#when i say i WAITED for him to come back on screen….

[yanderedrabbles]

What would Yandere be like! Boyfriend with a girlfriend who is distant from him, but he finds out it's because she's planning a surprise party for him?

Oh this is such a great prompt!!

Yandere Boyfriend Surprise Party

Yandere! Boyfriend immediately notices something is off. You tilt your phone screen away from him whenever you get a message. You go out shopping when he's away at the gym and when he gets back you've already hidden your parcels away. You whisper with your friends and grow quiet or change the subject when he gets close.

Yandere! Boyfriend hates it. But he tries very hard to be rational about it.

Yandere! Boyfriend who tries to get you to spill your secret. He'll pin you under him and pepper your neck with ticklish kisses, keeping you in place even as you squirm. His words are muffled by your skin but you can still hear the whine in his voice when he says, "Come on baby, you can tell me."

Yandere! Boyfriend who gets more and more pushy when you won't give in. His kisses turn to sharp little nips, his hands roam under your skirt and drag up your thighs. His voice drops dangerously low when he asks, "Why are you keeping secrets from me?"

Yandere! Boyfriend who has to fight himself to even let you up when you tell him to stop, that you're not hiding anything.

Yandere! Boyfriend who goes through your phone the second you're asleep. But you know what your boyfriend is like and you've covered your tracks well. He stares at the screen, his hand clenched so tightly around the device the frame almost bends. He has take several deep, slow breaths before he can make his fingers unclench.

Yandere! Boyfriend who starts following you. The errands you're on seem harmless on the surface. Buying a cake, ribbon, balloons... But his mind is an awfully paranoid place and all he can think about is some guy spreading chocolate frosting on your thighs and licking it off. Tying your legs together with ribbons and pulling them apart with his teeth. All he can think about is some bastard enjoying a gift that isn't his.

He goes to the gym after that and pounds at the punching bag until his knuckles are raw and bleeding inside his gloves.

Yandere! Boyfriend who tracks down every single one of your friends. Sometimes banging at their doors long after sundown. There's only one thing he wants to know from them.

Why is she keeping secrets from me?

Yandere! Boyfriend who hates the vague answers they give him - just wait and see, I can't tell you, it's a surprise. He has to bite his tongue to keep himself grounded or else he might start shaking them until the truth rattles out of their scrambled skulls.

Yandere! Boyfriend who honestly terrifies your friends with his intensity. They desperately want to tell you about it, the way his eyes go dull and dangerous, the way his massive fists stay clenched at his side like he's always on the verge of swinging, the blood that coats his teeth like he's been biting himself to ribbons. But they see the way you look at him, so hopelessly in love, and can't find the words to tell you.

Yandere! Boyfriend who won't let you out of your apartment. He'll cuddle you and pretend to be asleep so you can't even untangle yourself from his massive bulk. He'll "lose" the keys and help you turn the whole place upside down looking for it, teasing you for being so absent minded. He'll turn back all the clocks and hide your phone, just so he can steal a few more hours. Who only relents when you start considering the dangerously rusty fire escape.

Yandere! Boyfriend who is on the verge of tying you up in his basement. Who unlocks his door with the intention of taking a look down there and maybe making it comfortable.

"Surprise!"

Yandere! Boyfriend who stands frozen, taking in the ribbons, the balloons, the cake, the crowd of people. And at the forefront, you. In a pretty, new dress wearing those heels that make your legs look a mile long.

Yandere! Boyfriend who scoops you up in a hug and won't let you go. Who keeps a hand on you all night - around your waist, on your thigh, intertwined with yours.

Yandere! Boyfriend who practically kicks the stragglers out the door at the end of the night. He turn around to an empty house with you out of sight and his mind starts to doubt itself again.

Yandere! Boyfriend who finally finds you in the bedroom, ribbons tied all around you and a pretty red bow holding your legs together.

"Surprise."

Yandere! Boyfriend who thinks that might be his new favourite word. Who feels his throat go dry and for a second all he can do is drink you in. His pretty little girlfriend who played with fire planning this.

Yandere! Boyfriend who carefully unties each and every ribbon, planting soft kisses on your skin all the while. For now, the doubts have dissappeared and all that matters is you and him. Skin to skin and the only thought in his head is how he adores you.

[awrkive]

tlp jk is def the type to absolutely sob when he sees oc walk down the aisle/when he’s trying to propose to her and it maybe just me but I feel like after that one year anniversary he’s like I’m wifing this girl DOWNN cause I feel like he lich has the ring and everyth ready to go he’s waiting he’s prepped 😭

here it is!!! #thee proposal drabble this is literally the cutest thing ever i wish love was real 😖🥹 hope u enj!!!!!!!!!!

summary: in which jungkook proposes and it doesn't start off well

w/c: 3.7k

warning/s: tlp couple is extremely in love that is a warning. they're also cry babies. listen to something by the beatles for the major feels 😔

“Baby,” Jungkook sighs, matching your pace. “Are we really fighting right now?” 

“No.” Is your stern response, continuing your quick steps without even bothering to look back at him. 

“I guess we are fighting right now.” Jungkook mumbles to himself, taking two big strides so he can finally catch up with you. 

You don’t pay him any attention when he slides his arm around your waist while the other holds the bag of large popcorn you bought a while ago, leaning down to kiss the side of your head. Jungkook doesn’t even care about the people passing by around the cinema; they have lives to care about on their own – he can kiss his girlfriend wherever and whenever he wants. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers in your hair, enough for only you to hear. 

There’s a crease on your forehead that hasn’t ceased ever since you left the restaurant you had your dinner at. But after a few beats, you let out a sigh. 

“I just really wanted to see the movie in IMAX.” you lament, and Jungkook feels bad. He really does. 

“I know, baby, I really am sorry,” he apologizes once again. “We can see it tomorro—” but he realizes you both have a full-time shift, so he opts for, “–next week?” 

“Jungkook, the screening ends in the next two days.” you say, tone bordering on annoyed now. You reel it back in, gently saying, “I just– I told you to hurry up earlier, but you kept on changing your hair even though– you know what, forget about it. Which cinema were we in, again?” 

Jungkook’s nerves begin to kick in, because you look like you’re genuinely upset now. He can tell it by the tone of your voice, the disappointment and the simmering irritation of having to deal with the situation. You don’t get angry often – no scratch that, you don’t get angry at all. However, it does come in withdrawal-like gestures and behavior – like now. 

And again, Jungkook really does feel bad for having to do what he did earlier. You weren’t able to purchase tickets online so you had to make do with buying on the actual booth – and because Jungkook took way too long in the comfort room of the restaurant fixing his hair, you arrived at the cinema way too late and the tickets for the last IMAX screening of the night ran out. It left you with no choice but to go with the regular one instead, and needless to say, you’re not at all that happy about that. 

Well, shit. Jungkook thinks. This date is not going well at all. The waitress at the restaurant you ate at a while ago openly flirted with him on your table and he was too stunned to do something that you had to tell her off by yourself. That had obviously taken a hit on your mood, and the cinema thing just kind of maybe amplified it and Jungkook thinks he’s beginning to get fucked.

“I’ll make up it up to you, baby–” 

“The tickets, Jungkook.” 

Jungkook purses his lips into a thin line and gives them to you.

You walk alongside each other quietly, but Jungkook doesn’t let go of your waist while you head towards the dark and quiet hallway, leading to the seats. You don’t pry his hand off so maybe – maybe – that’s a good thing. 

But god, this night isn’t going well like he wanted it to be. Suddenly, he’s nervous again. More nervous that he was in the shower awhile ago when you were still prepping for the date back at home. He’s anxious about fucking the whole thing up, and sure, he could trust his track record of never fucking up when it comes to doing big things in his life, but this is different. This will be different. And he’s just so fucking scared that he checks on his watch again. 

8:22pm. 

Eight minutes before the movie starts in your cinema. And eight minutes more before the–

“Jungkook,” You call him, and he’s just in the middle of pushing the seat down for you when you do so. He looks at you. Confused, you ask, “Do you have somewhere to go?” 

“Huh?”

“You keep on looking at your watch. You have been since we were at the restaurant.” 

Jungkook’s eyes widen and he’s thankful there’s barely any lights in the hall.

“I– no. No.” He shakes his head, placing down the bag of popcorn in the middle and takes your hand instead, interlocking your fingers. “I’m sorry, did I keep doing that?” He asks consciously.

He’s really fucking this up, and you’re noticing it. 

“Yes, it’s bothering me a little,” You shuffle in your seat a little, facing Jungkook. Softly, you ask, “Do you wanna go home? We can ditch the movie. I’m sorry for being a dickhead the whole night. It’s not an excuse but I really wanted to watch this movie in IMAX… but it’s fine. I’m not mad at you. I’m just in a… mood. And I know I’m taking it out on you. I’m sorry. I’m being so unappreciative over here – I know you were supposed to work on your research–”

“Hey,” Jungkook stops you before you can even finish that. “No, baby. This is our date. I don’t wanna go home yet and I’m genuinely really sorry for missing the IMAX screening.” He’d add he didn’t mean to take long in the comfort room earlier… but that would be a lie. He intended to do that so you can both arrive here on time like planned. 

You purse your lips into a thin line. “Still… I’m sorry for being a little bitch.” 

“Not true. You’re an angel.” Jungkook says and brings your interlocked hands up to kiss your knuckles. “Love you.” 

You frown. “Love you too.” 

That earns you a hearty chuckle from him. “I love you more.” 

“Not that again.” You sigh, turning sideways to look ahead on the screen but not breaking away from his hold. 

Jungkook contains his smile as his gaze falls to the big screen as well, nerves crumbling down a little at the exchange. You’re the only person who can make him nervous but the only one who can take it away at the same time. 

“Huh,” you utter suddenly in the middle of some trailer playing. “It’s so weird there’s only a few people here.”

At that, Jungkook’s heart rate picks up a bit. “Y-yeah? Well, it’s late at night.” 

“Fair.” 

“And this movie’s not really new, right? Just an anniversary screening thing.” Jungkook continues to add, as if determined to justify your claim. 

You nod. “I guess you’re right.” 

“Yep.” 

His phone lights up and you’re busy sipping on your drink so Jungkook takes that as an opportunity to check the messages he received.

tae [8:28pm]: starting in 2

tae [8:28pm]: good luck buddy

Jungkook swipes his tongue over his lips – a nervous habit – quickly turning it off and pocketing the device. He places his arm on the arm rest and taps his fingers on the plastic surface anxiously. 

It feels like there’s a ticking clock above his head when the trailer finally ends, because he knows the thing should start rolling. 

And Jungkook swears he’s prepared for this for so many weeks. Months for the matter. It’s now May and the ring has been bought since February. What was once tucked away from the depths of his closet is now snugged in the pockets of his trouser, deep enough that you couldn’t pinpoint the bulging outline of the box.

Jungkook originally planned for you both to be out of the country when he does it. But things got really hectic at the hospital and while he personally could’ve still taken a leave, you couldn’t. Jungkook brought up the idea of vacationing a little, “Just for a week,”, he said, but then you sadly told him that you couldn’t even if you wanted to and he understood that greatly. He’s in the same line of work, after all. 

So, with what seemed to be the nth deliberation with Doyeon, Taehyung, and Nayeon, he ultimately decided on this set-up. You know; trick you into going to the mall with him so you can pass by the cinema and he successfully executes the proposal seamlessly. But obviously, it didn’t go as smoothly as that.

After your dinner, you impulsively decided that you wanted to watch a movie in IMAX, but it starts at exactly as Jungkook’s proposal, and so he had to compromise a little bit; the admittedly poor (but effective) solution coming in the form of intentionally staying a little longer in the comfort room of the restaurant just so you two would be lat. 

And Jungkook swears it’s for a good reason! Because everything’s prepped and ready to roll and he can’t have himself waste another perfect opportunity. He remembers almost popping the question three months ago, two months ago, month ago, few weeks ago and heck, even last night – but he’d always get cold feet and think the time wasn’t right. 

Right now, though, is different. 

And he wants it so badly to be different.

Good thing you settled things quickly. Now that his being late is past you, he can be a little more confident in what he’s about to do. 

The next trailer shows up and Jungkook sits upright, knowing what’s coming. He has it memorized, down to each frame. He was the one who edited it, after all, a product of his humble multimedia skills, that is. Jungkook could’ve gone to a professional but he really wanted to do it himself, scared they wouldn’t be able to tell you what he wanted to. And so he did. The gang also told him that it would be better if he did it himself.

And now he’s showing it to you – you, who’s completely clueless beside him. 

It starts as a bit of a misdirect. There’s an intro from a famous movie studio, and a scene from a real movie – and so of course you don’t suspect anything, as Jungkook could say from his peripheral view.

Suddenly, the screen goes black. It causes a pregnant pause, stretched to exactly five seconds (again, Jungkook edited that), and then, a familiar clip suddenly plays. 

