundation I use" I said 

"Ahh, I should really use your makeup. To refer to sometimes" he laughs doing as I said and it was a very good match for my skin tone "perfect! Thank you baby bird" he smirked wiping the paint swatches away from me and kissing my skin where they where I smiled and took the other brush he had in his hand and getting one of his failed colours doing a little on his collar bone "your easy" 

"Yeah well I don't go outside much. I'm a pale man" 

"Pale and slender"

"Your mean to me" he laughs "evil girly" he smirked going back to his chair and his painting "fuck" he sighed 

"What?"

"I put the wrong colour in the wrong place" he sighed before he smirked coming back over with his paintbrush and doing a line between my breasts "there, now it looks the same" he smirked "it needs to dry a little before I do the next bit"

"What do you wanna do till then?" I asked

"Umm what do I wanna do" he smirked laying his head on my stomach fiddling with the brush in his hand until an evil smile crawled on his lips and he but a dab of bright blue paint on both my breasts 

"What's that for?"

"Just… marking what's mine" he smirked continuing the dabs all the way down my stomach putting one on my waist, my butt, my hips before he painted an X on my mound 

"What's that for?" I giggled as it had tickled me

"Well x marks the spot and so I know no pretty boys are fooling with my baby bird" he smirked and it's to remind me, that's where I bury my treasure" he smirked "where's your favorite place?' he smirked, handing me the brush so I got some bright red paint and did a little on his neck and chest "Humm I rather thought your favorite was a little further south?" He smirked pushing the brush a little down so I giggled and went over his prominent V with the brush 

"I like that place to"

"Ohh I bet you do" he smirked "when I'm done, and not until" he warns going back to his work painting away for a good while until he smirked and called me over so I smiled stepping over to him as he say his painting up on the table against a glass it did look like me even if he had made my boobs and butt a little bigger 

"I'm not that beautiful' I pointed out 

"Humm, you are too me baby bird" he cooed kissing my head as he pulled me into his chest

"I think you exaggerated" I smiled

"Did I know? What makes you think so?" He smirked getting a little off the red paint in his hands and grabbing my ass hard so I now undoubtedly had two large red paint handprints on my butt I giggled getting some blue and painting down towards his crotch but he stopped me and pulled me into a lustful kiss "come on baby bird. Let's go make purple" he smirked tugging me to the bedroom.

[fellulahh]

Hey! ❤️ your MC accidentally confessing to the brothers while drunk gave me life 🙏🏻 could you maybe do a part 2 of it where MC is sober again the next morning? 🥺❤️ have a nice day! 🥰❤️

Sorry this took me so long to do the other brothers/Diavolo! Unfortunately I can’t find the original post of when MC was drunk so I’ve included everything from it in this post😹

~

MC’s drunk and confesses her love for him, Part 2: the next morning (Asmo, Beel, Belphie and Diavolo)

Asmo

- MC and Asmo had been drinking together

- Like always, he drunk her under the table - she ended up getting absolutely wasted while he seemed like he hadn’t drunk a thing

- He can’t stop cooing over how smiley she is, she was definitely a happy drunk

- She’s also a little touchy

- Like she’s completely infatuated with Asmo when she’s sober, let alone drunk (only she hides is MUCH better when she hasn’t had a drink)

- She can’t stop pinching his cheeks, telling him how beautiful he is

- At first he was like ‘FINALLY someone notices’ but then after she keeps complimenting him, he actually starts to get flustered and a little shy

- But then she starts telling him she’s love him and then he gets REALLY shy

- Acts all cool around drunk MC saying things like ‘of course you love me, who doesn’t?’ But inside his heart is beating like mad

MC woke up in her bed with a sore head. She let out a loud groan when she heard a knock at her door. Soon Asmo appeared with a jug of cold water and a glass. MC’s eyes lit up at the sight.

“Oh Asmo you have no idea how happy I am to see you.” She sighed, sitting up slowly in her bed.

“If you’re happy to see me now I don’t know what exactly you were feeling last night.” He cooed as he reached her bed, sitting beside her. “MC! You didn’t take off your makeup!” He gasped.

She was too busy processing his first remark. There was definitely something more to his comment but she couldn’t work out what. Silently, she cursed to herself, praying she didn’t do anything embarrassing. Driving herself insane with her overthinking, she decided to ask him.

“Asmo?” She asked groggily.

“Yes MC?” He smiled brightly.

“Did I do anything embarrassing last night?” She asked hesitantly, unsure whether she wanted to hear the answer or not. Bringing up a full cup of water to her lips, she sipped gradually.

“Well let’s see...” he laughed, leaning on one hand as he pondered, “it depends really, MC. Do you consider your undying love for me embarrassing?”

MC spat out her water causing Asmo to jump back. “Sorry?” She asked quietly, making sure she heard him correctly.

“You told me you love me last night! I hope you don’t find that embarrassing, MC. I mean I can’t blame you for falling in love with me!” He gushed.

“Oh my goodness.” She sighed, flopping back onto the bed, “please kill me now.” She moaned as she took another sip of water.

“Kill you?!” Asmo asked shocked, “MC if I were to kill you then how on Earth am I going to tell you I love you too?!”

Once again MC spat out her drink at his words.

“Honestly MC, if you wanted me to know you’re a spitter there are other ways of showing me!” He shook his head before breaking out a smile.

Beel:

- Beel was heading to the kitchen to grab his 100th snack of the evening when he was surprised to see MC’s head in the fridge

- He’s even more surprised to see her munching on whatever food she can find, it’s like he was looking in the mirror

- “Are you okay?” He asks concerned

- “Beel!!” She squeals, standing up straight before pulling him into a hug “Mammon and I were drinking and I got kinda hungry” she spoke sheepishly “but I’m so glad you’re here!”

- She suddenly pulls out her secret stash of food she’d hidden “eat with me!” She grins

- Beel’s a little taken aback but he’s not going to turn down food and time with MC

- He chuckles at her as they sit down by the kitchen counter, he can’t help but notice her staring at him as he’s eating his food

- “What?” He asks amused, food stuffed in his mouth

- “You.” She smiles “I love you Beel.”

- “And I love you too, MC.” He grins, ruffling her hair

- “No, Beel. I’m in love with you.”

- *shocked silence*

As MC stepped into the dining room ready for breakfast, she was only met by Beel sat at the table. As soon as she saw him, she quickly tried to slip back out of the room unnoticed, knowing exactly what she’d said to him the night before. MC wanted to save the embarrassment of finding out her love was unrequited so she made her way into the kitchen to get some breakfast to go.

As she was rummaging through the cupboards, she heard the door open. “Hey MC - how come you ran off?”

‘Uh oh’

“Hi Beel.” She smiled sheepishly, turning around with red cheeks, “I’m not feeling great so I was just going to take some food upstairs to eat.”

“Oh that’s a relief.” He breathed, “I thought you were avoiding me because you told me you love me.” MC’s body froze and Beel noticed her sudden change of pace. “Unless...that is why you’re avoiding me?”

“Listen Beel I’m sorry.” She sighed, “I had a lot to drink and wasn’t thinking - I didn’t mean to tell yo—“

“Why are you worrying so much?” He interrupted, “I told you I love you too last night and you seemed really happy about it!”

MC tried to rack her brain for the memory but had no such luck. “You did?” She asked unsure.

“Yeah.” He chuckled, “I mean admittedly you then told me you’re in love with me and caught me by surprise...”

“Oh no.” She shook her head embarrassed.

“I didn’t think you felt that way about me.” He grinned, pulling her in for a really warm hug. MC was too shocked by his actions to say anything back. Cautiously, she slipped her arms around his body, hugging him too. “Do you wanna go and grab something to eat today?”

“Like a date?” MC asked against his chest confused.

“Yeah, like a date.” He smiled to himself.

Belphie:

- Belphie’s heading up to his room to go to bed for the night

- He does a double take when he opens the door and sees MC passed out

- He tries not to wake her but as soon as he sits on the bed she begins stirring

- “Hey! You came back” she smiles sleepily “Asmo and I got back from the club and I wanted to come and see you but you weren’t here!”

- She immediately snuggles into him

- He looks down at her in awe as she buries her face in his side

- “You are so comfy” she mumbles “why don’t we do this more often??”

- Belphie thinks MC is the purest lil thing he’s ever seen and can’t help the big smile on his face. He doesn’t think anything could make this moment better.

- “Have I ever told you I love you Belphie?”

- Never mind, that did.

MC woke up dazed and confused. She rolled over as her eyes adjusted. Soon her confusion turned into nerves when she realised she was in Belphie’s bed - and after remembering the events of the previous night those nerves turned into panic.

