#this was a fun one except for all the times I opened up the wip file mid-class by mistake! whee!

[cecilyv]

wip wednesday

I'm making @liminalmemories21 write sports ball. Well, let's be fair -- I'm writing sports ball references and she's writing all the "wtf the are you talking about, none of this makes any sense," parts.

Buck/Tommy, 9-1-1

++

“So you found the picture.”

“When I was looking for the manual,” Buck agrees, “I didn’t know you played baseball. I played football-- “ 

Tommy snorts, “Of course you did.” 

And hey, “Hey!” 

Tommy squeezes his shoulders and steps back. “You kind of have a thing for running headlong into danger, Evan, I’m not sure if you noticed.” 

The end of his thought is muffled, like he’s talking with his shirt over his head, and Buck twists in his seat to watch as Tommy drops his shirt at his feet and starts popping the buttons on his pants, and “Oh, hey, no distracting me, you played baseball--” 

“I was drafted out of high school,” Tommy says, as he kicks off his pants and reaches for Buck’s hand, tugging him up, kissing him softly. “Enlisted in the army instead.” He shrugs and looks down the hallway, “Can I distract you now?” 

Turns out, the answer is definitely, yes. 

------

and:

Now that it’s all out there, Tommy really opens up about things Buck never heard him talk about before -- which mostly, it seems, is how much Tommy hates the Dodgers. But he puts his hatred aside for the good of the group -- he’s got a friend who made it to the show but is now on the training staff, one of the guys from his old Little League days. He sets Tommy up with a suite at Dodger stadium.

"Who," Eddie hisses as they bypass all the lines at the park heading for one of the boxes, "exactly does Tommy know?  Is he secretly a mob boss who moonlights at the LAFD?"

Buck does actually know the answer to this, and not because he'd wondered that once or twice too.  But letting Eddie dangle is more fun, so he just raises his eyebrows and shrugs.  "He knows a guy,” and Eddie sighs, and Buck tries to distract him, “Did you know Chavez Ravine used to be a neighborhood?” 

Ravi and Tommy bond about the unfairness of the Dodgers getting Shohei Ohtani for steal (like, a literal steal, Tommy spends 20 minutes trying to explain it to Buck, who just nods and backs away slowly) and decide that they’re going to the Angels game next time (heartbreak and bad seats be damned). None of them are actually Dodger fans, except Hen, who’s fully decked out in her blue and white and they try not to hold that against her. 

They all cheer when Station 118 is welcomed on the big scoreboard in the outfield. 

During the game, while everyone else mills around, grabbing food, gabbing, and halfheartedly cheering, Tommy sits with a clipboard, pencil and complicated sheet of paper that he dutifully fills out after every pitch. Buck sits down next to him, watches for a while and then Tommy quietly starts explaining the scorecard and all its abbreviations and rules. 

It does make the time go faster.

[chiropteracupola]

pose study of jules pollet's 'portrait study of a topless swordswoman' but instead it is TERESA MORENO

[process scribbles under the readmore]

[lo1k-diamonds]

SX Seoul Series | Jungkook Entry 💜 Bubbles (Part 2)

PAIRING: Jungkook/Reader (You can also read it on AO3)

SUMMARY: You wake up the next morning and feelings you didn't want to stir are brought back to the surface. You think he might feel the same way but maybe you jumped to conclusions too soon.

WORD COUNT: 8.3k

GENRE: Exes to lovers, smuuuuuut, angst, making up

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: exes, explicit, unprotected sex (stay safe!), you guys fight and stuff gets punched and thrown around, lingering feelings, heartbreak, second chances

PARTS: [1] [2]

A.N. I wrote this story after a while of being unable to focus and write so I hope you enjoy it, I think it turned out fun :)

Masterlist | Masterpost | Scroll my stories on Tumblr | Schedule and WIPs

You woke up in the morning, yet despite the sun’s rays hitting the floor, you couldn't be certain. Were you truly waking up?

You sighed and pressed yourself further back into a welcoming chest. The sheets had a familiar scent, and this along with the tattooed arm enveloping you and the breath fanning your hair made you sure that you were still dreaming. You moved ever so slightly, you wanted to submerge deeper into that dream, and his legs tangled with yours even better as if to tell you you were not going anywhere. It melted you because it reminded you of so many mornings before. So many dawns and sunsets where you’d be tucked in safely inside those arms, with his hum near your ear, his perfume trickling your nose, and you took deep breaths. That was your safety net, the place you rushed to so you could recover, rest, and gain the courage to face the world.

It was enough for you to search for even more. You were sleepy, dreaming, and on the only fluffy cloud in the sky where you wanted to be. So you turned under his arm to face him and your heart instantly trembled. His eyes were closed, but the soft lines of his face were the sweetest thing you had ever seen. You missed those pouty lips, that round cutesy nose, and the swell of those cheeks you used to tease all the time and that made you fall in love whenever delicate dimples would crease. His eyebrows had always been so expressive and now one had a piercing, which didn’t match the two rings adorning his lower lip except that he pierced the same side of his face. But even that didn’t surprise you; when you first met, he said he always wanted to do something, but didn’t know exactly what. You guessed he had figured it out.

You reached to brush his hair aside and felt the two studs on his eyebrow with a feather-like touch — you liked it. You liked everything about him, always had. You knew then your heart was getting loud and you smirked when it became deafening — because he opened his eyes. And in that moment, you decided that reality would only come knocking if you let it. You could pretend it didn’t exist. You could pretend Jungkook was still yours, that he didn’t hate you, that you belonged in his arms again.

You leaned in to nuzzle him and gave him a moment to move away. You were clear — you wanted to go on that ride again and forget everything else, but what about him?

He brushed his nose to yours once and captured your lips with a kiss that fluttered your heart. It wasn’t desperate or crude, it was gentle and warm like when two lovers said good morning. And that was all you needed.

You snuggled closer, embracing him and stretching and sighing in multiple turns. He returned your kiss and held you close, equally invested in that moment with you, away from any pain, anger, or subterfuge. This made you smile, contentment radiating from every corner of you, and it was as if you were in an alternate dimension. You could feel his love again and adore him back and you wanted to make the best of it.

Maybe it seemed against your better judgment, but you broke your kiss with a mischievous smile and turned your back on him. You pulled his arm firmer around you, in case he had silly ideas, and rubbed your ass on his crotch for good measure. The Jungkook you knew didn’t need any explanations or instructions, and indeed, he grabbed you close, grinding his hardening dick on your ass while breathing in the scent of your skin.

His hand came to cup your breast gently and you grinned, feeling elated with the way he was all over you. When he started playing with your nipple to harden it, you bit your lower lip and failed to contain your whimpers. He knew you were sensitive but it never stopped him before.

He started biting and licking down your neck and you were covered in goosebumps, arching your back to give him better access. He kept his sweet torture, but that wasn’t enough for you — you reached between your legs to grab his hard cock behind you and pull it to be squished between your thighs when you closed them. Then you rocked your hips and melted at the groan behind you.

“That’s it,” you cooed in a whisper, clenching around nothing in anticipation. “You’re so hard for me.”

You knew he loved to be coaxed, the same way you loved to tell him how good he felt. He wasn’t stopping, nibbling down your skin and pinching your nipple gently as he rutted you and you bit your lip.

“And I’m so ready for you,” you sighed. “Wont you check?”

Your tone was needy but you never bothered hiding it. His hand travelled from your chest to your core and instantly felt how you were dripping from your folds.

You whimpered, “See how you slide so well?” You meant at the surface, but his fingers sank into your flesh, pumping wet sounds out of you along with needy moans. “Fuck— You know where to go. You’ll feel so good, I promise.”

You felt his smile on your skin as he busied himself pumping you with two digits and getting juicy noises out of you. You moaned onto the pillow, rocking your hips to feel him better both inside you and in between your legs. You loved those sensations, not just the pleasure, but the scent reaching your nose because you were in his bed. You were living a dream and it was absolutely perfect.

His hand grabbed your hip, knowing well you were leaning forward and tilting your ass so he’d eventually slip inside you. The way he was making you crazy for it didn’t elude you, but you were never beyond begging.

“Fuck, baby. Please let me have you, please.”

He froze and you squirmed to feel him, thinking that was him just making you work harder for him.

He moved quickly enough that you didn’t think beyond it — he reached behind him inside a nightstand drawer and got something. You heard the wrap tearing and waited until he was ready. You didn’t let a single thought cross your mind, not now.

He grabbed your hip again and this time his cock pushed between your folds to get inside you, making you moan and lose all strength. He rocked his hips into yours and you gasped, leaning back. You didn’t expect him to grab your hair and arch you further, but you definitely tensed more around him, barely able to catch your breath.

“Fuck— Fuck, I love it when you do this.”

You could feel his breath down your neck. “Yeah? Love it whenever a guy fucks you like this?”

“No, only you.” Your reply was as natural as breathing, giving him all you had. “Always only you.” You were burning inside out, feeling flush not only on your cheeks but also on your chest, hands, and stomach. You reached to grip his arm supporting your hip in place; you were starting to get sweaty but you doubted he minded. You were just looking for more ways to connect with him. “Are you going to tease me? Make me a good girl for you? I always loved to be good so I could earn you filling me up completely.”

His hips jerked off tempo and you only sighed. He remembered for sure what you were talking about.

His fingers dug at your skin, “Yeah? How many times have you begged for a guy’s cum after that?”

“Never. You’re the only one I ever begged to, the only cum I ever wanted. The only raw cock inside me, the only—”

He stopped and pushed you by the shoulder to face him. You were a bit startled but faced him with all the vulnerability you had been showing so far. His eyes were glistening, almost hurt, and your breath shook. You didn’t want that reality, the one in which you hurt him. You wanted to be back a year before when everything was good and sweet.

His eyes were watering up and he looked down. You thought he was running away from you and you were desperate for him to stay, and you looked down too. Before you could speak, you noticed he had his hand around the base of his cock, just frozen like that.

You teared up, “Do it.”

He looked up at you and you saw tears in his eyes as well. 

You smiled, “I never had anyone other than you raw. If you want to, I’d love to feel you again.”

He didn’t even blink. You were certain it was an impulse as you saw him pull the condom out and guide himself inside you as if he were a dying man and your core was his salvation. But as you both groaned and closed your eyes with the feeling of being connected again, you couldn’t care. You looked at him with a tear sliding down your face into the pillow and knew that it would all just break your heart in the end.

He must have known it too, because his eyes were glistening and red as he thrust into you at a slower pace. You instantly wanted to beg, but he gripped you closer, jerking his hips into you in a hard yet loving way that melted you to the bone.

“Fuck,” you dragged, trying to look up so you could see him above your legs still bent to the side like when you were spooning. You could feel him all over you again, inside and out in ways that felt like your souls were merging and it had you enter that beautiful reverie. You gripped his arm harder and forced his hand on your chest to squeeze as you moved with him. “Don’t stop. Please, please, please,” you said with every moan, scared that he would pull away and leave you. “Only you feel like this, please.”

“Only me?”

He was breathless, you almost didn’t hear him over your prayers. “Only you,” you confirmed, then you trembled and the words dripped out of your mouth. “I’ve missed you so much. So much,” your voice smothered with anxiety, with the tears flowing from your eyes that you squinted shut.

You didn’t fear that he would reject you or mock you or ignore you, you weren’t thinking. Your heart was hurting and you couldn’t keep it in anymore.

He slowed down and you hid your face under your hands, immediately wanting to ask him not to stop when you felt his breath near your ear.

“Me too. I’ve missed you too, bubbles.” His voice was wavering as he reached to kiss every inch of skin in range, soon after releasing his hand from your grasp only to grab it back and bring it to his lips. “I’ve missed everything. I’ve missed this.”

A sob almost silenced you, but you managed to call for him first, “Kook.”

It was a desperate sound you were almost ashamed to let out, so your hands instantly covered your face again. 

He stopped and in a second was pulling your leg under him so he could get on top of you in between your legs and hold you tightly. He leaned down to kiss your hands away as his hips rocked into you gently.

His lips and calls convinced you to uncover your face only to wrap your arms around him and hide in his neck, “I miss you!” You whispered with a lump in your throat. “Please.”

He kissed your red and wet cheeks, down to the salty traces that led into your hairline, “I miss you too.”

Shivers ran down your body as his words emerged a knot of feelings from inside your chest. You were never able to face it, to deal with it, to forgive him or yourself, but his words. The way he was with you, holding you close just like he used to when he loved you. His body was fully connected to yours, maybe even his soul.

You sank your nails onto his back and focused on his weight on you, his soft skin, his scent, and the burning tension in your lower stomach. You knew you would explode soon but you needed to let it out.

“I wanted to see you.”

He kissed your head, “I’m here.”

“I needed to see you,” you tried, but the pleasure sparking inside you was about to steal that chance. So you hugged him closer — a moan was pushed out of you and you could feel your orgasm starting, but you still chirped, “I love—”

You couldn’t finish as you started shaking uncontrollably from the waves of pleasure tensing and relaxing every muscle in your body. You clung on to him, squeezing him so tightly you were surprised he didn’t didn’t break apart. But maybe he didn’t for the same reason as you — he was holding you together.

He waited for you to be done before pulling out and coming over your belly. He didn’t bother separating your bodies and just groaned near your ear as you hugged him close. You could feel the warm substance trickling down the sides of your stomach but you didn’t care. You were never one to be bothered, you were not disgusted by him in the slightest.

He kissed your head and you smiled, waiting and longing for his kiss to travel to your cheeks, then further to your mouth. You tried to control your happiness and kiss him back placatingly, still letting that joy reach corners of you that were dim otherwise.

When he pulled away, you had no idea what would happen, but you were at ease. Because you opened up to him and he missed you back, and even though you weren’t able to tell him properly that you still loved him, you’d surely have another opportunity soon.

That was what you thought and the reason your lips were curved, even when he got away from you to grab wipes so he could clean you. Yet as he did, you noticed he wasn’t looking at you. His jaw was hardening and he didn’t look nearly half as relaxed as you did.

Shit.

He wasn’t done yet when you tried to reach for his hand, but he dodged you and threw the wipe away before putting his legs out of the bed to sit with his back to you. You started shaking.

“Not to ruin your post-nut clarity, but I’d like to talk.”

You chuckled nervously and fumbled with the sheet — everything you said felt risky, and every step you took felt like the ice under you would crack. You feared speaking too soon but couldn’t risk doing it too late. You let those fears drown you once, but not again. At least this time your mistake would be insisting, not letting it slide.

“Nothing to talk about.”

You knew from his tone that he was about to push you away and it made you react. “That’s not true. I said I miss you, and you said it back.”

He didn’t answer; all you could see were his wide shoulders as he leaned forward, supported on his knees, and kept quiet.

You gave him the chance to speak his mind because maybe he needed time and who knew, maybe you did too. But you couldn’t think as you waited, you had no idea what to say. Nothing felt enough, but you wanted to say everything.

He heaved a deep breath and moved a millimeter to get up, and you immediately pushed. “Answer me. Talk to me. Why can’t we have a conversation?”

He scoffed, “That’s rich coming from you.”

You sat up as he got up and searched for clothes in a nearby closet. “It goes both ways.” 

You bit your tongue and cursed yourself for reacting instead of thinking first — you didn’t want to fight, you wanted to talk. 

You took a deep breath and spoke while he put a pair of boxers on, “Do you miss me?”

He scoffed and left the room and you jumped off the bed after him. You could only grab the nearest tee shirt you saw, black as everything else he owned, and scurried after him.

“Answer me,” you insisted, seeing him in the living room putting pants on. Where did those even come from? “Fucking hell, Jungkook, just answer me!”

“What?!” He exploded, anger brazen on his features, but you didn’t step back.

“Do you really miss me?”

“No.”

You raised your chin and tried to not give away how your heart was cracking further. You couldn’t think or you’d start crying. “Well, fuck you too.” Your voice still wavered, “Don’t fucking lie next time.”

You turned to reach the bathroom and get your clothes so you could leave. Your heart was pulsating with sharp pain and you knew you were seconds away from crying. You needed to get out. Now.

“You’re assuming I—”

“Yeah yeah, no seconds,” you spat bitterly, unsure if he heard you. He shut up, so he did. You grabbed your clothes, “You don’t have to worry about that.”

A sudden noise from behind you startled you so before you could strip, you turned around — he had kicked the bathroom door with so much strength you thought it might have popped off.

“What the fuck do you want from me?!”

“How many times do I have to say it? A fucking conversation!”

“I have nothing to say to you!”

“Fine! You’ll lie anyway!”

You turned your back to him, letting the poisonous anger burn your guts while you got a hang of your dress so you could put it on.

When a loud noise came from the door again, you weren’t even surprised. This time, he punched it and something metal hopped over the floor and rolled away.

“As if you didn’t say those things in the spur of the moment!”

“I didn’t.” Tears ran down your face and you cleaned them quickly, refusing to let the cry take over you. “I meant every word I said.”

“Bullshit,” his voice had so much contempt you almost broke down.

“I don’t care what you believe,” was all you said, then took the tee off. “Just because you lied doesn’t mean I did.”

He saw how your back bent and tensed while you put your strapless bra on. He was shaking in anger but he heard you sniffle and you didn’t sound like you were mocking him. He couldn’t handle it if it was true.

“Don’t joke around—”

“I’m not fucking joking.” You sounded angry now and you grabbed your dress to put it on. He clenched his fists. “But it doesn’t matter, it’s done.”

You put your strapless dress back on, adjusting it so it would cover you as much as possible. You had no way of seeing how angry he was getting at the sight of you wearing that again instead of his clothes, but it was something he would never admit.

“You want me to believe you wanted to see me?”

His voice was derisive and you turned to him. “I did.”

“That you needed to see me?”

He scoffed and you grabbed your heels on the floor. “I did.”

You turned back to him, thinking that maybe now you could actually talk, but he was shaking his head. You saw tears in his eyes before he started laughing and rubbing his face.

“It’s funny, is it?” You asked, filled with contempt yourself. “Why, you didn’t even hit the punchline yet.”

He uncovered his face and his whole expression was a warning.

“What?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. “If you’re going to mock me then at least do it well.”

His jawline was tensing again but you couldn’t care anymore.

“Come on, where’s the final question? You heard me. You would be running your mouth if you didn’t.” You scoffed, “Though I couldn’t really say it properly, but—”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

For a second you thought he was scared, but you only smirked, “I don’t? You know what? You’re right. Congratulations, you’re right about something and all you had to do was be an asshole.” You stepped towards him to get out but he didn’t move out of the way. “Let me go.”

He shook his head and you ignored all kinds of emotions on his face.

You pushed him, but he didn’t move. “Let me go.”

“No.”

You pushed his shoulders again, but he didn’t budge. You clenched your jaw, upset, and saw that it didn’t bother him in the slightest. In fact, maybe he liked it. You pushed him once more and he tried grabbing your arms, and you struggled.

He won — he grabbed your forearms, “What did you say?” You scoffed and he pulled you closer. “Tell me what was I supposed to have heard?”

“I said I—” 

You were ready to spit it in his face but your throat blocked as you looked into his eyes. You were both angry and hurt, and you thought you were above it, but you weren’t. If you said it again, it would hurt infinitely more. But then it hit you — he just used you. He was attracted to you and wanted an easy fuck, and that was what that night was. You were hung up on him like a moron.

Your eyes teared up but you made a decision — it would be easier if he just crushed your heart right now.

“I said I love you.”

He released his hold on you instantly as if you burned and you scoffed. You guessed you did — this Jungkook in front of you clearly couldn’t handle something like that. He was a fuckboy now.

You pushed him again and he didn’t resist, falling to the side and letting you pass. You started looking around — you couldn’t recall where you had thrown your purse.

“I said don’t joke around.”

His voice was barely above a whisper and you didn’t stop. You were throwing sofa pillows around, “And I said I’m not joking. And I don’t lie either, contrary to you.”

“You have no idea what you’re saying.”

You pulled your hair back with a sigh; it wasn’t on the couch. “You’re starting to sound like a broken record.” You continued looking around, maybe in the kitchen? “What does it matter anyway? I get it — why you lied. I was being emotional and you wanted an easy fuck.” You huffed; not there either. “You got it, so you want me to leave now, right? Don’t worry, I want to, I just can’t find—”

He roared and punched something that made the coat hanger fall to the floor. “You talk and talk and talk but you still don’t know what you’re fucking saying!”

You got over your shock quickly and threw your shoes on the floor, “It would help if you fucking talked instead of breaking the place!”

“I can’t fucking talk when you’re driving me insane!”

You scoffed, “Me? Maybe you are just insane.”

He stepped to you with a dangerous look, “Watch your mouth.”

“Why? What will you do?” You rolled your eyes when he only took a deep breath in response. When you looked back at him he was closer and you instantly tensed up, and not in a bad way. He was eying you in that way that had you crazy needy but you stood your ground. “You’re not touching me again.” Your lips pulled in contempt, “Not like you want to. No sloppy seconds, right? So surely no thirds or fourths or—”

He stepped forward, ready to grab you, and you gave him your most disgusted piercing look.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t look at me, don’t even think about using me again.”

You were out of breath, spitting venomous words while your eyes were locked, but in an instant, something wet dripped down your cheeks. You breathed, and instantly you recognized the pain searing your heart. It hurt. It hurt too much.

Your sob had you sucking breaths anxiously and you gave him your back. You didn’t want him to see how much it hurt you.

“I’d never use you.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Because—” He heaved a deep breath. It was complicated and he was so conflicted he wanted to punch something again. But seeing your shoulders move as you contained your sobs, his mind cleared. “Because I wanted to be with you.”

“Right,” you chuckled despite the tears. “Wasn’t fucking in a dark alley enough? Why did you bring me here?”

“To be with you.”

“Say it properly. To fuck.” He didn’t answer and you sucked in a deep breath, “Or maybe… maybe something worse. Not just to use me, did you want to hurt me? Is this some sort of… vengeance or—?”

“No!” He raised his arms to your shoulders but he didn’t touch you. You didn’t want him to.

You grinned but it was painful, “Lying again? Fuck, I never knew you like this.”

“I’m not lying.” 

“Bullshit,” you almost laughed despite your crying and sniffling.

“It’s the truth.”

“Why should I believe you?”

He gritted his teeth behind you and gripped his hair in frustration. He was never the best at saying things, he always showed you better. He wished he could turn you around and get that stupid dress off you so he could cover you in his tee shirt again. He wished he could kiss your tears and hold you again like there wasn’t a mountain between you. He wished he could have you lying on his bed again saying those sweet things that shook him to his very core. He wished he could see your smile again as you drank your honey oat milk latte just the way you liked it because he made it for you. Fuck, he wanted that and so much more, but none of it would happen. He still hated you.

“Give me one good reason why you even talked to me back at the club,” you asked, more poised now that you had calmed your sobs and cleaned your cheeks. You turned to face him and he looked almost like he was in pain, but you only blinked your wet lashes. Your nose, eyes, and cheeks were still red but he knew you were crying, there was no point in hiding it.

“You looked beautiful.”

You scoffed, “Right… Beautiful enough to fuck easy, ri—?”

“Stop saying that!” Your assumptions were driving him crazy, but you were persistent.

“Why? Cause you can’t handle the truth?”

“Cause it’s fucking bullshit!” He smacked his fist on his palm, then opened both as if he could shake you to your senses, “You think fucking you is easy? You think wanting you and bringing you here was fucking easy? I gave in! I saw you, you said those things, and I had to have you!”

“You didn’t have to bring me here.”

“No, I didn’t!” He agreed with you and it made him swallow and take a breath from his shouting. “I did it for my own selfish reasons.”

“And what were those? If not to use me, not to hurt me or exact some sort of vengeance,” you enumerated with your fingers perhaps a bit pettily, but you wanted to understand. However, he didn’t seem interested in sharing — he had turned his back on you and stepped away to have space. “Then what for?”

He grunted and rubbed his face harshly before turning to face you, “Why do you complicate everything? I answered you already — to be with you. That’s all.”

You frowned and puffed; for some reason that answer just left you even more unsettled. “That doesn’t make any sense.” He threw his hands in the air and you insisted, “You wanted to be with me? Then why not let me finish blowing you?”

He scoffed and shook his head, “Thought you would have figured it out by now.”

Your frown deepened in anger, but it hit you. “Because… you didn’t want to use me?” His only response was a twitch of his eyebrows. “Then why not let me cum? When you ate me?”

He puffed a breath as his nostrils flared, but he still answered you, “Cause I was pissed.”

“Why?”

“Why?!” Your question made it worse. “Cause you spoke to me like I was nobody!”

Your chin dropped, “What?”