It’s a video of you taken from Jungkook’s camcorder back in med school. First year, around the second semester. You were at Moon’s Printing Shop and you were looking down at your notes when Jungkook, behind the camera, called your name. 

You looked up, hair messy from an all-nighter study but Jungkook’s certain the Jungkook behind the scene was still thinking you were the prettiest girl he’s ever seen just like he’s thinking now. 

“Who would you wanna be if you were given the chance to be somebody else in your next life?” 

You grimace. “Hopefully, still me.” 

“So boring,” Jungkook exaggerated, his laughter reverberating in the hall of the theater. “Be serious.” 

You looked flustered in the video. “I’m serious. I don’t wanna be somebody else.” 

In his seat, Jungkook feels the real you sitting beside him tugging at your enclosed hands together, so he looks at you. 

“Jungkook, what is this?” You say, evidently unaware of what’s currently happening, your brows furrowed in that cute confusion. 

“Just something I’ve been working on for the past three months.” he smiles, bringing your hands together to his lips again. He just couldn’t stop kissing and touching you even if he tries.

You stare at him with your mouth agape, but you don’t say anything else, your gaze falling back to the screen once again. 

“Okay, since you don’t wanna play this game I wanna be Darth Vader.” Jungkook said in the video. 

“What? The evil guy from Star Wars?” You frowned. “That’s not… hmm… okay. I guess I wanna be… Spongebob, then.” 

“Oh. Wow. Interesting. Alright, Darth Vader’s out. I wanna be Patrick instead.” 

“I like that. So we’ll still be bestfriends, right?” 

“Yeah. And I still get to stress you out even in the next life.” 

That made you laugh, the warm burst of laughter filling the hall which makes Jungkook’s lips curl up as he watches the screen. He can never get tired of it; your smile, your laugh, your face as it lights up. There’s something so incredibly angelic about you he sometimes thinks you’re not human at all. Or maybe just part-human… nonetheless, he feels grateful. For literally everything. 

Something in the way she moves…

The video transitions to another reel of you taken by Jungkook while The Beatles’ Something plays in the background. 

"Oh my god..." Jungkook hears you gasp beside him, but he doesn't allow himself to break just yet. Instead, he tightens his grip on your hand, feeling your response as you hold on just as firmly.

The screen continues to show candid moments of you from med school. All recorded and taken by Jungkook; the trips you took during that time, that rave party you went to where you got extremely drunk – and when that showed up, you giggled beside him and said, “I told you to delete that.”, which he just laughed at. 

Later on, the clips got more recent, you in your lilac dress and Jungkook’s white tux… it was a video of you dancing in Nayeon’s wedding. 

“W-wha–… I didn’t – who took that?” You whisper, sounding in awe. 

“Nayeon was apparently recording from the stage at that time.” Jungkook says, looking at you and smiling when he sees that you have your eyes glued to the screen. 

“This is so…” you trail off, but you don’t really say anything in continuation. 

Recent videos of you play, capturing moments from the two years you’ve been together. There’s that clip in Vienna, a few in Florence, Paris, Melbourne... It’s surreal to think that he captured those memories, never imagining they’d be used for something like this. 

Something in the way she knows

And all I have to do is think of her

Something in the things she shows me

I don't want to leave her now

You know I believe and how

The song fades to an end and so did the compilation of your videos. The screen shows Jungkook this time instead. He leaned towards the camera, checked the optics, and then smiled a little. From the background, you know it was taken by the wall of his room, near the window because you can see the Sanrio plushie you put on the table beside there. It’s a little out of frame but you can still recognize it. 

Then, he spoke. 

“Uhm, hi,” He started, and you hold your breath, feeling like you’re on the edge of your seat but not in that anxious way. “I don’t really know where I’m going with this. I’m thinking of doing this video… for my proposal – and ah, my proposal – wait, I really should’ve written a script for this but I wanted this to be natural as much as possible and I’m going off-track so we’ll move on to what I really wanna say,” 

You can’t help but laugh at that, and you hear Jungkook joining in with you. 

“__, you’re the love of my life. You’re my lover, but you’re my best friend most of all. I look back on the times we’ve spent together – a decade. There was no time in those years that I didn’t thank my lucky stars for knowing and meeting you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and I really hope you know how much I love you because no matter how hard I try to put it into action and words, no amount of it would tell you how I truly feel.” A pause. Then he took out something from his pocket. Raising his hand, a red velvet box appeared in the frame. He was about to open it when suddenly, your voice is heard behind the camera. 

“Jungkook?” 

Jungkook quickly pocketed the box, and the camera shook a little, the angle now distorted, probably due to his panic upon hearing your voice. 

“Yes, baby?” The audio played. 

“You were doing something?” 

“Nah. Just trying out my new camera.” Jungkook said. 

“Oh. Lemme see.” 

The camera got picked up, and Jungkook switched the camera to you.

In your seat, you nibble on your bottom lip upon seeing your own face this time, a poor attempt to stop your jaw from breaking apart because you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling watching the whole thing. 

“Pretty girl.” You hear Jungkook say behind the recorder. His hand came up to caress your face in the video, thumb rubbing over your cheek. “I love you.” 

You looked confused at first but then you told him, anyway, “I love you too.” 

You leaned down, and the video gets switched out to another one of Jungkook on a different day. 

“Sorry the video got interrupted by my gorgeous girlfriend.”

You both laugh at that, and as if on cue, your eyes meet – silently acknowledging that you’re thinking the same thing. In that shared glance, it's clear you both understand how things escalated in that moment, that night – how that kiss turned into something more.

“I just wanted to say that, uh, I love her. No, you, I’m talking to you–” He sighed in the clip, and you can’t help but chuckle. “Anyway. I love you. I love you so much, baby. More than anything else in the world. I feel like I don’t say it enough although Taehyung teases me about convulsing if I can’t say it to you for no longer than five minutes – he’s probably right but that’s not the point. What I wanna say is – again – is that, I love you, __. And I want to spend the rest of my lifetime with you. I wanna grow old with you. Spend every day and every night with you. I want us to wake up together every morning, make our breakfast together, go to work together, do laundry together, our taxes – man, I don’t know. Anything. I just want to do anything and everything with you. Maybe adopt a dog in the near future, if you want to, that is. You’re probably gonna be watching this in the theater by this moment – god I hope I don’t fuck the whole thing up, the gang is gonna be so pissed – but I’ll drop the question for you and I know we already talked about it many times before and two months ago you said you were ready if I was also ready. I couldn’t tell you I’ve been ready since the first week we started dating. But I hope… what you felt two months ago is still what you feel right now…” 

Then, the big screen fades to black, and suddenly, a few lights in the hall flicker on, illuminating Jungkook—now on his knees. In his hand is a red velvet box, now open, revealing a stunning ring that’s so beautiful it leaves your jaw slack.

He clears his throat. “__, you’re my best friend. Have been and always will be. You’re my home, my partner. I will love you for as long as you let me and–” Jungkook doesn’t mean it but there’s suddenly a lump in his throat that forms along the way and he has to choke it back, making his voice crack a little bit as he looks into your eyes. “– and I really want to live all my remaining years with you and be yours forever.” He bites his lip, looks up at you with those doe eyes you love so much. Then, the question comes, “Can I be your husband?” 

“Jungkook…” You look down at him, your mouth opening and closing, lost for words. You’ve passed the point of holding back tears, and when your eyes meet his—so full of sincerity and revere—you completely break. “Y-yes. Yes! One hundred percent yes,” you manage to say through your sobs, nodding fervently as your vision blurs from the tears streaming down your face.

As soon as you say that, all the lights in the room turn on and there’s a holler from the direction of the projection room that you can’t help but look at. 

“Congrats!” 

You gasp as you see Doyeon and Nayeon. They’re both waving at you with huge grins on their faces. Genuinely surprised and confused at the same time, you start to look around, and suddenly, you realize that everybody is literally… your family. Taehyung, your dad, your mom, your sister and Seokjin all occupy the front rows, and in front of them are Jungkook’s own family as well. From afar, you see Jungkook’s father coming up to give your dad a hug which he reciprocates as they laugh together. 

Your eyes are drawn back to Jungkook. 

“Jungkook… they’re all here,” you say, struggling to hold back the onslaught of tears. They won’t stop.

And at this point, Jungkook can’t help it. Not anymore. He sees you crying and he can’t help but do it as well. He sniffs, taking your hand and kissing the back of your palm.

“Yes, baby. Everybody is here.”

“Baby, why are you crying?” You ask him despite yourself.

Jungkook chuckles in between his tears, swiping a hand on his eyes. “I’m just so happy. You make me so happy. Thank you. Thank you for saying yes.”

That makes you cry even more, earning another laugh from Jungkook but it’s filled with endearment. Slowly, he takes your hand and you watch teary-eyed as he finally inserts the ring around your ring finger. 

The diamond-encrusted band, with a larger diamond glimmering in the center, fits perfectly around your finger. You stare at it in awe, admiring how gorgeous it looks—trying to recall a time when Jungkook measured your finger to make it fit so flawlessly. But you can't remember, and you don't mind at all, instead looking up at him as he stands to his feet.

"I love you, Jungkook. I really do," you say with all the sincerity in your heart, hoping he knows as much.

"I can't wait to marry you," he replies, his voice full of emotion before he pulls you into his arms and leans down to kiss you gently on the lips. It’s soft and it’s sweet just like the love he’s given you all these years.

A cheer erupts around you, and normally, you'd feel shy about kissing in front of your family. But this time, you don’t feel embarrassed at all.

It’s just you and Jungkook. Bound for a lifetime of unadulterated love.

[wildestdreamsblog]

The Story of Us: Unedited

Pairing: Mahwa Character!Min Yoongi x Reader

Summary: You wake up in the body of the second female lead in a manhwa, determined to rewrite your fate. No longer willing to be trapped in unrequited love for the elusive main lead, Min Yoongi, you set out to change the ending of the story. But leaving him behind isn’t as simple as you thought. As the lines between fiction and reality blur, the narrative begins to shift in unexpected ways—Yoongi, who was once only devoted to the main female lead, starts to see you in a new light. Can you escape the cycle of heartbreak, or will you find yourself entangled in a love story you never asked for?

or in which Yoongi found out you aren't from that world and refuses to let you leave.

A/N: This is an unedited very very very raw draft! But I wanted to share this with you before I forget the ideas and before my flight today <33 let me know what you think! ALSO I WILL EDIT THIS WHEN I GET BACK NEXT WEEK AND I WILL POST IT IN TUMBLR. okay bye ily

It was your second week in Paris when curiosity finally got the better of you. Her phone—your phone now—sat untouched on the marble nightstand of your hotel suite. You’d avoided it so far, reasoning that it felt like rifling through a stranger’s diary. But tonight, as the soft glow of the Eiffel Tower illuminated the room, you gave in.

Plugging it in, the device vibrated to life, and a flood of notifications lit up the screen. Your jaw dropped slightly as you skimmed through the endless stream of missed calls and messages. Most of them were from Yoongi.

“Of course,” you muttered under your breath, scrolling through the list. There were texts, voicemails, and even some emails from him, all timestamped over the last two weeks.

His messages started casual enough, asking you where you were and if you were still avoiding him. He even stopped by the mansion only to find out that you weren’t there, let alone in the country. Not one in your mansion could tell him where you were despite his endless threats. As days passed by, however, his tone shifted to frustration.

I’m not kidding anymore. If I don’t hear from you, I’m coming to find you.

I am hiring a team to find you, princess.

His final message was dated today.

I do hope you remember that it is my birthday today. We always celebrate it together. We’re not gonna stop now just because you’re hiding from me.

You stared at the phone for a moment longer, the screen dark now but somehow still demanding your attention. Should you respond? What would you even say?

The phone vibrated in your hand, the screen lighting up with his name. Your stomach did a little flip, but you shook your head firmly. No. You weren’t going to answer. It was better this way—for him, for you, for the storyline. Yoongi belonged with the female lead, and the longer you stayed out of their orbit, the better.

Instead, you grabbed your jacket, ready to explore the city some more. Paris was too beautiful to waste time fretting over a fictional man’s messages. Let Yoongi wait.

But just as you opened your hotel room, there he was with his signature stoic face, his dark brow raised. He pointedly looked at your phone, his name on the screen. He had his phone on his ear, while you had yours in your hand. You were literally caught red-handed ignoring his calls.

He ended the call with a deliberate tap and tucked his phone into his pocket, his gaze never leaving yours.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, shocked at his sudden appearance. He was supposed to be with her. The story said that he was supposed to be with her, celebrating with her, saving her from any other accidents or situations she found herself in.

Yoongi tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” His tone was calm, but the edge was unmistakable. He stepped inside as though he owned the place. He didn’t ask for permission, didn’t wait for an invitation. He was just… there, filling the room with his presence like he always did. “And Paris, of all places? You’re more predictable than you think, princess.”