‘You idiot’ she thought to herself, recollecting the moment she told Belphie she loved him.

MC almost let out a scream when she felt someone stirring beside her. Emerging from the covers was Belphie. He rubbed his tired eyes with his fingers before facing MC.

“Oh hi MC.” He said simply.

“Belphie why am I in your bed?” She asked bewildered. She hadn’t even realised that she wasn’t alone under the covers.

“You fell asleep here last night, I went to go and sleep on the sofa downstairs but you woke up and demanded ‘I snuggle you’” he answered with a small smile.

“Yeah that sounds about right...” MC mumbled to herself, feeling more embarrassed with every second that passed. “I’m sorry you had to put up with me last night.”

“I’m not!” He laughed, “I rather enjoyed your drunkenness - drunk MC is a lot more honest that sober MC.”

She silently hoped he wasn’t referring to her confession. Perhaps she said something else while she was intoxicated that she hadn’t remembered?

“In fact can I ask you something?” He spoke with a cunning smile.

“Sure.” MC nodded, watching him intrigued.

“Have I ever told you I love you?” He asked with the cheekiest grin.

MC accidentally let out a gasp when he repeated her words from last night. “Belphie that’s not funny!” She scorned him.

“Answer the question!” He smiled.

“No.” MC answered unamused, “No you haven’t told me.”

“Well it’s true.” He spoke softly, flopping back onto the bed. A relieved smile spread across MC’s face. “You still want to snuggle?” He asked, holding out his arms.

“I’d like that.” She nodded, accepting his offer.

Diavolo:

- Diavolo pops over to the house of Lamentation to see how everyone is, not realising MC and some of the brothers were practically having a house party

- He’s sat in the lounge drinking tea with Lucifer when suddenly MC stumbles in

- “Diavolo!” She beams, seeing the Prince of Devildom in the room, she walks straight over to him, plonking her bottom in the space next to him

- Lucifer shakes his head amused, leaving the room

- “Well hello MC” he grins at her

- MC can’t stop staring at him, she’s absolutely mesmerised by his beauty

- “Have you been drinking?” He laughs at her

- “If I told you yes would you tell Lucifer?”

- Diavolo finds her hilarious

- “I’ve always had a soft spot for you, MC. You never fail to make me laugh.”

- When she hears his words she leans on his shoulder smiling “you’re so handsome. I’d love to take you home with me - my parents would love you.”

- Completely shocked, Diavolo can’t help but smiling as he pulls MC in for a tight hug

MC woke up in her bed as usual. Although she had a small headache, she still got dressed and made her way down for breakfast. As she approached the dining room she was surprised to hear Diavolo’s voice. Usually he goes back to the palace after paying a visit but he must have stayed in one of the spare bedrooms last night.

Stepping into the room, she was met by smiling faces. “Here she is!” Asmo cooed, “our little drunk human.”

“How did you know I was drinking last night?” She asked flustered.

“I might have mentioned it this morning.” Diavolo grinned, “come MC, I’ve saved you a seat next to me.”

“Okay.” She mouthed with a smile. She sheepishly made her way toward him, her heart fluttering over the fact that Diavolo wanted her to sit next to him. As she began serving herself up some food, he kept stealing glances at his exchange student.

MC noticed his stare and a blush soon appeared on her cheeks as she picked up her knife and fork. She quickly turned her head and shot him a subtle smile before anyone could notice.

“So MC.” Diavolo beamed as he leant back on his chair to smoothly put an arm around her shoulder. The brothers were surprised at the interaction as MC turned her face to listen to him. “When are you taking me home to meet your parents then?”

MC’s eyes widened. She’d completely forgotten about her comment the previous night.

“Diavolo!” She gasped causing him to laugh.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten! I was looking forward to the visit.” He grinned, “especially after you told me I’m so handsome.” The brothers couldn’t believe their eyes as they watched their Prince flirt with MC. “Perhaps if you’re not actually ready for me to meet your parents you’ll entertain me by joining me for a drink at the palace this evening?”

[gamerwoo]

[The Pack Next Door] Mingi: Friends with Benefits (Part One)

(photo edit courtesy of @songmingki​)

Characters: Mingi x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fwb au, friends to lovers au, fluff, a lil bit of angst but it’s so tiny it’s fine

Word count: 1,774

Summary: Growing up, you and Mingi were inseparable. You’d been friends your entire life and, as far as you knew, things were never any different. But what you don’t know is that Mingi imprinted on you when he was 15 and first turned into a werewolf, and he had been trying to keep it a secret ever since. And with the awful timing of mating season, he’s hoping he can somehow keep the facade up.

a/n: so reader is written to be taller and to be not straight soooooo yeah just a heads up lmao

Tags: @sakura-uji​ @xummie​ 

Next | Friends with Benefits Masterlist

By far, Mingi was the first in his pack to imprint. Hell, he imprinted before he even found his pack. And he couldn’t tell if it was insanely good luck or absolutely shitty luck that his mate was right by his side the whole time.

You had known Mingi since you could remember. He lived across the street from you when you were both growing up, and you would often go outside to play with him. Your parents and his parents basically raised you together as friends, and you were inseparable ever since. You couldn’t even remember a time you didn’t know Mingi.

It was no surprise you grew up to be more of a ‘one of the boys’ type person. You tagged along with Mingi all throughout elementary school and most of middle school. His friends were your friends, and vice versa. Really, the only time you weren’t with him was when you both decided to go out for the soccer team, and you found out that there were separate teams for boys and girls -- you stuck with the sport while Mingi quit after one season because he was only put on the team because they needed the numbers.

It was middle school that your parents were betting you and Mingi would become sweethearts because it was around that time that kids started realizing that the other gender wasn’t so awful. People your age were bragging about holding hands and having their first kisses, and you were too busy kicking Mingi’s ass at soccer to really pay much attention to any of that. But Mingi was starting to get pressured by some of the guys he was friends with at the time because he was the only one of them who hadn’t kissed a girl yet.

“What?” you snorted when he told you. “That’s a dumb thing to be worried about.”

“Aren’t you?” he wondered, sitting in the grass beside you at the edge of the soccer field.

“No,” you shrugged. “Well...I mean, some of the girls have been being kinda mean lately and saying it’ll never happen.”

“Why?”

“I’m not girly.”

Mingi nodded. He already knew there were some girls who picked on you for being more masculine sometimes -- you didn’t get into makeup when everyone did, you didn’t dress in the same clothing that was considered ‘trendy’ or whatever, and you had more male friends than female friends. It was something he thought was stupid to get teased for, but both of you knew you couldn’t do much about it. You’d come to terms with the fact that means girls were just mean girls for no reason. Besides, what did you care what they thought?

Mingi stared at his knees as he thought. He was a little unsure of the idea that popped into his head, but he knew he could say anything to you and you wouldn’t think any differently of him.

“Well...” he began slowly, unable to look at you because of the blush that was suddenly rushing to his cheeks, “we could always...kiss each other...?”

You whipped your head around to look at him, “What?”

“What?” he asked defensively, squinting against the sun to finally look at you. “It was just a suggestion!”

You shoved at his leg before pushing yourself to get up from the grass, “You’re my best friend, though. That would be weird.”

“Yeah, but people would leave us alone.”

“But you also told Jaehyun before that you’d rather lick the bathroom floor than kiss me.”

“Yeah, but people would leave us alone.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, “Look, if your friends are bothering you that much, why don’t you ask Kim Naeun to kiss you? She has a crush on you.”

That definitely got him to brighten up, “She does?!”

But of course, it didn’t last. And neither did the teasing. By the time you were in high school, you had changed a little, those around you had grown up a lot, and feelings had changed -- specifically when Mingi turned 15.

You were still into soccer and you were still a tomboy, but you had also decided you liked wearing eyeliner. You typically dressed in ripped jeans and beanies, but you now wore those clothes to fit your body better rather than choosing the baggiest clothing you could find. And at first, Mingi thought maybe that was the reason he was slowly starting to see you in a different light. And maybe that was it at first. But while things were a little different for you, they were really different for him.

It was some random day freshman year that Mingi shifted. The problem was that his pack was nowhere near close to finding him, and Mingi was also somewhat of an ‘early bloomer’ since most werewolves didn’t first shift until they were 16. So Mingi was left to his own devices to figure out how to calm himself down enough to shift back, and then get some answers.

He was missing for four days. Search parties were out looking for him, you were spamming his phone and every form of social media he had, and his parents across the street had never been so distressed. It was the first time ever that you didn’t have Mingi by your side, and truthfully, you were lost.

But then you got a call that he was back, and you told his parents you’d be right there. You ditched school and ran all the way to his house, knocking on the door and practically bouncing on the balls of your feet as you waited for someone to open the door.