“You spoke like it could have been anyone else eating you and making you crazy and it made me want to tear you apart!”

You were shocked, just looking at him, and it infuriated him even more. He tried his best to keep his cool as he paced the living room — why were you making him feel inadequate? Like he was blowing something out of proportion when it meant so much to him?

“That's— I don't get it,” you tried, confused. “I wanted you to know how good you felt—”

“You called me baby!”

He was shouting again and you blinked, “So?”

“So?!” He kicked the back of his couch. “The most fucking generic term I’ve ever heard! Do you know how many people have called me that? Made me despise them every time!”

“But I've called you that before,” you pointed out, still confused. It was one of your nicknames for each other.

“You called me something else.”

His tone was suddenly sober and you instantly knew what he meant. “Kook.”

“Yes.”

He wouldn’t tell you how much he was hung up on it. He wouldn’t let anyone else call him that, he kicked out any women who tried, and just hearing it from your mouth now gave him goosebumps. It was who he was to you, who he wished he had been for his whole life.

You were just looking at each other while you recalled calling him ‘baby’ in the heat of your shared moments. You never meant it in a general way, you meant it endearingly. But you had called him ‘Kook’ earlier, and remembering it twisted your guts. You sighed and rubbed your eyes for a second — you had decided to crush your heart then and there. You weren’t leaving his place without bloodshed so there was no point in hiding.

“I was scared of calling you that,” you admitted, facing him again despite your fears. “I was scared of exposing myself like that.”

“Well, I did,” his grin was a sneer, but you couldn’t understand. Why would what you called him hurt him if he didn’t care? “So that was like a punch to my gut. Or maybe… maybe you didn't even notice that I—”

“Of course, I fucking noticed,” you blurted out, something akin to desperation on your features. “I noticed and it made me completely lose my mind!”

He leaned forward, gripping the couch’s back, “Not enough to expose yourself to me.”

“I was scared! You still hate me, I was—” Your own words hit you in realization, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. “I was scared.”

He scoffed, “Scared of what?”

“You know what,” you answered, uneasy.

“I do. See why you have no idea what you’re saying? You just blab and assume shit,” he gripped the leather couch and you thought for a moment he could have thrown it around if he wanted to. “The difference between you and me is that I knew who I was choosing.” His features hardened and you fought the urge to look small. “You said you wanted to do this and I took you.”

Your eyebrows twitched, “You’re trying to say I didn’t? Please,” you rolled your eyes. “Because I didn’t call you Kook sooner? You know better than that. I walked up to you, spoke to you, told you I wanted to be with you, came here with you, told you no one is like you, that I missed you, that no one makes me—” You huffed and bit your lip; you weren’t sure about saying any more than you already had.

His eyes were glistening but his grin was almost cruel. “You don’t look so scared now.”

You frowned for a moment before you raised your chin, “No, I guess I’m not. I was until you embraced me this morning and I thought—” Your lips twitched. “But that was fake,” his eyes snapped to yours and you stood still, “right? You lied. You never missed me, so what does it matter if you called me bubbles?” You scoffed but your eyes were filling with tears again, “Why call me that if you never meant it?” You shrugged, “I have nothing to fear anymore. It’s all fucked, I don’t think it can hurt more than this.”

His jaw was clenching hard while you spoke and he walked around. You thought he looked like a ticking timebomb with his biceps rhythmically reacting to his fists opening and closing.

“Well, I fucking wish it did,” he said. “It seems like nothing I do can hurt you, can it?”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m fucking serious!”

“Do I not look hurt to you?!”

“I want you to hurt at least a fraction of what it hurts me!” He punched the couch, but your watering eyes only hurt him more. “But all I managed to do was hurt myself even more!”

“You’re hurt?” You couldn’t hide your skepticism.

“What do you think?! Fuck, you’re so fucking selfish you can’t see anything in front of your nose!”

You crossed your arms over your chest, “Happens with liars. It’s hard to distinguish—”

“Shut up!” He turned to you and you squeezed your arms for comfort. “What does it matter if I missed you? If every fucking word out of my mouth was the truth and I called you bubbles because of what you fucking mean to me? Look at you!” You were shaking now with welled-up eyes. “Acting like a fucking abandoned puppy! You left!”

“What?”

“You left! You were the one who left!”

Your heart shook and you became pale, “That was— You mean—?”

“Yes!”

“But— You—” You were so confused. “You knew I’d leave!”

“What the fuck does that matter?! You said no and you left!”

Your heart instantly halted, “That’s— That’s something else entirely—”

“Yeah, right!” You shook with the venom in his voice. “I was ready, I made my choice, and you broke my heart!”

You were shaking and gripping your hands to soothe yourself, “I wasn’t ready.”

“You said no!”

His tone was accusatory and your chin trembled as you were swamped with old feelings and memories. 

Only this time, you took a deep breath and answered back, “Listen to yourself! That day I told you I was going to the US to work for a year and you asked me to marry you! Does that make sense?!”

He had paced to his desk and as soon as you finished, he grabbed his gaming chair and threw it to the ground.

“You said no! You could have said something else! You could have said not yet or let’s talk or— I don’t know, just anything else! But you said no!!”

“Well, fuck, what was I supposed to say?! I had that job opportunity and you were going too fast!”

He sneered, “Fast?”

“Yes, fast! We weren't together for even a year yet!”

“I don't care! I fucking knew I wanted to spend my life with you! And you said no!”

“I said I love you!”

He kicked the chair on the floor, “And it wasn't enough!”

“No, it wasn't!” You stepped forward, wanting to punch something yourself. “Clearly! You’re fucking mad I said no, but what about you?! You fucking dropped off the face of the earth! You knew the dates of my contract, I forwarded the flight information to you, and you never spoke to me again! You didn’t even say goodbye!”

“What goodbye?! What bigger goodbye do you need than rejecting me when I’m on my knees for you?!”

“Stop being so fucking self-centered!” He started laughing, but you were not done. “I said I loved you. I wanted to be with you and you threw a tantrum like a child!”

“A tantrum?” He was still laughing and you’d recognise that bitterness anywhere.

“Be honest,” you breathed. “Would you have come with me?”

His laughter died. “What?”

“You heard me. And if you couldn’t, would you have waited for me?”

His eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights and you let the tears fall from your eyes.

“I never got to ask,” you continued in the silence. “You never answered me again. I always thought that your not answering was your answer. That you never wanted to see me again because if I wouldn’t marry you like you wanted, then you wanted nothing to do with me.”

He finally breathed, “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” You smiled and cleaned your cheeks, “Then why is that the only thing you say? That I said no? I never meant no forever, I never meant that I wouldn’t in the future. But I needed that opportunity to build my career, I needed that sacrifice from you and you turned your back on me.”

“No, I—” His mouth was opening and closing, he couldn’t find the right words. “Because— Because I thought you wanted to just— To just leave me behind.”

“Behind? As if I wasn’t leaving my heart with you? Tell me, did you ever think about asking me? About talking to me?” His lips twitched in hesitation and your lips curved painfully, “Right.”

“I wanted to,” he admitted, but you shook your head in disbelief. “I wanted to but I felt broken. You left me and rejected a future with me, you didn’t want me. What point was there in reaching out to you?”

“I wish you had. Maybe it wouldn’t have worked, but a part of me likes to believe we would have made it. One year was a long time but not the end of the world. For you, I would have done it.”

You nodded and looked at his feet for a moment. None of you would ever know now, but you believed it. You were at peace with at least having voiced that to him.

You looked up at him and saw as clear as day how lost he was. He was gripping his hair with pain across his features, maybe something else. He was still shirtless in front of you, a Greek God in all his glory, yet your eyes couldn’t abandon the soft curls of his hair. Now that everything was out there, you were sort of melancholic. You’d miss him.

“Fuck,” he dragged in a grunt. “Is this what you wanted? To find me again and break me?”

You chuckled, “What the hell are you saying? I never thought I’d see you again. And if I did, I expected to find you married to the woman of your dreams.”

He groaned and rubbed his face before facing you, “You— You’re the woman of my dreams!”

Your lips trembled but you stayed quiet; you had no idea where any of that left you.

“I can’t believe this,” he let out, then scoffed. “No, I’m in too deep now. You could have reached out too. You could have told me all this and asked me before, but instead, you just turned and left. Because you didn’t want me.”

“I called you!”

“For like two days! How long do you think it took to heal my wounded heart?”

“I don’t know! From what I’ve heard, your heart has been more than comforted, you probably healed very fast!”

“Oh fuck off,” he spat with harsh eyes. You regretted letting those feelings surface, but it was too late. “You left me after rejecting me, I was free to do whatever I wanted and screw whoever I pleased.”

“You’re right, forget I said that.”

He laughed, “Nah, that’s just you. Worried about whether I’ve been well-fed or not. Why? Thought that would make it easier?”

“What?”

“I don’t know, to get me crazy again.”

You couldn’t help your lips pulling, “I did drive you crazy.” His eyebrow twitched over a dark gaze and you quickly sobered up. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“You’re fucking incredible, you know that?” He could be spitting those words for all intents and purposes.

“No, I meant that after I called you, I took your silence as—”

“No, no, fuck that. Excuses, all of it. You saw me on my knees and butchered my heart, then left days later for another country. If you cared, you would have done more.”

“You act as if you don’t have arms and legs yourself.”

“And you act like a damsel in distress when you’re anything but,” he had neared you now and you sobered up. “I still hate you, you know.”

Your lips trembled and you looked down with a sour smile. You did realize it, but it didn’t make it any easier. “I know.”

You were focused on mapping your conversation and seeing if there was anything you could tell him that could clarify things when he scoffed.

“No, scratch that.” You looked up and saw him running his hand through his hair. “I fucking hate you and the way you just tried to bring me down to my knees again.”

“I didn’t—!”

“I hate that I brought you here 'cause I wanted to see you here, in my home, as if that could bring back what we once were. I hate that I gave you what you wanted even if it hurt. I hate that I called you bubbles as if you’re still that person. I hate— I fucking hate you, I can’t—”

His voice broke down but you had already heard too much. You couldn’t face him anymore, you were hiding under your hand as your spirit drained in the form of tears.

“I understand.” Your sight was blurry but you knew the way out. You stepped around him, “I’ll leave—”

You weren’t expecting him to grab you and crash his mouth into yours, but you didn’t fight him. You let him kiss you desperately and did the same all while the tears kept streaming down your face.

“Don’t fucking leave,” he whispered to your lips, pressing his forehead to yours. “I can’t stand the thought of you walking out. Not again.”

Your cry was uncontrollable, “But you hate me.”

His hands were firm around your head, not letting you move away, and the only sound you both could hear was you trying to control your sobs. It broke him to see you cry, it always did. He didn’t know what to do. No matter how hard he tried, there was this poison inside him that gushed out every time. It was all breaking apart again, and he wanted everything to go to hell, but looking at you, he knew that wasn’t true.

You sniffled, “If you hate me and I love you then we're not on the same page.”

His heart shook like his world could crumble at any moment. “Don't leave.”

“I have to,” you grabbed his arms and accepted it. “So you can find the woman of your dreams.”

“You’re the woman of my dreams.”

You chuckled sadly, “You hate me, Kook. You’ll find someone better, trust me.”

“No, I don’t want anyone else.”

You brushed his cheek, committing that sweet touch to memory. “You’ll be happy. It’s okay.”

“No,” he gripped you firmly, wrapping his arms around your waist instead. “Don’t leave.”

“Why would I stay?”

“Because I don’t hate you. I can’t,” his voice trembled with tears that didn’t flow down his cheeks, but down yours. “I hate myself for not being able to, for pretending, for even trying when I’m so—”

His voice blocked and you reached for him. “Say it… Please say it, don’t hold back,” your plea shook in your voice and you gripped his shoulders tighter. “If you don’t say it, then I won't know what to believe anymore—”

“Fuck,” he closed his eyes, fighting to the last moment all those conflicting emotions within him. But then you nuzzled his nose, holding him closer. Waiting. You weren’t leaving this time until everything was said and done, and he almost burst it out. “I can’t. I can’t hate you, I love you. I could never forget you but you left me behind and I fucking hated everything. Because I love you, because I lost you, because I was lost and I still am. What the fuck do I do?”

“I’m here.”

“No, you’re not.” He moved away and forced himself to take a deep breath. He turned to you, “You’ll walk out again. I fucked up. We fucked up, but I fucked up. Right? I spent a year trying to hate you, loathing myself for not being good enough. For being so sure you were the one while you discarded me so easily like I was worthless, but I never bothered to hear your side. I never bothered to ask you. You broke my heart… but I broke yours too.”

Your chin was trembling, but you didn’t near him. He seemed to need the space.

“I’m sorry.” He hid his face at your words and your tears treaded down again. “I’m so sorry if I hurt you, I was stupid and immature, and you’re right. I knew my heart was staying here with you, I should have tried to reach out and make it clearer. I knew I hurt you, and after I left, I knew you'd hate me. I should have gotten over myself and told you how I felt anyway. Then maybe I wouldn’t have tried to look for you in everyone else or stayed hung up on thoughts of you and—” He chuckled but it was laced with pain and you shook your hands, “No, I’m not blaming you!”

“I know,” he revealed his face, with red swollen eyes, and wet cheeks. “I’m blaming myself. I spent so long trying to hate you, blaming you for everything under the sun in stupid attempts to make it hurt less. I’m an idiot. And an asshole. Look at how I treated you. I can’t face you without hating my fucking stupidity—”

“Ours,” you stepped forward, hesitant to touch him but with your hands raised nonetheless. “If you want to hate something, then—”

He grabbed your hand and pulled you in, “I won’t pretend to hate you anymore.”

“Then don’t hate yourself either,” you asked as he took your hand to his lips.

“I’ll try… since it’s you asking.”

Your lips trembled into a smile at the way he was gently brushing his lips to your hand. “I’m happy we talked about it. I’m happy to hear that you still have feelings for me though I wouldn’t want to assume—”

“Assume.”

You stayed quiet, hesitantly looking into his brown eyes as he sprinkled kisses on your knuckles.

“Jungkook—”

“Assume, bubbles.” You pressed your trembling lips and he brushed your cheek with the back of his fingers, “Assume that I love you and don’t want you to leave.”

Your heart was shaking; you were hoping, but— “Are you sure?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, “I’m sure. I just don’t know how to deal with this. I don’t want to hurt you, but there’s so much we need to talk about.”

His eyes were pleading and you squeezed his hand, “If you could forgive me, that would be a great start.”

He sighed, “I don’t think that’s the problem.”

“Yourself?”

“Slightly more complicated.”

You smiled, “Same.” You stayed quiet just looking at each other when you decided to tell him, “I wish we could… forgive our mistakes and restart. We could get to know each other again. See if… If it would work.”

“You don’t think it would?”

You supported his hand on your cheek, “I think we still love each other.” He held your gaze and you felt your cheeks burning under his touch, “But maybe that also means it will be difficult to heal our wounds.”

He nodded calmly, observing your face. “Do you… hate me? For what I did? For never replying to you or fighting for you.”

“No,” you instantly reassured him. “I thought you made a decision and that you wanted to move on from me. That’s a rejection, but that's life. You didn’t cheat or lie or anything like that.”

He sighed, “That’s true… maybe that’s why I could never truly hate you either.”

You couldn’t help a smile, “We… We’re both idiots.”

He wrapped his arm around your waist closer, “A mistake. It was all a mistake.” He pursed his lips for a moment, then brushed your hair gently behind your ear, “Your ‘no’... you never meant forever?”

You grinned, “No. Though I don't need a ring around my finger to know who I belong to. Do you?”

“Who do you belong to?”

You smirked playfully, “I think you know him.”

He sighed and let you brush your fingers around his neck in an attempt to tickle him before lacing your arms around his neck.

“I would have waited,” he finally said, seeing closely how your smile wavered and your eyes filled with tears. “I couldn’t drop everything to go with you, but I would have definitely made it work and visited you whenever I could.”

Your lips trembled and you tried to contain your cry, but your tears won. He pulled you to hide in the crook of his neck and you squeezed him inside your arms.

“Are you… going back?” He realized he didn’t know. “Or are you staying? In Seoul?”

“I got a position here, I’m starting next month.”

He sighed in relief. “I want to try,” his voice was close as he supported your head and leaned over your ear. “Us. I want to try.”

Shivers ran down your spine as you pressed him to you. “Me too.”

[anaer]

wip wednesday (july 17 24)

JJK Sukugo rated: dirty shameless smut

Sukuna is all Satoru can think about for days. He’s brimming with excitement, and it doesn’t even matter that he hadn’t won. That Sukuna is still out there, causing death and chaos. It’s better, in fact, that he didn’t. Not even three days pass before he’s seeking him out again, and it only takes so long because he gets distracted with the opening of a sweets café he’s been waiting on for months now.

This time, when he finds him, Sukuna regards Satoru with recognition and, begrudgingly, respect.

“Gojo Satoru,” he greets. There are less dead bodies around right now, but only because Satoru has shown up early in his massacre. People are screaming, running away from them both, but Sukuna is no longer paying attention to anyone but him.

Satoru hums, pleased. “Oh, you learned my name. Who’d you ask? I’m assuming you killed them.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, waving his hand dismissively. “Then again, not like you’d ask their name, I suppose.”

Sukuna tries to kill him.

That’s the rhythm they dance over the next few weeks, a holding pattern neither wants to break. It turns into a game. Satoru needles and needles, and Sukuna returns violence in kind, lust stirred more in their blood every time they meet. Lust stirred until Satoru wants more because it’s also a fact of his existence that he can never be satisfied. Greedy, Sukuna calls him often, but Satoru is strong enough that he can afford to be. Satoru is strong enough that he can take what he wants, and what he wants is Sukuna.

He’s laughing, the first time he kisses him: high on pain both dished out and received as he holds Sukuna’s face in between his hands and smashes their lips together. It happens fast – faster than the ancient sorcerer can respond. Satoru doesn’t know what to expect – isn’t thinking of anything except himself – but for all their differences, they’re of very like minds. The attacks disappear as all four arms embrace him. Satoru’s back hits the ground. He doesn’t break the kiss even as two hands tear at his clothes until he’s bare from the waist down.

Sukuna’s tongue. That’s what Satoru remembers most about their first time. Not the one in his face; the one in his stomach. He’s held facedown, hips pinned in place as it licks its way inside. Satoru whines and bucks, a half-hearted attempt at fighting mostly for the thrill of it. Truthfully, he’s been gone from when that tongue first slipped between his ass cheeks. He’d tried to pull away of course, a pat protest, but Sukuna’s hand on his head, shoving it into the dirt, had quickly quelled that.

It’s novel, is what it is.

His cock scrapes against the rough ground, a tiny torment he could easily turn off. Some part of him, in the back of his mind, still thinks how fun it would be to turn the tables. A trace of blue forms near his fingertips, and Sukuna’s tongue forces deeper inside of him. Satoru moans, all thoughts and his technique dissipating completely.

Every breath forced out of him is a strangled thing, heavy with a million demands he can’t bring himself to voice. Later, he recognizes this as a good thing. Later, he knows Sukuna actively scorns Satoru seeking his own gratification. He won’t care then, and he cares even less right now, with Sukuna’s tongue twisting hot inside of him, pushing him right up to the edge.

Not over, though. Never over.

He could get mad – wants to get mad. Instead, Sukuna pulls another full-body shudder out of him, licking hot and wet and far too deep inside.

“Fucking…hurry up,” he demands, voice barely there. And then a taunt: “This is getting boring.” Teeth scrape along the back of his neck, cutting off anything else he might’ve been trying to say.

“Disrespectful little shit.” Unimpressed.

Satoru might laugh, but no sound comes out. The hands on him tighten, pulling his legs wider. He re-finds himself then, squeezes free, “Not my fault…this is the best you—got—”

His voice breaks as Sukuna tongues him.

This best is good, actually. Better than he’s willing to admit to Sukuna. Better than he’s experienced before at all. Still not enough. Still struggling to tip over the edge.

Sukuna’s tongue disappears. It takes a second to register, for Satoru to realise the sudden lack as every feeling pulled out of him disappears, too. He whines, embarrassingly needy. He’s on his back before he realises, blinking up at Sukuna’s face looming menacingly above him. Satoru wants to grip his hair, to yank him down, to kiss him until neither of them have breath left. He reaches for him, but his wrists are caught before he can do any of that and forced against the ground next to his head.

“Do you think this is for you?” Sukuna scoffs. Another hand wraps around Satoru’s cock. He bucks violently, choking back the gasp as Sukuna squeezes tight. Strokes him. It’s just the right shade of painful, and his head drops back against the dirt at the groan forced out of him. “Make no mistake, you exist as to my own satisfaction.”

Satoru’s laugh is breathless, grin and eyes wide and manic. “Hah,” he manages. It’s near impossible to gather more words, but Satoru thrives off of accomplishing the impossible. “You’d…like to think so, wouldn’t you?”

[slexenskee]

MDNSY AU

Posting this WIP bc maybe if it sees the light of day I’ll actually get around to writing more of it

I originally wrote this right after the sick-fic arc even though its supposed to take place during the Eri arc so it gets kinda AU from there

It’s only afterwards— months afterwards, that he realizes the full extent of his own stupid actions. 

So many things had to perfectly align in exactly the wrong way for this to happen. But each and every one of them was his own damn fault, so there’s really no one to blame here but himself. 

It had to have happened when Hawks had been sick and recovering in his hotel room, that’s the only way the timing lines up. Gojo has always been good about practicing safe sex— considering how he sleeps around, he sort of has to— and has never slipped up even once… until Hawks. Multiple times, actually, not even counting the time he was sick. There’d also been that time in Palawan, when he hadn’t brought any condoms with him because he’d honestly thought he wouldn’t need them. That had been rather profoundly short sighted of him, in hindsight. And then of course there were the time(s) when Hawks was staying in his hotel room, when they couldn’t keep their hands off each other and once again Gojo hadn’t thought to go out and buy any condoms because he’d genuinely thought he wouldn’t need any. Hawks had been sick! Basically delirious! How was he supposed to know that the moment he’d recovered enough he’d jump him? And on a related note, how was Gojo supposed to summon up enough willpower to stop him? 

To that point— how was Gojo even supposed to know he should stop him?

That too, though, is entirely his fault.

Apparently it’s a regular part of sex-ed during middle school— except Gojo never went to class in middle school, so he’d entirely missed the memo. With the advent of quirks came a rare genetic mutation that allows for male pregnancies among a small subset of the population. Rare, but not entirely unheard of, either. It was certainly common enough for a segment to be taught in public schools, and testing to be done as part of the gamut of health checks most kids go through around puberty. Most kids aside from Gojo, who was out terrorizing organized crime syndicates just for fun at that age. 

God, he’s a fucking idiot. This entire situation was so laughably avoidable, and yet he’d managed to end up in it anyway. 

Anyway so now he’s having an existential meltdown in the middle of his still unfinished bathroom, staring numbly at the flecks of grout still flaking off the new tile, wondering what the fuck he’s supposed to do now.

“Satoruuu,” a voice whines from the other side of the bathroom door. “I need to pee.”

Gojo scrambles to his feet, binning the evidence of all the pregnancy tests and burying it under a cloud of toilet paper just before he wrenches the door open, smile fixed in place. “Sorry Eri-chan! I was spacing out.”

Eri just takes the excuse at face value, bounding into the only current usable bathroom in the house and shutting the door behind her.

Gojo sighs wearily, slumping against the wall just outside the door.

Alright, first on the agenda is finding a temporary residence for them while he gets an army of contractors to fix the worst of the ‘home improvement’ sins he’s committed upon this house as quickly as possible. He’d originally thought redoing the rooms would be a fun bonding activity for him and Eri, but now he knows all those chemicals will be bad for… for the baby, so that’s probably a bad idea now. He’s also going to need this house in livable condition as fast as he can make it happen, because apparently… there’s going to be a baby here in less than six months. 

He’s also going to need a doctor, and a very good and discreet one at that. From what he’s read in his mad frenzy of online searching, male pregnancies are very high risk. He’s not at all worried for himself, seeing as though he can heal from just about anything, but that same protection doesn’t extend to the other person currently taking up roost inside him. He frowns. Or does it? Wouldn’t his reversed-curse technique still work on them when they’re still a parasite leeching off of his body? When exactly does their cursed energy start to deviate from each others to the point he can no longer heal them as an extension of himself? Man, what he wouldn’t give for a conversation with Shoko right now.

He can worry about things like clothes and furniture and baby food after he’s settled the most immediate concerns on his list. Namely, fixing this house and finding a doctor. And telling Eri, although he doubts that will be much of an issue. The girl will be beyond excited to be an older sibling.