“I-I mean, I didn’t think you’d notice,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper, already regretting how ridiculous it sounded.

“What? How could I not? You literally disappeared on the face of the earth. You think I wouldn’t notice when you disappeared? When you’re not there?”

The intensity in his gaze left you momentarily stunned, your thoughts scrambling for coherence. “Y-you’re not supposed to be here…” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. Your disbelief bled into your words, your mind struggling to reconcile his presence with what you knew—or thought you knew. “The story says you’re supposed to be with her. This isn’t—this isn’t how it goes.”

“What story?”

You blinked owlishly, realizing what you’d said. “Huh? Nothing!” you exclaimed a little too quickly, waving your hands as if to physically push the moment away. “Anyway! Happy birthday!” you added, your voice unnaturally bright, hoping to distract him.

His squint deepened, a mix of curiosity and frustration flickering in his eyes. He clearly didn’t buy your deflection, but he let it slide—for now. Without a word, he crossed the room to the small bar cart in the corner, casually pouring himself a glass of whisky.

The tension in the air was thick as he swirled the amber liquid in the glass, his movements deliberate. He raised the glass to his lips, his gaze never leaving yours. After taking a slow sip, he finally spoke, his voice low, “Glad you remember my birthday, princess.”

Okay, fine. You were at loss. How were you supposed to know what you should say? This was not in the manhwa! Yoongi was basically going off-script!

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Instead, you turned your gaze to the door, silently willing him to leave. But Yoongi didn’t move. If anything, he seemed more determined, his presence as unyielding as ever.

“Fine,” he said after a long moment, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. “If you won’t come back, then I’ll stay. Paris is nice this time of year, isn’t it?”

Full story (unedited) in KoFi

[delulustateofmind]

Long Distance

Who needs tinder when you have Minecraft?

Gojo x Reader based on this blurb : The full fic has arrived!

CW: Fluff! Language barrier (frequent use of Japanese), Reader and Gojo mid to late twenties. No Curse AU!

WC: 4.5k

There will be a part two :)

The cheerful theme music filled your small bedroom as you fumbled to finalize your online membership. Satoru’s voice drifted through the call, light and playful as he hummed an unfamiliar tune. Occasionally, you heard the rhythmic tapping of what you assumed was his controller.

“Okay,” you said finally, exhaling in relief. “I’m ready!”

“Good, good,” he replied, the grin in his voice unmistakable. After a brief pause, he added, “Your island name… ah, what is it?”

You froze. Of course, he’d ask. “Um… it’s kinda… embarrassing.”

“Tell me, tell me,” he urged, his enthusiasm relentless, his tone laced with teasing curiosity.

You sighed, your cheeks already warming as you muttered, “It’s… UwU Island…”

Even saying it aloud felt like a mistake, but you gave it your best shot, dragging out the soft syllables of ‘UwU.’

The line went silent for a moment, and then his laughter spilled through the call—soft, melodic, and unrestrained, like he couldn’t help himself.

“That’s so cute!” he said between chuckles, his voice bright with delight. “Ah, y/n wa hontou ni kawaii.”

You blinked, heat rushing to your face. Maybe you should’ve paid more attention to those Japanese college courses. “What—what did you just say?”

“Hm?” he hummed innocently, the faint smirk in his voice making you want to crawl under your blanket. “Ah… you are… cute. Your island name is cute too.”

“Oh my god, stop,” you groaned, covering your face even though he couldn’t see you. “Okay, what’s your island name then, huh?”

“Mine?” His tone turned smug, like he’d been waiting for you to ask. “ファイル島. Uh… I don’t know the English name, but from Digimon!”

You couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Of course it is. How predictable.”

“Eh? Predictable?” he repeated, his English faltering just enough to give him pause. “What is… ah… how to say…? Hmm. It’s ‘basic,’ yes?”

You hesitated, not wanting to discourage him. “Not basic—just… expected. It suits you.”

“Ah,” he said again, the sound lingering. Then, in a softer voice, “That’s good, then.”

As the game connected your consoles, you leaned back, watching the familiar animation of a plane flying over an island. His island came into view, and your jaw dropped. Rows of meticulously arranged flowers, paved pathways, and an enormous mansion sitting proudly atop a hill—all of it screamed someone who had poured countless hours into perfecting every little detail.

“Satoru,” you began slowly, leaning closer to the screen, “have you… been playing this game nonstop or something? How does your island look so perfect?”

A low chuckle met your question. “I am… ah, how to say… good at games?” he teased, his words halting but clear. “Minecraft, Animal Crossing… everything.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “Right, of course. Modest too, huh?”

“Modest?” He paused, the unfamiliar word hanging in the air before you heard typing on his end. A soft laugh followed. “Ah… 謙虚な? I’m not… that.”

“No kidding,” you muttered under your breath, though the grin on your face betrayed you.

When the connection finalized, his avatar was waiting at the airport—a white-haired, blue-eyed character that seemed like a playful nod to his Discord name: Blue Eyes White Dragon. He waved enthusiastically before typing in the in-game chat:

WELCOME!

“Welcome!” he echoed aloud, his voice brimming with excitement. “Come, come! I show you… ah…” He trailed off, searching for the word. “Ah, what is it? 見せる… show you around?”

“Tour,” you supplied gently.

“Yes! Tour.”

The hesitation in his English didn’t seem to bother him, though his occasional lapses into Japanese made it clear he wasn’t entirely confident. Still, he seemed to enjoy the back-and-forth.

If you even attempted Japanese, though, he’d switch to English immediately, laughing softly as he teased, “Your Japanese… hmmm… too formal for friends! I help you later with that… okay?”

The teasing lilt in his voice sent a flurry of butterflies through your chest.

You followed his avatar as he led you around his island, pointing out every detail with pride. When his English faltered, he filled in the gaps with Japanese, his voice flowing smoothly in his native tongue.

“This garden… I made. Ah, for flowers,” he said, before switching seamlessly to Japanese. “この部分は少し難しかったけど、ちゃんとできたね。あっ、どう思う？”

You caught enough of what he said—something about it being hard but worth it. “It’s beautiful,” you replied sincerely.

A pleased sound escaped him, and he moved on to show you a beachside café and a Zen garden tucked into a quiet corner of the island. When you reached the mansion, he stopped in front of the doors, his avatar turning to face yours.

“This… my house,” he said, pride evident in his tone. “You… want to see?”

“Yes!” you answered without hesitation.

Inside, the rooms were breathtaking. A library with towering shelves, a cozy game room, even a small café—it was all so thoughtful, so detailed.

“This is amazing,” you said, your voice almost reverent. “You’re ridiculously good at this.”

“Of course,” he replied, the grin in his tone unmistakable. “You… like it?”

“I love it,” you admitted, warmth creeping into your words. “Way better than my little cottage.”

He laughed, soft and genuine. “Then… I help. Build your island. Together.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the offer, your cheeks hurting from smiling so much. “Together?” you echoed, trying to sound neutral, though your chest tightened at the word.

“Yes,” he said firmly, his voice quieter now, almost shy. “Together. Your island… will be… beautiful.”

The rest of the session passed in a blur of laughter and shared moments, his enthusiasm infectious.

When it was time to log off, his voice softened.

“ありがとう,” he said, switching to Japanese briefly before catching himself. “Ah, thank you. Today… was fun.”

“Yeah,” you replied, leaning back in your chair, your smile lingering. “Thank you too. I had a great time.”

A quiet pause hung between you, thick with something unspoken.

“Tomorrow?” he asked, his voice tentative.

Your smile faltered slightly. “I have work tomorrow… the time zone difference will be rough.”

“Ah…” His tone dipped in disappointment before brightening again. “Maybe… we video call tomorrow? I would like… to, um… see you!” His voice was bright but tinged with shyness. “I have work too… so it will have to be short…”

You agreed, wishing him a good rest of his night. As the call ended, you flopped onto your bed, rolling over and squealing into your pillow.

Why did he have to be so cute?

This was just a little crush, wasn’t it?

The next day at work was a blur. Your usual tasks felt sluggish, your mind preoccupied with thoughts of the previous night. Every time you remembered Satoru’s laugh or his teasing tone, your cheeks warmed. And the way he had shyly asked to video call? It made your heart flutter in a way you didn’t quite want to admit.

By the time your shift ended, you were practically vibrating with anticipation. The first thing you did when you got home was toss your bag aside, throw on something comfortable, and grab your phone. Sure enough, there was a Discord notification waiting for you.

青眼の白龍: “Ready when you are! 💙”

You swallowed, your fingers hovering over the keyboard before typing back:

“Give me 5 mins! Just got home!”

Five minutes turned into ten as you paced back and forth, trying to calm your nerves. It’s just a casual video call, nothing to freak out about, right? But the what-ifs kept creeping in. What if he didn’t like the way you looked? What if… he wasn’t what you expected? What if it made things awkward?

The familiar Discord ringtone snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts. Taking a deep breath, you hit accept.

The screen flickered to life, and there he was.

White hair messily swept back, striking electric blue eyes behind thin, round glasses, and a playful smirk tugging at his lips. He looked just like his avatar—or maybe his avatar looked like him.

“Hello, y/n,” he greeted, his voice softer than usual, almost as if testing the waters. “Nice to… see you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by how casually handsome he was. “H-Hi! Wow, um…” You cleared your throat, trying to collect yourself. “It’s nice to see you too. You look… different than I expected.”

“Oh?” His smirk widened, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “Good different? Or bad?”

“Good!” you blurted, a little too quickly. “I mean… definitely good.”

He chuckled, resting his chin in his hand as he tilted his head slightly. “You’re… cute.”

The compliment hit you like a bolt of lightning, sending your thoughts scrambling. Some part of you—some insecurity—immediately questioned it. Did he mean it? You’d just come off work; you had to look exhausted.

“Ah… thank you,” you said hesitantly, your eyes darting away from the screen.

“You look… tired,” he continued, his tone soft, almost curious. “I… never asked.” His brows furrowed slightly as he seemed to search for his next words. “What do you do? Office work?”

You hummed for a moment, trying to compose yourself. Tilting your head with a slight laugh, you replied, “No, I teach children. Uh… third grade, so little ones.” You gestured with your hands, mimicking their small size.

His bright blue eyes lit up with excitement, his voice rising in response. “I teach too! Mmm, not little ones but university!”

You froze for a second, processing his words. He’s a professor? He seemed so young for that. The thought triggered a flicker of doubt in the back of your mind—echoing a coworker’s warning about being cautious online. What if he’s not who he says he is? What if this is all some elaborate lie?

You shook off the thought, scolding yourself internally. What’s up with these thoughts today?

“That’s… impressive,” you said after a pause, leaning closer to the screen, curiosity gleaming in your eyes. “What do you teach?”

“Ah… Astrophysics,” he replied, the grin on his face widening as if he could already sense your surprise. His tone was casual, but there was a quiet pride behind his words. “It’s fun. Students… sometimes annoying, but fun.”

You blinked, letting the word sink in. “Astrophysics?” you repeated, half in disbelief. “That sounds… intense.”

He tilted his head slightly, searching for the right word. “Ah… not so bad. Maybe, uh… easier for me? For others… I think, hard.” He paused, frowning slightly. “Did that… make sense?”

“Yes,” you reassured him with a laugh. “You’re saying it’s easier for you than for most people?”

He nodded, his frown disappearing as his smirk returned. “Yes, that! See? You are good teacher. You understand me fast.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “That’s because you’re easy to read. Astrophysics though? That’s still way more impressive than wrangling a room full of third graders.”

He chuckled, leaning closer to the camera. “No, no. Little kids? Impossible for me. University students… sometimes annoying, but they don’t… ah… bite?” He paused, tilting his head as he searched for the word again. “Wait, they don’t, um… scratch?”

“Bite was right,” you said, a light laugh escaping your lips as you nodded.

“Ah, yes! Bite. Thank you,” he said, his smile softening. “So scary. I think… I fail with little ones.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you teased, relaxing further as the conversation flowed. “Third graders are like… mini tornados. Adorable, but absolute chaos.”

He laughed, a bright, genuine sound that made your cheeks warm. “Mini tornados? That is… cute. But I like my students. Less energy.”

Over the next hour, you found out more about him than you expected. He casually explained his academic background—bachelor’s, master’s, and PhD in just five years. The words rolled out naturally, though he occasionally paused to clarify a term or switch to Japanese when he couldn’t quite find the English equivalent.

“So… you’re twenty-eight and already a professor?” you asked, blinking at the screen.

He shrugged, brushing off the awe in your tone. “Yes. It is normal. I… uh…” He paused, struggling again before switching to Japanese. “早く進みすぎたかもしれないけど、まあ退屈だったし。”

Your Japanese wasn’t perfect, but you caught the gist of it—something about finishing quickly because he was bored. “Bored?” you echoed with a laugh. “Who gets bored earning a PhD?”

He grinned, his voice lilting with playfulness. “Me.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you teased.