And there was Mingi.

As soon as his eyes landed on you, he felt the imprinting pull hit him like a truck. He’d never felt anything more than platonically for you -- well, other than the fact he might’ve been physically attracted to you before everything happened -- so the fact he suddenly felt this overwhelming romantic love for you was almost scary to him. It was like the world stopped and he gained tunnel vision where he only saw you. He wasn’t sure what it was, either, but he assumed it had something to do with whatever the hell was happening to him.

What he didn’t know was that you felt it, too. You just felt it at a smaller scale than he did. And maybe that was why tears welled in your eyes when you looked at him, because you were hit with how much you loved and cared for him, and you threw your arms around him and yelled at him to never scare you like that again.

And as he hesitantly and shakily put his arms around you, he mumbled, “I promise.”

Of course, Mingi did manage to find out he was a werewolf thanks to the internet. The websites he found seemed to be run by crazy people, only for him to realize that everything they said was true for him, at least. So when he read what imprinting was and what it meant, he realized that meant you were his soulmate; you were the person he was destined to spend the rest of his life with. And that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, there was just one teeny tiny issue...

You had a girlfriend now.

The summer between eighth grade and freshman year, you were a little confused about your sexuality and decided to explore some things. Ultimately, at the beginning of freshman year, you began dating a girl named Song Daehee who even Mingi got along really well with. So he couldn’t even be mad at your girlfriend for the situation because he liked her. The only thing he could be mad at was fate. But he knew you were meant to be with him, so he knew if he waited, you would come to him. So he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

By the time you and Daehee broke up, you were already in college and he had found his pack -- who he introduced to you as his new friends from college, and you thought they were hilarious. And during that time that he was waiting, he had’t even told you what he really was. He never explained what happened when he ran away when he was fifteen, and he told his pack they couldn’t tell you anything, either.

“But she’s your best friend,” San had stated when Mingi first told them -- despite not being the youngest, he was the last to be added to the pack. “Why wouldn’t you want to tell her?”

“Do you tell all of your friends?” he quipped.

“But she’s your mate,” Seonghwa pointed out.

Honestly, at this point, it seemed too late to tell you. It had been so long since he ran away before that he wasn’t sure when or how to tell you now. He’d known for so long, so wouldn’t you be mad that he never told you? Not only that, but would you think any less of him? He was never afraid to say anything to you, but now he was so unsure of everything. He was some mythical monster now.

That fear hung onto him all the way up until now. The two of you were still friends, he was still tall, and while you didn’t play soccer for school anymore, it was something the two of you still often did in his backyard despite the fact he never got any better than he did in sixth grade. You were taller, you still never wore skirts or dresses, and you had perfected your eyeliner technique but didn’t really wear any more makeup than you used to.

And still, from that day he came home when he was 15, Mingi seemed to fall more and more in love with you. He loved how you always wore backwards baseball caps, and how you still made strange decisions without completely thinking them through -- like when you shaved half your head before high school graduation, or when you got your tongue pierced just to take the piercing out a week later because it gave you a lisp. He loved how you had slowly found yourself and he had gotten to see all of it ever since you two were kids. He loved how you were unapologetically yourself, and he loved that he had you as his best friend even if sometimes that hurt him.

What he didn’t really love, though, was that after all these years of loving you, you were still oblivious to everything.

So some things had changed, but most things hadn’t.

[nitannichionne]

If He Was YOUR Fan Chapter 19: The Cavill Challenge (Henry Cavill Fan Fic)

CHAPTER 19: The Cavill Challenge

                                          You are waiting. You didn’t go to the Durrell challenge, even though Henry asked you to over and over. You hadn’t trained for it, and you just weren’t ready for a 13K run. And then, in a public social setting for the first time was something you weren’t ready for. You couldn’t tell him that for some reason. People had seen you around town, but not necessarily together. You went shopped with Stella, even hit the pub once with her:

“Who’s your friend?” a man asked Stella one weeknight. When Stella shook her head, he turned to you. “What’s your name?”

“Piss off, Lars,” Stuart warns.

“Ah, come on, a name, if only to say hello?”

You glance at the good looking man, noting his size and good looks, but say, “Taken.” You turn back to your drink.

“Ah, like your friend, Hannah?” he asks, looking at you both. “Mentally dating Henry Cavill or something?” He laughs. “Hey, Archer! This one says her name is Taken.”

“She truly is,” Archer nods, his arm curling around Hannah. Her eyes harden at you, but you are grateful that neither tell more than they should.

“If Archer can’t be a nice consolation, why can’t I, love?”

You sigh. You pull out your phone and start paying attention to it. You check messages. You expect none from Henry; he was probably fast asleep. You feel like this is a mistake now. You went out with two couples and even though Stuart and Stella assured you wouldn’t, you feel like fifth wheel.

You look around Henry’s home: You bought a mat to go in front of the fireplace. You have lavender lotion at the ready. You bought Egyptian cotton sheets for his bed, determined to make up for your disappointing him for not coming to the Durrell Challenge run. Your phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?”

You recognize Stella’s voice. “Stella?”

“Everyone knows that Henry’s going to a pub at the end of his race,” Stella whispers. “It looks like every girl in the town is here!”

Your breath hitches. “There can’t be many—”

“Does there have to be?”

The line clicks off, and you feel a panic. You trust Henry right now, but is it too early in the relationship to when he has so many options? He went out with an actress for twelve days once. You more than beat that record, but…?

You tense...right now, you shake your head at your own thoughts. You should be there to show support of what he believes in. You realize your needing more time to adjust to a public eye, even a small one like a town near the movie set, might be unrealistic and selfish. There will be more eyes from here on out, you deduce. This is as good as a springboard as any. This could mark the sunrise of your time as Henry’s lady friend, and let’s face it, you wanted to stay private so that when he tired of you, your heartbreak could be the same as it set.

What if it doesn’t? What if it does because of this decision?

You take a breath. If he was any other guy, you knew you’d meet him at the finish. Chastising yourself for your mistake, you run to the mirror. Ugh, not like this!

You look into your backpack and the athletic bag left at Henry’s, biting your lip as you pull together an outfit: A teal sports bra top, black leggings and a black form-fitting jacket that accents your curves. You do your facial treatment, determined not to wear makeup, looking fresh faced, and then apply mascara and lip gloss for good measure. Eyes and lips matter on stage, and everywhere else for that matter. After pulling your ponytail through the back of your baseball cap, you walk outside and grab your mountain bike, looking at Henry’s. He bought one, saying he would ride with you one day, but not as of yet.

You load your leg pack, fill and put on a Camelback pack and take off. This is an ten mile ride. He’s running and then stopping at the pub miles from there. You have to move it! You put your earpiece in. “Call Stella.”

“Calling Stella.”

You wait as the line rings.

“Hey!”

“Where is he?”

“I hear he is less than halfway,” she says in a low voice. She listens to your breathing. “Where are you?”

“On my way,” you pant softly.

“You’re biking, aren’t you?”

“Yep.”

“You brought your headlights, right?”

“It’s broad daylight, but yes, Stella, I did.” You steer to the right, letting cars go by. “Don’t tell him I’m coming, alright?”

“Alright.”

You click off, and increase speed.

An small SUV goes by and you swerve, going off the road and purposely falling into the bushes to avoid rolling and falling into trees below at the bottom of a small ravine. You have cycled in snow and rain and wind and it pays off, only feeling a little bumped, maybe bruised. You try to see the license plate as you walk your bike back on the road but it is gone by the time you think to even do it, a bit unsettled by the near accident. Time passes and you see the town square opening up to you. It’s not very big, but big enough. You see quite a few SUVs parked, and they all look the same. It dawns on you that these are rentals and probably from the movie set. Could someone have tried to hit you?

You see Henry’s truck parked and go to it. You hitch your bike to a sign post and walk to the pub door. You take a deep breath and try to smooth yourself over. You can’t look all that together after a ten to twelve mile ride, but you made it. You nod respectfully to the man at the door who opens it and step inside.

You scan the place. He’s not there! You hear your name called and see Stella waving you over frantically. You speed over to her.

“He’s running at a park near here,” Stella says softly. “Cindy says his finish line is not in town, but four miles away.” She holds her phone and shows you where it is. “He met others here and they all drove to the start. You might not make it—”

You aren’t listening. You’re gone.

You hop on your bike, put the name of the place in your phone and hit the road again, this time putting the rubber drinking tube in your mouth to get water from your pack since you didn’t drink anything at the bar. You are solidly counting on Cindy’s information and the Google Map God. You take a cleansing breath and push on. You put on music as you listen to the English Siri tell you what to do.