Now as for telling his family and telling Hawks…

Gojo winces.

Yeah, okay. It says a lot that he’d rather tell Endeavor, to his face, that he’s getting another grandchild than fessing up to Hawks about carrying his kid. Even the thought of it is going to give him a stress tumor.

Well, stress is bad for babies, right? So maybe he should just table the thought for later. You know, for his health.

[cutestkilla]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers (except me because obvs I have done it). Spread the self-love ❤

Thank you so much for this ask (and @bookish-bogwitch and @aristocratic-otter too). You're all amazing and your self-recs are too - I cosign them all!

So: this is the first time I've gotten one of these where I actually HAVE 5+ fics (of my own) to choose from 😂 so you know what, even though it's a *somewhat* trivial process, I'm gonna DO THE THING and come up with a Top 5.

1. What's Left (133K, M)

My first fic, and still my favourite. Probably because conceptually, I don't think I'll ever come up with something this cool or interesting again. And also because I got to spend so many words with my version of the Humdrum (who many of you know as Sid), expanding on what we know of him from canon and all the ways he intersects with Simon, and I kind of just love him alot. This is definitely the plottiest thing I've ever written, with lots of twists and turns and what I think is a sort of an arc you can't predict from the start (pioneering the Baz/Humdrum tag!!), and that made it really fun to write, and I hope fun to read too. Also, this is the most painful thing I've written (it starts with Simon dead, folks), which if you know me at all, explains why it would be my favourite. 😂

2. Hiding Out in the Open (48K, M - WIP 5/7 chapters)

This takes the #2 spot for sure because: a) it's also got a decent amount of pain courtesy of an alt-WS divergence setting and b) it's also kinda high concept. And c) I'm writing it as a very drawn out birthday gift for my beloved @artsyunderstudy in honour of what is now OUR beloved psychology podcast of choice, Hidden Brain. My favourite thing about this one is the way I've worked all these real concepts in psychology (and real episodes of Hidden Brain) into the narrative in a way that I think feels organic and true to the characters. It's been a challenging puzzle to solve, but man have I learned some cool things along the way. This one IS a WIP, but I'm going full steam ahead on it, and even though the story is NOT over, ch 5 ends in a decently satisfying place.

3. Slamming and Smashing (18K, E)

My first (and only) E-rated fic! I'm more of a soft smut writer, but I had so much fun writing this one as a gift for @ic3-que3n based on prompts that included: NSFW, Simon slamming Baz into a wall (as referenced in Snow for Christmas), a very specific line from Bram Stoker's Dracula about wild rose, AND an Anastasia AU. This one is pretty low on pain/angst and high on post-canon fluff, but I did still give Baz a *bit* of a breakdown in it 😂. I'm proud of this one because I think it's hot and also because I managed to hit ALL those prompts in one smutty fic, and tell what I think is a pretty relatable story about how hard communicating can be in relationships.

4. Episode 5: The Tardigrade and His Boy (25K, T)

Another gift fic, this time for @raenestee! This was not only an amazingly fun collaboration with @facewithoutheart @aristocratic-otter @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @thewholelemon

@mostlymaudlin and @artsyunderstudy, but I found a way to have the Humdrum front and centre again which makes me so happy. I also cut my teeth writing Shep and Agatha POVs for the first time in this one, which was very fun. And I managed to write one of my most favourite types of fics: one that is both an AU and also secretly canon-compliant. This is my only true AU and I think it's a really fun romp (just like the rest of the series which I highly recommend).

5. This Is Your Place (18K, M)

This one was for Prompt Fest 2022 (a fest to celebrate the anniversary of @carryonprompts where - reminder - you can submit your Carry On fic prompt ideas and maybe someone will write them) and filled this prompt by @bookish-bogwitch:

"@ionlydrinkhotwater wrote this meta: "Omg Simon is such a ho, in retaliation for Baz pulling the open sesame move, he dashes to their room, showers, shaves (nicking his skin so he's a little bit bloody and therefore yummy) and "accidentally" comes out in just pajama bottoms with his tits full out, without the necklace." ... And I want to read a fic where Baz fuckin' Takes. The. BAIT."

What I think I did well in this one is building up both the tension and the empathy between Simon and Baz in a way that makes the payoff feel earned, even though the story only takes place over the course of a few hours, the day Baz gets back to Watford after the numpties. I also really love my Baz inner monologue in this, and that Simon gets to be a little bit smooth, too.

[martybaker]

For the WIP game!

I would love for you to share anything you thought or wrote about Only Fools Rush In. 💕💕 It's so cute!

Sorry I took so long to answer! I’m so happy you’re interested in my dreamling ice skating au! ❤️

As a matter of fact, there’s been some new development in this au! I’ve watched Dead Boy Detectives and funnily enough, this au featured 4 students, one of them an incorrigible matchmaker and another a no-nonsense badass who gives Hob some advice, and Dead Boy Detectives gave me all of those! So this story now features DBD gang as guest stars 😅

And here are two excerpts, one to give some context and another featuring my best girl Niko 😊

(part one of this au here, an excerpt here, yet another excerpt here)

—-

“Hob,”Dream asks, squeezing Hob’s hand tight, “Did you, by any chance, tweet about this?”

“No,” Hob says, but his face is telling a different story.

Dream gives him his best teacher glare that always makes students come clean, and

Hob proves to be no exception - he blushes, admitting his crimes. “Umm, I might have shared a story on instagram? But I didn’t share a picture of us, or the location, nor did I mention your name!”

“And yet, here they are,” Dream grumbles, stopping by the boards of the ice rink (against the boards, his stopping technique still needs work). He pulls out his phone and opens instagram.

There it is, a view of the ice rink with the word “revenge” written over it, followed by an evil emoji.

“You’re an idiot, Hob Gadling,” Dream says, exasperated. “Did you really think that the kids with their smartphones today wouldn’t be able to find the location? Did you think they wouldn’t figure out that I am your company? They know about our bets, they’re the main spectators! And you teach them how to look for the missing context, for heaven’s sake,” Dream says, jabbing a finger into Hob’s chest.

———

Unsurprisingly, the first one to catch up with them is Niko, who is the fastest one (and unfortunately, the one with the least sense for tact).

“Hiii! Oh Professor Endeles, I didn’t know you knew how to skate!”

“I don’t,” Dream grumbles. “I’m learning.”

“That’s so nice that Professor Gadling took you out here to teach you! I really think this ice skating rink with the lights and the music is such a romantic place, don’t you think?”

Dream resists the urge to roll his eyes. “I don’t care about the lights. Or the music.”

But Niko chatters on as if he hadn’t spoken a word. “I love ice skating, it’s so fun, isn’t it? And today is perfect for an outing with good company! Oh, isn’t that Professor Gadling’s scarf?” She points at Dream’s neck, looking absolutely delighted.

Dream grimaces, then glares at Hob who is visibly suppressing giggles next to him.

“Yes. I was cold,” Dream explains, tone icy.

“Aww, that’s so thoughtful of you Professor Gadling! This is the best, spending a nice winter evening together, holding hands!”

“Niko,” Hob admonishes, “we’re just here to ice skate. It’s Dream’s first time. Yes, we are holding hands, it’s necessary as he’s not yet confident to skate on his own. Don’t jump to conclusions.”

“Extenuating circumstances,” Dream mutters.

———

(I figured I should make a tag for this au, so you can now follow #ofri dreamling au if you’re interested 😊)

[aswrittenbyaj]

stick and poke

pairing: shuri x black!fem!reader

summary: your time on vacation is slowly coming to an end so naturally you two try to find a way to commemorate it.

wordcount: 2.6k

warnings: this one's for the lovers. rated M for mature. minors dni. partial nudity as well as nipple play (reader-receiving) and a brief moment of impact play (titty-slapping, reader-receiving). briefest mention of a needle (tattooing, obviously). there's a few pet names, but none degrading. not beta'd (that's a warning in itself). let me know if i missed any!

a/n: so this was not on my wip list because i forgot i finished this a lil while back lol. a fun twist on the tattoo shop au that i hope you'll all enjoy. i don't know xhosa so any words in bold are to be assumed as spoken in xhosa. there's one or two words in the actual language and credit for their translation goes to @iinkonde from this post. banner and divider by: me.

you were going to miss this, miss the ease of moving through the day without obligations and responsibilities looming over your shoulder. there was nothing like waking up as you pleased next to the woman you loved while the sounds of waves crashing in the distance calmed your soul. the position of the sun being your only source of time, self-carved notches on the wooden planks of the treehouse wall the only indication of how many days had passed since the two of your arrived at the secluded beach.

there was tranquility in getting away from the hustle and bustle of everyday city life. even as you stared out at the vast water before you from where you sat in the sand, the waves crashing into one another, you tried imagining what life would be like if you never went back. you almost wished it were that simple.

"you still with me, yeah?" 

shuri's voice found you before your eyes found her, the lithe woman approaching from behind, a green coconut in one hand, a bowie knife in the other.

you drunk in the sight of her, midriff peeking between the gap of her cropped white t-shirt and pink shorts that stopped mid-thigh, rich skin sun-kissed with a healthy glow, one that only came from inward peace and happiness. showing off her strength, shuri swung the knife at the tree nut, hacking away at the top with ease, giving you a chance to ogle the way her biceps flexed with the moment.

"always," you replied shamelessly. 

if anything, these last two weeks were proof you didn't need all the riches and privileges that came with being connected to a wakandan royal, romantically or not. you just needed her. you just wanted her. always.

she tried to hide her grin behind the coconut as she took a drink from the opening she created, but you knew her, almost better than you knew yourself it sometimes seemed. there were few reasons her cheekbones would raise towards the sun, why her eyes would crinkle at the corner.

"except when your mind is kilometers away," she retorted, plopping down next to you, her knee brushing yours as she folded her legs pretzel-style beneath her. "no people, no technology, no work to distract you, and i lose you to the ocean!" she chuckled with a shake of her head, sea-salted curls swaying with the movement.

"you could never lose me. you know that. you just like to hear me say it." 

leaning in, your pressed your lips to the corner of her mouth, leaving a sweet kiss as your hand swiped the coconut from her grasp. 

"naturally." she replied in her native tongue. her words were flippant, teasing, but her voice was butter-soft with affection.

"naturally," you repeated in english, tone mocking bumping her bare shoulder with your own before bringing the coconut up to your lips.

the action was clumsy, the timing of your backwards head tilt slightly off, sending the sweet water dribbling in the miniscule gap between your lip and the nut shell. without a care, you drank deeply, your thirst not surprising given how long you had been soaking in the solar rays. your mother would be disappointed in your lack of uv protection, but in that moment, it was the furthest thing from mind.

you could feel shuri's gaze on you as you drank, leaving a path of warmth that felt different than the sun. that was one thing about being here alone with her, without the so-called distractions of life. everything felt acute, supercharged, and oh-so-very intense.

swallowing, you pulled the coconut away, turning to look at her. 

"intoni ingxakhi?"  what's wrong, you asked, your interchanging of english and xhosa becoming more natural every time you used the language.

your wrist bent as your arm raised to wipe the soon-to-be-sticky trail from your cheek, chin and neck, only shuri had beat you to it. instead of answering your question, she leaned in, the flat of her pink tongue sliding across the sensitive skin of your collarbone before trailing up you neck. closing your eyes, you tilted your head more to give her extra room to work with. full lips sucked softly at the moisture on your chin, dragging out a groan from the back of your throat.

coconut forgotten in the sand, you brought your hand up to grip the back of her head, soft curls pliable under the grip of your fingers. finally, her mouth moved to meet yours, but as you leaned in to meet her halfway, she pulled back slightly, your lips brushing against one another.

peeling your eyes open, you saw hers were already waiting to connect, heat stirring deep within her irises. you tempted once more to mold your lips together, but again, she leaned away, just enough to keep it from happening.

"shuri." you murmured your complaint, hooded gaze raising from her lips to her eyes than back again. 

she challenged with a murmur of your name, lips barely moving before finally descending upon yours. 

the sand was going to be a bitch to get out of the dark coiled crown on your head, but there was no stopping you from laying back against the ocean-pebbled surface, shuri's body a welcomed weight atop of yours. legs slotted together, she ground her thigh down against your warm center, a hum of pleasure pressing through lips moving in a synchronic dance only the two of you knew.

your hands resting on her lower back, shuri pulled away to look down at you. palms on the ground at either side of your head held her up so she could take in your beauty, so she could take in the wide set nose and kiss-bitten full lips, the brown eyes that were darkened with desire. 

"bast, you are very beautiful." 

there was something in the way shuri breathed those words out, almost as if she hadn't meant to say them out loud, or at least not loud enough for you to hear them. one hand left the ground to cup your cheek, thumb swiping gently at slope of your cheekbone, following the curve of your jawline before traveled lower, a loose grip around your neck. her fingers tightened, palm flat as you swallowed, the skin of your throat pressing against it. her hand felt like a brand, hot, possessive. if a mark was left in its place, it'd be one you'd wear with pride.

she could've left her hand there for an eons and you wouldn't have protested in the slightest. instead, it continue its course south, fingertips gliding against the melanin rich skin of chest before meeting the rim of your tank top. her index slowly trailed along the rib knit neckline, drifting back and and forth as if she were stuck in idle.

"don't tease me." 

you had barely uttered the sentiment out before she gave into the demand. in a swift action, her second hand met the first and with an easy twist of her wrists, the cotton fabric gave way with an audible tear. the sudden sound stole a gasp from you, one shuri eagerly swallowed with her tongue. she enjoyed getting these reactions from you, reveled in whatever sounds she could make spill from those plum-colored lips. she'd yet to find her favorite sequence and hoped she never would. 

her wandering fingers found your nipples, pinching and rolling it between them as her palms massaged the fullness of your breasts. she plucked them like a bassist did her favorite instrument, with care, with passion, with expertise, before delivering your left breast a sharp slap, drawing out a hiss from between your clenched teeth and a smirk overtop of hers. 

narrowing your eyes, your hands tightened on her waist, rolling the two of you over. as if she already knew of your plan, shuri shifted her weight as well, the two of you spinning several times, garnering a few meters of distance from your original spot before landing in your desired position. the logroll shifted the tension in the air, laughter breaking the heated moment as the two of you caught your breath.

looking down at her, chest bare as your ruined top hung off your shoulders haphazardly, you smiled.

"i love you." 

it wasn't the first time you confessed those three not-so-little words, not that day, not that week, but you meant it as full as the first time you thought it to yourself. the two of you weren't even in the same country at the time. hell, you hadn't even had a conversation in days. instead, you had been watching a live feed on c-span of a united nations conference in your rented apartment.

the camera had panned to some other country's ambassador when you saw her, queen shuri looking regally bored in the background. she wasn't even the one speaking and yet you couldn't keep your eyes off of her. you could've and would've paid the cameraman three-month's salary to always have her in frame, just so you could've seen her for the full duration of the livestream. 

you couldn't help but wonder if that was going to be the life you were heading back to in seven days' time, one filled with kisses in passing and workplace obligations that kept you countries-apart on a consistent basis. finding each other in a world of nearly eight billion people was kismet, but even fate had a funny way of insisting on a more difficult journey for lovers.

"what stole your mind from me?" she demanded softly, pulling you back to the present, the fiery mirth within her eyes dulling as concern filled its space.

with a soft sigh, you shifted, finding a seat in her lap as you straddled her, your bare legs aligning with her muscled thighs. though she remained reclined, shuri brought her knees up slightly, toes wiggling in the sand, one hand settling behind her head, the other resting on the curve of your ass.

"i don't want to leave yet. i know we still have a week of holiday left here, but one week is not enough when i desire an eternity with you."

you ducked your head, for speaking like that always made you a bit bashful. it didn't matter how much you knew shuri loved you or how many times she shared her affection towards you, you still couldn't imagine the queen of wakanda continuing to choose you as her boundless love.

"so then we stay."

an unamused huff of air pushed through your nostrils at her suggestion, one brow raising.

"have you forgotten who you are?" you asked incredulously, your voice raising an octave.

"have you?" 

the tone of shuri's voice forced you to swallow your tongue, to choose your words, your tone a little more carefully. yes, she was your lover in all definitions, but she was still queen of the most powerful nation on land (and most-likely the sea as well, but that was a conversation for another day). if she wanted to stay, you had no doubt she would find a way to make it happen, even if it was just for a little while longer.

"i don't mean to doubt your capabilities. it's just that your people need you home. they only tolerate me. and if they found out you were considering abandoning your duties for an outsider..."

your voice trailed off, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as your shook your head, refusing to finish the sentence.

the two of you didn't talk about your shaky wakandan lineage. sure your grandmother had talked fondly of the wakandan country and its people, but they were only stories, ones that couldn't be proven, not since your war dog grandfather had disappeared sometime after your mother's birth. 

shuri had offer to do some digging, but you had declined, too afraid of the truth drawing a wedge not only between the two of you, but also between you and your family. whether she looked on her own, she hadn't said and you were grateful for the silence on the topic.

"so marry me."

"er...what?"

the turns this conversation had taken was sending your mind into a spin cycle. one minute you were disheartened by the fact that you had to leave her soon and the next you were in the middle of a marriage proposal.

"marry. me."

the chuckle that escaped from between your lips was an accident, a knee-jerk reaction. you had dreamt of those words coming from out of her mouth for months now and to think that they were finally here almost felt too surreal.

almost.

"you're serious?"

sitting up, shuri rested her weight on one hand, leaning in to affectionate bump her nose against yours. 

"how could i not be when i am talking about a lifetime with the love of my existence?"

the unwavering of her stare as she looked into your eyes killed any thought of this being a playful joke to lighten the moment, to ease your worries. your mind decided it was the perfect time to short circuit as you tried to figure out the right thing to say.

"well it wasn't that great of a proposal so..." you said, a cheeky response to try ease the pressure in your chest.

shuri gasped at your gall, fingers digging into your side, sending you into giggles. gasping for air, you tried to squirm away, but she didn't let up nor did she let you get away.

"mercy, queen. mercy," you choked out between your laughter.

chest rising and falling rapidly, you were grateful when she finally let you catch your breath...only for her to steal it away again with the sincerity in her voice with her next words.

"do you want to marry me, nkosazana sam?" she asked her princess, the term of endearment one that melted your heart every time. 

there was only one response to give her.

"yes, i want to marry you." 

you closed the gap between you and shuri, your palms resting on either side of her head while you pressed your lips against hers. pulling away, you couldn't resist one more joke. 

"though you might want to get used to calling me queen."

with one more quick kiss to her lips, you pushed up onto your feet and took off down the shoreline, seafoam brushing your ankles as you splashed long the waterline, your fiancée hot on your heels.

"hold still," you complained seriously, though the cackle spilling between your words didn't help.

"you are literally stabbing me with a needle. there is no 'holding still.'"

the two of you were back up in the treehouse, naked as the day, shuri lying face down on the queen-sized bed, the only luxurious furniture in the space.

you were straddling her again, only this time you had settled down on the plump of her backside, hunched over as you tried to deliver as clean of a stick-and-poke tattoo as you could to her spine. the words "eternally yours" in wakandan glyphs that trailed from the nape of your neck to the space between your shoulder blades were identical to the sentiment you were currently trying to imprint in the same location on shuri's back. 

"well, it's about to say 'eternally yout' if you don't stop wiggling." you dipped the needle in the ink again as you spoke before returning back to the task at hand. "then you'll have to spend a lifetime explaining why the black panther, the fiercest and strongest creature on earth, couldn't even sit still for one measly little tatto- ow!"

before you could finish your sentence, shuri had sneakily reached her hand back to pinch your leg.

"such a brat."  she snarked under her breath as she folded her arm back under her chin, making you chuckle because where was the lie. 

"you love this brat, though," you countered with ease, giving her finished tattoo one final wipe, sitting back to admire your handy work.

"i do. i really do."

[black-flag-if]

What kind of story is it?

A motorsports IF. You're a formula driver. It's romance-focused and deals with drama and angst while going after what's really important to you.

Can I romance more than one RO?

Absolutely. Be as messy as you want or as loyal as you want. There will be a choice to lock in who you want to pursue, but for the start, it's up to you what you do.

Will there be consequences?

Yes! Some ROs will deal with it better than others.

If I choose to be friends with the ROs, can I get on their romance route later?

As of now, no. It would be nice to explore, but it's not a priority yet unless I see a good opening for it in the story.

Is there an enemy to lovers route?

I was thinking of doing one for Ryder's route but I haven't decided yet. It fits the character the best, but it's a WIP and I will just have to see how it presents itself later on. So maybe? Not sure yet. If there's a good opening, I would like to add it but it'll just depend on how much I have on my plate.

Is Lane canon?

I don't think any of the LIs are canon. This story works just fine with trying to improve MC and focus on themselves and their career. Take out all the ROs and it's still simply about MC finding their place. It is a romance story though so if you're simply here for the plot and don't want to deal with romance, it might not be as fun but do with your time what you will. I try not to push any of the ROs onto the player, so I hope Lane doesn't feel canon. The story makes sense with any branch. Lane comes up a lot, yes, but they're a big part of MC's past. You should not have any scenes with Lane nor should your MC think good of them unless you choose such options. If you simply want to be friends - they're friendly interactions. If you don't want anything to do with Lane, they should hardly make an appearance in the story except when needed and it won't be anything romantic. So, if you feel like you have too much of Lane, then maybe reconsider your choices. The most important one is if you say you still have feelings. That's telling the game you want to explore that part more so it'll offer romantic choices and a way to reconcile but you will still get a chance to choose what to do with it all.

Will there be jealousy/break-ups?

I get this one a lot. Not sure if that's a good thing or something you all want or are just afraid to explore, but yes, this game has all of that. It'll depend on the RO because not everyone is jealous, but expect some angst, arguments, breakups, etc.

Why is there no back or save button?

I am working on a save button for future update. Back button will still not be implemented simply because it will be a coding issue for this game.

There's a bigger chance for errors if I let you go back to fix something because some codes use a variable that tracks choices. An example is I sometimes use "history macro" and if you visit the passage more than once, the code won't work so you'll end up with missing information and it will fail to properly connect you to other passages.

When are updates?

I don't have a schedule. It's a WIP, it's a side project, so whenever I have time or energy to write, I do, and update at the end of every chapter.

Why am I not answering you?

I don't purposely avoid comments unless the messages are rude. If I don't answer, but you want an answer, please try again. I could have simply missed it. Send in with a username instead of anon so I can actually get back to you. If I have something to say or add to your comment, I usually do unless it's repetitive. If it's already answered in FAQ's, it's also another reason I might not answer from now on.

Find spelling, errors, or mistakes in general?

I appreciate people letting me know and yes, send them in, but PLEASE let me know WHERE. The sentence or screenshot will work fine just so I know where to look. If you just say there are mistakes, I have no idea where to look and will most likely stay that way until it comes up again. If you want a reply but not make it public, please give a note stating so and I won't post it publicly. Instead, I can just reply to you personally if you don't write as an anon. Thank you to everyone that sends the mistakes in, especially to some anons that take their time to write out every sentence where they saw a spelling mistake. I appreciate it and you make things loads easier.

[illarian-rambling]

@davycoquette with the fun question games again!

Get to Know the Writblr

Gonna put this under a cut because it got long, but feel free to treat this as an open tag if you want to hop on!

On the Tumblr Writing Community:

How long have you had your writing Tumblr/Writeblr?

Since the beginning of the year, maybe? Sometime in February, I think.

What led you to create it?

I was feeling pretty lonely having no one to talk to about my writing. None of my real-life friends are writers and I'm really terrible at expressing my interests verbally, so I figured online might be the place to go. So far, I've been right!

What’s your favorite thing about the Writeblr community?

Oh, the people, for sure. It's incredibly rare that I come across anyone being less than supportive on here. No matter our skill level, I really feel like every writer on here has a sense of being in this shit together.

What’s one thing you’d like your mutuals to know about you?

Hmmm.... I'm pretty open about sharing things about myself, so idk if there's anything major I haven't touched on yet. I wake up at 4am every morning for work, so if you see me posting at an egregious time, that's why. Also, if you ever want martial arts tips for your fight scenes, I'm your gal!

Is there anything you’d like to see more of on your dash?

I love it when people make memes of their ocs. Makes me giggle every time.

What tips/advice do you have for someone who made a Writeblr today?

You gotta interact with people. I know it can be scary, but even a reblog with no tags can make another writer smile. Chances also are, if you leave a nice comment on someone's work, they might check you out and leave a nice comment on yours! A community isn't a community unless you go out and commune :)

WIP it Good:

Which Works-in-Progress (WIPs) or writing projects are you noodling about, lately?