“Ridiculous?” he repeated, testing the word slowly. “What is… ah… meaning?”

“It means silly. Like… unbelievable,” you explained.

“Ah… silly.” He chuckled. “Yes. I am silly.”

Before the call ended, Satoru leaned closer to the camera, his glasses slipping slightly as he gave you a wide-eyed look that was almost comically earnest.

“We call tomorrow, right? Same time?” he asked, his voice dipping into a softer tone. “Please? Or… at least Minecraft? I’ll wait.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his eagerness, though it warmed your chest. “Alright, alright. I’ll be there.”

For the next month, you and Satoru fell into a comfortable rhythm. Calls became part of your routine—sometimes to play Minecraft, other times just to talk. He continued to tease you, and you found yourself looking forward to his moments of stumbling English, where he’d pause, switch to Japanese, and glance at you expectantly, waiting for you to help bridge the gap.

One evening, as you both worked on a new Minecraft build, the sound of him mumbling softly in Japanese filled the quiet. You smiled, listening as his voice trailed off into focused silence.

“Ah… do you ever plan on visiting Japan?” he asked suddenly, breaking the calm. His tone was casual, though there was a hint of genuine curiosity beneath it. His attention seemed split between the game and your answer.

You paused, considering the question. “Honestly? I’d love to. It’s on my bucket list, but… it’s so far, and plane tickets aren’t exactly cheap.”

He hummed thoughtfully, his avatar stopping mid-movement on the screen. “Far, yes. But… worth it.” He paused again, switching to Japanese briefly. “とても素敵だから、一度は見てほしいね。あ、それに…” He switched back to English, stumbling slightly. “Ah, and if you come, I’ll… show you everything. Best ramen, best views… everything.”

Your heart gave a little flip at his sincerity, though you tried to keep your tone light. “That’s a big offer. What if I actually take you up on it?”

“I hope you do,” he replied smoothly, his grin audible even through the call. “But only if you bring… uh… snacks? From your country. I want to try.”

“Snacks?” you repeated, laughing. “They’d never survive the trip.”

“Then…” He paused, his voice dipping lower, softer. “You’ll have to bring yourself.”

Your breath caught, heat rising in your cheeks as you quickly turned your attention back to the game. “I’ll think about it,” you said lightly, though your heart was pounding.

He let out a soft laugh, the sound full of quiet amusement. “Good. I’ll wait.”

The rest of the session passed in easy conversation, but his words lingered long after you logged off.

As you lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, one thought kept replaying in your mind: maybe visiting Japan wasn’t such a far-fetched idea after all.

The next day at work, as you prepped for the day, your coworker perched herself on one of the desks, her coffee in hand. She watched you with mild curiosity as you snipped away at construction paper for an activity.

“Still talking to that Japanese guy?” she asked casually, though her tone carried the weight of unsolicited advice. “Honey, long distance doesn’t work. Especially with a twelve-hour difference…”

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you focused on cutting out shapes. “It’s not like we’re dating or anything. He’s just… cute. Nice. Funny.”

Your coworker raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh. And?”

You shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “It’s… nice, you know? Having someone to look forward to talking to. It’s attention I didn’t know I missed.”

She barked a laugh, nearly spilling her coffee. “Wow, is this the same person who, like, a month ago said, ‘I don’t need a relationship. I have dating simulators for that’? So, what, is he your IRL dating sim?”

You rolled your eyes again but couldn’t help the sheepish grin tugging at your lips. “It’s not like that.”

“Sure,” she said, drawing the word out, her tone laced with teasing skepticism. Then her expression softened. “Listen, I get it. I really do. He sounds great, and I support you, but…” She hesitated, watching your hands pause mid-cut. “I also don’t want to see you get hurt, you know? Long distance is hard. And if he’s not serious…”

Her voice trailed off, leaving the unspoken warning hanging in the air.

You looked up, meeting her gaze, and gave a small, almost apologetic smile. “I know. It’s not like I’m expecting anything serious. It’s just… fun.”

Then, almost without thinking, you blurted, “I bought a plane ticket to Japan.”

Her coffee cup froze halfway to her lips. “You what?”

“I’m going over spring break,” you admitted, feeling yourself mumble through your words. “It was kind of impulsive…”

“Kind of?” she exclaimed, setting her coffee down on the desk. “Girl, you don’t even know this man in person! What if he’s not who he says he is? What if it’s weird? What if you don’t even like each other in real life?”

“I’ve thought about that!” you countered, though your defensive tone didn’t sound as convincing as you hoped. “We’ve been talking for a little over a month. He’s genuine. I feel like I know him, and it’s not like I’m staying with him or anything. I have my own hotel and everything planned.”

She stared at you for a long moment before letting out a resigned sigh. “Okay, you’re a grown adult. I can’t tell you what to do, but… just promise me you’ll be careful. Text me every day. Hell, drop your location, make sure someone knows where you are at all times.”

“I will,” you said quickly, eager to reassure her. “I’m not stupid.”

“Debatable,” she muttered under her breath, but the teasing smile on her face softened the blow.

You laughed, shaking your head as you went back to prepping your materials. Still, her words stayed with you, a small knot of doubt twisting in your stomach.

Later that evening, when Satoru’s name popped up on your screen, the nervous excitement came flooding back.

青眼の白龍: “Ready for tonight? 💙”

You hesitated for a moment before typing back.

“Actually… I need to tell you something.”

As the familiar Discord ringtone rang out, your nerves buzzed like live wires. You took a deep breath before hitting accept.

The screen flickered to life, and there he was—messy white hair, bright blue eyes, and that playful smirk you were starting to associate with comfort.

“Hello, y/n!” he greeted cheerfully, his voice as warm and inviting as always. “You look… nervous. Hmm?”

You let out a shaky laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Maybe a little.”

His brow furrowed, and he leaned closer to the camera, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “Why? Bad day? Tell me.”

“Not a bad day,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “Just… something on my mind.”

He tilted his head slightly, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “Ah… what is it?”

You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your desk. “I, um… I bought a plane ticket.”

There was a beat of silence. His avatar in Minecraft froze on the screen as you waited for his reaction. Then, he blinked, his lips parting in surprise.

“Plane ticket?” he repeated slowly, his English halting as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly. “Where…? Why?”

“To Japan,” you said, feeling your cheeks heat as you blurted it out. “Over spring break. I thought… maybe…”

His eyes widened, the smirk completely wiped off his face as his expression shifted to something closer to astonishment. “Wait. Really?” His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat. “You… you come here?”

You nodded, your heart hammering in your chest. “Yeah. It was kind of impulsive, but… I figured if I don’t do it now, I might never get the chance.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, as if trying to process the information. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face—wide and unrestrained, the kind of grin that made your stomach flip.

“You’re serious,” he said, switching to Japanese as he leaned back in his chair. “本当に来るの？信じられない…”

“Yeah,” you said softly, catching the gist of his words. “I mean it. I’m coming.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his grin still plastered across his face. “I don’t… I don’t know what to say. I’m… happy. Excited. Ah, I should… plan something! Show you Japan! But…” He hesitated, his brow furrowing. “Is it okay? I mean, for you? It’s… far.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, smiling. “I’ve always wanted to visit. And… I want to meet you.”

His grin softened into something warmer, something more vulnerable. “I want to meet you too.”

For the rest of the evening, the conversation shifted to plans for your trip. Satoru’s excitement was contagious as he rattled off a list of places he wanted to take you—shrines, ramen shops, hidden cafes, and even the university where he taught. Occasionally, his words stumbled, and he’d switch to Japanese, laughing at himself before you helped fill in the gaps.

“Ah, your Japanese…” he teased at one point, his avatar running playful circles around yours in the game. “Still too formal. I teach you, okay? When you’re here, you’ll sound like a local.”

You laughed, about to fire back with a joke, but Satoru suddenly interrupted, his excitement bubbling over.

“Ah! I will send you a list of hotels,” he said quickly, his words coming out in a rush. “Uh… my family owns a few. Really good! Safe areas too! And… and send me your dates. I will take time off… mmm, and send me—”

“Satoru,” you interrupted gently, your laughter spilling through the call as you tried to slow him down. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

He paused, his avatar freezing on the screen as if to mimic his momentary loss for words. Then, after a beat, he let out a soft chuckle, his voice quieter now. “I’m just… excited.”

“I can tell,” you teased, the warmth in your tone making him laugh again.

“Sorry,” he said, though he didn’t sound sorry at all. “I can’t help it. I’ve never…” He trailed off, his words faltering before he switched to Japanese. “こういうのって初めてだから…すごく楽しみで。”

You caught most of it—something about this being a first for him and how excited he was—and your chest tightened at the sincerity in his voice.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow, okay?” he said, switching back to English, though his words were slower, more careful now. “Send me… things you want to do. I’ll reserve it for you. Japanese residents… we get early slots for some things.”

“Okay,” you replied softly, your heart thudding in your chest.

There was a pause, the kind that felt heavier than it should, and then he spoke again.

“I can’t wait to see you, y/n,” he said, his voice steady but carrying a sense of vulnerability.

“I can’t wait to see you either,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess them.

For a moment, neither of you said anything, the silence stretching just long enough to feel significant before he let out another soft laugh.

“Tomorrow,” he said finally, as if to reassure both of you.

“Tomorrow,” you repeated with a smile, and then the call ended. 

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | November 18th-24th 2024

How we doing after the fall finale fam? 100 days until 8B !!

Complete

please don't go by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (S8E8: Wannabes Coda | <1K | General): "Don't go." The words are trapped in a cage at the back of Buck's throat. Every time he's opened his mouth in the last week he's had to speak around them. He feels like a tiger pacing his enclosure, like he's going to snap at the bars if anyone gets too close.

Hold me like you'll never let me go by I_still_dont_understand_13/ @dangerpronebuddie (Post-S8E8: Wannabes | 1,4K | Teen): "Oh! You didn't bring any baking?" Maddie asks as she opens the door for Buck to enter. "I... haven't felt like baking much," Buck says as he trudges in, gravitating to the kitchen. "Since you got over your ex boyfriend?" Maddie asks, a hopeful note in her voice. "Since Eddie decided to move to Texas," Buck blurts out. 

want but not have by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Post-S8E8: Wannabes Coda | 1,5K | General): “Buck.” Eddie greets in surprise when he pulls the door open. The other man is standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders drawn up to his ears, eyes rimmed red, and an absolutely heartbroken expression on his face. “I need…I have…” Buck inhales shakily, “Can we talk?”

of bookmarks and bravery by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (S8E8: Wannabes, Getting Together | 1,6K | Mature): The moment Buck snatches the tablet, he regrets the decision. It’s an invasion of privacy—but they don’t keep secrets from each other, he knows that flipping the tablet and seeing a regular tab of pornhub open won’t actually embarrass Eddie, or make him upset. The second he takes a look at the screen, however, his blood runs cold. Not necessarily because of what’s on there—but because this is suddenly a vastly different genre of invasion of privacy. The video is paused, two men on the screen, drenched in sweat, one of them with their legs locked around the other’s waist, a large, happy grin on his face as the man between his thighs seems to be in the middle of an especially deep thrust. Jock Rails Latino Hunk (RAW) (REAL COUPLE)

wherever you are, that's where i'll be by bellabrady/ (S8E8: Wannabes Coda | 2K | Not Rated): “Buck,” he says, huffing a small laugh. “You know I can’t afford that.” He expects Buck to tease him in response, or maybe to roll his eyes. He doesn’t expect the serious, almost nervous expression on his face as he looks at Eddie. Before Eddie can ask about it, Buck speaks. “Maybe the two of us could.”

It's Not What It Looks Like by eightpackdiaz (S8E8: Wannabes | 2K | Teen): Buck catches Eddie reading Hotshots fanfiction on his tablet

i love you never felt like any blessing by bucksbicycle (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Getting Together | 2K | Mature): “No, Buck. I can’t leave you like this and I only have–” “I don’t want you to go.” It burst from him like a flashover. It’s far too loud for a small grocery store. They both flicker over to the screech of cart wheels making a quick-change, whoever was steering deciding that they can come back later. “I want you to stay,” is what he whispers, waiting for Eddie to say something. Anything. or: grocery store divorce 2.0 (with resolution)

What would you prefer I call you? by Kwills91/ @kwills91 (Established Buddie | 2K | General): Buck and Eddie have been dating for a month and when Buck discovers what his contact name is in Eddie's phone, he kind of loses it. What kind of boyfriend would have him as 'Buck Work'?

Not Coming Back by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Getting Together | 3K | General): “But seriously, when are you coming back? It’s been weeks…” Eddie feels the guilt inside of his chest tighten. This is it. This is the moment he needs to tell Buck. He’s put it off long enough. His eyes flicker around the kitchen of the house he’s rented. The one that Buck has no idea he’s rented. “About that…” Eddie starts.

'cause baby you make it all fade away by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): Buck's having a no good very bad day and Eddie makes it better. No hoodies were harmed in the making of this fic.