You bike a trail in the natural park as you reach it, and your memory sparks at what you see before you in Instagram photos. You are in the right place, and this fuels you. Now that you know, the posts and the trail map are your best friends. Deductive reasoning tells you which paths to take, as there are a few turns, but you are making it.

Finally you reach a clearing, and you see Henry and security as well as a few people from work all laughing and smiling, drinking water in the distance. You stop short, watching him. You said you weren’t going and now you’re here?! How will he take that?! You use your time to catch your breath, unsure what to do, and insanely contemplating turning around as he takes a selfie of himself and Kal.

Henry calls your name. You stand still, gripping your handlebars and smile, but your stomach is doing flip flops while your heart is in your throat. What a time to reconsider—

“You came?!” He is grinning. “Oh my God, you came!” He starts toward you with Kal trailing behind and you walk your bicycle to meet him. “You biked here?”

“Knee injury, don’t run anymore, I told you,” you pant, tapping your knee which is in a brace. “but I wanted to be here to support you, being by yourself, but you’re not by yourself—” He smiles and you feel heat creep up your cheeks, taking a deep breath as your mouth goes dry. “I just wanted to be there for you.” That sounds stupid, all of a sudden. The man is fully confident and able to do whatever he wants whenever he pleases. “That sounds crazy, doesn’t—” He shuts you up with a kiss and you feel his arms encircle you as yours settle on his shoulders.

“Thanks for wanting to support me,” he says softly, his voice taking on that purr that just makes your knees go weak. His hand cradles your face as his thumb caresses your cheekbone. He looks down again  rocking your body with his hips, which seem to be naturally aligning with yours. “You biked here?!”

“Yeah!” you laugh happily. “I used to bike all the time back home, good way to integrate exercise into the day.

“On these roads?!” He frowns. “That’s not easy.”

“It’s not that hard,” You retort, knowing you’d do it again for the warmth you’re feeling from him now.

He takes your bike and steers it with one hand, holding yours with the other and guides you toward his running party.

“So did you do this on purpose?” he asks. “Surprise me, I mean.”

“Actually, no,” you shrug. “I was setting up a nice spa night at your place—”

“Spa?!” he repeats with a raise of his eyebrow. “Spa? Like massage and bath?”

“I was about to make you something to eat when I changed my mind,“ You say apologetically. “but it can wait, I can make—”

“We’ll have a drink and some supper,” he says quickly. “then head back.”

“I thought—”

“Now I’m the one who can’t wait,” his says softly, his blue eyes changing to a shade that takes your breath away. He makes introductions to people you have seen and were never introduced to, his arm going around you as a warming symbol of his affection and protection. Everyone seems friendly enough and you wonder what you were worrying about.

Thanks for the support and comments! Feel free to follow or IM me to be tagged.

@mistress-of-ward  @nuggsmum  @messyinsomniacbookgirl  @jencanbeyouryengeralt  @sweetdreamsofgelato  @maryann84  @omgkatinka  @the-soot-sprite  @viking-raider  @keanureevesisbae  @henryobsessed  @summersong69 @kinbhot4henners  @sunshine96love  @michelehansel  @radofrivia  @thelastsock  @michelehansel  @tumblnewby @henryobsessed @defffcc  @tenaciousneckpartypainter  @rn7rocksn @mrskikkirazz  @daydreamin83  @ruthoakenshield  @musicartmayheminmyheart  @michelehansel  @tumblnewby  @henryobsessed  @defffcc @tenaciousneckpartypainter @rn7rocksn  @mrskikkirazz  @daydreamin83 @ruthoakenshield  @musicartmayheminmyheart  @mis-lil-red @kaatelyynn  @forallthebrokenheartedthings  @alphacancrii @liquorlaughslove @designerewriterchic

Looking forward to hearing from you! Enjoy and feel free to check out my master lists for my other Cavill fan fic stories!

[orbitariums]

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬! | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟗)

note: eeek i’m so excited for y’all to read this!!! it’s honestly one of my fav chapters. read up, there’s some tea at the end ;) so excited for y’all to read the next chapter.

and i just wanted to thank those who have been reading girls on film from the beginning, i started this in april as a quarantine project that i did NOT expect to blow up the way it did. i pretty much jumped into making a series out of it bc it was what so many people wanted & i’m glad i made that decision. so if you’ve been here from the jump and you’re still here, thank you!!! i’m extremely committed to girls on film & i’m genuinely eager to write even more of it, i have so many more ideas. & if you joined a lil later or just started reading, thank u :’) i appreciate all of y’all. ♡ 

playlist

warnings: none

word count: 8.8k

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞: 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬! | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

    Four slavish years of dedication later, and you were done. You would be done, in just a few hours. You'd sit through a few boring speeches, sure, but then you'd throw your cap in the air. Then you'd really be able to sit in the realization that you finished college, an indubitably incredible feat. You'd been through so much, and so much of it on your own. You were almost entirely independent, especially over the course of these four years. The thought of how much you'd carried on your own back actually made you tear up.

Lucky for you, your best friend noticed.

    "Aht aht!" Aaliyah tsked, rushing over to you when she heard you starting to sniffle. She sat next to you on your bed and cupped your face in her hands, wiping away the tears rolling down your squished cheeks. "No crying. Not when your face is this beat!"

    "Happy tears?" you said, as if it were a question - honestly, your tears came from a source of happiness and heaviness all at once, from all this deep contemplation.

    "Save that for the end, girl," Aaliyah waved her hand dismissively, and you couldn't help but smile, locking eyes with Aaliyah.

     "Love you. So much," you said, for probably the thousandth time that day.

    "I know! Love you too, sis," she pulled you in for a deep hug, nuzzling her chin into your shoulder. "And this dress is to die for. Don't get your makeup on it, now."

Another one of your accomplishments being called to attention - the fact that your best friend was wearing a dress that you made to your graduation, and so were you. You started out college practically without a clue - it seemed that some years asked questions, and other years gave answers.

     "I won't," you pulled away, your hands still on Aaliyah's sides. You lightened up. "Now let's go graduate."

| | |

    "Proud of you, YN," your mom smiled warmly.

    You were standing in front of your parents, who you actually hadn't seen in a few months, despite them living in California too. You didn't really make it a priority to talk to them - honestly, you never had. Your relationship with your parents had been almost stonelike throughout your life. It wasn't bad, per say, but it wasn't your definition of healthy either. They were sort of just there, playing the role of parents.

    They helped you when you needed help, but they were never really there for you. You had never felt comfortable enough to really open up to them. It was just another part of the reason why your relationships felt the way they did, why you were so adamant on protecting yourself and healthy communication.

Being here with them today was nice, but it was almost fake - your sweet interactions with them tasted like artificial sugar, especially when you smiled extra wide, so much that it hurt your cheeks. But you downed it like it was nothing. It couldn't hurt to have them here.

     "Thanks, mom," you pulled her in for an awkward hug, then your dad.

You found yourself just standing in front of them, clenching and unclenching your fists, unsure of what to say next.

    "We... made dinner reservations for this nice restaurant in town. We thought you might want to join us, to celebrate," your dad offered - at least he was trying, you noticed.

You smiled sadly, because you had already made plans with friends. Still, you weren't sure a dinner with your parents would be your idea of celebration, so, a little selfishly, you were glad.

    "Aww, that's sweet of you guys, but I already-"

    "Hey!" you were interrupted by Aaliyah's trill as she slid up next to you, holding balloons and what looked like not one, but multiple bouquets. Like always, her whole family came to congratulate her. You kind of wanted to see Aaliyah's parents instead. Aaliyah paused slightly when she saw your parents, who she knew too since you had been close friends for ages. She smiled softly, eyes darting between the three of you, and continued. "Hey Mr. and Mrs. YLN! Wow, it's been a while. Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to talk to YN about our... plans?"

Aaliyah seemed to be looking to you for guidance on what to say- you had planned something for tonight with her, but Aaliyah in no way wanted to interfere with whatever your parents had planned. She knew you felt incredibly neutral towards them, but she felt like maybe this would be an opportunity for you and your parents to finally open up to one another. Her plans with you could wait.

    "Hi, Aaliyah, it's good to see you," your dad grinned, and pulled her in for a hug, along with your mom.

    "Uhh. I was saying it would be nice, but I have plans with Aaliyah and a couple other people, so."

    "Oh, uhm, actually, if it's a problem we can just hang out some other time," Aaliyah suggested, looking up at you for acceptance, shrugging. "And, my family wants to hang out too, so, I won't really be able to hang out tonight. If that's okay. By the way, my parents wanted to give this to you..."