Lately, I've been juggling writing my first draft of Mortal God book 3 (tentatively title being The Machinations of Machine and Man) and going over @kaylinalexanderbooks lovely comments on MG1. My ghost ship project is also on a low simmer in the back of my brain, but I'm trying to leave that until I'm done with MG3.

How long have you been working on them?

Good lord, I started MG1 about... almost two years ago now? Damn, it feels like it's been so much longer. But hey, three book drafts in two years ain't bad! Honor's Outcasts, which is largely written by now, I started about three years ago.

Do you remember what inspired them/what got you started?

The two main characters of MG started as a vague daydream, which then became two important dnd npcs along with MG's main villain. I ended up liking them all so much that I wrote a short story which became *drumroll* three entire books! A lot of my inspiration came from Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood and the Foundryside Trilogy of books. I can't think of anyone specifically who inspired the characters, except that Astra was originally based on the archetype of the silent wandering cowboy/samurai as seen in a lot of Kurosawa films and old westerns. For anyone familiar with her, uh, things changed quite a lot.

How much time, in your best estimation, do you spend thinking about them?

At least ten percent of my brain's storage is dedicated to my wips at all times. As for how often I'm actively thinking about them... it's also quite a lot.

When someone asks the dreaded, “What do you write about,” question, what do you usually say?

"Uh, fantasy stuff?" is my go-to.

What do you want to say (if it’s different from what you do say)?

I really wish I had the ability to explain my wips as succinctly with speech as I do with writing, but alas. I would want to give a nice, book jacket blurb that doesn't give away too much of the crazy shit.

Let’s Rotate Blorbos:

Name any characters you created.

I think I'm really good at names, so we're gonna go down the list!

Izjik Meautammera

Sepo Kaiacynthus

Twenari Undetasib/Devaris

Djek Kagura

Astra DuClaire

Mashal Darezsho

Ivander Montane

Elsind Cavernsight

Duchon Avymere Kalaphon Spearsong III

Faalgun Falani

Nyda Burningrock

Kaulakri Ondohuroata

Pashananath

Anarac Fifth-Blood

Who’s the most unhinged?

Unhinged in terms of violence? Sepo for sure. Unhindered in terms of sheer chaos? I'm gonna go with Izjik and Djek as a duo. Between both of their high charismas and low intelligences, along with their combined expertise in fighting and creative uses of magic, they're unbeatable.

Who comes the most naturally for you to write?

Probably Izjik. I've been writing in her POV for the longest.

Do you ever cringe at them?

Sometimes yeah, when they do something real stupid. But, then again, I did make them that way.

How much control do you feel you have over your characters?

I think I know my characters really well and base my plot around their motives, so there really isn't a huge need for control.

Do you enjoy people asking questions about your characters?

PLEASE!!! FEED ME ASKS! I'LL TAKE ANYTHING!

On Writeblr Engagement:

What makes you want to follow another Writeblr account?

Probably creativity. I've read a looooot of fantasy/sci-fi, so if you're doing something I've never seen before, I'll probably give you a follow.

What makes you decide against following?

Any kind of hateful rhetoric or someone who doesn't want 18+ interaction. Other than that, I think it's important to follow people who write different genres or have different methods than me.

Do you interact with non-mutuals often?

I wouldn't say so. I get a little shy doing that.

Do your mutuals’ characters occupy space in your noodle?

The characters of @kaylinalexanderbooks @mk-writes-stuff and @somethingclevermahogony all have a little place in my brain. Favorites from each include Robbie and Akash (not to be separated), Narul and Bop (love me a good living weapon/teddybear of a dude team-up), and Nellie and Stellaris (their earnest kindness makes my heart happy). If you haven't yet, you should go check out their stuff and see for yourself!

And with that, thanks for reading! Go out and have yourself a bitchin day <3

[shina913]

Stalemate, Part 1 | MYG

Stalemate (Mini-series)

Definition:  (1) Chess. a position of the pieces in which a player cannot move any piece except the king and cannot move the king without putting it in check. (2) any position or situation in which no action can be taken or progress made; deadlock

Pairing: Woodworker!Yoongi x Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: breakup!AU; toxic relationships; angst; fluff; smut; heavy drama

Summary: "The truth is, I'm not afraid to take that gamble anymore...in the off-chance that I get lucky again and feel the way I felt when I was with you. I'd happily make that bet over and over."

Word count: 8.9K+ words

Warnings (more written in individual chapters): problematic exes; relationship insecurities; alcohol consumption; cussing; miscommunication; past infidelity (reader had an affair with a married man but not detailed); vulnerable confessions; protected sex; oral sex (F-receiving); breast/nipple play; dirty talk; jealousy; multiple orgasms; verbal confrontation; a terrible joke about wood 😑

A/N: Phew! What a way to break my month-long writing drought/limbo...jumping from one unfinished WIP to another. As I mentioned on the series masterlist, this is a nonlinear story so you'll see multiple time jumps. I tried to map out the timeline using "Now" and "Then" headings so I hope that helps!

I was also going to straight-shot this but Part 2 is still missing a couple of scenes so I hope to post that in the next day or two. Until then, here's some smangsty-angst!

Now…

Yoongi pushes the button of his key fob to lock his car then walks across the street toward an alleyway. Over a decade ago, this area, at this time of night was always questionable at best. But the neighborhood was changing and old warehouses like these were being converted into some tech start-up office, a pop-up restaurant, or sometimes, the occasional modern art gallery.

“Yoongi!”

His friend, Namjoon’s voice boomed through the loud chatter and house music. He rushes to greet him by the entrance with a hug.

“Hey, glad you could come out tonight!”

Yoongi scans the surroundings and nods in approval. He gasps, “Wow–this looks great, Joon!”

“Thanks, man. Do you like how we styled all of the light fixtures?”

Both men look up at the ceiling and marvel at the decor. “I think I might run out of adjectives tonight,” Yoongi laughs. “I love what you did with them. They look awesome!”

“Great to be friends with the supplier, huh?” Namjoon grinned, elbowing Yoongi playfully.

“Yeah, yeah,” Yoongi answers wryly. “Only for you, Namjoonah.”

“Listen, I’d love to hang out and chat but there’s a lot of people here tonight. Lots of people to rub shoulders with, you know?”

“Aish, go ahead, man–it’s your night. I’ll be fine,” Yoongi smiles.

“Alright well, there’s an open bar set up in the patio and we’ve got people walking around with finger-foods. Just help yourself and have fun, yeah?”

After Namjoon walks away, Yoongi starts to walk deeper into the building and sees doors leading to an outdoor area to where a makeshift bar is set up. While he waits for the bartender to bring him his drink, he turns around to admire his friend’s place once more.

It had been a while since Yoongi had gone out on a weekend–by choice. He mostly preferred to stay in and be a recluse or occupy his time by working.

“Sir, your drink?”

Yoongi turns back toward the bar to take his beer. “Thanks,” he nods at the bartender, then drops a dollar in the tip jar.

As he starts to turn and walk away, he pauses while his vision lands on one corner, next to one of the multiple mobile sculptures installed in the space.

He watched from a distance as you carefully gazed at the exhibit, trying to find some deeper meaning or metaphor that it was trying to convey. Once you were ready to move onto another section of the gallery, your breath catches–and your eyes lock.

Then...

“Dude, where the hell are you? I’ve been waiting for over an hour,” Yoongi grumbled while he stood in a quiet corner to make a call. He’d been at the bar waiting for his friend, Namjoon to show up. It’s been a stressful week for him at work and he wanted to unwind and have a few drinks.

“Sorry, Yoongi. I sort of…ran into someone and now we’re talking about heading to her place–”

“Her?” Yoongi repeated, “Wha–you already hooked up with some chick?”

“I mean, I don’t know how it will turn out yet, Yoongi,” he chuckled on the other line. “We’re just talking. But if you want, I can still meet you? It’s just going to take me a little while,” Namjoon sputtered.

Yoongi groaned, knowing full well that once Namjoon had been roped in, it would be like trying to pull him out of quicksand. “You know what bro–just…don’t worry about it,” he concedes.

“A-are you sure? I could still–”

“It’s cool, Namjoonie. We’ll link up next time. Have a good night.” He signs off as sincerely as possible before hanging up.

Yoongi huffed, downed the rest of his beer then trudged back over to the bar. He motions to the bartender, who moved closer so he could place another drink order.

“Can I get a scotch, three fingers, no ice?”

******

It’s nearly 10:30 at night and you and your friend, Hyejin were still feeling the club’s vibe. It was a long weekend and you were intent on making a casual hookup or two.

“Anyway…we decided that things weren’t working out,” Hyejin shrugs. “We’re good though.”

You eyed her suspiciously. “Oh sure,” you say sarcastically, “Is that why you’re still fucking him?”

She giggled, clearly not planning on denying it. “I mean, he’s a nice guy and we started out as fuck-buddies…” she trailed off.

You rolled your eyes. “You need to start setting better boundaries, girl,” you say before taking a sip of your drink.

She shrugged, “I’m just living life. You should try it sometime!”

After you snort at her comment, she nudges your arm, bobbing her head toward the bar’s direction. “He looks yummy,” she remarks. You turn your head and made a quick assessment of the lonely patron she was gesturing at.

To your surprise, he turns his head in your direction. You met his gaze for a brief moment before he hastily turned away.

“He’s hot but a little too broody-looking,” you say dismissively even though you felt a flutter in the pit of your belly.

“So? You know what they say about those quiet, broody types…” Hyejin leans into your ear and whispers, “They’re freaks in the sheets!”

Your eyebrows knitted comically at her. “Who the hell said that?”

She clicked her teeth. “Me, duh!” She threw her head back in laughter, the music drowning out her drunken cackles. “Go get him–or I will,” she threatens.

Just then, he glances in your direction once more. But he’s unnerved by you and Hyejin staring straight at him so he turns away and looks down at his phone screen instead.

“I think he looked at me,” Hyejin said.

“Shut up, he looked at me!”

“You said he was too broody–”

“That didn’t mean that I was disinterested,” you cocked a warning eyebrow at her..

She laughed. “Well, what are you waiting for?” She dared.

You started to back away from her and grinned. “Slow your roll, babe…I’m going!”

You turned away from her and walked up to your target, his shoulders hunched over while he scrolled through his phone and alternately took a sip of his drink.

You ordered yourself a cocktail even though you technically already had one that you conveniently left behind where you previously stood.

You parked yourself on the seat next to him, pretending to scroll through your own phone while you gather up the courage. You see him from your peripheral view sneaking more glances at you.

When the bartender brings you your drink, the hottie to your left speaks out.

“Put her drink on my tab.”

The bartender’s eyebrow quirked. He looked at you then back at him. He gave him a small smile, nodded in acknowledgment, and walked away. You took it as your cue to finally start a conversation.

“Thanks, that’s nice of you,” you said, swiveling your seat in his direction, crossing your leg over the other.

“You’re welcome.”

The bartender serves your drink. As you pick it up, you raised your glass toward him. “Geonbae.”

“Geonbae,” he says as he raised his glass to tap it against yours. 

After you both take a sip, you ask him straight away, “Are you here with anybody?” You were not wasting any more precious time.

“Well, I was waiting for a friend but he ditched me so I’m on my own tonight.”

“Oh no,” you feigned regret. “I hope you don’t mind if I keep you company for a bit? It’s the least I can do to thank you for this drink.”

Your boldness made him smile. “I’m Yoongi.”

“Nice to meet you, Yoongi. I’m YN.” He reached out for a handshake but you gave him a hug instead. It takes him by surprise but it’s a welcome one.

******

“So, you build furniture?”

“Yep. I design them and I build them,” he explains while you scroll through his company’s social media page.

“By yourself?”

He laughed. “Sometimes, if I can’t find reliable help,” he remarks, his laugh growing louder. “I mean, I do the designs by myself but I usually have a team who helps me with the production and assembly. I have my own workshop.”

“Wow,” you marveled and continued to scroll through his feed. “Your work is really good–and unique!”

“Thank you. I work with a lot of local suppliers–small businesses as well, like mine. It’s a great community,” he explains. “And by the way, your work looks great, too,” he says while he scrolls through your own social media feed.

“Oh, gosh–most of my moodboards are from random Pinterest concepts,” you respond.

“Ehh…I think you’re being too modest.” He zeroes in on a recent contract–one that you were really proud of. It was for a local restaurant chain that used to have a bland color palette and aesthetic until they hired you to liven it up for their first location expansion. Three locations later, they’ve been one of your most lucrative clients.

“You have a great eye,” he says before handing your phone back to you. You smile at his compliment while you return his phone.

“If you think my work is good, we should get together sometime.”

His eyebrow quirks at your remark, but he holds back his response thinking you might have misspoken. You smile at him and after taking a sip of your drink you say, “You know, I’m always looking into connecting with new vendors to partner with.”

He chuckled. “You think we can be partners?”

“Why not? I see a lot of potential for us. I work in design and you are a potential supplier...what’s the worst that can happen?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Our visions might not line up,” he responds with a hint of doubt.

You shrug. “Ever heard of compromising?”

He chuckled softly. “My work tends to come off too old-fashioned to some. It takes a different kind of audience.”

“So? Sometimes all it takes is a dash of old-fashioned,” you smile, raising your glass containing the same drink.

“Really?”

You lift a shoulder. “You need a little bitterness to balance the sweetness out.” You giggle at the cheesiness of that line.

“Point taken,” he says with a gummy smile, holding back his laughter.

******

The last thing you remember was Yoongi asking if you wanted to go to his place or yours–before everything went dark.

Your eyes flicker up to the ceiling. 

As you adjust to the brightness of the room, you instinctively reach over by the nightstand to retrieve your phone to check for the time. It was a quarter past 8AM…and you were home…alone, as it seems when your head whips around to see the other side empty.

What happened?

You slowly pad your way into your living room. Maybe he was just trying to be polite and crashed on the couch.

Except, he wasn’t.

Did he just drop you off and leave? You clutch at your throbbing forehead. I’m getting too old for this shit, you thought to yourself. Still, you were worried about what happened to Yoongi.

You pull his number from your phone–at least, you think that you have his number.

“Aha,” you gasped when you find his name in your contacts list.

You realized it might still be too early but you thought you could just give him a call and leave him a voicemail just to make sure that he got home safely.

You open up your blinds to let get some more daylight in the room. By some twisted way, you found that it helped with your hangover.

While the other line trills, something catches your eye when you look out the window.

“Oh shit–” you say under your breath.

******

You approach his car and unsure whether to knock or let him be. He looked exhausted but you couldn’t just leave him out here.

You tapped your knuckles against the window and he immediately flinched.  He looks around, seemingly surprised at his surroundings until his eyes land on you.

You gesture to open his door. When he does, you ask him, “Good morning. Would you like to come in for some coffee?”

******

He declines at first but you managed to convince him to come in. After a few sips of coffee, he insisted on cooking you breakfast.

You hadn’t gone grocery shopping yet and didn’t have much in your fridge except for some eggs and cheese. You had a couple of slices of bread in the pantry so he makes the most out of it. He is appreciative of the effort and continues to tell you that you didn’t need to go out of your way.

“So, do you always make breakfast for girls you pick up from the club?” You joke.

“Not really,” he laughs. “I also don’t fall asleep in my car after I’ve dropped them off.”

“You know you were welcome to sleep on the bed or the couch,” you say casually. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

“Nah, you were passed out and I didn’t want you to think that I was taking advantage of the situation or anything like that,” he reasons.

You smiled at how respectful and thoughtful he was. “I appreciate that. And…thank you for bringing me home.”

“You’re welcome.”

******

Days later...

“Bro, are you sure you can meet the deadline?”

Yoongi glanced at Namjoon, then scratched the back of his neck to think before he gave him an answer. He was feeling stressed with this client because they were fussy about the design. It took at least a dozen iterations of the collection before they finally approved it.

The deadline was fast approaching and Yoongi had fallen behind with the work. He’d have to pay his guys overtime and maybe even work on some of the pieces himself in the evenings to cover more ground.

“Tell them not to worry. Besides, when have I ever missed a delivery date for them?” Yoongi walks away and back into the workshop to check on how the other projects were progressing.

Namjoon nodded at Yoongi’s logic. No matter how stressful it got for him, Yoongi always managed to deliver the goods, and clients were satisfied each and every time. ”Alright, I’ll let them know.” He types a text to the client and sends Yoongi’s response.

After sending it off, he turns his attention back to Yoongi. “Hey, so–how’d you make out last weekend? Are we cool?”

The question seems to take Yoongi by surprise. “Huh? Why wouldn’t we be?” 

Namjoon laughed. “Bro, this is me apologizing for abandoning you for a girl.”

“Oh.” Yoongi suddenly recalls the events leading up to how the night ended. “Uhm–nah, we’re cool. Besides, I did just fine,” he adds casually.

His friend’s mouth spread into a Cheshire cat grin. “Oof–you hooked up, didn’t you?”

Yoongi’s face scrunched in confusion. “Naaww…”

His laughter boomed from his chest. “Bro, I know you’re lying! Lemme see! Is she on social media?”

Yoongi clicked his teeth and groaned. “It wasn’t even like that.”

“So you did meet someone!”

He sighed, exasperated with his friend’s teasing. “Fine, I did. But nothing happened! We just hung out and I took her home.”

Unconvinced, Namjoon’s voice rose a few octaves. ”Whaaatt? Wait–so this the first girl you’ve hooked up with since–”

Yoongi waved his hand in mid-air to stop Namjoon from finishing his thought. “For the last time–she and I did not hook up,” he clarifies firmly. “We just had a nice conversation over a few drinks. Then I drove her back to her place…where I made her breakfast.”

Namjoon doubles over in laughter. “And you’re telling me that nothing happened?”

“Swear to god! After giving me her address, she fell asleep on the way there and I just carried her in. I slept in my car.”

“Wow…” Namjoon breathes out. “Look at you being all chivalrous!”

Yoong snorted at the comment.

“So–are you gonna see her again or what?”

Before he could answer, Namjoon’s phone buzzed with a text from their client. He reads the message to Yoongi. “She asked if you can squeeze in a prototype for barstools?”

“Aish,” Yoongi says under his breath. “I mean…that technically wasn’t even…” he stops short. Instead of arguing, he drags out a sigh and relents. “You know what, fine. Tell her I’ll include it and bill her later.”

Namjoon types up Yoongi’s response, to which the client replies almost instantaneously. “Is he absolutely sure?” He read the text out loud, a wry look on his face.

Yoongi looked up at his friend and let out a grunt of annoyance. “Just fucking tell her ‘yes’.”

Namjoon nods and sends the response again. “I don’t know why I need to be your middleman here–”

“Well, you brokered this deal. And from the jump, they preferred to communicate this way, so…” he trailed off. After ensuring some quality control on his employee’s work, Yoongi walks back into his living space and flops himself onto the sofa. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Namjoon walks toward his friend and sits on the adjacent seat. “Is that really all there is to it?” His voice had a hint of concern and worry for his friend.

Yoongi turned his head and opened one eye to look at him.

“It’s been over a year. She’s moved on–”

“Clearly,” Yoongi deadpanned before closing his eye again.

Namjoon shifted uncomfortably and scratched the back of his neck. “Well…aren’t you back in the dating scene? Can’t we all be grownups here?”

He let out a deep sigh, then opened his eyes again to dig his phone out of his back pocket. He didn’t think Namjoon’s question required an answer so he just scrolls through his screen.

Talking about his past relationship was a sore subject…even for Yoongi, whom his other friends thought to be typically aloof about these kinds of things. But sometimes, whatever one showed on the outside actually ran much deeper on the inside.

Shrugging, Namjoon takes Yoongi’s reticence as his cue to leave.

When the door shuts, Yoongi pauses his scrolling through his social media feed as his vision lands on a particular post. Damn algorithms got him again. He clicks on the account’s page and follows it.

Next, he types up a message and then hits ‘send.’

******

After work, you head over to a pub close to your office. You offered to meet Yoongi halfway from wherever he was coming from but said that he was happy to head over closer to where you were at.

He was already at the bar when you walked in, looking more relaxed than when you first saw him over the weekend. You weren’t much for guys with long hair but something about his hair being pulled back in a half-up/half-down bun became a contributing factor that held your attention.

You greet him with a hug, which he reciprocates. He asks what you want to drink. You glance at his whisky and decide to order an old-fashioned.

“You know, when you texted me this afternoon, I was a little surprised.”

“And why’s that?” He asks you.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t sure if you thought our night ended kind of weird.” You sat on the stool next to him, your legs crossed in his direction while you turned your glass on the bar’s surface with your fingers.

He laughed. “I’ll admit, I don't remember having a night like that…ever, I think?” Your eyes drift to his fingers that dance over the rim of his glass of whisky. 

“Is that because you always score?”

He caught his lower lip with his teeth and inhaled. “I’ll tell you right now, if my best friend were here, he’d already fallen off his chair laughing.”

His comment made your eyebrows lift in surprise. You both took sips of your drinks. After you swallow, you ask, “On that note, how many serious relationships have you had?”

He nearly chokes on his drink, laughing awkwardly. “Oh, we’re at that level of comfort now?”

You lifted a shoulder. “Seemed like the conversation was headed there anyway. Might as well get there sooner!”

He laughs, then pauses to consider his answer. “I’ve had one.”

“One? That’s it?” You were incredulous. You found him attractive–and not in a novel way. He spoke calmly and even sagely at times. A good conversation these days was rare and often overlooked or easily forgotten. But he was someone you enjoyed talking to...and someone you hadn’t been able to get out of your mind in the last few days.

“Yeah. Just the one,” he replies. 

“Wow…”

“Yep. We were going to get married and everything. But,” he let out a sharp breath, “She changed her mind.” He sighed, picked up his glass, and swirled the liquid in it. “She broke it off the day before…told me she couldn’t go through with it.” 

You watched him throw his head back and polish off the rest of his drink. Your heart hurts for him and you didn’t have a smartass joke to say to lighten the mood.

“Anyway!” He sighed deeply, desperate for a subject change. “That was a long time ago. It’s all done and over with. She’s off doing her own thing, I’m doing mine. What about you? How many serious relationships have you been in?”

“Nine.”

His eyes widened. “Nine? Those were all serious?” He asks carefully.

“Yes,” you say confidently. “Why is that hard for you to believe?”

He scoffed. “I mean…you don’t look that old and you’ve been in nine serious relationships?”

“What does my age have to do with it?” You laughed.

“Well…usually, relationships span years–”

“That’s what you think,” you countered. “You think that in order for a relationship to be considered serious is the amount of time you’ve been with that person. I mean, couldn’t it just be the depth of connection with that person?” 

That stopped him in his tracks. He let that thought sink in, then nodded gently. Meanwhile, you’re watching his facial expressions–the wheels turning in his head.

“I can still feel you silently judging me,” you chuckle.

“I’m not,” he says simply. “I’m certainly in no place to judge. You’re an adult, free to make your own choices. Besides, we’ve only just met.”

You smiled. “Fair point.”

“Although…I’m curious, if you don’t mind me asking.”

You shook your head and prompted him to continue.

“Out of all of those relationships, which one was your worst heartbreak?”

“Damn!” You laughed. “And here you are questioning whether we’ve known each other long enough to discuss these things?”

You both laugh at the thought. When you calm down, he says, “Touché. I was just curious, that’s all. You don’t have to answer.”

“It’s fine, I’ll answer.” You downed the rest of your drink and turned your attention back to him. “The one that really did a number on me was my last relationship. We were together for about six months…” You paused to clear your throat, “until I found out that he was married.”

“Married? So you were someone’s mistress?”

“Unknowingly!” You contest. “Besides, I ended it as soon as I found out. I didn’t want to get tangled up in all that.” You winced at the memory. Not your finest moment but since then, you tried to be more vigilant about red flags.

“Well, like I said–it’s all in the past, right? The point is, we both got our hearts broken. End of story.”

You nodded in agreement before he switches gears. “Don’t you ever get scared?”

“Scared of what?”

“Repeating the whole process. You know, as someone who’s been in all of these relationships…don’t you ever get tired of starting from scratch every time? The whole getting to know each other, falling in love…then being faced with the possibility of things not working out.”

“I wonder about people who are afraid to put themselves out there again after getting hurt by love. I really don’t get that,” you say in jest.

He shrugs. “Who likes getting hurt? That’s not something rational people consciously wish for themselves.”

You sighed wistfully at the thought. “You know, I never understood why some people think of it that way. You know, trying to rationalize falling in love. Isn’t that counterintuitive? Love in itself is all about being spontaneous, irrational…reckless, even. The feeling of being completely wrapped up in the emotion and the moment–all because of one person. That includes all the fear, uncertainties…even the possibility of getting hurt. The experience of love isn’t complete without all that.”