🔥 worship like a dog (at the shrine of your life) by withmeornotatall/ @chronicowboy (Post-S8E8: Wannabes | 6K | Teen): "Y-you're thinking about moving?" Buck asks, words turning to ash in his mouth. "Starting to think about it anyway," Eddie says, braced like he's waiting for Buck to snap his tablet in half. But Buck is a good dog, really. Or, he tries to be. Tries so hard. So, he doesn't do anything he wants to. Doesn't throw up on the living room carpet. Doesn't piss in every corner of the house. Doesn't scratch his presence into all the furniture - it's there already, he thinks, I'm there already, aren't I? (OR: eddie's house is home, buck finds worship there)

i would stay forever (if you say, don't go) by justhockey (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Chris Comes Back, Getting Together | 6K | Teen): Eddie’s house has felt far too quiet in the months since Christopher left, without the sound of video games, or the clack of crutches, or the quiet rumble of Christopher’s voice as he talks to himself while doing his homework. But, as the door clicks closed behind Buck, the whole place falls completely silent. It’s like the last part of its beating heart has left, and now nothing but an empty shell remains. A house is not a home if there is no love living there, and Eddie just sent the last of it packing.

I’m always free to run home by scarmaddiewrites (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Chris Comes Back | 6K | General): A fic written after the season 8 mid-season finale that answers some of the unanswered questions.

carve your name into my bedpost ('cause i don't want you like a best friend) by bibuckdiaz (Post-S7, PWP, Getting Together | 6K | Explicit): Somehow, by some miraculous series of events that Buck himself isn’t sure weren’t divine intervention, he finds himself with his back pressed into the Diaz household couch, with his best friend of six years straddling his lap and currently sucking a bruise into the space above his collarbone; a place that Buck has for years privately thought of as Eddie’s spot.

More Than Anything by scarmaddiewrites (Getting Together, Chris POV | 6K | Teen): Eddie honestly can’t believe he lied that easily to a priest. Well, yes he can because he’s been lying to himself since he was 8. Lying so much that he’s repressed a huge part of himself. “No offense, I’m straight.” He mumbles to himself in the mirror. “And the sky is pink.” Buck and Eddie get together and Christopher has some feelings about it.

🔥What A Mental Fire Alarm by I_still_dont_understand_13/ @dangerpronebuddie (Post-S8E5: Masks, Eddie Sexuality Crisis, Getting Together | 6K | Teen): “I have an idea,” Hen declares, drawing everyone's attention. “Why don't you make your own quiz?” Buck tilts his head like a confused puppy. “Yeah,” Chim says, drawing out the word. “Maybe your answer will come to you while you make it.” “You'll need a control though,” Hen says. “Someone straight.” Buck looks to Eddie. “Would you be my control?” Hen coughs and thumps her hand against her chest. Eddie raises an eyebrow at her. “You good, Hen?” “Fine,” she croaks. “Perfectly fine.” “Would you?” Buck asks, knocking their knees together. “Of course I would,” Eddie assures him. An excited grin slowly spreads across Buck's face. He hops to his feet and dashes for the stairs. “Where you going?” Eddie calls. “I need a clipboard!” Buck hollers back as he rushes down the stairs.

i’m not your homeland anymore by shortndiaz (Post-Lawsuit, Canon Divergent | 8K | Teen): post lawsuit, Bobby takes the option to transfer Buck to another station.

Bobby Versus Buddie by songbvrd/ @songbvrd (Bobby POV, S2 to S8 | 10K | Mature): Eddie huffed out a breath. “I’m having a crisis.” And Bobby, he wasn’t proud of it, but the word ‘finally’ was flashing in front of his eyes in giant, neon yellow letters, because surely, surely this meant that he’d figured it out. Finally, at long last, Eddie was having the crisis they’d all been waiting for since he’d started a thousand emergencies earlier. “I think I’m homophobic.” Bobby blinked at him. “I’m sorry?” OR - Five times Bobby tried to gently hold Buddie's hands and tell them they were in love, and one time they got the picture.

🔥 if the heavens ever did speak by songbvrd/ @songbvrd (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Eddie Sexuality Crisis, Getting Together | 19K | Mature): He lay in bed at night and he wished he didn’t, but he thought about Buck. Wondered who was touching Buck. He wondered if Buck felt satisfied at the end of it or if he just felt more alone. He wondered if Buck needed him and wasn’t saying so. He wondered what it must be like to have Buck that way. To hold him close, to hear the sounds he’d let slip when he was too distracted to be in his own head. He wondered how he’d look when he came undone, and if the person he was with could even begin to fathom how lucky they were. But no, Buck just went back to eating his cereal, like he hadn’t just confessed to something that made Eddie’s whole body burn with too many feelings to articulate. He was humming, happy as a pig in mud. And as weird as he’d been with Eddie, Eddie found himself asking: “Sorry, are you humming Losing My Religion?”

🔥 50 Cheeky Texts by songbvrd/ @songbvrd (Post-S7, Getting Together | 21K | Mature): Buck gets drunk-dared to send Eddie one cheeky text every day for 50 days. Eddie loses his mind. TW for the cringiest pickup lines in existence.

WIP

cancelling the apocalypse by literalmetaphor (Pacific Rim AU | 24/25 | 116K | Mature): Buck doesn’t take his hands off Eddie’s shoulders as he glances over to Athena and Nash, who are watching the display calibrate. “How’d we do?” “See for yourself,” Athena says. Bad, Eddie thinks. He half-expects it. He wants to brace Buck for it, for the disappointment – wants to explain that whatever has screwed his compatibility scores till now, this one is all on Eddie. “Oh, shit…” Buck whispers. Eddie lifts his head, finally lets himself look, and then takes an inhale so sharp he tastes blood. Oh, shit.

🔥 go and kill, go and die by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Zombie Apocalypse AU | 12/14 | 48K | Mature): The 118 are a group of survivors in a small California town in the wake of a zombie apocalypse. For months they've been isolated and safe. But the arrival of some new players, the search for some missing loved ones, will shake everything up and put their little team in jeopardy.

I guess your mama didn't know the gift she got when she got you by disasterbuck/ @disasterbuck (Post-S7, Fake Relationship | 6/? | 12K | Teen): "He has someone else he can go to," Eddie said automatically, Buck's smiling face flashing into his mind. "Your friend Buck doesn't count," she said dismissively, and Eddie felt his hackles rising defensively. "I'm talking about a partner, Eddie. Someone who will commit to being with you and Christopher for the rest of your lives." "Buck is committed," Eddie said before he could think about what he was saying. "He's not going anywhere." There was a pause on the other end of the line. "When you say committed…" she asked hesitantly, voice trailing off. - Tired of his mom's nagging, Eddie tells a lie that spirals wildly out of control.

Re-Read

🔥 Your Kiss Might Kill Me (So Won't You Kill Me) by morganofthefairies (PWP, BDSM | 9K | Explicit): Buck hadn’t been a virgin by the time he’d hit Peru – not even close. He still considered Peru a critical point in his sexual history, though, because Peru had brought him Fiona, and he was pretty sure he could credit her with like 80% of his sexual knowledge. None of that was the point, though. The point was that, six years later, when Eddie called for the jaws to get to a woman pinned in her car while responding to an 8-car pileup, and absentmindedly called him a good boy as Buck handed them over, he had a totally normal reaction to it.

[revelboo]

U h, so like, I may or may not have gotten absolutely hooked on your blog 👉👈 I absolutely adore your fics with the Seeker Trine, I don’t see much of them out there so when I stumbled upon your little series, it got me good. I am super invested in each of the stories and I really, really like the way you right!! Looking forward to more :3

Thank you!

True Romance Pt 5

Seeker Trine x Reader

• Wings flaring out tiredly to stretch out the kinks, Starscream pauses in the door to the communal habsuite he shares with his trine before closing the door behind him, sprawled on his back with his head hanging off the edge of his berth Skywarp glances at him, jaw clenching, then his attention is back on the human laying against his chassis, his servos sliding along your back. Across the room, Thundercracker is fiddling with the communication screen, so engrossed in his project that he’s not even noticed his entrance. “What is this?”

• Startling, Thundercracker offers Starscream a sheepish smile. “Movie night? I’ve been watching some of their media and it’s pretty interesting,” he says, inclining his head toward you sleeping on Skywarp. And he waits for Starscream to tell him he’s too busy, because he always does that. Knows his brother is the SIC and stays buried under reports and requests, but he just wants them all together like it had been before the war. Before the Decepticons. At least for a little bit. The ‘no’ doesn’t come though as Starscream drifts closer to Skywarp, attention on you.

• “They were cold again,” Skywarp growls, annoyed at being caught tending to you when he shouldn’t care less. But he likes the warmth of you there against him, the softness that should be off putting to him. Your little cheek is against him, knuckles against his canopy. Trusting him enough to rest under his watch and he’s not sure what to make of that or why it spreads warm through his spark.

• “Always,” Starscream vents softly, reaching to pick you up. Noting the way Skywarp tenses, but doesn’t try to stop him even when you make a pitiful sleepy sound of protest until he cradles you to him. Head lifting to look up at him, seeing who has you, and immediately relaxing again. And he can’t understand this trust of yours. That you just accept this and them instead of raging to be freed.

• Feeling that thrum in your bones when Starscream cups you to him, you know you should be trying to escape. But there’s almost always at least one of them watching over you. They’re not your friends by any means, but as he runs a servo against you, you’re not sure they’re your enemies either. Know it’s just Stockholm’s ringing your bell, because they’re always fussing over you, bringing you things, food, whatever they think you might like. Trying to keep you happy when they don’t have to. You’re still a prisoner, but it’s harder and harder to see the bars of your cage every day, they just keep blurring with every gentle touch. They’ll get bored of you eventually and let you go. And you’re not sure how you feel about that. “Everything okay?”

• Sitting on his berth, Starscream looks down at you. Seeing you watching him in return. Always asking them about their day. Trying to collect intel on them to pass along to your government in case you manage to escape? That must be it, but he still finds himself telling you. And you just lay your cheek on his servo and listen, asking questions and agreeing with him. Like you might really care. Hating that he wants to believe that, because something is very wrong with him.

Previous

[babydray777]

why’d you only call me when you’re high

draco x reader

The phone rang once, but he didn’t even move a muscle.

It rang twice and somewhere in his dream he heard the far away tone, incrypted into the situation his unconscious was putting him into.

It rang three times, and he was a little more connected to reality.

By the fourth rang he recognized it was his phone. It was not in his dreams.

“Fuck” He muttered and turned around to grab the little piece of shit from the table.

The screen light hit him like a punch in the face. The first thing he recognized was the hour. A sixth rang. 3 and a half.

“Who the fuck…” His eyes fought to accustom to the light as he tried to read the name on his phone screen. “For God’s sake” He muttered now. By the time, the phone had rang like ten times and it stopped just in the moment.

Draco left out a sight and turned around to fall sleep again, leaving it on mute lying on his hand.

Vibration. It started to vibrate now.

He tried to ignore it. He didn’t need to turn off the call, just sleep. He never even heard it for all she knew.

“Goddamn it”

He picked it up.

Silence. Complete silence. He was not going to say a word. A breath could be heard coming from the other side of the line.

His eyes started to adjust to the darkness as he heard her breathing, realizing that coming back to sleep would be a little bit harder every second he stayed awake like this, just waiting for some rational words to come from someone completely irrational.

“Draco” She finally whispered.

“Yeah” He replied. “What is it?”

“What are you doing? Wait…” Draco left out another sight and passed a hand through his face “no come on…” She started to speak away from the phone, other voices were clearly being heard but he couldn’t understand what they were saying “fuck off… come on I told you to fuck off” She kept saying

“Y/N” His voice was raspy, exhausted.

“Sorry…” She said now, she was dragging her words as them were bricks.

“I was sleeping, what else would have I been doing”

Silence. Again.

He could just hang up, come back to sleep and preoccupy about his goddamn sleeping hours instead of whatever she wanted this time. It was just as easy as that, but the phone kept pressed in his ear as if a miracle were about to happen.

“Are you mad at me?” She asked, her voice sounded a little bit broken now.

“Where are you Y/N?”

“Pansy’s birthday” She replied. “Are you mad at me?”

“For being at Pansy’s birthday?”

By the time, Draco got up from the bed. Phone still in his ear, he directed to the kitchen to pick a glass of water as fighting the urge to stay awake had became an impossible mission.

“I know we are not getting back together I just…” She started mumbling. Draco sighed again while the water started to flow from the bottle into the glass. “I just wanted to know how you are doing”

“At 3 in the morning?” He asked and took a sip of water, lying by the kitchen counter.

“Draco…”

“Why’d you only call me when you’re high, Y/N?”

“I’m no…”

“Yeah and I’m not Draco fucking Malfoy, come on.” He left the glass of water in the table and headed to the sofa.