Aaliyah handed you one out of her many bouquets, and you took it with grace, smiling down at the assortment of flowers. She kept looking up at you, and you could tell she was sort of pushing you to take this opportunity for your own sake. She wasn't trying to intervene, but she knew what was right for you as your close friend, and she figured both you and your parents deserved some personal time with each other. You and Aaliyah already hung out a lot.

    "Up to you, YN," your mom replied, but by the way she was slightly bouncing back and forth on the balls of her feet told you the decision you had to make.

You smiled at everyone, though you were withholding a deep sigh. Tonight would probably be another night of unraveling and healing, you had to prepare yourself. But until then, you would be celebrating.

❁❁❁

    Steve was busy, workwise and otherwise. He was out of town on a mission with Sam and he barely had any way to communicate with you. But thoughtfully, he had told you that he wouldn't have his phone, so there was no need to question his silence. Besides, early this morning before he left, he made sure to text you a short but sweet congratulatory message to praise you for your graduating. As brief as the message was, it was genuine and kind, and left you grinning the whole morning through, thinking of him.

    Now though, Steve was heading back to headquarters to report back to Fury, in the Quinjet which was being manned by Sam.

    "Couldn't you have just flown back?" Steve attempted to make a joke, though in all reality he was tired and just trying to grasp onto sanity - it wasn't only work that was occupying his mind this week. It was also you, and he was twisting his own arm trying to arrange plans to meet you. Doing so discreetly seemed to be a bigger issue than he had anticipated.

    "Ha-ha," Sam bleated, a smile on his face. Steve sat down next to Sam in the cockpit, making him look over. "For someone like you, you sure seem tired."

    "Ahh," Steve laid his head in his hands. "Just busy. Work and otherwise."

    "Otherwise?" Sam intoned. "Do tell."

Steve chuckled and shook his head,

    "I can't really wrap my head around it myself."

    "Huh. Does it have anything to do with why you've been so happy recently?"

    "Gosh," Steve sighed, not even ready to combat the way he knew Sam was about to grill him. "Everyone thinks this is about a girl."

    "Woah- I didn't say anything about no girl. You finally got some snatch, huh Steve?"

Steve chortled at Sam's vulgarity, and the topic of the question in general. Ironically, the answer was both yes and no. Yes, if it counted onscreen.

     "Shouldn't have said a word, huh?"

    "No, you should not have. To be fair though, Bucky has been pestering me to ask you. Don't think you'd tell me if you won't even tell him, though," Sam admitted.

    Steve had to admit, the idea of someone finding out before he was ready made him anxious. Not to the point where he was ready to abandon all his plans, but enough to make him feel like he had to be careful. He didn't want to hide the fact that he was happy, he just didn't want people in his business about it. It was the last thing he wanted when it came to you. He wanted privacy, wanted to wait until he was ready to come out with it. He could only hope that if and when he did, the positives would outweigh any possible negatives or doubts. The last thing Steve wanted to do was let anyone down - not because of what you did, but because he knew it sounded rash, whether you were a sex worker or not. So sue him if he didn't wanna tell on himself. Not before he even got to have you all to himself.

    And now that he was sitting through the logistics of getting you here, avoiding Bucky's suspicions was like clockwork. He had to be more aware around him, off of his phone, no matter how much he might want to text you. He didn't want trouble in paradise before he even got there.

    "There's no girl," Steve said, as seriously as he could. Sam smirked, side eyeing him a few times, trying to rouse something out of him, and Steve laughed again. "'M serious."

    "Okay. Hey, listen, even if there was, you know we'd have your back right?"

Steve almost blushed - sometimes he could feel so silly for being so private about the situation. Like he should just stop letting precautions impede him. But his smarts got the best of him every time, and thank god for that. He knew his friends would have his back, after all they weren't just his coworkers. But they couldn't possibly expect Steve's situation to be anything like this. Their reactions wouldn't be basic. Besides, there was more than just work and his team dynamic to worry about - there was the issue of your own safety, booking flights and privacy in general. It was worth a lot of work and a lot of contemplation. Nothing he wasn't willing to do for you, but still, he needed the transition to be as seamless as possible.

     "I know, I know," Steve replied. "Just got a lot on my mind these days, that's all."

     Sam patted Steve's back, squeezing his shoulder,

     "Let me know if you ever need to talk about it. I'm your guy."

    "Sure, pal. Sure."

| | |

     Back at the Stark Tower, in the midst of their debrief meeting, Steve decided he should let his team know his plans in advance. Not entirely, but enough so that when he did take the short break that he would be taking in order to accomodate you, it wasn't too much of a surprise.

    He was sitting at the head of the table, opposite end of Tony, his hands clasped together. It was a bit nerve wracking to sit in front of everyone and tell them this simple thing, because there was so much that would lead up to this simple decision. It was all riding on one thing- being able to see you, in the most practical way for the both of you. And, he didn't want to draw any more attention to himself than he already had by being in a better mood and being practically glued to his phone. Everyone suspected him already. So, he tried to keep his voice steady and his eyes low when he made the announcement,

    "I'm thinking of taking a few weeks off. Soon."

    "How soon?" Tony asked, cocking his head.

    "Not sure yet. Thinking in about two weeks, maybe," Steve replied. "And, I'll still be coming in, just not as frequently. By time off I just mean I'm going to be living in my apartment... not here."

Steve had a nice, but common apartment somewhere in Brooklyn, close to where he lived as a child. He sometimes went back and forth between that apartment and Avengers Tower, but he lived with the others for the most part. When it came to you, he wanted to give you as much attention as he possibly could, given the duties of his job, and that meant that he wanted to live with you for some time. He'd retire from the tower for a while and just focus on you, only coming in when he needed to. That way you wouldn't take over his life, but he'd have enough time for you.

    Steve looked around the table, gaging the reactions from everyone. Most everyone seemed fine with Steve's decision, but Bucky was looking at him a little funny, and Sam seemed to have a small smile on his face, whereas Nat was nodding slowly.

    "Well," Tony grunted, shrugging. "You are the boss... for whatever reason. Your call."

    "Thanks for letting us know," Wanda added in, to cover up Tony's comment.

    "Yeah, Steve," Bucky echoed, though he appeared much less thankful, glaring up at him with those striking eyes of his.

Steve shifted in discomfort, clearing his throat,

    "Well, just wanted to make sure you all are aware."

    "We'll miss you," Nat chimed in deviously, and Steve smirked over at her.

    "Won't disappear on you guys, I promise."

❁❁❁

    As much as you tried to distract yourself in the few hours leading up to the dinner with your parents, it admittedly made you nervous. Thinking about talking to them in private rang up so many things that could go wrong in your mind. And again, it wasn't like you had a bad relationship with your parents. It was more like you didn't have a relationship at all— which, now that you thought about it, was bad. You just felt like it would be... awkward. It wasn't quite your idea of a nice graduation night.

    So, on the Lyft there, to calm your nerves, you decided to call Steve. You hoped you wouldn't be interrupting him or bothering him, considering the fact that he had told you he'd be unavailable for a portion of the day. You had already triple texted Aaliyah, but she was out with family, so she wasn't on her phone. You were chewing on your lip as you waited for Steve to pick up, and you practically sighed out of relief when he did.

    "Hi, doll," he said, his voice warm even if slightly tired.

    "Hey," you sighed. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything."

    "Course not," he cooed. You could practically picture the pout on his soft lips when he spoke, and it only made you want to see him in person more. "Everything okay, doll?"

     You giggled, your mood already boosted just by talking to him. The fact that he sounded so concerned when you hadn't even expressed your worries yet warmed your heart, gave you a pang in the chest. It also scared you a bit, how much you felt for him, not even having met him yet. Before, you avoided falling for him because it wouldn't have made sense at all, it would've been an issue of safety and logic. Now, you could feel yourself falling for him, and although you were sure you'd be safe with him, it was still something that you could hardly grasp.

      It made your throat run dry just to think of it. It was all good, and then some nerves on the side. You still didn't know what to expect. And the fact that you were calling him while you were under stress, looking for his reassurance, showed you that you were in deeper than you thought. But just like Steve, you refused to crack. You had been through enough - you could handle this like a big girl. No more scaring yourself away.

    "I'm fine. It's just, my parents came to my graduation today, and they wanna take me out for dinner later."

    "That's great!" Steve sounded genuinely happy for you.

     You forgot he didn't really know much about how you felt towards your parents. Then you realized that there was still so much you didn't know about each other, even with all the time you spent talking to each other. You figured you'd make it a goal of yours to get to know each other better.