He chuckled with his gummy grin. “Sounds like a huge gamble to me.”

“But if you never take that gamble, how will you ever experience the joy of winning big? How would you ever know what your heart is capable of taking if you’re always afraid of losing?”

He eyed you for a few seconds, letting your words sink in. “So you’re telling me that you’re willing to go through what could possibly be twice the amount of hurt–just to fall in love again?”

“Absolutely!” You declared with confidence.

You took another sip of your drink, then looked him straight in the eye. “I mean…you’re not thinking of hurting me, are you?” You ask him cheekily.

His eyebrow quirked in response. “Y-you’re asking me?” He chuckled nervously.

“Calm down! It’s just a rhetorical question,” you giggled.

You both laugh it off. Afterward, he pursed his lips and eyed you again. “But just so we’re clear…I don’t plan on it.”

His answer made your heart skip. You didn’t have any smart-ass quips to lob back at him.

After what seems to be an eternity of staring at each other in tense silence, he asks, “Do you wanna get out of here?”

******

He showed you around his modest place, where he had a full and, judging by the fresh sawdust on the tables, actively functional workshop. It was attached to a one-bedroom living space with a kitchen, a cozy living room, and a full bathroom. But by your assessment, it looked more like the living space was attached to the workshop.

“You sleep where you work?” You ask while looking at the work surface next to you.

He notices you looking at it so he leans over to swipe the sawdust off the table. “I didn’t see the point of going back and forth between places.”

“Yeah but it must be hard to live where you work and work where you live?”

He chuckles. “On the contrary, it’s more convenient for me. When I’m tired, I just lay on the couch. If I have trouble sleeping, I just come over here and tinker with stuff.”

You eyed him silently as he stood over the table, his hands spread wide while he supported his weight on them.

“I don’t know if I can do that. I need clear boundaries.”

“Don’t you bring work home from time to time?”

You shrugged. “Sometimes, if I’m on a tight schedule. But I try not to do it if I can help it. I prefer the idea of drawing that line where, once I walk out that door, that’s it. I’ll come back to it in the morning. Once I’m off work, I’m off work.”

He hummed. “That’s fair.”

You carefully move a small container of wood stain to the side then hop up on the table. After giving his studio another once-over, you turn your attention to him.

“What are you currently working on?”

He seems hesitant at first but decides to share a little bit. “I’m…trying to create a prototype for this light fixture,” he says vaguely.

“Really? Can I see?”

He chuckles, then paused to check if you were actually serious about looking at his designs. When your expression remained unchanged, he decides to reach past you to pull his sketchbook toward him. He flips through a few pages until he lands on a specific one.

The page has a rough sketch of a multi-tiered looking chandelier with what looked like wooden fringes, instead of what would typically be glass or crystal.

“So, I’m trying to focus on more natural materials like rattan, bamboo…I don’t know, maybe my friend, Namjoon, has been hanging around my studio too much,” he says in jest.

Your fingers brush the pencil lines on the page. His ideas were beautiful. They were modern yet had an old-world feel to them. His pieces didn’t look like something that was mass-produced. Each one had its own personality but all of them were crafted with artisanal care.

“You think you could work with these?” He asks quietly, his face an inch away from you.

“Oh, definitely,” you smiled. “My mind’s already buzzing with ideas.”

He looks down from your eyes to your mouth…then back up to your eyes again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whisper then take in his scent. “You smell nice. What is that?”

“Uhm, I don’t know…pine?” He answers before you close the gap between you to kiss him. You taste faint traces of whisky and citrus flavors in his mouth. His lips were soft and melded into yours, making you sigh into him. His kiss was as calm and gentle as his usual demeanor.

He presses his body closer to yours, making you tilt backward on the work table, spilling the can of wood stain on you. You gasp, startled at the feel of it on the side of your leg, and hastily hop off the surface.

“Fuck…I’m so sorry,” he says.

“I-it’s okay,” you stammer, grabbing onto your dress to assess the damage.

“No, it’s not. I ruined your dress.”

“Yoongi, it’s okay,” you say nonchalantly. “I can take it to the cleaners…” You inspect the stain while he goes to grab a paper towel. Who were you kidding? This was varnish. The dress itself was cheap but it was beyond salvageable.

You looked up to see him hovering over you. “Or we could just take it off?” 

With his breath fanning your face, you fist at his shirt and pull him into you again. This time, his lips didn’t feel tentative–they were more ardent…hungrier. He lifts you off the worktable and you both stagger out of the workshop and toward his living space. The closest comfortable surface was couch so he lowers you both there. 

You reach back to lower the zipper of your dress while he pulls his shirt off. When he tosses it to the side, helps you undress the rest of the way through.

His fingers laced around the back of your neck urging you closer to him. He moved from your mouth down to your neck, gently sucking the skin on your collarbone.

You felt a gush of moisture soak through you…you let go of every ounce of control that you hung onto because were desperate for him now.

With one swift move, he unclasps your bra and moves his mouth to your chest while he lowered you further until your head hit the armrest.

Your breath hitches as he wraps his plush lips around an aching nipple. You swore right then that you’d orgasm from the feeling alone…but he was just getting started.

You reach between both of you and undo the button and zipper on his jeans, pushing them down.

He hooks his fingers onto your panties and you arch your back so he can slide them off. You were completely bare for him now, hypnotized by his desire for you at this moment.

You kept your eyes at him, unable to look away as pulls your legs apart and gave your inner thighs gentle kisses. He locked eyes with you and kept contact while you watched him sink his mouth onto your cleft.

You sucked in a harsh breath while he tongued you. You felt every lick and every suction of his mouth onto your moist, swollen lips.

Your walls clenched achingly at nothing while he continued to eat you out. Your breath began to stutter as you shamelessly bucked your hips against his mouth, desperate for a release.

You felt him dip two fingers into you…pulling them in and out lazily while his tongue fluttered over your clit.

Your body bowed when he alternated licking and sucking at your clit. It wasn’t long before your orgasm built up to a fever pitch. Your throat tightened, desperately trying to suck in air while your body tensed.

“Aaahh…gonna cum–fuck…”

You cried out hoarsely further as he got his last two licks in before you came down from your high. You were about to pass out from the pleasure when you saw him fish out a foil packet from his wallet.

You sat yourself up, meeting him halfway as he lined himself up between your thighs. You kissed him senselessly, your tongue fighting his for control.

Your mouth stilled as you felt him slowly enter you. You sucked in another breath while you felt that delicious stretch.

He urged you to lay back down while he pushed the rest of his length into you.

“Fuh…,” was all you managed to breathe out while your eyes rolled to the back of your head as shivers coursed through your body.

You looked back at him, a pained look on his face from how tight you were for him. You gave him a small nod of assurance to let him know that you were okay.

He started to move his hips slowly until he found a consistent rhythm.

He lowered himself further against your body and wrapped your leg around his waist. He thrusted in and out of you at a steady pace while your core tightened further around him along with another orgasm building up.

“Fuck, YN…feel so good,” he choked out in between breaths. He sealed his mouth onto yours, moaning in pleasure.

Your nails raked his back–from his shoulders and down to his hips that relentlessly railed into you.

“Fuck, don’t stop…don’t stop…” you gasped as you felt yourself edge closer to another orgasm.

Your muscles clenched around his cock while he repeatedly hit you deep into your core. You buck your hips into him, meeting him at every thrust while you both moan into each other’s mouths.

The next thing you knew, he had tipped you over the edge again.

His palms cup your ass, raising your hips to him. A few more thrusts and he was arching his back, pressing his forehead to yours as his own climax coursed through him.

The next morning, you wake up to the smell of coffee, that he brought to you, bedside. 

******

After that night, you spent many more going back and forth between his place and yours.

You went about both your days but talked all the time. You always made time to see each other–he’d work around your schedule and you’d work around his. Things were going so well and stress-free.

You didn’t feel the need to change the way you were around him and neither did he. Everything just came naturally to both of you.

Some days, you were unaware of how much time you spent together. Some weekends, you would just laze around and never leave the room. It was bliss.

“Jagiii!” You yell out from his bedroom, hoping he’d hear from the loud, grinding noise of his industrial sander.

He turns the machine off, flips his visor up, and pulls his earplugs out. “Yeah?” he bellowed from his workshop.

“Could I just have five minutes for a phone call?”

He gestures to his workshop assistant, telling him that he can take a break. “Alright, we’ll take five!” he says. 

“You’re the best! Love you!”

“You owe me,” he teases.

“Just put in on my tab, jagiya,” you tease back.

******

Weeks later, you finally signed a lease for your new condo. Yoongi was on hand to help you move and get settled. You’d gone back and forth your old place to pick up smaller things that you didn’t load up in the big truck. The most important things were your larger furniture anyway.

Yoongi was tinkering with the internet connection in the second bedroom while you stood quietly in the midst of the expansive space, surrounded by boxes. It was getting dark out but you hadn’t installed your blinds yet so the moonlight illuminated the room. You stared out the window and into the glittering city lights. 

“Why are you standing out here in the dark?” Yoongi flicks the light switch on.

“No, no–turn it back off.” He does so tentatively. “Is everything okay?” He approaches you carefully from behind, wrapping his arms around you. You lean your head back against him and sighed. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you. Just…trying to take it all in as everything calms down again.”

“Are you tired?” He nuzzled his nose into your hair.

“Mm-hmm,” you nod.

“Yeah, I can smell the dried sweat from your forehead,” he says before you poke him in his side, making him laugh out loud.

“I’m kidding,” he smiles, grabbing onto your waist and turning you around to face him. “Are you happy?”

“I am.” You plant a soft kiss on his lips. “Thank you for helping me today.”

“Of course. Even if you didn’t ask me to, I still would have done it.”

“I know but this is a huge deal for me. After all these years of hard work, I’m finally upgrading my home.”

“That’s great. I’m very proud of you for doing that. And you know,” he glances past your shoulder and jerks his chin at your windows. “I can totally make you some custom blinds, too. None of that plastic, vinyl shit. I can use bamboo so it’s cooling but also great for insulation. Very sustainable, too.”

You giggled and kissed the tip of his nose. “Mmm…keep talking eco-friendly to me, Mr. Min…” 

“Well…” he brushes his lips against yours, “If you like that, wait ‘til you hear about the reclaimed wood we’re using for this new commission.”

You threw your head back and moaned. “Ooh…yes…keep going.”

Chuckling, he dipped his head and leaves a trail of kisses down your exposed throat. “Why don’t we take this back in the bedroom and I can show you what else we can do with some wood.”

You start cackling at his comment and before you know it, he picks you up off your feet and you stumble into your room and stayed there until the sun came up.

Now…

In a panic, Yoongi heads to one corner of the gallery to search for his friend. “Namjoonah!”

Namjoon’s head whips around to see Yoongi headed for him. He excuses himself from the current conversation he was having. “Hey, Yoongi–”

Immediately, Yoongi pulls Namjoon right by the bathrooms to scold him. “Bro, that’s not cool. I wish you told me that YN was going to be here.”

 “If I had told you, would you have come out tonight?”

Yoongi scoffed, “Of course, I still would have,” his voice went up a higher register, making Namjoon snicker. “I just…I wish you would have given me a warning so I could have been, I don’t know, better prepared!”

“Prepared for what? You guys have been broken up for years. Besides, you’ve always known that she and Hyejin are friends. You should have at least expected her to be here so I don’t know why you’re all bothered. Unless of course you not over her yet?”

Yoongi remains adamant. “Dude, of course, I’m over her! I just got caught off-guard, that’s all.” 

“Are you sure you’re not still thinking about her?”

“Fuck no! Are you kidding? You know I can’t stand her! She’s too loud, a terrible cook…not to mention that she has way too much drama in her life.”

Namjoon snorted. “And you didn’t?”

Yoongi shakes his head dismissively. “Whatever, dude–I’m just not all about that. My new motto in life is to stay drama-free, you know?”

He gives Yoongi a skeptical smile. Just then, the bathroom door opens behind them.

The color from Yoongi’s face drains as he gets the shock of his life when he sees you emerge.

You stood there smirking while Namjoon and Yoongi exchanged looks.

“Uh, sorry, guys–I think I need to use the bathroom.” Namjoon says, stifling a laugh while he cuts in between you two and shuts the door.

Yoongi remained standing in awkward silence, trying to will the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“I thought you liked it when I was loud for you?” With that, you walk past him and disappear into the crowd.

Then…

“I can’t hear you, baby…come on…let me hear how good I make you feel.”

“Ahhh…f-fuck…” You cried out loudly, body stiffening, with your fingers grasping Yoongi’s hair at the roots while his tongue teases the last pulses of your orgasm.

“There you go…good girl.”

You and Yoongi were planning to have a quiet night in but Hyejin invites you out at the last minute, saying that you haven’t had a proper girls’ night in a while. Thinking about it now, it’s been over a month since you met up with her. Most of your nights were preoccupied with Yoongi these days.

When Yoongi couldn’t convince you to stay in, he asked if you needed a ride there and you decline, saying that Hyejin offered to pick you up.

When you stepped out of the room and he sees you in your outfit, a dark cloud overcomes him. He grabs you by the waist, lifts you onto the kitchen counter, and moving your panties aside, dives right in.

He helps you off the counter and you smooth your dress. You glance downwards and see the bulge in his pants.

“Hey, let me take care of that.” You reach out to cup him but he catches your hand and lifts it up to his lips to kiss it.

You’re suddenly torn between walking out the door and wanting to stay to suck him off…deep. The latter option sounded more appealing as you felt your mouth water at the thought of him fucking your mouth. 

He pulls you in close and presses his hard-on against you. You let out a small whine of protest. His tongue grazed his lower lip before sinking his teeth into it.

He tutted. “Come home to me later and I’ll give you what you want.” His voice made it sound like a warning…a warning that you were tempted to ignore just to find out what he would do to you for ignoring it. The idea excited you so much that you felt heat pooling between your legs again.

“Are you sure? I still have a few minutes before I’m supposed to meet Hyejin,” you smile sweetly, your lips brushing against his jawline.

“I’m sure. Now go before I change my mind,” he says in jest.

“Okay,” you acquiesce.

Right before you walk away, he takes your mouth and kisses you hard. You couldn’t help but lick traces of your arousal from his lips.

When he pulls away, you are breathless and weak in the knees–more so after that orgasm that he gave you minutes ago.

******

You hadn’t noticed that Hyejin stopped mid-sentence to eye you as you giggled at your phone screen while you exchanged spicy texts with Yoongi. You finally look up and meet her gaze.

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’,” she says in a mocking tone. “I’ve been blabbing up a storm here and you’re all heart-eyes, drooling over your phone there.” She tilts her chin up to get a look at your text screen and you immediately pull it close to your chest.

She scoffed then laughed. “Oh my gooood…you are so whipped for him!”

You roll your eyes at her. “I am not!” 

She laughed even louder at your response. “Oh come on, YN! How long have we been friends? I can tell whether you’re just feeling a buzz between your legs or if you’re really into someone. And right now, I know that you are so down bad for him,” she declares.

You feel your cheeks ignite. It wasn’t because of the alcohol but because you knew she was right.

You sighed in defeat. “Okay, fine! So we’re a little obsessed with each other, big deal.”

You started to gush over your relationship. “I just love how much he cares. He checks in, asking whether I’ve eaten yet. He cooks for me…then, he tells me when he misses me. It’s nice. It feels nice to feel needed, you know?”

Hyejin nods. “Well, that’s all because you guys are still in that honeymoon phase!”

You scoff, dipping your fingers into your glass and flicking droplets of cold water at her. “Bitch! You’re so negative!”

She throws her head back in laughter. “I’m kidding, babe! You know me. Seriously, I’m happy for you. Now…” she cleared her throat. “Does he have a single hot friend that you know of?”

******

The following weekend, you convince Yoongi to come with you on a walking tour of a museum exhibiting gothic renaissance art. You were looking for some inspiration for your next project. You saw an ad online and decided it couldn't hurt to go exploring for a bit. It was also a nice excuse to pull him away from his workshop.

“Uhh…” Yoongi croaks tentatively. “I don’t know exactly what it is we’re looking at,” he laughs while cocking his head from one side to the other, trying to decipher the exhibit in front of you.

“Neither do I, jagi,” you giggled, glancing at the museum brochure. “I don’t know, I’m just trying to get some inspiration for this restaurant revamp. They currently have this old western theme…which is strange because they serve pizza and pasta.”

Yoongi laughs. “That concept doesn’t even make sense!”

“I know! But the owner’s daughter is a bit more modern and she’s totally up for a theme change.” You’ve talked to Yoongi about this new contract for weeks now and it’s finally happening. He was excited to bounce ideas off you to the point where you pulled him in as a supplier for the rebrand.

Even though the daughter was pushing for a more modern twist, her father, the restaurant’s current owner, wants to keep some traces of that classic feel to it.

“So, no saloon doors?” Yoongi says sarcastically.

You threw your head back in laughter. “Definitely not! The daughter would fire me. I was thinking we can bring in your natural concepts with that wooden fringe chandelier sketch that you were working on.”

His hand linked with yours, bringing it up to his lips to kiss it, making you grin like a lovestruck teenage girl. “Sounds good to me.”

You walk out of the museum and stood on the sidewalk, intending to walk a block over to a theater, not to see a show but to look at the architecture. The theater had a classic art deco design that would come in handy for your moodboard. You convinced Yoongi to make it part of your chill date before heading back to your place for dinner.

As you approach the end of the block, you are nearly run over by a man pushing a stroller that rounded the corner.

“Hey, watch it,” Yoongi exclaims protectively.

“Oh, I’m sor–YN?”

You suck in a breath. “Soonyoung, h-hi.”

“Hey! Wow…it’s been a while. Uh…h-how’ve you been?” He asks.

“Uhm…g-good,” you stammer. “You?” Then your eyes flick nervously over to the stroller that had a sleeping baby in it. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks,” he smiled. “Uh–so–”

“Yeobo!”

You whip your head around to see a woman come out of the restaurant that you were standing in front of. She walked towards Soonyoung and the stroller.

“Hi,” she greets you and Yoongi, then turns to Soonyoung waiting for him to introduce her.

“This is my wife, Naeyeon. Yeobo, this is YN. She’s an old friend.” She smiles at you then her eyes shift to Yoongi.

Somehow, your brain lurches forward. “This is Yoongi,” you say to both of them while you stood across from them. “My boyfriend.”

“So great to meet you both!” She says with a warm smile.

“Anyway, we should go before we miss our reservation, Nae. It’s good to see you again, YN,” Soonyoung says in a hurry before he and his family walk around you and into the restaurant.

******

Since that awkward run-in with Soonyoung, Yoongi has been uncharacteristically short with you for the rest of the day.

When you get back to your place, he sets the grocery bags on the kitchen counter. Afterward, he picks up the to-go bags that contained your dinner.

You watched him quietly lay out the containers on your dining table, along with the disposable utensils, setting place settings for you and him.

He sits down and pulls his chopsticks apart. “We should eat before the food gets cold,” he says without looking up at you.

You wordlessly take the seat adjacent to him. He immediately puts a dumpling on your plate before he serves himself.

He pauses as if remembering something. He rose from his chair and moved toward the kitchen.

“Do you want a beer?”

“Just water is fine,” you answer blandly while staring at the lone dumpling on your plate.

He returns to the table, setting a glass of water next to you, and immediately takes a long swig of his drink after he sits back down.

He grabs so more food and puts it on his plate, pausing to offer you some but you decline. All this time, he still hasn’t made eye contact with you.

Unable to withstand it anymore, you push your plate aside to finally ask, “Something the matter?”

He doesn’t answer and instead continues to chew his food quietly.

You let out a frustrated sigh. “You’ve been acting weird all afternoon.”

He swallowed his food only to say, “Not now, YN.” He takes another bite.

You pursed your lips and gently press him again. “Look, if we have a problem here, we need to talk about it. We’re both adults here–”

“YN, I said, not now,” he says more sternly. Catching himself, he leans against the back of the chair, throwing his head back and rubbing his eyes. He regrets snapping at you. With a heavy sigh, he finally meets your gaze. “I’m sorry I…” he hesitates but finally gives into that nagging feeling in him. “Was that him?”

You give a small nod. “Yeah.”

“Fuck,” he says under his breath. “You should have introduced me as your boyfriend sooner!”

You scrunch your face in surprise. “Why does the timing even matter? The point was that I introduced you, right?”

His voice grew louder. “If you introduced me sooner, he'd take it as a sign not to make stupid small-talk or-or...even think about trying to start shit with you again!”

“Geez, Yoongi. Why would you even think like that? Clearly, the man was right there with his wife and kid. It was a short, very random run-in that will probably never happen again.” You maintained a calm tone.

“That’s what you think.”

“Excuse me?” You started to grow irate at how unreasonable he was starting to sound. “Yoongi–I’m with you, not him. I love you, not him. I don’t understand why we’re making a huge deal out of this!”

He stood there silently, his hands on his waist, nostrils flaring with every breath he took. The seconds tick by and before you try to reason with him, he huffs and walks into the bedroom, the door slamming.

*****

After you store the takeout containers in the fridge, you enter the bedroom to find him lying on the bed with his back toward you. He doesn’t turn to face you or say anything so instead, you shower and get changed. When you get under the covers, you turn on your side so you faced the opposite direction.

A few minutes of silence and staring at your nightstand, you hear him let out a deep sigh before speaking. “I’m sorry for acting the way I did earlier.”

His apology pinches your chest but you keep your back toward him. “You know, just because I hooked up with a married man before doesn’t mean that I’m itching to do it again. So I froze when I saw Soonyoung, but that’s only because I hadn’t seen him since I broke it off and to add to that, his wife was right there. What did you expect me to do?”

“I know, I’m sorry. I got jealous and–I don’t know, I wasn’t thinking.”

It was then that you rolled over to face him.

“Look…I made a stupid mistake a while ago but as soon as I was aware of it, I walked away and I grew from that. I thought that my being completely honest with you from the very beginning was a way to build trust between us…and that I had nothing to hide. But…” Your voice started to waver, “If you’re only going to use that against me, then I don’t think–”

“No, no–” He engulfs you in his arms immediately. As the warmth emanating from his body coursed through you, you couldn’t help but cry into his chest.

“Aw, baby…I’m sorry. I love you. I won’t question that again. And I do appreciate your honesty.”

You lifted your head and tilted your chin up to him. “I love you, too, Yoongi.”��

There was nothing you could do to change the past but as he rocked you to sleep, you wondered if you were right to be open and honest with him from the beginning …or was it a careless mistake? Should you have put your best foot forward first and pretended to be perfect instead?

At your age, you learned that being up-front with your relationship expectations prevented less hurt if things went south. If either party decides that any of those expectations was a dealbreaker, you moved on, and no harm was done.

You only hoped that Yoongi felt the same.