Silence again. He didn’t know what he was waiting for. What words to come out of her mouth, maybe something rational, maybe she would be able to say something this time that would make him wanna surrender, make him wanna pick up the car keys and drive.

“I just missed you.”

Now he was silence. Waiting for her to keep pushing, it was not enough compared to the shit she had pulled him through, but that was not enough either to make him want to leave.

“Can I come over?”

“No”

“Draco…”

“I said no” He repeated. And hell if it was hard for him to say.

“I’m sorry”

“For what exactly?”

“For calling” She said. “For waking you up, for keeping you up. Now and every time I did. I’m sorry.”

He sighed once again. His heart was racing in a way that was completely out of his control and he was making a big effort not to sob in the middle of his living room, cause if he did, he was doomed.

“Listen,” She spoke again. “You don’t have to forgive me, it’s fine. I just wanted you to know that I am sorry. I regret loosing you every day”

This time, a sob was heard, but at the other side of the line. Draco’s eyes were fixing in the window by the couch, wanting to throw the cellphone against the wall and break it to pieces.

“Go back to sleep, sorry I waked you. Goodbye” And by that, she hang up.

He stayed still for a few seconds until he abruptly drop the phone on the living table. His feet started to pace up and down in an anxious manner and his hands came back to his face. He was fighting with himself, trying so hard to think about the right thing to do but a voice in his mind was convincing him that it may not be that bad to challenge the odds.

He looked back out the window.

“Fuck it.”

Draco stood, walked to the kitchen and grabbed the car keys. Then he came back go his phone and texted that cursed number once again and for the last time.

“Send the address”

[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

can you do one where kylian can’t stop touching reader?

Clingy

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — The one where he can't let you go

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Kylian Mbappé x you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 5.2k

Warnings! FLUFF, Drunk!Kylian, he's super cute and sweet in this one, suggestive words but no smut, special Ashraf Hakimi appearance, I think that's it

It's 2:27 AM and you're getting tired.

You glance at your phone for what feels like the hundredth time, rereading Kylian’s last text from hours ago: "Don’t wait up, bébé. I’ll be home late. Love you."

You huff, your thumb hovering over the screen as you debate texting him again. You trust him completely, he’s out with Ashraf and some of the other guys on the team—but it's getting really late and he's usually home by now.

You sigh and toss the phone aside, deciding to just close your eyes and wait for him to get home.

The TV plays softly in the background, the sound filling the quiet living room as you lay curled up on the couch, wrapped in one of Kylian’s oversized hoodies. The faint smell of his cologne lingered on the fabric, giving you the slightest comfort as you fight the pull of sleep.

Just as your eyelids start to droop, a sharp knock at the door jolts you awake.

Frowning, you sit up.

Kylian has his keys—he wouldn’t knock.

Your heart skips a beat as you approach the door cautiously, the soft glow of the hallway light spilling through the crack underneath.

The knocking grows louder, and you can hear a muffled voice saying something, but you can't hear what it said.

Then the person knocks again.

You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you should answer it, and then you hear that voice again.

This time it's louder and clearer.

"Y/N! Come on, open up! He can’t walk!"

Ashraf Hakimi.

Confused, you pull the hoodie tighter around you, shuffling closer to the door and peering through the peephole. On the other side, you see Ashraf Hakimi holding a stumbling, clearly wasted, Kylian upright.

You quickly undo the lock and yank open the door.

“Thank fuck,” Hakimi exhales, voice heavy with relief and exasperation the second you pull the door open.

He looks as though he’s just run a marathon, his expression caught somewhere between amused and desperate, clearly eager to pass Kylian off to you. His hand tightens briefly on Kylian’s shoulder as if to keep him upright for just a few more seconds.

“Kylian?” you ask, your voice gentle but laced with confusion, eyes flicking between the two of them.

At the sound of your voice, Kylian’s head lolls forward like a puppet with its strings cut, only to jerk back up a moment later, his eyes brightening as he zeroes in on you.

“Bébé!” he cries out, his tone so boyishly elated it makes your heart clench, the way it always does when he looks at you like you hung the stars. Your name slurs off his tongue, a little wobbly, but it’s accompanied by the sweetest, most dazzling smile that spreads across his face like a sunrise, all teeth and crinkled eyes.

Your stomach dips in response, a warmth blooming in your chest that you can’t quite fight. For a moment, you forget the situation entirely, caught in the spell of how devastatingly soft he looks right now.

But before you can say another word, Kylian shrugs out of Hakimi’s grip with an unsteady lurch, his body tilting as though gravity itself is trying to take him down. He stumbles toward you in a half-drunk stagger, arms already reaching out like he’s afraid you might disappear.

You barely manage a surprised gasp as he throws himself at you, his weight nearly knocking you off balance. His arms wrap around your neck in a vice-like grip, his broad frame warm and solid against you despite the way he sways.

He smells like the club—of sweat, alcohol, and something fruity—and you don't even have to look at him to know that his skin is hot, flushed from the alcohol that’s coursing through his body like molten lava.

You can feel the heat of him, seeping into you through the thin layer of fabric between you.

Then he presses a kiss to your hairline—a messy, clumsy press of lips that lingers far too long to be neat but feels oddly reverent nonetheless.

“Je t'aime, bébé, tellement” he mumbles, the words thick with alcohol and affection as they spill against your temple, his breath warm on your skin. “I missed you so much. I’m home.”

His voice is soft, almost childlike, and it strikes something tender in you. Your heart melts all over again, the tension in your body slipping away as you sigh and hug him back.

“I love you too, baby,” you murmur, your tone light but edged with concern as you adjust your grip around his waist, steadying him against you.

You glance over his shoulder to where Hakimi stands, his arms crossed as he chuckles and shakes his head at you. "The man's in love,” he says with a snort, as though that explains everything.

You frown, slightly more concerned now than confused. “Did something happen?” you ask, brows furrowing as your eyes narrow at Hakimi. “How drunk is he?”

Hakimi shakes his head, an expression that’s caught somewhere between amusement and frustration crossing his face. "He's been asking for you all night," he tells you, a note of apology creeping into his tone. "And I’m pretty sure he’s more gone than he should be. We tried to get him to eat, but…” He trails off, hands lifting in a gesture of surrender that’s both helpless and fond.

You sigh, eyes flicking to where Kylian nuzzles against you, his grip as tight as ever despite the fact that his eyes are already drooping in the middle of a long exhale, his head lolling back into the curve of your shoulder. His arms tighten around you again in an uncoordinated jerk, his mouth finding your neck for another sloppy kiss.

“Alright. Thanks for briging him home” you reply, nodding, lips pressing into a thin line as you meet Hakimi’s gaze. “Are you okay to drive? Do you want me to call you an Uber?”

Hakimi’s smile is quick and bright, his mouth curling at the corners as he waves you off. “It’s fine,” he replies with a quick headshake. “My driver is waiting outside. But I’ll call you tomorrow to check in, yeah?” The question is directed at you but his eyes move to Kylian.

You nod, smiling softly, "Yeah, okay.”

“Alright, goodnight,” he calls out, tipping his chin at you both.

The front door shuts behind him seconds later, and you shift Kylian more fully into your arms as you turn to carry him inside.

“Come on, baby, let’s get you inside.”

Kylian doesn’t reply, just nuzzles his face further into the crook of your neck, his lips finding your skin and pressing a kiss there, the stubble on his cheek scratching you gently.

You make it to the couch without any mishaps, sinking onto the worn cushion with him still in your arms, his heavy weight solid against you. You hold him there for a few minutes, running a soothing hand up and down his back as he shudders, his whole body vibrating with the force of his emotions.

“Hey,” you try to reassure him, your tone soft and calm, “what happened?”

“Just…just so happy,” he mumbles after a minute, his tone utterly euphoric. “I love you so much, Y/N.”

“I love you too,” you tell him again, smiling as you tip your head to meet his eyes. They’re glassy and bright, swimming with emotion, and you feel a little tug in your chest.

“I know,” he breathes out, smile softening. “I just… I miss you when we’re apart, okay? That’s all. I'm sorry I'm-I'm always g-gone.” He slurs and hiccups as he says the last part.

Your heart tugs in your chest, and you nod, reaching up to smooth his hair. “I know, it's okay” you tell him. “I miss you too.”

He hums in response, the noise soft and low in his chest. For a moment he simply nuzzles his cheek against your palm, his eyes drifting shut as he relaxes back into your arms.

But then a few seconds later, his eyes flutter open again. He's still smiling at you, his mouth tipped up in a goofy grin. “Bébé,” he murmurs again, voice husky and affectionate, his eyes squinting adoringly at you.

“Yeah?” you prompt after a minute, because he just stares at you for long seconds like he can’t look away.

“T'es vraiment belle, tu sais? I'm so lucky.” His voice drops, grows quiet as he speaks.

You feel a flutter in your chest, but then you shake your head, your lips twitching into a smile. “Kylian, bébé, you’re drunk, let’s go to bed” you say instead, dodging the topic.

Kylian’s face scrunches up for a moment as though he doesn’t understand what you're saying. Then his eyebrows rise, and his mouth falls open.

He looks affronted, the picture of scandalized drunkenness. “Non!” he protests, voice loud and outraged as though you've suggested something truly heinous. “I don’t wanna sleep! I wanna…” His brows furrow. He frowns for a moment, as though he can't remember what he wants.

Then his eyes light up. “I wanna fuck you,” He rasps the words against your skin, nuzzling his face into your neck with another long exhale.

He tries to move his mouth up to yours, but misses by a good few centimeters, his lips pressing against the hollow of your throat instead.

Your breath catches at the feel of his mouth on you, his warm lips dragging against your skin.

But you shake yourself out of the daze that threatens to pull you under at his touch, reaching down to cup his chin and tip his head back until he's staring up at you once again. His eyes are glazed, his cheeks pink, and his lips look swollen.

He looks like he wants to devour you whole.

But instead of giving in, you try again, your smile soft but firm. “Baby, you're drunk,” you repeat.

He shakes his head. “Non! I'm not” He repeats his protest, his voice adamant and thick with a slur. "I just…” He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as his eyes drop from yours to stare at your mouth.

His tongue darts out, wetting his lips in an unconscious gesture that makes your stomach flip in your abdomen. Then his eyes move back up to yours and his face crumples, the look of pure distress on his features making you chuckle.

“Bébé, s’il vous plaît?” he begs. “J'ai besoin de toi. Je suis tellement…” His voice is anguished, like he's holding himself back. the strain in his tone making your breath catch. “I want you so bad, tresor,” he slurs. “so bad.”

He leans forward then, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks, his eyes dark and intense as they find yours.

“Je t'aime tellement, it hurts, bébé,” he confesses, his words a messy slur of French and English that make your breath catch. He's not making any sense but you understand him.

You nod, but his arms tighten around you, and he nuzzles your neck, planting sloppy kisses along your jaw. "I love you, you know that? You’re my everything. Mon cœur."

"Yes, I know," you say, cupping his face to look him in the eye. His chocolate-brown gaze is glassy, but the sincerity in his words melts you. "I love you too, but you need water. And maybe food. Come on, let's get you something to eat. "

His brows draw together at first, a flicker of thought crossing his face, but then a wide, knowing smirk spreads across his lips, lighting up his features in a way that makes your heart stutter. “You’re right,” he murmurs, his voice low and dripping with heat. His gaze, dark and smoldering, locks onto you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. “I am hungry,” he continues, leaning just a little closer, his tone laced with wicked intent. “For you.”

You let out a long-suffering sigh, though the way your lips twitch betrays your amusement. “Kylian…” you begin, your voice edged with a mix of exasperation and fondness.

“Oui?” he interjects smoothly, cutting you off before you can even finish. His eyes, impossibly large and impossibly dark, seem to glitter with mischief as he looks at you, completely unfazed by your scolding tone. For a moment, you falter, caught off guard by the sheer intensity of his expression.

“Come on,” you manage at last, your voice softening despite yourself. You shake your head, trying to regain some semblance of control over the situation. “Let’s get you food first, then we’ll get you to bed.” You’re firm but your voice is more gentle than you intended, your gaze soft on him.

Kylian beams up at you like you’re the sun itself, and nods, his expression serious as he tries to pull back. But he ends up swaying a little, his legs tangled in yours and his arms around your neck. His eyebrows draw together, and he looks a bit dizzy for a minute.

But then he swallows hard and tries again, managing to untangle himself with a huff. This time, his smile is sheepish when he meets your eyes. “Whatever you say, bébé.”

“Okay,” you say with slight chuckle. You shift out of his arms, standing as you offer him your hand.

Kylian takes it with a warm smile, rising to his feet unsteadily. The action seems to take a lot out of him—he staggers a little on the way up, his knee bumping your thigh. And when he’s finally standing, his hand grips yours tight, as though he needs your support to keep himself upright.

You nod at him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze before leading him into the kitchen.

He trails behind you like a lost puppy, following you without question and looking vaguely disoriented whenever you glance back at him.