     "Yeah, it's cool, but it's kind of... it's weird, I don't know, it's like... our relationship isn't appalling, but it isn't good either. I've never really felt close to them. Like, accepted? I don't know if that makes sense," you leaned your head against the window, grimacing at how poorly you had just explained yourself.

    "It makes perfect sense," Steve said, so surely that you felt more confident in your words. He was always so firm.

    Everything he said, he meant. Besides, he could tell that you were a bit stressed out. He wanted you to feel secure about the things you were saying, wanted to make sure you felt like you could express yourself without inhibitions. And maybe he could ease your nerves a bit.

      "Well, it's just kind of weird between us. It feels like they've never really been there for me, but they've also never really neglected me. It's complicated."

      "Sounds like they do all the stuff a parent is supposed to do, but they're just not emotionally available," Steve offered, perfectly putting it into words for you.

    "Yeah, exactly that. And, as a result, we've never really been close. So it's hard for us to behave like a happy family. I've just been pretty much independent, I've had to put in extra work to find out what healthy relationships look like my whole life. You know the deal."

And he did. You had talked about your troublesome relationships, specifically your ex. Stece wanted to be gentle with you knowing all that he knew about you and how you felt about relationships, whether they were romantic or not. You were pretty social, but you made lots of executive decisions about who you wanted to be in your life, and just how much you let people in.

    "Mhm, I understand. So you're nervous about it because of that?"

    "Yeah, but talking to you helps," you couldn't help the small smile that grew on your lips, and you knew Steve was grinning on the other side.

     "Well, I'm glad, doll. And if you're looking for advice, I'd say just be yourself. Let it go naturally, don't stress too much about the dynamic. If anything, it seems like they're just trying to get closer to you. Don't let them think it's too late, if you can help it. I'm sure it'll be fine."

    "And if it's not?" you asked, biting your lip as a crease formed at your brow.

    "Then it's just another lesson learned, and it's their fault. Not yours. It's their responsibility to make you feel safe around them. To make you feel like you can be yourself. If they can't do that, then shame on them," Steve replied without missing a beat, his response making your heart pitter patter.

He was so good with words, and everything that came out of his mouth sounded lovely, especially when he was giving you advice. He actually cared about you, and he made it a point to show you. It made your stomach stir in the best way. He paused, then added,

     "No offense to your parents."

    You laughed, shaking your head and biting down on your finger. Honestly, you had lucked out. Steve made you feel so much better with ease. Maybe you could just think about him during the whole dinner with your parents, and you'd be in a good mood. Still, he had made some great points, and you felt like it might be much easier for you to talk with your parents now. He had even made you a little hopeful. Maybe you'd have a good time? It wasn't impossible, but it didn't seem likely. And though you still wanted to get it over with, at least you weren't dreading it.

      "Hm, I'm sure they'll be fine. But, hey, thank you. I really appreciate it. You always know what to say."

    Steve chuckled, thinking back to all the times you'd left him practically speechless or tongue tied, but he appreciated your words.

    "No problem. Just want you to be alright."

You breathed in and out, trying to push away the deep feelings that were coming to the surface- you didn't want to show up to dinner with tears in your eyes.

     "Thanks, Steve. Listen, I'm at the restaurant. Talk to you soon?"

    "Talk to you soon. Don't worry, it'll go great, long as you have anything to do with it."

You chuckled, smiling,

     "Bye."

After you hung up, you couldn't wipe the smile off your face. You felt sort of stupid, walking around all dazed with a silly smile, but you were glad your mood was elevated. The reason behind it- it was complicated, but you were grateful for Steve any day.

    The restaurant was dimly lit and not too crowded, so you felt like you could relax a bit. Your parents were already there and waiting for you, so you checked yourself in and you were lead over to your table.

      "Hi," you smiled softly as you slid into the booth with your parents, the two of them sitting on the other side. "Good to see you again."

     "You too," both your mom and dad greeted you, warm smiles on their faces.

All three of you seemed to be a bit nervous, and this was something you took note of. Your parents just wanted to have a regular conversation with you, wanted to connect, and they were a bit anxious to do so.

    "So, congratulations," your mom kept grinning, and you couldn't help but sit back a bit, feeling like you needed to absorb the effort they were making to be nice.

     Your dad slid an envelope across the table, and you opened it with a nervous chuckle, reading the letter they wrote you. It was short and sweet, complimenting you on your accomplishment and how proud of their daughter they were. And in the envelope there was a check, for five hundred dollars - which made your brows raise. Your parents were always able to support you financially, but you hadn't expected this much. You didn't want them to think they could just buy your accompaniment.

     "Wow," was all you could say after a few moments of silence as you composed your thoughts.

     "We figure you could treat yourself," your father reached over and patted your hand, and you struggled to grin.

     "Yeah. Sure. Treat myself, yeah," but really, you were just thinking of how much money you made on your own, from camming, your internship, and soon from your brand.

     "Don't think too much about it, YN. I know you love to overthink. But it's for you, and all your hard work. We... we just want you to know that we love you," your mother explained, and you could see the way her eyes softened looking at you.

      She was trying. They both were. But, you felt like it was a bit overdue. Maybe they just figured that now that you were grown, it might be easier to start up a fully developed conversation about it. You just wished this idea of theirs had manifested a little earlier.

     Just as your mother was about to continue, the waiter came to the table, and asked what you wanted to drink. You couldn't be any more grateful, and you answered quickly,

        "Dirty olive martini, please. And thank you."

You weren't one to depend on alcohol, but you figured just a bit would get you through this more efficiently. You weren't turned off by your mother's proclamation of love, but it was a bit awkward. You weren't one to express emotional sentiments too often to people who you didn't feel one hundred percent comfortable with.

     The waiter left and you were left with your parents, who were still smiling at you. You felt like screaming at them to stop, but you remembered Steve's words, and you relaxed a bit. You had to at least give them a chance.

    "As I was saying, we want you to know that we love you. We know we've been a little distant throughout your life," your mom continued, and your dad nodded, putting an arm around your mom's shoulder.

     "Right. But, we really want you to know how much we appreciate you. You've changed our lives for the better, even if we don't show it one hundred percent of the time," said your father. "We don't want you to live on feeling like you didn't have the best relationship with us."

You nodded, taking in all of their words, and folded your hands together. You cleared your throat before you continued,

    "Um. I... I really appreciate you guys expressing that to me. And honestly I'm glad you took it upon yourselves. I guess I just wish, you know, that it hadn't taken so long."

     Your mom laughed, understanding you,

     "We spoke about that, your father and I."

     "Huh. Why did it take so long? I mean, I'm your daughter, but I've never once felt truly close to you two. I know you love me, and I know you care about me but... it's been so hard for me to even express myself to you for so long. I guess I just want... I need to know why," you sighed, feeling troubled again.

    Both your mom and dad shared a look, and you watched them take their time to answer you.

    "I guess we just didn't know how to be emotionally open with you. We were there, but not fully, and it's a fault of our own. When it came time for your graduation, we realized you were moving into such a new part of your life. We didn't want to just keep acting like we were fine. And it took a while for us to address it because we didn't know how, just like we didn't know how to be open with you," said your father.

Again, you could understand where he was coming from, but the longer you listened to them, the more issues you found with the things they were saying. You weren't necessarily resentful of your parents, but you grew sort of bored of the fact that you always seemed to know better than them how they should treat you. You didn't expect them to hold your hand, and without your upbringing you wouldn't even be the person that you were, so in a way you were grateful. But it just seemed silly that they didn't know how to communicate. You were the kind of person who valued good communication, anything other than that irritated you.

     "Huh," was all you could say, taking everything in.

     "Dirty martini, a beer, and pink lemonade for all of you," the waiter came back, serving the drinks to all of you.

You thanked him quickly, hardly paying attention, immediately taking a big sip of your drink. You hoped refills were free. You would need as much as you could get.

     "Thank you," your mother's warm voice came back into your mind, and you could feel her eyes on you, observing you as you sipped loudly through the straw.

You pulled back, blushing a bit. She merely smirked, nodding over to the waiter who was walking away now, but not without looking over his shoulder at your table again.

     "What?" you asked, your eyes wide and naive, and your mother chuckled,

     "You don't see the way he was looking at you?"

     "Hell, I saw it," your father echoed, and you stared at them, your eyes blank, your brain scattered.

What the hell was going on? They were making such an effort to be relatable. And you were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn't feel like you were receiving any special treatment from said waiter, nor did you give a rat's ass.

    "I... didn't notice," you uttered a fake chuckle, raising your brow.

     "Oh, he's in love. No surprise there, you've never had much trouble with boys," your mother waved her hand, and you nearly snorted. She had no idea. Sure, guys thought you were pretty in high school and all, and you had your share of flings. But relationships? There was always trouble. "You know what, I was wondering if you were seeing anybody?"