Tags: @internetjunkdrawer @itdoesntmatterwhy @yoongukie-ff @deepseavibez @miksancheese @shesoldbutcute @yu-justme @joonschocochip

Part 2 ◥ | Main Fic Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you loved it and/or curious to learn more, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn't like it so much, I would still like to hear about it 💜

[firenati0n]

summarizing my wips badly <3 :)

thank you so much to @cha-melodius @bigassbowlingballhead @magicandarchery @anincompletelist @kiwiana-writes @onthewaytosomewhere @indestructibleheart @inexplicablymine @junebugclaremontdiaz @porcelainmortal @nontoxic-writes for the tags!

this is a fun new game fajslkdfj here is my pass at a few of mine:

chef alex started making it big. had a breakdown. came home. breakdown got worse before it got better. bon appetite.

chris nolan!alex and cillian murphy!henry fuck around and find out, to the delight of everyone but them

alex torments henry on tiktok and everyone on the internet knows henry wants alex except for alex. as usual.

alex is stalked by an invisible man in a trench coat fr and almost throws a jo malone candle at him in fear

love at first flight, alex follows henry all around london. henry does not know he is being followed.

henry is once again down horrendous for alex in another fucking universe. but this time he's a masochist and writes alex love letters on behalf of a girl because he's a fucking idiot

horny and earnest brain worms make alex eat his fist on his first date with henry

the super six are overworked and underpaid public school teachers. pez is a principal and he, as usual, slays

cia agent alex forced to participate in a male pageant and henry falls in love. what a twist no one saw coming.

obscene amounts of pining longing yearning across timelines until they eventually converge bc i am not evil

alex pines for bea from afar but ends up, once again, down horrendous for her pretty brother when bea gets in an accident (how unfortunate for everyone but alex and henry)

henry is cillian murphy narrating his little irish train sleep story on the calm app and alex listens to it on loop to fall asleep bc he would rather do that than confess any sort of feelings ofc

henry hires an escort to be his wedding date bc he is incapable of normal human interaction but whoa the escort is alex. who else is surprised.

you are welcome to send me asks about any of these, and i will ramble on about them and share snips where appropriate :) <3

xoxo roop

open tag and a few tags under the cut <3

@ninzied @anincompletelist @nocoastposts @wordsofhoneydew @myheartalivewrites @rmd-writes @cricketnationrise @smc-27 @dumbpeachjuice @clottedcreamfudge @cheesecurdsgravyandfries @orchidscript @tintagel-or-cockleshells @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @eusuntgratie @getmehighonmagic @captainjunglegym @sparklepocalypse @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @onward--upward @leaves-of-laurelin @priincebutt @duchessdepolignaca03 @ships-to-sail @piratefalls @welcometololaland @affectionatelyrs @happiness-of-the-pursuit @sherryvalli @whimsymanaged @alasse9 @cultofsappho @itsmaybitheway @kill8a @largepeachicedtea

[silverstonesainz-archive]

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1k celebration

summary: pushing and pulling, always wanting more until one doesn't have anything left to give. pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!oc word count: 11.7k warnings: not proofread, profanities, SMUT - MINORS DNI! This is an 18+ fic (unprotected sex, vaginal sex, fingering - f receiving, oral - m & f receiving), angsty af, daniel lowkey being very whiney and pathetic but its okay. i could also be so inaccurate in descriptions of monaco and other locations but pls it just works well with the story. note: i hope you love this, i had so much fun writing it. and before you ask, yes i will be writing a part two. but don't ask me when bc i have 2 wips left. s/o to @bigdiccricc for helping me when i was stuck, i literally love you forever.

songs i listened to while writing this:

lifeline - joshua bassett // sad songs in a hotel room - joshua bassett // bad omens - 5sos // bleach - 5sos // emotions - 5sos // the way you look tonight - tony bennett //

Daniel wanders the halls and rooms of the house, curtly smiles and nods to people who greeted him and wished him luck just before the season goes into full swing. The air is thick, filled with expectations of 2022 and what he could just pull off. Most of the people expected the most of him, expected him to whip miracles out of a car that simply wasn’t made for him. It made his stomach churn. 

The Aussie looks at his phone for the hundredth time tonight, heart deflating at the screen void of her name. Just more meaningless texts about work and more wishful words. Daniel felt pathetic. 

The Aussie looks at his phone for the hundredth time tonight, heart deflating at the screen void of her name. Just more meaningless texts about work and more wishful words. Daniel felt pathetic. 

He doesn’t stay at the party for much longer, bidding goodbye to his closest friends and promising to see them one more time before he leaves. No one wondered why the life of the party was so glum or seemed to care. Daniel had never left a party so quickly, never welcomed an empty home more in his life. He shuffles into bed, the soft sheets and plush pillows embracing him. That’s when his phone chimes, screen lighting up the dark room. He should’ve been ashamed of how quickly he reached for his cell, swiping up on his screen to read the gray bubbles under her name. 

I’m really sorry. Are you awake? I need you 

There it was. Three words that will always keep Daniel hooked. All Anahí had to do was say she needed him, and Daniel was there. Whatever, whenever, she just says or sends those three words and he would come running. I need you. Three words have never sounded so pretty rolling off her tongue. 

Wide awake angel.  Where are you?

Daniel is already rolling out of bed, slipping back the same joggers and sweatshirt he had on. Just as he rolls his socks onto his feet, his phone chimes again. 

Home.  I’m brewing tea. It’ll be ready when you get here

He had to chuckle at himself and acknowledge his predictability. Ana knew him all too well. 

Just fucking pathetic.

Anahí only lived twenty minutes from his home in Monaco, sometimes ten when he remembers what he does for a living. The drive is quiet, streets empty with exception of one or two cars. Most people were fast asleep, or just about to roll into bed. It’s what Daniel loves most about Monaco. The simplicity, the suburban feel of it. He loved Monaco in all its glory, loved everything it gave him. And that included her. 

He parks next to Ana’s gray Mercedes S-Class, feet taking him all the way to her front door. It isn’t the first time he finds himself walking to her door past midnight. Hell, it might be the earliest he’s ever shown up. He taps the door thrice, rocking back and forth from heel to toe as he waits for her to open the door. It’s only a couple of seconds before he hears the locks jiggle and click, and Anahí is yanking the door open. There is defeat in her eyes, the usual brightness in them gone. She doesn’t say anything, just steps aside to allow him to enter. It’s quiet, the air thick with the unknown. 

Just as she promised, there are two mugs sitting on the dining table with steam rising from the top. The kitchen is tidy, minus the silver kettle sitting on the stove and the opened box of tea bags on the counter. 

“I found this ‘happy tea’ at the grocery store. We can see if it works.” She finally says. 

Daniel turns his head, eyes following as she moves around him and to the seat in front of the white mug. He sits in front of her, fingers hooking around the navy blue handle to tug it towards him. Daniel can finally study her, really look and try to understand her at this moment. 

The name Anahí is of Spanish origin, meaning beautiful like the flower. Her name never rang more true, even in her dampened state. Her cheeks are rosy, lips a beautiful shade of red, and her lashes long and thick. Long dark hair waterfalls over her shoulder, a mess of effortless waves. Even in the warm kitchen light, unflattering as it is, Anahí looked like an angel. Her thin fingers wrap around the ceramic mug, hugging it between her palms as she brings it close to her lips. She blows softly, before sipping. For the briefest of moments, her eyes fall shut, inhaling deeply. Daniel is mesmerized by the short moment of serenity, the look of content before her eyes open and she sets the cup down on the table.

“Well?”

She looks up at Daniel, a small smile on her lips before she shrugs. “I’m just happy you came.”

He can’t fight the smile forming on the lips, or the small giggle bubbling from his throat. He can’t help the warmth brewing in his chest over such a simple sentence. She smiles back, sweeping her hair over her shoulder. They sit in a much more comfortable silence, just sipping tea and enjoying the presence of the other. Halfway down the cup, Daniel leans back and looks up at his best friend. 

“You look nice, did you have a date?”

She shakes her head, “No. Yes… but no. I got stood up. Which is fine, but it isn’t.” 

Daniel tilts his head, raising his brow in confusion. “Fine but it isn’t?”

“He eliminated himself.” Ana shrugs, eyes casted towards the dark liquid in her cup. “Now I don’t have to guess if he’s the one or not.”

“But…?” 

“But what’s so wrong with me? What is so wrong that I seem to deter men who want more than a one night stand?” 

The air gets caught in Daniel’s lungs, throat running dry. He needed to choose his words carefully, craft his response in a way that won’t totally give away his feelings for her. Was there a platonic way of saying that there wasn’t anything wrong with her, that in fact everything about her makes his heart swell? That he’s sitting right here, that he’s been here this entire time pining for her, waiting patiently for her to realize that he’s a man who wants more than a one night stand?

“I guess it’s my mistake for going on Tinder,” Anahí speaks up again, standing from her seat and going to pour the remnants of her tea down the sink. 

Daniel chuckles dryly, standing and following her to do the same. “Yeah. Maybe.” 

He washes her dishes while she moves around behind him. There is soft clinging and clanging, cabinet doors opening and closing. It’s almost domestic, down right perfect as he stands there in her space while she moves freely. Daniel places the mug on the drying rack, shaking his hands before drying them on the beige hand towel. He turns his body, leaning against the counter as he watches Ana walk around her kitchen. 

“Listen,” Daniel’s voice makes her turn in her place, looking up at him inquisitively, “For what it’s worth, it’s not you. It’s the way some men are wired. And I think that the world collectively is afraid of commitment.”  

Ana smiles, nodding. “Is it the way you’re wired?” 

He chuckles, “I’d like to think not.” 

“I don’t know Danny,” Ana teases, dragging out the o in ‘know’. “Thirty-two and no commitment?”

“Woah! Don’t pull out the age card,” Daniel laughs, poking her in the stomach. She giggles, tiny hands grabbing his wrists to stop him from poking her any further. 

“Maybe you should be on Tinder,” Ana laughs, jabbing her finger into his chest as he laughs loudly. 

“I’m more of a Hinge guy myself actually.” He jolts his hand forward, fingers reaching her skin and poking her stomach once more. 

Anahí’s laugh is loud. It’s the kind of laugh that will make your head turn, make you ponder over what kind of a woman would own a laugh like hers. Her smile is wild, ear to ear and tongue peeking between her pearly white teeth. It’s music, Daniel’s favorite song. 

Ana catches his wrists in her hands, finally stopping his friendly prodding. “Okay okay, stop! I surrender.”

Daniel nods, straightening his posture. The skin of his wrists tingles beneath her touch, like little jolts of electricity passing between the two. The moment lasted a couple of seconds, but to Daniel it felt much longer. He could stand in that moment forever, under her happy gaze. 

“Will you spend the night?” Anahí asks softly, releasing his wrists. “One more sleepover before you become too busy for me.” 

“Never too busy for you angel.” 

She rolls her eyes, “You know what I mean.”

Daniel contemplates his options. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s spent the night, innocently laying in bed by her. But he knows that it wouldn’t be smart. He knows that if anything, it will fuck him over for the n-th time. The night will turn into him watching her sleep, wishing on the stars that she’d wake up and have an epiphany. Maybe she’d wake up and see him by her side and realize he would never leave. Though, that’s not how life works. She would never magically read his mind, never be able to have that realization on her own. He knows what he has to do, what he needs to say. And in spite of that his fear of fucking up the only good thing in his life keeps his lips sealed. Sleeping in the same bed would only mean he gets his feelings hurt when he has to leave in the morning. It means his heart breaking as he watches her move in her space, perfectly comfortable with his presence and comfortable without it. 

Anahí looks up at him with her wide brown eyes, waiting for the answer she already knows. Daniel didn’t have the heart to say no. 

So they climb into bed, Anahí on the right and Daniel on the left. He’s stripped down to his boxers, the cotton duvet soft against his skin. Anahí is still sitting up, swiping away on her phone before lying comfortably on her side. Daniel props his head up on his hand, elbow resting on the pillow as he looks down at the girl next to him.

“What are you thinking about?” He whispers, reaching over to push a stray strand of hair off her face. 

She hums softly, savoring the delicate feel of his fingertips grazing her skin. There is a look of serenity on her face, the way her eyes shut for the briefest of seconds, and the slight flair in her nostrils as she breathes in.

“Thinking about how lonely I’ve been.” Anahí admits softly, “Thinking about all the failed dates and encounters. Of all the time I’ve wasted… sometimes I think that this life I’m leading is all that’s left. It’s hard to see an ‘up’ from where I’m standing.” 

Daniel lowers his head on the pillow, shifting his body around trying to get comfortable. “There’s always an up. This isn’t it for you angel, there’s still so much time left in the world to see the ups.” 

“Thank you for coming tonight,” She yawns, moving a little closer to him. “Thank you for always being a constant in my life. I can’t imagine this life without you Daniel.” 

He could kiss her. There is no stronger urge than the one he had now. He wants to weave his fingers through her hair and kiss her hard. He wanted his lips to show her how much he cares for her, show her that he will always be a constant even when she no longer needs him. He wants to hold her against him, to feel her warmth against his skin. 

He doesn’t kiss her. Instead he rests his hand on hers, squeezing softly. 

“Anything for you, Ana.”

It isn’t long before Ana falls into a deep slumber. Her lips are slightly parted hair standing disarray due to her small movements. The room was pitch black, with the exception of the small little nightlight in the corner of the room. The light is warm, making her skin look far more golden than it is. There Daniel lies, admiring her and making all those wishes that will never come true. 

The morning goes how it normally does. Daniel wakes before her, rolls out of bed to start up a pot of coffee to start their day. By the time Ana wakes up, Daniel is already walking in with her cup of coffee. She smiles, eyes still closed as she stretches her arms over her head. He holds out the cup for her to take, waiting patiently as she slowly sits up and reaches for it. She says a quiet thank you before sipping her coffee. They sit in comfortable silence until one has to say goodbye. Today it’s Daniel, chucking his early departure to conference calls and training. 

He walks out of her apartment feeling unfulfilled. He felt like he had fucked himself over as he drowns in the memory of her asleep by his side and how easy it was being with her. Daniel sits in his blue McLaren 540C, head resting on the steering wheel.

Daniel felt just fucking pathetic.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It must've been three days since Daniel last heard from Anahí. No texts or calls, absolutely no effort from either party to communicate. With him preparing to leave for Bahrain for pre-season testing and Anahí too busy with work, there hadn’t been much time to talk.

Daniel is set to leave in two days, and knowing how busy his last two days in Monaco are going to be, there wasn’t much thought into sending Ana a ‘wyd’ text. Three letters simply asking if she was available. Daniel sits at his desk trying his best to concentrate on reading the lengthy email on his computer screen. There were updates on the car plus a new agenda for his arrival in Bahrain, very important information he needed to comprehend and yet his mind is stuck on his cellphone and its black screen. If roles were reversed, he would be running. He’d have replied in an instant. It made him feel like shit, when it really shouldn’t. 

His phone finally chimes after ten minutes. 

Sorry, was driving.  Just got home, but might go out to take a walk. Join me?

Daniel grins, letting her know he’d meet her at hers in twenty minutes. He makes quick work of replying to the remainder of his emails, taking screenshots of his Bahrain schedule, and making sure that most of his work was squared away. He’d probably hear it from his manager, but it wasn’t anything his Aussie charm couldn’t handle. 

Anahí is waiting on the front steps of her building, tapping away on her phone and not noticing the curly haired boy jogging up to her. She finally looks up when his footsteps grow louder, greeting him with a smile and open arms for a hug. He scoops her up into his arms, burying his face into her neck for a brief moment before releasing her. She smells of fresh laundry and vanilla. Her hair is tied up high, away from her face and waves falling neatly to her mid-back. 

“We can just walk to the park from here, and we can stop by to get a smoothie too.” 

“Sounds like a plan angel.” Daniel smiles, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket. 

The walk from her building to the smoothie shop is only five minutes. And in those five minutes, Anahí rambles on and on about her work, filling him in on the last three days since they last saw each other. She’s always spoken so animatedly, Daniel notes. Her hands move flamboyantly, her voice rising and falling with each story she told. She speaks with such passion, such fire, it was hard for Daniel not to fall even more. 

He opens the door for her, like a gentleman does. He orders her mango smoothie and a green one for himself, and pays even with her protesting. And when they walk out of the shop, Daniel’s arm is slung over her shoulder with his hat sitting low. 

“Are you excited for the season to start?” She asks. 

“Yeah. I’m excited to see how the car has changed, and how I’m gonna kick ass this year.” 

Ana giggles softly, “Good to see that spirits are high. I’m excited for you.” 

Daniel removes his arm from her shoulder to switch hands holding his drink, trying to shake the cold off. “Gonna come out and see me?”

“Just a call away Danny. Say the word and I’ll be there.” 

She leans against his side, steps in sync with his. His heart swells at her words, each one planting seeds of hope in his heart. He smiles widely at her, pressing his cheek against the top of her head briefly. “How ‘bout Bahrain?” 

“Bahrain it is.” 

Daniel holds the drink in the other hand again, even if it still burns to hold, and slings his arm over her shoulder again. Ana leans into his embrace, sipping on her smoothie like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The quiet moments of the walk are comfortable, just the sound of sneakers hitting the pavement and cars whizzing by filling the space. Daniel savors the calmness of the moments, the feeling of moving with the world instead of hundreds of miles ahead. He commits the moment to memory, the feeling of peace and smell of vanilla all engraved in his brain. Everything felt perfect.

“Okay,” Ana plops onto a bench under a tree, sitting sideways to face the Australian, “One hope for the year that you’d like to see come true.” 

The question catches Daniel off guard. “Just one?” 

“Just one.” 

Daniel looks up at the greenery above him in contemplation. He had many hopes for the year, for the future in general. He had hopes for his career, hopes for the season, and hopes for his life out of the car. There was one nagging in the back of his head, threatening to bubble out of his mouth in gentle confessions. 

If he was going to be completely honest, one hope he had for the year was Ana. To be able to give all of himself to her, and for her to find comfort in giving all of herself to him. He wanted to be openly in love with her, to show how much he cares. He hoped for a day where his affections no longer had to be a secret, and that she would be accepting of it. 

But he couldn’t say that now. He didn’t want to run the risk of ruining such a perfect moment in their friendship. 

“In terms of my career, just being as productive as I can be on the team. I hope for wins and points, and just being the best I can possibly be in the car.” 

“But not in terms of your career?”

“Thought you said ‘just one,’ Ana.” Daniel teases, sipping the remainder of his drink.

“Don’t deflect.” 

He chuckles, “Kidding. My hope for life outside of work…” 

Daniel looks at Ana, smiling at her relaxed state. She looks up at him, wide eyed and patiently waiting for his answer. She looked at him like he held the world in his hands, filled with admiration and eagerness. It nearly tempted him to spill his guts out, lay it all out on the bench in the middle of the park. 

“I just hope that whatever I decide to do, however I manage to go about my life, that I’ll be happy by the end of it.” 

Ana’s smile is comforting, reassuring him that he said the right thing. “You are such a simple man. I love that about you.” 

Love. Daniel ignores the flutter in his gut, posing the same question for her. 

“One hope for your year?”

The girl plays with the ends of her ponytail, twirling the loose wave around her finger. She has her thinking face on. Bottom lip tucked between her teeth, cheeks tensed, and eyes focused on her free hand swirling her melted smoothie with the plastic straw. It’s only quiet for a couple of seconds before Ana’s head pops up, eyes meeting his own. 

“Same as you, honestly. I just want to be completely content with my life and the choices I make.”

“Simple woman. Love it.” 

Ana’s smile is wide, eyes crinkling, and nose scrunched up. They both laugh softly. The air is light, easy to breathe. Their knees are touching as they sit on the park bench facing each other, smiles on both their faces. Daniel didn’t want the moment to end. He never wanted to leave the feeling of belonging, the feeling of knowing that this is where he’s meant to be. Relationships and commitment and the whole nine yards had never appealed to him, until this moment. He revels in the simplicity sitting there, on a dirty park bench, and feeling completely at ease. 

He never wanted the smiles and sweet words to ever end. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

P6. It wasn’t bad, but it definitely wasn’t where Daniel wanted to finish at his home race. The whole weekend fell flat. It should’ve been his weekend. From the outside looking in, the days leading up to his home race were ever in his favor. He was home, it was his track. But fuck was it a messy weekend. Had he taken a shot for every colored flag called, every car spinning out, every retirement, he would’ve blacked out. Though he wasn’t entirely without fault. Truthfully, he wasn’t comfortable in his car. No matter what he did, what he tried to adjust, the damn thing was not working with him. Everyone came around to see him win, or at least the bottom step of the podium. He wanted to give home something to brag about, especially after two years of not racing at home. And all he had to deliver was P-fucking-six. He felt like he let people down, felt like a fucking failure.

And to sully the weekend even more, it has been radio silence from Ana. Their text thread is a string of blue desperation, just one text a day. Nothing happened— to Daniel’s knowledge— to elicit the lack of contact. 

Daniel didn’t sleep much on his flight back to Monte Carlo. He was drowning in his past race data and his anxieties over Ana kept his mind busy. Over the fifteen hours worth of traveling, the Aussie only got two hours of real peaceful sleep. He was absolutely dead when he touched down in Monte Carlo. Michael is grabbing his bags for him and loading them in his SUV, as he goes through his phone and clicking her text thread.

Could use some company. Not a great weekend.  Can I see you please?

“Home?” Michael asks. 

Daniel looks down at his phone, heartbeat picking up as he sees the three dots appear on his screen. But it goes as quickly as it comes and there is still no response. 

He sighs. “Home.” 

His apartment is stuffy, eerily quiet as he walks in and drops his duffle by the couch. The exhaustion of traveling is finally catching up to him. His legs feel heavy, eyes burning as sleep threatens to drape over him. Daniel lays in bed for all of two seconds before his text tone goes off. 

I’m on my way.

Daniel smiles tiredly, forcing himself up to lean on his headboard. He types a quick reply for her to let herself in and that he’s already in bed. He does his best to fight the sleep threatening to take him, determined to see his favorite person before slipping into a deep slumber. But his eyes burn and his body is heavy. It grows harder and harder to stay awake with each passing minute. Fifteen minutes feels like eternity. 

He barely registers the front door opening, or her soft footsteps padding closer and closer to his bedroom door. It’s as if his head is attached to a fifty pound weight as he lifts it to look up Ana. There is a soft, almost sympathetic smile on her face as she stands in the doorway.

“Oh Danny.”

He tries to smile, Ana can see the effort he puts in to curve his lips upward. His hair is a mess, eyes glossy with exhaustion, and yet he sits in bed trying to show her how happy he is to see her. 

“You came.”

“Of course I did. Now go to sleep, we can catch up in the morning.”

The tired boy pouts, eyes already shut. “Stay.”

Ana doesn’t think twice. She closes the bedroom door softly, and kicks off her shoes before climbing into bed with Daniel. He sinks back down to his pillow, arm lazily slung over her torso as he slips into a deep slumber. Ana curls into his embrace, fingers reaching out to twirl the frayed curls. Her hands wander, pressing gently against his scalp as the boy snores softly. She can’t help the smile on her face at the look of peace on his sleeping face. Daniel’s strong features are softened in the sweet moonlight. 

He looks beautiful, she thinks.

Daniel wakes up late the next day, head pounding and eyes trying to adjust to the sunlight pouring in through his bedroom window. He groans softly, burying his face in the plush pillow. He reaches over, his hand landing flat against his sheets. His head jolts up, eyes searching the room for dark brown locks and a pretty face. 

And as if the universe saw his disarray, it sends Ana strolling in with two mugs in hand. Daniel’s speeding heart slows, and he drops his head back on his pillow.

“Morning. How ya feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a truck.” His voice is muffled against the pillow. 

“Sleeping twelve hours will do that to ya,” Ana chuckles, sitting on the bed and placing her mug on the nightstand. “Get up, drink your coffee before it gets cold.”

Daniel groans softly before forcing himself up. He takes the cup from her outstretched hands, muttering a thanks before sipping. The bittersweet beverage slowly pulls him from his tired state, the taste comforting. He leans over, placing his mug next to her own.

“You stayed.”

“Of course I did. I want to hear all about Australia and the Grand Prix.” Anahí nibbles on her bottom lip, “And to apologize for disappearing on you during an important weekend. I was dealing with some work stuff and I… yeah I’m sorry.”

Daniel nods, “I get it. It was really nice to be home, but it wasn’t the race I was hoping it would be.” 

He dives into the nitty gritty of the weekend behind him. He reiterates the details, the feelings of Friday through Sunday. Ana listens intently, legs criss-cross and her chin resting in her right hand. She doesn’t say a word, just looking at him and giving him the undivided attention he so desperately craves and deserves. 

“But yeah…” Daniel sips his coffee before rolling onto his back. “Yeah I just want to forget the weekend happened the way it did. Put the whole thing behind me.” 

Ana sighs, straightening her posture. “Sounds fucking crazy. But I watched Sunday, you did amazing considering everything else. I might be a dud when it comes to the numbers and the technical stuff, but still. I’m proud of you. I know home is proud of you too. P6 is nothing to be so down about. It’s only up from here Danny.” She ruffles his curls and he smiles.

She uttered words that his entire team had been reiterating all weekend. He didn’t believe anyone when they said he did great, didn’t think that he did enough. But the words rolling off Ana’s tongue felt real, felt more comforting. If she says that he did great, that his efforts were enough, then it must be true.

“Thanks angel. Now, tell me about your weekend. Missed you in the garage.” Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. Ana looks away, eyes trained on the gray duvet below her. “Everything alright?”

There is a beat of silence as Ana fiddles with the hem of her t-shirt. She can feel Daniel’s gaze on her, waiting for her answer. Truthfully, everything isn’t alright. Nothing has felt remotely alright for a while, but she isn’t sure if she had the courage to voice that. Ana finally looks up, looking straight at Daniel who stares at her quizzically. His hair is a mess, eyes soft, and head tilted in curiosity.

“Daniel, I’m moving to Montana.” 

His ears start ringing, the world around him seems to slow to a halt. Daniel sits up, hair standing in different directions and his honey eyes in a panic. 

“When?”

“Three months.” 

“But why?”

Ana looks at him, really looks at him. Her heart comes up her throat as she notes Dan’s furrowed brow and obvious frown. He looks like a lost boy, like she just took away his favorite toy. Moving away has always been in the back of her mind, it was the potential answer to all her troubles but also an answer she wasn’t always comfortable with. And sitting here, with Daniel waiting for her to explain, is exactly why she tried to avoid it all together. 