When you reach the kitchen, you slide onto one of the stools, gesturing for him to take the one across from you.

“Sit down and let me get you something,” you instruct. You nod at the stool opposite, watching as he lowers himself into it, his movements slow and clumsy.

“Merci, bébé,” he mumbles as his back hits the stool, a look of relief crossing his face.

You smile at him warmly as you turn toward the fridge. “You’re welcome,” you tell him, opening the door to peer inside.

He's silent for a minute, watching you with a sort of childlike fascination. Then, when you bend down to pull out the eggs, his voice calls out again.

"Nice ass,” he says, his tone full of appreciation. "You have the best ass." He slurs the words, sounding more than a little drunk and awed.

You let out a startled laugh at that, your hand stalling in its reach for the pan. Your head tips up to meet his gaze, your smile stretching wide across your lips.

"Thank you," you tell him with a chuckle, cheeks flushing lightly at his praise.

But he just laughs, his face alight with a radiant grin. His voice takes on an almost conversational quality, like you're not standing in your kitchen at 2:53 in the morning talking about your ass. “Do you know how many times I've jacked off to it?” he asks, sounding utterly sincere. His brow furrows. “Maybe hundreds?”

Your breath catches, and you let out another laugh, a little more helpless this time. Your body flushes, heat rising in your cheeks as you fumble a bit with the pan, your gaze darting to his to gauge his reaction. His eyes are wide and earnest, his grin still soft on his face as he watches you.

You shake your head, the motion a little helpless. “Kylian,” you say again, letting out another laugh as you try to ignore the fluttering in your stomach.

But instead of relenting, he just grins harder, his expression one of pure adoration. “What? It's the truth, bébé!” He leans forward, his elbows hitting the counter as he braces his body with his arms, his gaze still fixed intently on you. “You're so beautiful, I just want to eat you up,” he mumbles then, his tone filled with a thick slur and a wealth of affection.

Your face burns, and you try to look away, but it's hard to ignore the way his voice makes you feel. Like you're the only person in the world.

“Baby…” you try to chide him, but he's having none of it.

“I’m serious,” he protests, his brow furrowing in a scowl as he slides off his stool. He sways a little as he makes his way over to you, but you barely have time to register his movement before he's sliding his arms back around your waist, his chest warm against your back. “You have no idea, do you?” he asks, his breath a gentle caress on your neck as his lips find the slope of your shoulder.

Your stomach tenses under his grip, but your hands pause in their reach for the eggs, your body leaning back into his. “No idea about what?” you murmur softly.

His arms tighten around your middle, squeezing you gently against him as his nose nudges your hair out of the way. You can feel his breath against your neck as he inhales, his lips skating across your skin with a featherlight touch.

“How gorgeous you are,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice warm and thick. He exhales again, the air drifting against your skin in a caress that makes your whole body shiver. “How much I love you.”

You turn in his arms then, reaching up to cup his cheeks with your palms. He looks down at you, his dark eyes soft and fond, his features more boyish than anything else right now.

You smile up at him, running your thumbs over his cheekbones in a soothing stroke. “I know,” you say, your voice soft, but firm. “I love you too. So much.”

A brilliant grin spreads across his face at your words, his gaze going soft with adoration as he gazes down at you. “Je t'aime,” he whispers, his tone full of conviction and emotion. “Plus que tout.” His eyes meet yours, and you can see the sincerity, his feelings plain on his face.

Then his arms are wrapping around your back, pulling you tight against him.

“Plus que tout,” you repeat, nodding as you lean up on your toes to kiss him.

He meets you halfway, his mouth moving over yours in a warm, wet kiss that makes your heart flutter in your chest. His lips are soft, and gentle, and they move against yours in a kiss that’s more affection than anything else.

Then you're pulling back, and he's letting out a long exhale, as though the act of breathing itself is exhausting.

You glance up to find his eyes still closed, a look of utter contentment on his face. He doesn’t look drunk anymore; he looks like he's floating.

But then his eyes blink open, glazed and in love making you smile at him, feeling your heart nearly explode at the love you have for this man. “Salut,” he murmurs softly. His hands cup your cheeks again, tilting your face up toward his as he leans down to press another kiss to your lips. “You're mine.”

You nod, smiling up at him again as you slip your arms around his waist. “Yes I am,” you repeat. “Now sit down so I can get you some food.”

Kylian nods, his smile still soft on his lips as he does as you ask, sliding back onto the stool he vacated earlier.

You turn to the stove then, pulling the eggs onto the counter and moving to the fridge for milk as he stares after you with wide, affectionate eyes.

You work quickly, but efficiently, moving through the motions of making him scrambled eggs without a hitch. It's not hard, and in a matter of minutes, you've got a plate of fluffy yellow eggs slid in front of him along with a glass of milk.

He grins at you, a bit more subdued this time as he digs in. His eyes still follow you around the kitchen as you move, but there’s a hungry gleam in them now that’s more interested in the food than anything else.

You smile at that, taking a seat on the stool next to him as you watch him eat. “How’s that?”

“Mmm,” he mumbles around his mouthful of eggs, nodding, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he swallows. “That’s really good. Merci, bébé.” He smiles, grateful.

You hum in response, smiling softly as you nod back at him.

His shoulders sag a little as he eats, but when he finishes, he still looks a little unsteady as he pushes the plate away. His mouth twists up into a sheepish grimace. “You're the best cook. Never leave me,” he mumbles, the last part coming out thick and slurred.

You laugh at that, leaning over to take his plate. “I won’t,” you reassure him. “Not unless you leave first.”

His eyes dart towards you with shock, as if offended you would even suggest such a thing. “Jamais,” he replies, his voice full of a fierce denial.

“Okay,” you murmur, your voice gentle, barely above a whisper. Your hand reaches out, fingertips brushing softly over his hair, gliding across his scalp with a touch so light it feels like a caress. “You ready to go to bed now?”

He nods immediately, his answer quick and eager, as though the very idea of rest, as long as it’s with you, is the best thing he’s heard all day. His lips curve into a bright, unrestrained smile, one that lights up his whole face. “Oui,” he agrees, his voice filled with quiet enthusiasm. “Only if you're coming too.”

Your heart warms at his words, and you offer him a small, reassuring smile. “Of course,” you say simply, extending your hand to him.

Kylian doesn’t hesitate. His smile grows wider, impossibly so, as he reaches for you, his fingers slipping into yours with a natural ease. He holds your hand firmly, as he pushes himself to his feet.

This time, he manages to stand without much trouble, though his movements are still clumsy, a slight stumble here and there. But you’re there to steady him, your hand leading him gently out of the kitchen, guiding him down the hallway to your shared room.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs, his voice soft, almost hesitant, like he’s laying his heart bare with those few words. They hit you squarely in the chest, a rush of emotion tightening your stomach and twisting your heart. He's been saying it all night but this time it’s almost too much to bear.

Your fingers tighten around his in response, a small squeeze that says everything words can’t. “I love you too,” you reply, your voice just as quiet, just as honest. “But let’s get some sleep, okay?”

“Okay, trésor,” he answers without hesitation, his head dipping slightly as he leans into your touch. There’s a tenderness to his movement, a reliance, as though your presence is the only thing keeping him steady.

You nod, saying nothing more, and continue guiding him, step by step, until you both reach the sanctuary of your bedroom.

As soon as you open the door, Kylian all but collapses onto the bed, his body sinking into the mattress like it’s a cloud ready to catch him.

He stretches out across the sheets, limbs sprawled in utter contentment, a quiet sigh escaping his lips. It’s a sound of pure relief, one that fills the room as you watch him settle, his smile still lingering even as his eyes flutter closed.

He looks so relaxed and peaceful it makes you feel bad for the words coming out of your mouth, but you say them anyway. “Babe, you have to change.”

“Non, bébé,” he groans, his head rolling to the side as he opens his eyes, a sliver of dark brown peeking out from under thick lashes. “I’m good,” he mutters. His tone is low, like even the act of speaking is a chore. “Sleep now.”

You smile softly at that, reaching for the hem of his shirt. “You can sleep, just let me help you get out of these first, okay? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable in the morning.” You’ve seen him before when he passes out drunk in his clothes; it’s not pretty.

His eyes crack open a little wider at that, and his mouth drops open in a soft protest. But then a slow smile spreads across his features, a soft sound of agreement escaping his lips. “Okay.” His head tips back, eyelids falling shut again as he raises his arms above his head.

“Good,” you say quietly, your hands moving to strip him of his clothes.

He’s easy to undress, not putting up much resistance as you slide his shirt up and over his head. His undershirt follows soon after, and you pause, just for a moment, to appreciate the hard planes of his torso.

He really is gorgeous, you can’t help thinking, your gaze drinking him in. Tall and lean, with broad shoulders that taper down into toned hips, he’s perfect.

Looking at you like you're the answer to every prayer he’s ever whispered, his smile so dazzling and pure that it makes your chest ache. “You’re the best, bébé,” he declares, his voice thick with emotion as he leans forward to press a kiss to your collarbone. “The absolute best.”

You sigh again, biting back a smile as you maneuver him to sit upright on the bed. His long legs splay out in front of him, his posture utterly relaxed in the way only someone completely plastered can manage. He watches you with a sort of drunken adoration that makes your stomach flutter and your cheeks warm under the intensity of his gaze.

“Wait here,” you say, patting his knee gently as you straighten up. “I’ll grab you something to wear.”

But the second you step away, his hand darts out to grab yours, his fingers curling around your wrist with surprising strength. You turn back to him, startled, and his face is suddenly heartbreakingly serious.

“Don’t go,” he pleads softly, his eyes wide and imploring, his bottom lip jutting out just enough to make him look like a kicked puppy. “I need you here.”

“Kylian,” you murmur, your voice caught somewhere between affectionate and exasperated. You lean down slightly, brushing your free hand against his cheek, melting when he leans into the touch. “I’m just going to the closet. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

He pouts, his brows furrowing like a sulky child. “But what if you don’t come back?” His voice is small, his grip tightening just slightly as if the thought alone terrifies him.

Your heart softens instantly. “I’ll always come back,” you tell him, the promise slipping from your lips without a second thought. You kneel down in front of him, cupping his face with both hands so that he has no choice but to meet your gaze. “Always.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his big brown eyes shimmering with emotion. Then, slowly, a small, sleepy smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Always?” he repeats, his voice so quiet it’s barely more than a whisper.

You nod. “Always.”

He seems satisfied with that, finally letting go of your wrist with a little sigh of contentment. “Okay,” he murmurs, leaning back against the pillows with his eyes already fluttering shut. “But hurry, okay? I don’t like being without you.”

Your chest aches with affection as you press a quick kiss to his forehead before making your way to his closet. As you rummage through the racks, grabbing him some sweatpants and a shirt, you can’t help but smile to yourself.

When you return, Kylian is half-asleep, his head lolling to one side and his mouth slightly open. But the moment he hears your footsteps, his eyes snap open, and he sits up straighter, his expression lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning.

“You came back!” he exclaims, his voice slurred but filled with unrestrained joy.

“Of course I did,” you reply with a soft laugh, setting the clothes down on the bed in front of him. “Now get dressed, mon amour, before you pass out entirely.”

He grins at you, picking up the shirt with a clumsy hand and pulling it over his head with an endearing lack of coordination.

By the time he’s struggling with the sweatpants, you’ve moved to help him, slipping them over his legs and sliding your hands up the soft cotton of his shirt as you do.

“Merci,” he mumbles softly, his voice filled with gratitude as you help him settle in under the covers.

You lean over to press a kiss to his temple, but instead of letting you go, his arms wrap around your neck, pulling you back for a deeper, more meaningful kiss.

He sighs against your lips, a soft exhalation of pure contentment that fills your chest with warmth. When he pulls away, it's just enough to speak, his voice breathy “Trésor,” he says suddenly, his voice soft and serious as his dart back and forth into yours. You raise a brow at him in question.

“I meant what I said,” he continues, his gaze locking onto yours with surprising clarity for someone so inebriated. “You’re my everything. My whole world.”

Your throat tightens, and you can only nod, unable to find the words to respond. Instead, you lean forward, pressing another kiss to his lips.

“Je t'aime,” you murmur against them.

He hums back in response, his arms wrapping around your neck to pull you down closer, his lips moving over yours in a kiss so warm it sets your entire body aflame.

You’re breathless by the time you pull away. But instead of continuing to press the advantage, Kylian lets out another sigh, his eyelids drooping shut again as his head falls back on the pillow. He grins at you lazily, his voice slurring. “You’re so beautiful.”

You laugh. “So are you,” you reply, standing up with a smile. “Now sleep.”

His smile softens, his lashes drifting to half-mast as his body relaxes against the mattress. “Je t'aime, bébé,” he murmurs one last time, the words slipping out almost inaudibly.

“I love you too.” Your response is automatic, heartfelt.