    "I'd be surprised if you weren't. But you're a bit overqualified for most of these guys. Are you seeing anyone?" your dad pressed on, and you couldn't help but feel cornered, especially because of the current situation you were in with your relationship with Steve.

    No one in your social circle knew about it, it was something you were deliberately working to keep private. It wasn't something you saw yourself revealing anytime soon, because you simply had no reason to, and you were smart enough to know it would only complicate things. Luckily, it hadn't complicated your life or friendships, but maybe you'd tell just Aaliyah at some point.

    You nearly choked on your own spit, trying to remain calm, and failing. When you cleared your throat, you recuperated, took a big sip and replied, mindful of their anticipating eyes on you.

    "I'm... not currently seeing anyone, no. Uhm, would you excuse me, for a second? I have to use the restroom."

You hardly waited for them to give you the go before you scrambled out of your seat, grabbing your phone quickly, and taking another long sip of your drink before you power walked to the bathroom. You pulled out your phone once you were in there and started texting Aaliyah. You knew she was with her family, and you didn't want to be rude, but you were honestly going through it, and that was what friends were for anyways.

YN | aaliyah, this is URGENT. SOS!!!

Liyah | BITCH!! what what what

YN | my parents are... insane. they keep being all affectionate, it's driving me crazy.

Liyah | yn... sometimes you confuse me tbh. isn't that a GOOD thing? it's what they've failed to do for the past 22 years.

YN | exactly! which is why it feels so fuckin weird right now. and they keep asking me about men... how do i break it to them that there is absolutely no one and there won't be one for a while.

You were lying, because there was a man. And in that retrospect, you had technically lied to your parents. You didn't need them asking questions, not when the man was Steve Rogers. But Aaliyah didn't know that - she still figured you were in your independent single woman phase. And technically, you still were both independent and single. But you wouldn't be surprised if Steve changed you being single real soon.

Liyah | listen, i love you, but i think you're just resisting because it's all super new to you. i get that it's their fault and that they can't just switch up, but they're trying, and i think you know that!! just let it happen, yk?

You sighed. She was right. You were resisting. Steve had made you feel less nervous about the situation, but now that you were actually in it, you were nitpicking everything that you felt was going wrong. You just didn't understand why it took them so long to open up to you, why you had to live your life this way. It all seemed so sudden. But maybe, you would just have to accept it, and let it be. Maybe it was the universe's way of telling you that things were going to get easier. You texted a simple: "you're right, love you," and fixed yourself up before heading back in. You'd be less begrudging, but you still needed a drink. Or two... or three or four.

The rest of the night you let your parents dote on you, as unnatural as it felt, and with every compliment you took a sip. And as much as you valued communication, you found yourself willingly shutting down, letting your parents insist on loving you like "they knew they should've been", while you happily sipped away at the growing number of martinis you were receiving. At some point, you knew you should stop, but you had gone overboard long before you knew it, and you had barely even touched your food.

    "Honey, did you hear me?" your mom asked, and you looked up from the bottomless pit that was your drink. Honestly, you hadn't spoken much the whole dinner, at least not what was on your mind. And right now, you were feeling like you had a lot to say, that was all bubbling up too fast.

    "Hm?" you hummed, distracted, your eyes bleary.

    "We were saying we wanted to maybe spend the week together, you know, bonding? We've made a rough itinerary of stuff to do."

      You sighed loudly, not able to hide your despair and slight annoyance. You appreciated the effort, but why wasn't this enough for them? Why couldn't they just gain some clarity, feel better about themselves now that they thought they had redeemed themselves, and go on about their lives? You tried to think about the things that Aaliyah and Steve had said, but it was hard for you to be mindful and not nitpick or purposefully reject their approach when you were drunk and hadn't even spoken your mind the way you wanted to. You needed them to know how you really felt.

     Your parents could tell you weren't satisfied, and glanced at each other shortly before looking back over at you.

      "I understand that you may not think this is the ideal way to bond. I know it's been far too long, but-"

     You interrupted your dad, the words spilling out before you even had a chance to really think it out,

     "Mom, dad, I don't think you know me at all. I mean, honestly. And I get that you're trying to get to know me but... you can't just say it's been far too long and think that this solves everything. I know you think that you're doing something good for all of us, mainly yourselves, and I appreciate you trying, but I'm at a point where I just can't accept delayed communication. You're telling me you didn't know how to love me? I'm your daughter. You practically threw this at me, this... intervention, this facade of solving our issues, which were unspoken until now. Do you even know what I've been doing with my life, besides attending college?"

By the looks on their faces, you could see that they were miffed, unsure of what to even say. You knew this wasn't the "right" way to talk to them, but you couldn't stop now. Your brain wasn't clear, but you were saying everything you were thinking.

    "I mean, fuck! I'm a camgirl, for god's sake. And I never thought I would've been telling y'all that, because you've never even made me feel comfortable enough to tell you the most basic shit about me. And if this changes how much you respect me, I don't know what to tell you. It's what the fuck I've been doing and it's led me to meet people that are more emotionally available than either of you ever were. There's so much shit about me that you just wouldn't know because you never seemed to care to know. And now, you're trying to solve whatever issue we have and not even... I mean, it doesn't seem odd to you? You're pretending this is normal, like the way you've acted was ever normal. Shit."

    You knew you were rambling, and definitely saying things that wouldn't have left your mouth if you were sober, making confessions that weren't even necessary and things that you knew you'd probably regret. But your mind was running a million miles a minute right now, and you had shut down all your coping mechanisms, until all that was left was word vomit. Normally, you wouldn't behave like this. You had learned enough how to handle tough situations that came as a surprise - Steve and your ex taught you that. But something about this actually felt empowering.

      You didn't feel like you were moving backwards when it came to the long healing process that you were still guiding yourself through. Was it the most efficient, ethical way of expressing yourself? Maybe not. But you didn't think you would be nagging yourself about this night and how you had communicated. It wasn't that you didn't care, but maybe that you cared just enough — for yourself. You had to be true to yourself. It was essential to your self care. Besides, you hadn't gone off on somebody in a long time. Even if you were slurring your words, you'd made your point.

    You'd literally left them speechless, and as for yourself, you were done. With a big heaving sigh, you gathered up your stuff, including your drink, and muttered,

      "I'm calling a Lyft home. I'd appreciate it if you just... left me alone. For a while. And please keep the check."

You fished out of your purse for the amount they'd given you, leaving it on the table and walking away. It was your luck that they really did leave you alone, and your luck that you were deliberately choosing not to obsess over how that went down. Because honestly, you weren't bothered by it. You had said your piece. It was messy, it was raw, and there was nothing you could do about it. You were sure nature would run its course. For now, you were too tired and drunk to give a shit. By the time you got home, you knocked out on your couch.

| | |

    In the morning, you woke up to many missed calls and texts from your parents, including a text from Steve who was checking in to see how the night went, as well as Aaliyah. You wracked your mind trying to remember what had happened last night, and felt a drop in your stomach when you remembered the things you had said, specifically one thing in particular.

I mean, fuck! I'm a camgirl, for god's sake.

     It wasn't your best moment, but you didn't regret anything else you had said. Still, your hangover was a bitch. You spent a chunk of the morning in complete silence, to ease your throbbing headache, and went through a few remedies hoping to fix your hangover at least a little. You ignored the missed notifications on your phone and just decided to focus on yourself for the first part of the day, chugging water and taking vitamin B6.

      It was when your headache lessened that you decided to take a look at the aftermath, starting first with your parents. You avoided all their texts and instead listened to the voicemail from your mom, which they were both speaking on.

     "YN, we're disappointed in the way tonight went. We wanted to have an open conversation with you, and it saddened us both to see that this was the result," your mom spoke first, making you roll your eyes, then your dad.

     "But after some reflection, and a long conversation between your mother and I, we realized that you made some valid points," your dad continued, and you narrowed your eyes, confused — in all honesty, you had expected utter disappointment and you even geared yourself for manipulation.

     The typical "how could you do this to us?" But that wasn't what you were getting, and it forced you to look deep inside of yourself. You still didn't regret speaking your mind, but maybe that was all you had to do. You didn't have to abandon any chance of reconvening with your parents and building a relationship with them. If anything, it was only going to help you grow. You had every right to be hesitant and feel spiteful for the way they brought it up and attempted to address it. But you knew you didn't have to resist always.