“I’ve done a lot of thinking lately, lots of reflection of my time here in Monaco. I feel like maybe it’s time for a change, that maybe it would be better for me out there to be in a much more quiet and simple place. Maybe… maybe I’ll be happier.” 

Daniel frowns even more, “You’re unhappy?”

Anahí shrugs, “Yeah kind of. I haven’t felt much like myself in a while Daniel. I feel sort of…” She trails off, throat closing up. Daniel can see her eyes glossing over with tears and can hear the strain in her stammering. “I just feel lost. I feel like I’m stuck in a bubble floating away watching as everyone moves on with their life.” 

Daniel isn’t someone you could walk away from, isn’t the kind of person you can simply say goodbye to without some serious contemplation. Saying goodbye to the only good thing in her life isn’t something she came to terms with easily. Daniel has always been there for her even if he’s far away. But it’s come to the point that their connection scares her. She fears she’s become too dependent on him, and that her happiness is determined by his availability. It isn’t fair to either of them. Daniel didn’t need to carry Ana’s baggage, and Ana couldn’t sit in Monaco and wait for him to be available to do so. She needed to make moves for herself, for her happiness.

Tears fall onto her cheeks even as she tries to smile through her sadness. It breaks Daniel’s heart. He reaches over, pulling her against him as she begins to cry softly. His hand rubs her back soothingly, lips pressing a kiss at the top of her head. “I’m sorry.”

He could’ve called more. He should’ve called more. He should’ve flown her out more. He should’ve he should’ve he fucking should’ve. 

“Don’t be.” She blubbers, “You couldn’t have known.” Ana pulls away from his embrace, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand in an attempt to look more composed. The bags under eyes are bright red, matching the tip of her nose. Daniel reaches over, hand cupping her face as his thumb swipes the streak of wet on her cheek. 

“But I should’ve Ana. What kind of best friend have I been?” 

“Oh Dan,” Her hand comes up to hold his. “You are a busy man Mr. Ricciardo. I don’t expect you to drive the car and keep track of me.” 

“I know but–” 

“But nothing, Danny. You’ve been great, the best. I think I would be a lot worse if it weren’t for you.” Anahí chuckles, patting his hand as he releases her.

They sit there, the thick air thinning out. Daniel looks her up and down, taking mental pictures of the moment. He memorizes the way her hair falls over her chest, her flushed cheeks, and wide eyes. He looks at the time. 3:47 pm. The sun was behind her, shining through his window and providing her with a glow. Like an angel. His angel. 

“I don’t want you to go.” Daniel confesses. “And that might be selfish of me… and it’s not me saying that you shouldn’t I just… I had to say it.”

Ana smiles that same old sad smile, almost as if she pitied him. “Daniel…”

“You’re not gonna be ten minutes down the road from me. No more spontaneous walks in the park or sleepovers. You’re gonna be half a world away.” 

Tears well up in Ana’s eyes. “I have three months left here.”

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt now.” 

It’s quiet again. The news of her departure looms above them, and they both wish she never said it. If she never said it out loud, then maybe it wouldn’t be real. Except that no matter how long she waited to tell him, it wouldn’t negate the fact that she would be moving away in due time. It won’t delay the inevitable goodbye and heartache. Parting ways is now in their cards, and Daniel couldn’t be sadder about it. 

Ana leaves not too long after, allowing Daniel to try and get his routine together. The sun coats the room orange when she walks out the door. Her hug goodbye is tight, warm, accompanied by the soft promises that they would hang out soon. As soon as the door shuts, this feeling of emptiness settles in his chest. He feels his heart is breaking, and there isn’t a damn thing either of them could do about it.

Selfish thoughts creep into his mind. He could’ve put up more of a fight. He could’ve convinced her otherwise, convinced her that being this close to him is the only solution. What if he poured his heart out, confessing things he only thinks about? What if he told her that she makes his heart soar, that he’s never felt more at home than with her? Daniel can’t help but regret not saying all the gentle and honest confessions, but he also knew that it would be fucked up. It would be him trapping her, because he can’t say goodbye. He was everywhere while she was here, and Daniel didn’t have the heart to beg her to stay. How could he? He traveled the world 9 months of the year. He quite literally moves a hundred miles an hour, how could he ask her to just stay put?

And to that, why would he? Who is he to pine and beg and demand that she stay? He isn’t her lover, they’re not dating, hell he isn’t even fucking her. That she be available to him while he’s in Monaco and to wait patiently while he’s away? He’s only her friend, her best friend, and he needs to be supportive. He needs to show her that he’s on her side. Because he is. She trusts him, and Daniel will be damned if he breaks that. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Two months seems to have flown past Daniel without him realizing it. Time is cruel, and he wishes he could just stop the clock so he can spend one moment longer with Ana. 

They saw each other every chance they got. Whether that means she would fly out to watch him race or they’d take another stroll in the park in Monaco, the two were practically attached at the hip. And in the nearly sixty days, Daniel has one hundred and ten percent fallen irrevocably in love with Anahí. If he didn’t know it then, he sure as hell knows it now. 

The last time he saw Ana was in between Baku and Canada. Daniel really should’ve been flying straight to Canada from Baku, but he wanted to stop at Monaco to see her. He spent 8 hours, touchdown to take off, sitting with her in her apartment as she packed her life away. He tried to help, much to her refusal. In the end, he moves boxes out of the way so that she still has space to move as she counts down the days before she leaves. They laid in the empty living room, the hardwood cool on their clammy skin.

“I have a question,” Daniel posed, turning his head to look over at her. Ana does the same, smiling at him.

“I might have an answer.”

Daniel remembers the feeling of his heart in his throat, the butterflies furiously fluttering in his gut. “A friend of mine is getting married, and I was wondering if you would be my date?”

The second between his question and her answer felt like an eternity. Daniel wanted to throw up. But then she smiles. The smile was wild, ear to ear with her tongue peeking between her pearly white teeth. 

“I’d be honored.”

And that’s how Daniel finds himself in a sleek black Porsche Cayenne, driving the both of them from the airport to their hotel. The wedding is in Valencia, Spain, both in fairly unfamiliar territory. The drive is quiet but short, and it isn’t long until they arrive at their hotel. Daniel hands Ana the paperwork for their room reservation as he lugs the luggage along. Their room is a standard one with two full size beds. It’s spacious, with a view of the resort pool and the coast line behind it. 

The first day is fairly mundane, neither of them choosing to get ready until just about an hour until the rehearsal dinner. Daniel chooses to wear gray trousers and a white long sleeve button up. He rolls the sleeves up to his elbows and undoes the top two buttons. 

“Hey Ana, you ready?” He calls out, tousling with his curls in the mirror.

“Yeah, just about. Just need help with my necklace.”

Daniel’s breath gets caught in his throat as he watches her walk out of the bathroom. She is in a rose colored dress, with a cowl neckline and the hem falling just below her knees. It hugged her every curve, and complimented her skin beautifully. Ana looks up at Daniel through the mirror, completely naive to the way he is looking at her. She holds up her necklace, and it snaps him out of his daydream of her. He chuckles, trying to play off that he was practically drooling over her. They switch places, Daniel standing behind her in front of the mirror as he lays the pearl necklace on her skin. His nimble fingers figure out the clasp quickly, and he can’t help but let them wander on the expanse of her back. He can hear her breath hitch, goosebumps rising on her skin. 

“You look beautiful, angel.” Daniel whispers, taking a step back as he admires her.

Ana’s cheeks tinge red, turning to face Daniel. “Thanks, you look pretty good yourself.” 

“C’mon, we’re gonna be late.” 

Rehearsal dinner is on the property, on the beach. There is a long banquet table, beautifully decorated with elaborate flower arrangements and fancy silverware. Daniel and Ana find their place on the table, smack dab in the middle right across from each other. Dinner was to die for, and the wine was impeccable. They didn’t talk as much, both too distracted socializing with the small group of people closest to them.

The sound of silverware tapping against the glass sends a wave of silence over the table. All eyes are cast on the groom, Adam, and the bride Rachel. They look stunning, standing at the head of the table. Adam looks down at the love of his life as she begins to speak, saying a round of thank yous. He looks at her the way Daniel feels about Anahí, and it makes him smile.

“Everything that Rachel said.” Adam chuckles as his wife-to-be encourages him to speak. “No um… It means a lot to celebrate this love with all of you. In less than twenty-four hours I get to say I do.” 

Daniel watches Ana’s reaction, the way she looks up at the couple with adoration and awe. Her eyes twinkle, smile wide, and Daniel seems to fall for her even more. 

“I’ll save all the sappy stuff for tomorrow,” The groom says, holding up his glass of white wine. “But a toast. A toast to my girl, a toast to forever, and a toast that you all will find a love as great as ours. Cheers!”

A chorus of cheers are loud, everyone raising their glass before clinking with others. Daniel reaches his glass over the table and Anahí meets him halfway. 

Clink. “To everything he said,” Daniel chuckles, winking her way.

“To everything he said.” She smiles. 

Everyone turns in early for the night. Daniel feels a slight buzz from the wine, his giggly and touchy state giving him away. The pair couldn’t return to their hotel room without laughter and Daniel poking her. To onlookers, they look like a couple completely and utterly smitten with the other. But the assumption couldn’t have been more incorrect. The reality is that a boy loves a girl, and the girl has no fucking clue. 

Ana sits on her bed, watching as Daniel kicks off his shoes and rolls onto his bed. His shirt is wrinkled, untucked, staying closed with the grace of two buttons. She can see his toned, tan chest peeking from under the white material. Her cheeks are suddenly warm, and she turns away. She silently retreats to the bathroom to get ready for bed and effectively from Daniel. When she returns, Daniel is fast asleep with his trousers and button up on the floor next to his bed. She picks up after him before getting into her own bed, folding the clothes messily and placing them on his luggage. She shuts off the light, the room engulfed in darkness. It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust, but it isn’t long until she is able to trace his strong features with his gaze. He snores softly across from her, curls messily sprawled on his forehead. Her heart seems to follow the cadence of his breathing as she sinks deeper and deeper into her thoughts. 

The idea of saying goodbye to this type of peace scares her, and she can’t help the tears already springing in her eyes. She misses him already. There is a tightness that grows in her chest, and soon she is crying softly in her bed. Not nearly as quiet as she thought, however. She isn’t sure when and how but Daniel tiredly rolls in right next to her, arms pulling her close to him as he shushes her gently. He doesn’t say anything, just allows her to cry softly until they both fall asleep. There were so many unspoken thoughts, both too afraid to admit to the obvious. 

The next morning, it’s as if it never happened. They wake up just after ten, wrapped up in the other, like it was the most natural thing in the world. But it wasn’t. Friends don’t hold each other the way they do, or look at the other as they are. Daniel pushes her hair away from her face, delicately as if she’d break. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He asks, his thumb gently caressing her cheek as he holds her face.

She shakes her head. “No. I just wanna lay here for five more minutes if that's okay.”

He whispers okay, and she nuzzles her face into his bare chest. Daniel’s fingers weave their way through her hair, fingertips massaging her scalp tenderly. He’d give her all the time in the world, all she had to do was ask. 

True to her word, they only lay like that for five minutes before they’re both forced to get up and begin their day. The wedding isn’t for another couple of hours, but there is still a lot to do between now and then. They order a room service breakfast, Daniel throwing on a movie to pass the time as they eat. They watch the Parent Trap in full before they finally begin to get ready. 

Daniel slips on black trousers and an emerald green button up, making sure to button it all the way up. He slips on his white sneakers before tapping on the bathroom door. “Hey, sorry. I need my gel for my curls when you're done.” 

The door is pulled open, and once again Daniel is at a loss of words. Just as she did the day before, she knocks the wind out of his lungs. She is in a strapless, floor length dress in emerald green to match him. The top half is tight, hugging her body until it drops just at the top of her thigh. Her left thigh pokes out of the slit, taunting Daniel. She looks glorious, down right fucking gorgeous and Daniel didn’t know what to do with himself. 

“You look beautiful,” Daniel admits, smiling widely. 

“Thank you, you don’t look too bad yourself.” She winks, stepping aside. “I’m about done, just lipstick. But you can come in.” 

He nods, moving over to his side of the bathroom. Daniel makes quick work of his curls, twirling them around his index finger until they look more put together. Ana watches him through the mirror, admiring the way he concentrates on his hair. His tongue peeks out between his lips as his eyes concentrate on the curls framing his face. He shakes his head lightly, groaning softly. Without asking, Ana moves over to help. She steps between the counter and him, fingers splitting and tousling with his hair. He doesn’t look at her, instead choosing to watch his reflection. 

“Good?” She asks softly, hands retreating from his face. A smile grows on his face, nodding. “Good.” She confirms, smiling back. 

Daniel looks at his watch, “Alright, lipstick then we gotta go to the chapel.”

Anahí nods, holding up two tubes. “Pick.” Daniel taps one, and Ana opens the tube to reveal a striking red. The boy’s throat runs dry, watching as she paints her lip the vibrant color. “Alright,” she muses, “Ready.” 

Ana walks out of the bathroom, leaving Daniel behind as he stands there still mesmerized by her and the red lacquer painted on her lips. His imagination runs wild, and it isn’t until she is clearing her throat does Daniel finally move. He offers her his arm, which she gladly takes as they make their way down and to the car. The drive to the chapel is only ten minutes, and the parking lot is half full by the time they arrive. The chapel is buzzing with quiet conversation, all along the lines of how the day is finally here and how excited they all are. Daniel and Ana sit in the middle of the space, right by the aisle. 

Not a dry eye in the room. It’s how every wedding ceremony seems to go, and this is no exception. 

“Rachel,” Adam begins, “There were a million and one things that I wanted to say. A million and one things I wanted to write. But all one million and one things come back to the same conclusion, and it’s that I love you. That at the end of all this, when the sun sets, and the world goes to sleep, I will always love you. I promise that in all that I do, that it is in your best interest. That I will love you through all circumstances, love you as you grow with and beyond me. I can’t imagine my life without you in it, Rach. And I refuse to believe that there is a version of me without you. If there’s something I’m most sure of in this life, it’s that you were always meant to be in it. I love you Rachel. I can’t wait for the rest of forever with you.”

Daniel can feel Ana’s head resting on his shoulder and hear her soft sniffles as the priest carries on with the ceremony. Adam’s words settle in Daniel’s heart, making a home there with all his thoughts of the woman next to him. He looks down at the woman who rests on him, her eyes focused on the couple in front of them. The whole room seems to focus on the couple prevailing their love in front of the whole world, except Daniel. All Daniel can think of is her. If there’s something I’m most sure of in this life, it’s that you were always meant to be in it.

The same words play over and over in Anahí’s head. And as her head rests on his shoulder, she feels like she’s where she’s meant to be. Through all the heartache and tears, the late nights and strolls in the park, she finally feels like she belongs. There is a feeling of safety, of home. That very moment, with her head on his shoulder, felt more natural than anything in the world.

The room erupting in cheers tears the both of them away from their thoughts, and his eyes look up to see the couple securing forever with a kiss. Daniel jumps to his feet to join the rest of the room, cheering loudly for the newlyweds. Screams and applause are heard from every corner as the crowd watches the couple walk to the end of the aisle. The two look up at each other, smiles as wide as the Cheshire cat. 

The reception is as grand as the ceremony. Decorated with flowers and pompas, the lights are dim and romantic. The setting is just right to fall in love. Dinner is served, and not without alcohol. It isn’t long until both Daniel and Ana are elbow deep in cocktails, a laughing mess as they talk about what friends talk about. They’re surrounded by friends, by people who love the couple as much as they do, but they don’t seem to matter. In a room meant to be in adoration of newly weds, Daniel was only in awe of her. He’s captivated by her flushed cheeks, long lashes, and plump red lips. He’s smitten with the way her hand feels against him, how her touch seems to linger more than necessary. 

The lights dim even further, the room nearly pink from the lights. The emcee encourages the crowd to join the couple in a slow dance. 

“Anahí, will you do me the honor of dancing with me tonight?”

Daniel holds out his hand, a goofy grin on his face as he awaits her response. 

“I’d be delighted.”

Someday, when I'm awfully lowWhen the world is coldI will feel a glow just thinking of you And the way you look tonight

The Way You Look Tonight plays softly on the speaker as Daniel’s hands rest comfortably on the small of her back as hers are draped over his shoulders, fingers intertwined behind his neck. He sways her left and right, following the slow cadence of the song. Even in his tipsy stupor, he seems to move her just right, slow and sweet. 

Yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm And your cheeks so soft There is nothing for me but to love you And the way you look tonight

The whole room dissolves. It’s just them and the soft music. No one mattered, not even the couple being celebrated. Daniel looks at Anahí, who looks up at him with such fondness and warmth. She looks up at him the way he feels about her. 

“What are you thinking of?” Daniel asks, hands squeezing her sides comfortingly.

With each word your tenderness grows Tearin' my fear apart

“I’m just so happy.” Ana admits, “I’m happy.” 

“The booze?” Daniel teases, but Ana shakes her head with a small laugh.

And that laugh wrinkles your nose Touches my foolish heart

“No, more than that. I’m just happy Dan, I really am. The happiest I’ve been.”

His hands slide from her hips to her hands, gently raising one of her arms to spin her around. Lovely, never, never change… keep that breathless charm. Daniel pulls her back against him, her hands pressed against his chest as he sways her again. 

Won't you please arrange it? 'Cause I love you. Daniel rests his forehead against hers, humming softly. Just the way you look tonight. 

“I’m happy too, angel.” 

The moment is too perfect to pass, and so Daniel does what he’s always dreamed of. There is a burst of confidence, and he doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol in his system or the fact that it simply felt right. So he kisses her. 

Her lips are slow, soft against his. His hands grip her tighter as his lips mold onto hers lovingly. His heart is beating hard against his ribs, he swears she can feel it. Ana’s fingers are at the back of his head, pulling him even closer. There is a bit of desperation between the two, the need to be close and to be completely wrapped up in the other. Daniel is the first to pull back, breathing deeply as he searches Ana’s eyes for any sign of regret. 

But she just stares back at him with fire in her eyes, and Daniel can feel the blood rushing to his groin. Ana cups his face, thumb swiping over her lips to remove the red residue. 

“Take me home.” 

Daniel didn’t need to be told twice as he practically drags the girl out of the crowd. They pile into the back of a taxi, hands unable to release the other as they kiss feverishly. This kiss is different from the first one. It’s needier, much more desperate, with teeth clashing and hands grabbing. She was halfway on top of him, with her leg slung over his lap and his hands gripping her ass. The driver taps on Daniel’s leg at the end of their drive, trying to signal them that they’ve arrived at their destination. Daniel hands him more than enough for the fare and tip, not bothering to take the change as the two stumble to the elevator. They’re laughing and stumbling, hands grasping for the other. And as the elevator door closes, her lips are back on his own. 

The elevator dings just three floors short of theirs, and Ana quickly steps away from the kiss. She stands next to him as another couple joins them. As natural as they tried to act, it was clearly obvious what the two were up to. Red lipstick is smeared on Daniel’s face and neck, and Anahí’s lip line is no longer crisp. But they didn’t care. Daniel grins over at Ana, who smiles in return. 

The elevator finally makes it to their floor, and the two are quick to make it to the room. Ana attaches her lips to Daniel as soon as he shuts the door, her fingers quickly undoing the buttons of his shirt. He guides her all the way to the bed, just stopping at the foot of it. Daniel cups her face, pulling away from the kiss. 

“Ana, are you sure?”

They both pant, staring deep into each other's eyes. Daniel looks again, searching for any sign of hesitation. He looked for a reason to stop. But Ana’s fingers never stopped undoing the buttons on his shirt, pulling it from the waistband of his pants before pushing it off his shoulders. She looks down at his toned torso, fingers tracing the dips and tops of his muscles. Her fingers move to hook around the belt loop of his pants, but Daniel grabs her wrist to stop her. 

“Ana,” Daniel strains, dipping his head to meet her eyes.

“Yes Daniel. I’m sure.” 

He doesn’t wait any longer, kissing her like his life depends on it. His fingers pull on the zipper of her dress, listening as the fabric drops to the floor. He lays her down gently, lips moving along her jaw and down her neck. Her soft moans and whimpers are music to Daniel’s ears, and he craves to hear them more. He looks up at her, admiring the way her eyes are closed and lips agape as she soaks in his touch. Slowly, he pulls her underwear down her soft legs, but not without leaving kisses in its path. 

Anahí savors the feeling of his soft lips on the innermost part of her thigh, the way his stubble pokes at her skin softly. Anticipation builds in the pit of her stomach as he kisses closer and closer. But then he stops. She lifts her head, looking as Daniel stares at her center with a small smirk. 

“Pretty fucking pussy.” 

She moans at his compliment, biting down on her bottom lip. Daniel runs his middle and ring finger through her folds, honey brown eyes meeting hers as he plunges them into her. Her breath hitches in her throat, head falling back onto the bed as he pumps his fingers slowly. He wants to tease her, to pull her closer and closer to the edge but never let her finish. He wants to see her melt in his hands. But that’s all in due time.

For now he wants to love her. To make her feel good. Tonight, it’s all about her.

His lips wrap around the bundle of nerves, sucking softly before allowing his tongue to trace figure-eights all along it. Ana’s moans grow louder and louder, her fingers finding their way to his curls. He groans softly at her soft grip, the gentle tugging as if to beg him for more. He obliges, eating her out like it was her last meal. The sound of his tongue against her and fingers fucking her sound obscene, but they make Ana yearn for more. 

There’s a bubble growing in the pit of her stomach, growing larger and larger as Daniel adds urgency to his movements. Her pussy clenches around his digits, letting him know she’s close. He pulls away briefly. 

“Look at me angel, keep your eyes on me.”

Her eyes pop open, watching as Daniel places his lips back on her core. Daniel’s free hand reaches up to grab her breast, massaging and playing with her. Her eyes focus on the rose, how pretty it looks against her. His tongue is back against her clit, lips sucking and nibbling softly. She pants as the bubble continues to grow, her release right there. There’s something attractive, something downright sinful, about the way Daniel looks between her legs. His hair in disarray thanks to her, with his eyes boring into hers as he pulls her closer to an orgasm. The sight alone is enough to have her dripping. 

He hums against her, “C’mon angel.” 

Between his tongue and fingers, she finally succumbs to it all. Her legs squeeze Daniel’s head as he laps up her release, milking her until she’s done and begging for him to stop. 

Daniel releases her, chin glistening with her slick as he climbs back up to kiss her. She moans softly against him, hands trailing down from her face to his chest, gently pushing her up. Daniel kneels above her, knees on either side of her. He looks angelic, hair standing and features soft as he looks down upon her. Ana sits up, her fingers undoing his belt and pants, pulling it just under his bum. She kisses his cock over his underwear before palming him softly. She watches as he throws his head back, enjoying the feeling of her gentle touches on the most sensitive part of his body. 

Ana doesn’t spend too much time teasing him. She pulls his boxers down his legs, watching as his cock springs up. She looks up at him through her lashes, fingers wrapping around his shaft to pump him softly. Daniel’s eyes meet hers, enamored by the innocence on her face contrasting her sinful movements. With doe eyes, she leans forward and takes him into her mouth. She never stops looking into his honey eyes as she bobs her head, taking more of him until he hits the back of her throat. Moans bubble up from his throat as she sucks him off, harder and harder. He cups her chin, pulling his cock out of her mouth. She looks up at him, confused. Her lips are glistening with spit, red lipstick smeared everywhere. 

He could’ve cum right then and there. 

Daniel climbs off her, pulling his pants and underwear down to his ankles before stepping out of them. He takes his place back between her legs, lips attaching to hers in desperation. He kisses her, hard. He pours his heart into the kiss. Every thought, every wish, every feeling he’s ever felt is poured into that one kiss. 

“Daniel,” She breathes, “Please.”

“Please what, angel?” Daniel mumbles, kissing her neck softly. 

“Fuck me.” Daniel moans against her skin, breathing hard, “Please Daniel.” 

He gives in to her begging, hands wrapping around her shaft as he rubs the head of his cock against her wet center before finally pushing into her. Ana’s moans are loud, high pitched, and needy. Daniel watches the pleasure washing over her face with every stroke, her chest rising and falling. He leans down to kiss her again, his hips never stopping. She feels every inch of him, the way it fills her up and sends pulses of pleasure through her body. 

“You were made for me.” He confesses, hips moving faster against her own. 

“All for you.” She confirms, fingers between his curls. 

He fucks her nice and sweet, pulling her all the way to her orgasm. He fucks her until she is shaking beneath him, his name rolling off her tongue in desperate cries. Her pussy pulsates around him, hugging him tightly until he releases into her. 

The moments after are soft, gentle. Daniel kisses her so softly, so lovingly. He holds her tenderly, looking down at her tired state. Her head is on his chest, arm slung over his torso. Daniel presses a kiss onto her forehead before finally falling asleep. 

Unbeknownst to him, Anahí is wide awake, the feeling of bliss and completeness beginning to wear off. Daniel is sound asleep beneath her, but his soft breathing isn’t enough to calm her down. It’s far too real now, everything between her and Dan. For the longest time they teetered on the line of friendship and something more and now it’s real. It sends her into a panic.

Just because it’s real, doesn’t mean that it changes anything. It doesn’t change that she leaves in a month. In less than thirty days, she has to say goodbye. She will no longer say goodbye to her best friend, but to someone more. She cries softly, removing herself from Daniel’s embrace. He doesn’t stir, not like the night before. He’s still asleep, dreaming of happier things. Happier than the things she was about to do. 

She pulls herself together, packing her things slowly and quietly as Daniel sleeps soundly. And when all is said and done, she looks down at the boy sleeping in her bed. She pushes the curls from his forehead, pressing one kiss on the skin before leaving and never looking back. 

Daniel wakes up that morning, memories of the night before slowly coming back to him. He smiles to himself. But the happiness leaves as soon as it comes. It doesn’t take long for him to notice that she’s gone. All her belongings, every piece of her is gone. It sends Daniel into a panic, fingers quick to tap her name and call her. But Anahí doesn’t answer.

Anahí never answered any of his calls. He called once every day, but he would always be greeted by her voicemail. Daniel scoured his memory for the moment it went wrong, for any mistake he might’ve made. The best weekend of his life turned out to be the worst. After flying back from Spain, he immediately went into work mode. He did everything in his power to distract himself from his aching heart, to hide how hurt he was by her disappearance. And it showed in his work. His results in Silverstone and Austria were poor, and he struggled to prove to the world that he was still worthy of the sport. 

Daniel arrives back in Monte Carlo after a shabby P9 in Austria. His apartment is empty, eerily quiet. He flops onto his couch, lowering his pride once more when he taps her name. He rings, waiting for her stupid voicemail to greet him. But it never comes.

“Hello?”

The sound of her voice has Daniel shooting up, throat running dry. There’s an uncomfortable silence on the line before the Australian finally musters up the courage to speak.

“H-hi.” 

“Hi.” 

Silence again. Daniel hated this. He hates the discomfort, the feeling of not being able to be open and honest with the one person that mattered. He’s walking on eggshells, trying to carefully craft his next word. 

The first couple of days after Anahí had left, he was angry. He was so upset with her for not saying goodbye, no half-ass excuse for why she left him. He was upset at himself, for potentially fucking up the only good thing that has happened to him in a while. And as time withered by, his anger turned to sadness and confusion. Daniel often pondered their final night together, replaying all the moments of completeness and intimacy, trying to find the second it all went wrong. He imagined her face beneath him, the way her lips felt against her own, just trying to remember if there was a change at all.

“Dan-”

“Why’d you do it? Why’d you leave?”

“Daniel, I don't want to talk about this over the phone.”

“Then I’ll come over… or meet you in the park.” There is a deafening silence at the end of the line. “Ana?”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?” Daniel snaps.

“I can’t.” Ana insists, “I’m… I’m in Montana.” 

There is a little pot of anger sitting at the base of his being, every word she says igniting the flame bigger and bigger. He feels himself beginning to boil over.

“You left?” 

Daniel leans back against the couch, chest heaving as he tries to contain his emotions. Everything he felt in the last three weeks swirls inside of him. It makes him sick. He can’t seem to focus on one thing, and can slowly feel himself slipping from his self-control.

“I… I needed to. Daniel, you knew this.”

“Yeah but you didn’t bother to say bye? No half ass text to let me know?”

“I don’t have to keep you updated on my every move.” Ana argues.

“No, but after the night we shared I would hope you would have the courtesy to anyway.” 

Daniel feels insane. He feels like every single emotion he’s feeling is misplaced. The world around him slows to a halt, and not in a good way. For a moment he is frozen in his despair, time and space keep him in a place of self-loathing and loneliness. For just a moment, the world keeps him miserable. 

“What did I do wrong?” Daniel whispers, “Just tell me how I can fix it.”

“There’s nothing to fix.” 

“Nothing?!” Daniel yells into the phone. “Nothing Anahí? Are you being fucking serious?”

“Daniel what’s done is done, and there isn’t anything you or I can do to change it. The damage has been done.”

“Damage?” Daniel scoffs, “That’s what that night was, damaging? Ruined you, did it?” The line is quiet at the other end and Daniel shakes his head. “That night was more than that to me Ana. It was more than nothing.” 

The Australian can’t see the tears streaming down Anahí’s face, the way her body shakes as she cries silently, unable to say the words Daniel longed to hear. Unable to give him everything he wanted.

“You know what I think it is Anahí?” Daniel begins again, “I think that you’re afraid. That you’re afraid to trust me, to open yourself up to me completely. I think that you’re afraid to admit that you like me, maybe even love me.” 

“Daniel-”

“Because I love you. I do. I tried to show you how much I do and yet… you walk out on me. You fed my ego because it benefited you. You kept me in, made me believe that I had a chance, that maybe you feel the same way I do. But then you get what you want and leave me to pick up the pieces. I’m in love with you Ana, you had to have known. You couldn’t have been so fucking naive and not have seen that.” 

Another deafening silence. There it is, out in the open. Three words slipped from Daniel’s lips in a fit of anger. His words are laced with spite, venomous as they travel from one end of the line to the other. 

“Daniel,” She chokes, “I’m so sorry.” 

“Yeah. Me too Ana.” He can hear her soft cries this time, each sniffle and sob picking apart at his heart. But the anger inside him consumes him. “I’m so sorry for wanting more. For expecting more. For wishing for more.” 

“Daniel I-”

“I have to go.” Daniel cuts her off. “I hope that Montana treats you well. And that… that maybe you’ll find someone worth sticking around for. Bye Ana.”

He hangs up before he can listen to any more of her pleas. He drops his phone next to him, hands returning to his face as he cries softly. His heart falls apart, shatters beneath his ribs. 

Pathetic. He feels downright, fucking pathetic.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

taglist: @sluts-inc @sidcrosbyspuck @coffeehurricanes @miniminescapist @amsofftrack @kodzubear @melancholyy-scorpio @strawberrypaul @starxqt @somanyfandomsbruh @allisonxf1 @buenadiabebeta @ohthemisssery @ellethewitchbitch @charlewiss

[lluvllimoo]

Apart from you

English isn’t my first language so there might be mistakes.

Lee!Hyunjin

Ler!Felix

Words:1944

TW: bondage

Its angst first then tickles 🤭 (i die for angst something is definitely wrong with me.)

@itzsana-kiddingmenow 😉

Skz was at the Makneas dorm watching the new Skz Code episode. Everyone seemed to be having fun except Hyunjin, who was zoned out. He was way too far gone. Until he felt someone shaking him back to reality.

"Hyunjin-ah, are you okay?"

"Oh yeah, I'm just tired."

"I think I'm going to go to my dorm and get some sleep."

"Okay."

Hyunjin got up to leave. He walked out of the door and started walking down the streets. The fresh hair really woke him up. It was cold, and there were gray clouds.

"It is probably going to rain soon."

"A little rain won't hurt anyone anyway."

Don't get him wrong. He actually loved the rain so much. I mean, how could anyone hate the rain? Every time it rained, he jumped in joy and wanted to go out, but he was quickly stopped by the leader, Bang Chan.

He was walking toward God knows what. He was just having a deep thought. He wasn't really thinking about where he was going or what he was doing. Now you may be asking, What is he thinking about?

While others were watching Skz Code, he was focused on one thing. Felix. Felix is the person he adores the most. He loves him, but because of some "stays" that started giving them death threats, the staff had to separate them for their safety. He appreciated that they were looking out for them, but he missed his little sunshine, where he could hug him on camera. And hugging was a pretty big deal for Hyunjin since he doesn't like skin ships. Felix was the only person he accepted to hug. I mean, how could he say no to that cute ball of sunshine? Well, he didn't have to say no now since he couldn't even talk to him on camera. It hurts him deeply to know this will likely last for a while. As he was walking, he watched old clips of them when everything was okay and they had so much fun together on set. He didn't even realize the tears that were coming. It was all too much for him. So he just cried and cried and cried. When he looked around, everything was blurry because of the tears in his eyes. With his blurry vision, he sat on a bench that was facing the Han River. If he hadn't found a place to sit in time, I think his legs would have given up on him. As he looked around again, he realized. When did he get here? It doesn't matter anyway. Soon, it started to rain. He couldn't care less; he put on his earphones, opened a sad song, and kept on crying. He missed his best friend. Why couldn't they understand that there isn't anything going on between them? Why?

"I want him back so badly."

He said it with a shaky voice. His nose was running because of the crying and the cold. But suddenly, his music stopped. He looked at his phone for the cause and saw Bang Chan calling him.

"Shit."

He looked at the time. 1:36 a.m., he wipped his tears in an instant and answered the call.

"Hyunjin, where the heck are you?"

"Sorry, I wanted to get some fresh air."

"At this time, and while it's raining?"

"Yeah"

"You better come home right this instant."

"Okay, Hyung, I'm sorry."

He hung up the phone. He got up from the bench and started walking back. He tried not to cry again because he didn't want them to know that he had been crying for hours. He opened a happy song to get his mind off it. Soon, he arrived at the dorm. He slipped in the key and quietly opened the door, trying not to make any sound. But, to his luck, there was an angry leader on the other side waiting for him.

"Hyunjin, you're sooked.

"Come here."

Chan opened his arms to Hyunjin, waiting for a hug. Hyunjin hesitated a bit. Hyunjin thought he would be furious at him. How can he be mad at his children when he loves them deeply? He slowly hugged back.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yep, I haven't been this sure."

He assured him with a smile. 

"Well, you better take a shower if you get sick; I'll beat your ass."

Hyunjin giggled. His giggle was precious and so cute.

"Okay, okay, I'll take a shower now, and you should go to bed, Chan Hyung."

"Ill try."

"IlL tRY"

He mocked Bang Chan.

"Ya! I'll kill you."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry."

Hyunjin walked towards the bathroom. At least he could keep crying there, right?

Hyunjin took a long shower. He thought about Felix a lot and cried while listening to the sound of water dropping. It made him relax more.

After what seemed like ages, he got out of the shower and dressed up in his pajamas. He should at least get some sleep. So he was going to bed, but not his; he was going to Bang Chans bed. As he entered, he saw Chan looking through his phone.

"Is something wrong?"

He didn't answer his question and went straight next to him and cuddled him. Well, that's a first.

"woah!"

"Are you sure you're good?"

"Mhm."

Chan put his phone on the night table and cuddled Hyunjin back. With Hyunjin's warmth, he could fall asleep. That's also a first. It must be the magic of Hyunjin's hug. When they woke up, they looked at the time: 1:38 p.m. They had never slept that much. So they got up and went to the kitchen to see Han and Changbin talking.

"good morning."

"It's not even morning, idiot. You guys slept a lot."

"Then why didn't you wake us up?" Chan said.

"Well, how often do we get to see you sleep?"

"You guys were too cute." Changbin said as he waved his phone in front of them.

Changbin had taken a picture of them.

"Heyyy."

"That's not very nice." (ifykyk;)

"Just eat so we can go to the Makneas dorm," Han said.

They ate and started getting ready to meet the other members. When everyone was ready, they hopped into the car and started driving to the other dorm. Five minutes later, they had arrived at the dorm. They got off the car and went into the dorms. They had been greeted by none other than their little sunshine, Felix. Everyone was sitting in the living room talking about stuff. Suddenly, Hyunjin got up and went towards Lee Knows room. 

"Hyunjin-ah, where are you going?"

"Im tired; im going to sleep."

It was true that he was so tired, both emotionally and physically. After Hyunjin went to sleep, the others started to talk about him.

"Did you guys notice Hyunjin's behavior?" Jeongin pointed it out.

"He is acting weird these days," Lee Know said.

"Yesterday, he got back home at 2 a.m. He was sooking wet, and he looked very sad, and while he was showering, I heard him cry. I didn't want to talk about it since he looked like he didn't either."

Felix couldn't believe what he was hearing. How could he not know his own best friend was struggling? He felt angry that he couldn't be next to him while he cried. He wanted to be there with him. He felt so bad for him.

"Guys, I think I'm going to talk to Hyunjin a bit." Felix said. 

"Okay, tell us if something happens."

He got up and went to Hyunjin, who was sleeping. He looked closer to his face. There were tear marks on his flushed red cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Hyunjin."

"I'm sorry; I didn't know you were having a hard time. If I knew, I would have been there for you."

"I feel very bad."

Felix laid next to Hyunjin and hugged him from behind.

"It's okay, Felix." Hyunjin whispered.

"Hyunjin!" Felix jumped when he heard his voice. He thought he was sleeping.

"Look at me." Felix demanded.

Felix sat up and looked at Hyunjin, who was also getting up. When their eyes met, Felix saw for the first time that Hyunjin's eyes looked tired. 

"Oh, my sweet baby, I'm sorry."

"What happened?"

"Please tell me."

With that, Hyunjin couldn't stop his tears and started to cry about everything. But he refused to tell him what he was crying about.

"Hyunjin, please, what happened?"

"N-nothing."

"Okay, do you at least want a hug?"

"That would be good." He said it with a shakey voice.

As he hugged him, Felix's finger slipped to his sides and started to tickle him softly.

"Felihihixx."

"Stohohpp ihim nohot in thehe mohohod."

He giggles to himself, and Felix won't stop.

"No, you've been sad for so long. It's time to cheer you up."

He tackled Hyunjin and sat on top of him. Hyunjin was giggling in anticipation.

"Awww, already giggling for me, cuteee."

Hyunjin got embarrassed, so he covered his face.

"Nah-ah, do you think you can hide from me?"

Felix pulled his hands from his face and tied his hands to the head board.

"So will you tell me whats wrong, or should I tickle it out of you?

"Felix, please don't do this."

"Wrong choice, Mr. Hwang Hyunjin."

As he said, he lifted his shirt and tickled his ribs at a fast pace.

"OMGAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAH."

Hyunjin tried to squirm away from the tingly feeling, but he couldn't escape anywhere. Felix got a feather and was circling around his navel. 

"NO." Hyunjin screamed. He knew what was about to come was going to be torture. 

"Yes."

Felix finally went in, and the scream Hyunjin produced. You could hear it from the other side of the country.

"FELELEELIIHIHIHHIXX IIHIHIHI-IHIHIHI CAHAHAHANTTT."

"IHIHIHTHTSS TOHOHOHI MUHUHUHUCHH."

Hyunjin saw stars, and he thought this would be his end. That's how bad it was.

"So are you ready to let me know, or would you like me to continue?

"I can't tell you.

"All I can tell is..."

"It's about us."

"What's up with us?"

"N-nothing."

"Okay, Hyunjin, you're getting it."

Felix kneaded his armpits with one hand and tickled his navel with the other. And Hyunjin went ballistic; he was arching his back, which only made it worse; he was screaming; there were tears coming out of his eyes. The worst part was that he was immobilized. He screamed so much that he ran out of breath. Felix stopped to give him a break. He didn't want to kill him.

"So will you be telling me?" Felix wiggled his fingers towards Hyunjin.

Hyunjin started giggling like crazy.

"fehehehelihihixx."

"Didn't know you were air ticklish?"

"nohohohohoo."

Felix's fingers got dangerously close to his sides and belly, so he gave up; he knew it would only keep getting worse.

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you."

"Finally."

"You know we can't stay close to each other on camera, right?

"yeah."

"It hurt me every time I looked at you. It wasn't fair to me. You could touch anyone except me; it hurt. It hurt so much. I can't stay away from you, Felix. He whimpered this time, and sad tears came out.

"Hyunjin..."

"Nothing is more important than you."

"We'll talk to JYP about it, and I'm sure he will gladly accept helping us out."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

"Now, will you stop crying, or should I help you out?"

"No, no, I'm done."

"Hmmmm, well, I'm not done with you yet."

"wait what?"

This was going to be a long day for Hyunjin. Let's all pray for him to make it out alive. And I assure you, the other members also joined Felix.

 So i originally gave this idea to @itzsana-kiddingmenow her fics name was “closer to you” but back then i didn’t write fics but since i now do i decided to write my own version.

[cutestkilla]

An ask game for writers to procrastinate working on your WIP(s)

Thanks for tagging me @theearlgreymage @wellbelesbian @shrekgogurt @orange-peony @bookish-bogwitch @aristocratic-otter @youarenevertooold and @thewholelemon!

1. 🦈Tell us the name of your/ one of your WIP(s):

The only WIP I’m really actively working on right now is Hiding Out in the Open.

2. 🍄Describe your WIP/one of your WIP(s) in the format of “___ + ___ =___”

Psychology Podcast Hidden Brain + AU where Simon and Baz never got together but Simon still lost his magic and got spelled by Smith = Non-linear AWTWB-era Baz negging Simon with podcast links but actually secretly being sweet the whole time until they’re having real conversations and like, excavating some trauma until Simon figures himself out (or does he?) (He does, I’m not a monster.)

(I needed more terms for this equation, a few higher powers maybe.)

3. 🌍What tags or warnings will one of your WIP(s) need if you intend to share it?

Well, so far I’ve warned for anxiety/panic attacks, implied/referenced child abuse, mentions of cannibalism, mentions of eating bugs, AND mentions of animal cruelty. SOUNDS FUN RIGHT?

4. 🧭An alternative title to one of your WIP(s)?

So this fic is titled after a Feist song. The alternate title was a combination of a Ron Sexmith song that Feist did a great cover of and the name of the fictional podcast in my story:

Secret Heart, Invisible Mind

5. ⚠️Which WIP you're most likely to finish or update next?

Oh, it’ll be this one for sure! I have nothing else even approaching any kind of written state.

6. 💾What is your document of your WIP/ a WIP called? (not the stories actual title but what you’ve saved it as)

Well, it’s just titled after the fic. But before I had a title and was just dreaming things up, I had a doc titled “Hidden Brainstorms”. There’s also a doc in the folder for this titled “Enemies Closer” that’s filled with research I did for an episode I have to invent…

7. 🖍Post Any sentence(s) from your WIP.

“You stood him up? What the hell Basil? I cancelled my plans for this.”

8. ♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP.

Okay so I am an idea hoarder, I rarely fully scrap an idea until I’m done writing a story, I just park them all in a dumping ground at the end of my doc for ongoing review. But one for sure scrapped idea I had for this back in the start was that Shep would co-host a podcast at some point in this story.

9. 🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

Welllllllll, I may have an entire (shared) Trello board for a fic that @artsyunderstudy and I have been excitedly talking about co-writing. I won't say much but it’s a Canonverse AU, featuring older strangers-to-lovers Snowbaz, and it’s a ghost story. Your basic SPOOKY SEXY SAD CATHARSIS type of deal.

10. 🤡How many WIPS are you actively working on?

Actively? One. Two if you count the Trello board which I periodically add ideas to. Three if you count the Wedding fic draft I have 20K written for and could start writing on again at ANY MOMENT.

11. 🛠Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

Well, I’m about to be struggling with writing the scene where Baz listens to the podcast episode I have to completely invent. I have a full first rough pass at this chapter done, except that part where I just copy pasted a bunch of research notes to come back to…

12. ❤️Not a question, just a second Kudos to send.

🙏YOU get a kudos, and YOU get a kudos, and YOU get a kudos!

Tags in case you wanna: @artsyunderstudy @hushed-chorus @ivelovedhimthroughworse @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @fatalfangirl @facewithoutheart @skeedelvee @emeryhall @mooncello @monbons @angelsfalling16 @larkral @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @run-for-chamo-miles @brilla-brilla-estrellita @best--dress @onepintobean @martsonmars @messofthejess @ileadacharmedlife @urban-sith

[ravenelyx]

WIP list

Sebastian Sallow

More Than a Friend (angst, perceived unrequited love, emotional infidelity, fluff, sexual tension, eventual smut, drunken kissing - adding this only to avoid spoilers) - ON-GOING

"Are you going to stay? We're having so much fun!" Sebastian struggled to turn around in her arms, and maybe he should have just stayed where he was, for his own sake if not for his heart's. The girl's smile widened once she realised she could lay her dizzy head on his shoulder, and she slid even closer into his arms. Burning leads to melting. And that's exactly what Sebastian's body did, once he was sure hers would catch him. "You're warm," came her voice, muffled in his chest, his own head hung low against hers in a gentle embrace. A smile pulled at his lips when her scent filled his lungs, and he tightened his arms ever-so-slightly around her smaller frame. "Are you cold?" he quietly asked, brushing his lips against the conch of her ear and making her giggle. "Not anymore."

Homely (insecurities, body issues, body worship, smut)

"I know, right?" said Bulstrode. "D'you reckon she'd give me a chance?" Avery snickered. "Not if I ask her first!" That did it for Sebastian. His eyes widened, his heart thumping in his chest as he heard the boys talk about asking her out. They thought she was pretty. They liked her. His lips trembled as he looked down at his body again, his quivering hands once more coming to touch his stomach. He felt even more ridiculous about having thought he might have a chance — he wasn't handsome, he wasn't sculpted, he wasn't enough.

Quid Pro Quo (crack fic, body swap, fluff, sexual tension, suggestive)

From the very first time she had set foot into that school, rare were the instances she had been certain of anything. With the exception of one. She would never drink a concoction made by Garreth Weasley. A few apples from a sketchy house hidden in a corner in Hogsmeade? Perfectly edible, if not a bit chalky. A glass of Firewhiskey lying around in a Scriptorium that hasn't been opened for thousands of years? Only a little sour. A soupçon of whatever Garreth had conceived while watching Poppy Sweeting accidentally drop a string of her hair that caught up in her hands into her cauldron while adding Newt spleens to her Everlasting Elixir? She would get a stomach pump for less.

Love is not quantifiable, and therefore not finite (fluff, angst if you squint, falling in love/friends to lovers)

The girl sighed, dejected. She had always had a good relationship with the librarian, given her thirst for knowledge and love for reading. It wasn't rare for the woman to let her stay just a little more than necessary, or allow her to borrow more books than it was practice — but now it seemed Madam Scribner had forgotten about the real Anne just like everyone else, and all that was left was the newly-cured Ann Sallow, who only deserves pity and commiseration.

Arranged Heartbreak (angst, hurt/comfort, courting) - COMPLETED

"You're special, you know that? Thank you, Sebastian. Only..." She pulled away to look at him. "Don't even think about doing something drastic should it ever come to that point, like marrying me or something. Your freedom is yours." "M-marry you?" he stuttered, the idea slowly forming in his mind at her words. Could that… Would that be a solution? "I didn't even think about it... why would... Is... is that what you want? I don't want... I just want to do what makes you happy." She smiled reassuringly. "I don't want that, Sebastian. I want to do things the... wizarding way, if so to speak." She sighed. "I want to keep being your friend, to know you properly, to maybe… fall in love."

Best Served Cold (cheating, angst, emotional manipulation and abuse, psychological harassment, smut, dub/con)

"Give me one reason to get over this." She said coldly, staring down at him. "I…" His voice broke. Because the truth was: he didn't have any. He wasn't worthy of another chance, he didn't deserve it. But he was a selfish bastard. And he needed her. He only realised it too late. "I just…" He looked at her, eyes wide and glistening with unspilled feelings. And then, his judgement was gone. "I'll do anything you want." He declared, clearly not weighing his words properly. Because that was a dangerous thing to say. Especially to her. And he should have known better after all these years.

Sonnet XI (smut, semi-public, pwp analogue)

"Advanced Transfiguration." He read the title of the book she was holding with a smug smile. "I would say 'impressive', but you certainly don't deserve that type of credit." "What are you staring at?" She sighed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at his presence. "The book in your hands," he replied. "I don't expect someone like yourself to understand, but that is a complicated and extremely difficult field of study with applications beyond most wizards' comprehension." Now she couldn't stop herself. And her eye sockets hurt. "And tell me," she said sarcastically, "what exactly, in your opinion, is so difficult about this book to someone like me?" "It takes years to develop the precision and subtlety of touch required for Transfiguration. Your simple mind can't comprehend the complexity of the spellcrafts required." He shrugged. "You know, just because you use a lot of words, it doesn't mean your speech makes any sense."

Taglist is open &lt;3