     You just needed time to yourself. You would reconvene when it was right. But right now, tensions were high, and you didn't think it was the right time to try to patch up your relationship. Soon, but not now. Your parents weren't villains. They just didn't have a fucking clue. And you were rightfully angry about that, for feeling like they were trying to squeeze their way into your life now when you had made a life for yourself, when you had accepted the relationship, or lack thereof, a long time ago. It was a cycle with people like this, with all of your relationships. And you realized the universe wasn't out to get you. You just had to work out the kinks. And one day you'd really be at peace with all your relationships.

    You continued listening to them, as they told you that they would try again when you were ready, and even thanked you for your honesty. So, surprisingly, the dinner had gone better than expected. But the real home run came at the end when your mom said,

    "We're proud of you. And we support you in whatever you choose to do. Call us back."

Now that was a surprise. You were glad for everything else you'd said, but you hadn't exactly meant to let your career choice slip. But to hear that they actually supported you, when you had expected everything but that? It kind of meant the world to you.

    You found yourself sniffling up unexpected tears as the voicemail ended, and straightening up. You sat there for a good five minutes just thinking, reflecting on the whole night, when you decided to reply to Steve's text from the night before.

Steve ❤️💙 | Hey! How'd it go with your parents?

Hmm. How to reply?

YN | i thought it went bad, but surprisingly it went better than i realized? call me when you can, i should fill you in.

You put your phone down then and sighed out, sinking further into your couch. It was comfortable being alone, only surrounded by your thoughts. And in a way, you felt a sense of clarity. Issues seemed to solve themselves these days. You'd talk to your parents soon. You were just glad there wouldn't be anything in the way of creating a real connection any longer.

A week and a half later, you were sort of just letting life take its course. You called your parents back, and told them that you were willing to try again, and that you didn't know when, but it would be soon enough. You told them that you appreciated their efforts, and that you wanted to try as a whole to create a bond. You couldn't hold on to your resentment forever. Steve helped guide you through it, talking to you whenever he could about the situation, and about other things.

    You didn't bring up the prospect of the two of you meeting, because he had reassured you a week before that he was making plans, and essentially told you to be patient. He knew you needed the security, needed to know that this was going to happen because you didn't like empty commitments. So he kept you updated. But, not all the way.

    Within that week and a half, you had been out with Aaliyah more times than you could count, celebrating and partying and talking your asses off. You'd slept over at her place, she'd slept over at yours - you spent almost every waking day together, processing your new life post graduation. You knew you didn't have to start work right away, so you would enjoy the new free time on your hands, while being mindful. Soon enough, Aaliyah would be going onto higher education, and while you didn't have a set job or further education plan in mind, you had a lot going on. Getting a job wouldn't be a problem, and your brand and camgirl sessions were still a factor. In fact, you had made your first sale that week - to a customer named Natalie. You were over the moon with joy about it, and it was just cause to celebrate with Aaliyah once again, reveling in the fruits of your labor.

     You were getting somewhere, and it was like you were on fire, surging with possibilities and newness and this feeling of "what's next?"

      The one day you weren't with Aaliyah, you woke up alone in your apartment, on a lovely sunny day, the sun waking you up as it filtered through your shades. You woke with a pleasured sigh, scratching the nape of your neck, and hopped right into a cool shower, rinsing off the light sheen of sweat that had gathered on you while you slept, due to the heat of the spring, which was slowly becoming another Cali summer.

    In the shower, you lathered body wash and various skincare products on your body, taking the time to appreciate your skin. You were grateful for how well you took care of your physical and mental health - it took a lot to be as glowy as you were. And listening to music in the shower like you did, only helped to raise the positive vibrations you were always chasing. You were the picture perfect happy California girl, but there was a lot of work behind the scenes to have that image. Not that you had to try hard to be a beach babe, you were just naturally like that, but actually being happy? That was a whole nother journey down a road that you were actually willing to take.

    When you got out of the shower you slipped into a loungewear set that once again, you had made- a loosely fitting cropped crewneck with matching lavender sweats. You quickly snapped a picture of yourself in the full length mirror in your bathroom and sent it to Steve with intent, knowing he'd die for the way the sweats hung low on your waist and hips, and how you were still sprinkled with cold shower water.

     As for the rest of your day, you didn't really have any plans. Maybe brunch by yourself, and lounging around watching TV. Maybe you'd even surf later today. It was too nice of a day not to.

    All that goes to show, you weren't expecting the doorbell to ring. You didn't invite anyone over, and you hadn't ordered anything. You furrowed your brows at first, then walked over to the door and opened it. To your confusion, there was nobody there. Then, you looked down to see a bouquet of flowers - roses specifically, all colors, even.

Sunshine yellows, sultry reds, pure whites, girlish pinks, even vibrant blues and purples. You wanted to smile, but you were honestly confused. Who was sending you roses? And there was a sleek black box next to the roses. You gazed over it for a minute trying to spot a letter, a name, anything. Nothing to be found.

    You gazed out of your apartment door, craning your neck as you tried to catch the person who'd delivered the roses and mystery box to you. Maybe a mistake? You got gifts from your customers often, but you had a P.O. box for that purpose. You bit down on your lip, and crouched down to take the unexpected gifts in. You closed the door behind you, and set the roses down on the table, as well as the box. It was a little suspicious, but your gut feeling told you it was fine. The worst thing was that it was a mistake, and you'd try to find out whoever these belonged to - then again, you really liked the bouquet. How unique.

    You opened the box first, and your eyes widened when you saw what was inside - a cut out lace bodysuit with straps all around, white, and a satin robe that was a more delicate light pink. Oh yeah, this definitely wasn't for you.

    You closed the box, and moved the roses to the other side of the table, which was when the envelope fell out from the bouquet onto the floor. You rushed over to pick it up, eager to see who it actually belonged to. An audible "hm?" left your lips when you read your name, written in perfect cursive. You blinked a few times, and the gears in your brain started to turn. Steve. Steve! It made perfect sense. You were honestly surprised that it didn't register the moment you saw the gift. Maybe you'd had too much sun - nah, that couldn't be it, you could never get enough sunshine.

    Realizing that it was from Steve generated an incredible amount of excitement in your body, like your engines were revving and you were ready to go. You were practically shaking just out of happiness. The fact that he had the consideration to send you a gift to your home was something you couldn't even register. He was always so kind to you, and of course you hadn't expected any sort of gift from him, for graduation or otherwise. It was just the kind of gentleman that Steve was. And, you hadn't received flowers from what some may call a romantic interest in a long time. It almost made you tear up to think about it.

     You huffed out a laugh, then started to giggle uncontrollably, like a schoolgirl whose crush just asked her to the prom. Your hands trembled as you went to open the envelope from Steve, reading the letter.

    You read the words in his voice, kind and firm and handsome:

"Dear YN,

I wanted to really congratulate you on graduating. It's a big achievement, even for a big girl like you. I know you will genuinely go on to do amazing things, and I'm so proud of you. I'm not sure whether this is overdue or far too early, but I wanted to get you a gift anyway. I hope you love it. You know, Moonrose? Moon. Rose(s). I tried."

You looked over again at the flowers - roses, of course, and how could you miss the little crescent moon decal that was carved into the vase? He really had tried, and been so fucking considerate. Now, you really were crying. He was so sweet without you having to ask him to be sweet, so unlike so many of the relationships you'd had in the past.

And, he tailored the gift to be extremely specific to you. Even if he had just sent you a single daisy, you would've been over the moon. But man, had Steve thought this out. You half-laughed, half-sobbed. You had no choice but to fall for him. You continued reading.

"Anyway, enough about me. Hope your post grad life is everything you wanted and more, I'm so glad you're letting me follow you on this incredible journey of yours. You really are unbelievable. Speaking of more, look inside the envelope one more time.

- Steve.

P.S. I thought the lingerie was cute, think it would look even better on you. Hope it's not too forward of me."

    You wiped away your happy tears. You wanted to read the letter in his voice over and over, but you figured you'd look in the envelope and reread the letter later, until it got deep into the day and you hadn't done much of anything else. As for the roses, you wanted to keep them for as long as humanly possible. And as for the other gift, well, realizing that it was from Steve made you blush. You didn't expect that from him, but it made you laugh to think that he might have been worried that it was too "forward." He'd literally seen you naked more than a few times - what was a little lingerie gift? It was extremely intimate, and you appreciated that. He'd definitely be getting lots of special pictures from you later.

    You set down the letter with a grin on your face that wouldn't go away. You were beaming, and only positive thoughts soared through your mind, matching the pace of the butterflies in your stomach. You looked inside the envelope again as instructed, giddy with delight. Your heart stopped, because what was inside was the biggest surprise of all.

    A plane ticket.

note: eeek you’ve made it to the end of this chapter!!! tell me y’alls thoughts!!!

adding tags later :’)))