But he’s already out, his breathing slow and even as you slip off your clothes, pulling on the tee shirt he tossed aside earlier to wear as pajamas.

When you slide into bed next to him, his arm curls immediately around your waist, drawing you into his chest with a sleepy sigh.

You settle in beside him, your back to his chest, your heart filling with affection as his chin rests against the slope of your neck. It’s not long before your eyelids droop, the warmth of his body and the rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

Just as you drift off, you’re dimly aware of a mumbled voice, the softness of his words making your heart flutter even as it slows your breathing.

“I can't wait to marry you.”

-Bianca🌻

[pinksugarscrub]

Hi, pinkie!! This may be weird but happy birthday :D wishing you all the best things and wishes 🫶🏻

(Silly Hobie wishes you happy birthday as well)

(Look at him being silly)

Like The Movies

Hobie Brown x fem! reader (college au)

Hi my love! 🤍 Thank you so much for the well wishes. It isn't weird!! 😠 Who told you that?? As promised, "loser" Hobie to celebrate. (I love my silly little guy. I'm putting him in my pocket).

I just want to say, to everyone who asked what would happen if I didn't win ( @hyperfix-wip )- I guess we'll never know 🤷‍♀️

word count: 1,7k+

cw: dorks, the lot of them

~

The smell of butter soaked popcorn has been stuck to Hobie’s clothes for hours now. Along with a straining headache. Rubbing his temples he tries to focus on the ugly red carpet instead of the screen at the cash register.

Ten more minutes then he was home free. Excluding the quick stop he was going to make to the video game store across the mall. The missing piece for his game cube was finally in stock.

He was debating grabbing pizza from the food court too but with his roommate gone for the weekend what was the point? Hobie really wishes Ned well but he’s disappointed that he’ll be spending his time off without his best friend.

It’s times like these that he wishes he was closer to his family. Deciding and then being accepted to attend university here in New York is a mixed blessing.

He’s learning incredible things, meeting new people, and living on his own. On the other hand, he’s still new to the US and its customs.

It’s exhausting after a while and he can’t even be comforted by anything other than the things he brought with him from Camden.

A beep from his watch alerts him that his shift is over and Hobie doesn’t waste a second in clocking out and discarding the thing he calls a uniform. He’s still polite of course. Says his goodbyes and wishes everyone a happy holiday despite not celebrating Thanksgiving himself.

He must look tired because most shoppers steer clear of him. At the most he’ll receive two or three compliments on his outfit. Or maybe they’re just preoccupied with the sales and discounts going on in various stores.

He mutters an apology as he brushes past a group to step inside the brightly colored store with posters and ads for the newest game. Hobie has learned Christmas lights in November is normal. He cringes as he hears a popular pop song play through the speakers. It’s maybe the twentieth time today he’s listened to it.

“Hobie, hey! Give me a sec.” Ganke pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Gesturing to the box Hobie presumes holds his order. “I’ll ring you up as soon as I can.”

“Course, no rush.”

And Hobie means that sincerely. There’s more than four customers in line with a dozen more circling figures and t-shirts. He may be tired but he knows well enough how demanding customer service can be.

To add a little more reassurance to Ganke’s mind, Hobie points to a random section of games. “I wanted to take a look around anyway.”

Ganke nods with a grin that never seems to fall from his face.

Hobie would consider this store his second home. He is on a first name basis with Ganke and he was even invited out by the younger boy to a flea market. They both shared a love for retro and vintage. Hobie met a friend of his too, Miles. It was the most fun he’s had since his arrival in August.

A sigh leaves his lips as the section he had planned to browse is blocked by a group of teenagers and yes, he himself is a teenager but something about American air made people lose their common courtesy.

He spins, planning to give up and just wait by the counter when something smacks into his chest. Not hard but definitely strong enough that the person who walked into him is sent stumbling back.

An apology spills from his lips and he’s met with one himself. The air from his lungs leaves his chest as he comes face to face with a girl. He knows you.

He knows because he shares a music composition class with you. He remembers because he embarrassed himself in front of the class. Hobie’s only ever written baselines so orchestral music has been a struggle for him.

“Why are you sorry?” You laugh softly. Fixing the bag on your shoulder full of pins and charms. “I bumped into you.”

“Are you ok?” You ask and Hobie isn’t sure what to do next.

He’s mortified that the only interactions he’s had with you (which are far and few) are so embarrassing.

Hobie may or may not think you’re cute. It would be stupid of him not to notice you.

It’s not like he has a chance with such a pretty girl but he can at least not look like a fool in front of you every chance he gets.

“Uh yeah,” he falters, “I’m fine. Are you…ok?”

“Me?” You point to yourself in confusion.

“Yeah,” he repeats. “Did I nick you or something?”

“Oh.” You laugh again as you take in the patches and safety pins on his vest. “I think we’re good.”

When you stand on the tips of your toes Hobie understands what you mean and his ears grow hot with embarrassment.

Hobie is aware he’s tall enough to be a basketball player but compared to you he’s never realized quite how tall he is.

You smile and think about how cute his reaction is. Hobie isn’t shy, not by any means. You’ve seen him with his friends around campus. But you can understand how being out of your element can leave you walking on eggshells.

Classical music is the soul of your being. Movie scores to be more specific, not to mention game sources. You haven’t quite decided what route to take but for now you’re content with going back to the basics and writing Bach inspired pieces.

“Hey, I really liked your presentation. Did you get a good score?”

“I did, yeah.”

Hobie thinks you must be lying to avoid making him feel bad. The professor too because he earned almost full marks.

He doesn’t understand why when his piece was so…awful. Nothing like yours or Flash Thompson’s.

“That’s great! I liked the third movement. It reminded me of um…” You snapped your fingers. “Bowser’s theme. You know, from the first Mario game?”

Hobie doesn’t mean to, he really doesn’t, but he laughs.

“What? I’m serious!” You grin as you reach for your phone. Insistent to make your point and be proven right.

“You can’t be.” Hobie almost guffaws. “It was a dumpster fire!”

“Was not!” You argue. Bringing your phone up to his ear after furiously typing.

Hobie looks at you in surprise. Stuck between your outstretched hand and your determined face. After a supportive nod from you and a smile he slowly leans down to listen.

You pause on certain points of the video. Rambling on about concepts the two of you have learned but obviously you know better.

The video takes exactly three minutes and fifty three seconds but you managed to lengthen the amount of time it would normally take to finish and soon enough he realizes you’re not just cute. You’re cute and you like games.

You weren’t trying to make him feel better you were making honest and valid points.

Now he feels like an ass for laughing so he’s quick to wave his white flag in surrender.

“Alright, alright. You win love. Has anyone ever told you you’re a bold little thing?”

“I have been called that on occasion, yes.”

Hobie hums. His lips tugging into a smile. “Don’t ever change.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach as you return his smile. “I won’t, promise.”

“What are you in here for if you don’t mind me asking? Aside from analyzing my music.”

“I don’t mind at all,” you answer. Feeling giddy. “There’s a poster I’ve been looking for and- tada.”

Hobie chuckles at the glee on your face as you hold up your prize.

“Is that right? Congratulations.”

“Thank you kind sir,” you giggle. “I was just heading over to pay when I bumped into you.”

“Guess it was a good thing I kept you occupied,” Hobie replies. “Line is gone now.”

You turn your head. Peeking over his shoulder to see the register is indeed free now.

“It appears so.” You tap his shoulder with the end of the rolled up poster. “Thank you again. You’ve done me a great honor sir.”

You relish in how much you’ve made Hobie laugh in the last few minutes you’ve talked. You’re disappointed this all has to end now.

Hobie snickers before bowing mockingly. “After you.”

You curtsey in return before walking over to Ganke. You’ve seen him a few times. Normally you come to the mall on weekends not weekdays but with the holidays coming up you had a few days off. Best to take advantage right?

Declining a bag you wait patiently for Ganke to finish the transaction but then he interrupts you from paying.

“Wait hold on, you have a birthday reward today.”

“Do I? Huh, I didn’t know the store had one.”

“Well, now your total comes down to less than ten dollars.”

“Sweet! Thank you.”

You step aside, thankful for Ganke’s chatty behavior because it give you an excuse to stay though Hobie’s own purchase. Both boys including you in their conversation about Hobie’s soon to be fully functioning game cube. Then you’re both walking out the door.

“So…” Hobie clicks his tongue. Anxious as the plastic bag he carries weighs down his hand. “Where are you off to now? Friends waiting at that nice restaurant?”

You shake your head, pointing to the direction of the movie theater. “Nope, there’s a screening for one of my favorite movies. It starts in about…ten minutes.”

Hobie’s eyebrows raise. “By yourself?”

“Mhm, was just killing some time.”

Hobie is at a loss for words. Spending your birthday alone sounds cruel. You deserve to have cake and gifts—the whole package. However it’s then that Hobie realizes he isn’t the only one who could be away from home.

“Mind if I come with you?” He blurts out.

Your eyes widen and in your stunned silence you feel the excitement build.

“Yes- I would love that!”

Gingerly clasping your hands together you happily tug him along. Explaining what movie you had bought a ticket for. Outwardly wondering if there were still seats available.

Hobie doesn’t feel dread walking back to the theater. He isn’t even upset when he smells popcorn again. With a soft smile he keeps his eyes on you. Only getting annoyed when his co-workers whistle behind his back and make exaggerated faces.

[starlightkun]

finders keepers ⇢ teaser 2

⇢ teaser word count: 948 | full fic: 37.8k total (22.7k & 15.1k) ⇢ genre: sci-fi/science fantasy au, soulmate au, alien!jungwoo, human!reader, slow burn, fluff and angst ⇢ warnings: blood/injury mentions (but like, alien blood, if that makes a difference?), a couple needle/injection mentions, if u get secondhand embarrassment this one might hurt in places, a couple crude jokes about alien stuff iykwim (reader’s friends r kind of the worst), this fic is just a rlly sweet soulmate au i swear idk why these tags look horrendous 😭 ⇢ extra info: this will be released in two parts bc of tumblr’s 1000-block limit that was put in place to hurt me personally :)) BUT both parts will be released on the same day ⇢ estimated release: saturday, november 30, 2024, 3:00 p.m. eastern time (sign up for my taglist here)

The screen of your phone lit up from where it sat on the dashboard of Jungwoo’s spaceship, and you immediately grabbed it. It was Donghyuck, and at this point, you would’ve taken your bestie ‘SPAM LIKELY’ to get you out of here.

“Hey, it’s Hyuck, you got it here?” You asked Jungwoo, already on your feet.

“Yes, I’ll be okay,” Jungwoo confirmed, eyes momentarily leaving the screen to meet yours.

You clambered out of the hatch with haste, taking off into the trees. Hastily sending Donghyuck a text that you’d call him back in a minute, you practically bolted back up the cliffside to get to the road before doing just that.

Hyuck picked up before it could even ring once, not wasting any time, “Hey, how’s our pet alien?”

“He has a name,” you retorted, still out of breath.

“He doesn’t seem to mind when I call him that.”

“He probably doesn’t understand how derogatory it could be. His language might not have a direct equivalent for the concept.”

“Yeah, whatever, how is he?”

“Fine. All of his wounds have healed.”

Your friend’s tone immediately shifted. “You sound weird. What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” You insisted.

“Y/N.”

“Promise not to tell anyone?”

“Sure.”

And so after explaining your situation to Donghyuck to the best of your ability, you waited with bated breath for his response.

“Oh my God, he’s going to lay his eggs in you,” he gasped.

“Hyuck! Gross!” You hissed, half-ready to hang up right then.

“I’ve seen enough alien movies to know where this is going.”

“Or watched too much weird porn.”

“You didn’t laugh at my joke, clearly you’re in crisis, sorry.” His apology sounded sincere.

You sighed, staring down into the trees below you that you knew contained a spaceship and spaceman that weren’t from here, that didn’t belong here. “I mean, he’s still fixing his ship to leave…”

“What if he plans on abducting you and taking you with him?”

“Stop it!” You scolded him again. “Jungwoo wouldn’t do that.”

“You seriously think he’ll just leave his mate behind?”

“You are way too comfortable saying that word.”

“This is not about my nighttime proclivities.”

“If I told him to, yeah, I think he would. He’s been super respectful, all things considered.”

“Okay… whatever…”

You were worried. Jungwoo had continued fixing his ship, but with each passing day, you swore he was looking worse again. He said his wounds had completely healed inside and out, but the pallor of his skin didn’t look right, he was moving slower again, and he didn’t eat as much at meals. You took a risk and took him there during the day today, not wanting to risk drawing out his stay on Earth any longer than necessary.

Just getting him down to the ship today was perilous, as he tripped going down the last of the hillside. A rock had cut his arm, thankfully not very deep, but the sight of the deep blue blood did nothing to calm your anxious mind. He let you take a second to use a first aid kit in the ship on him, but then was right back to business as usual, fixing his ship.

“How’s it coming along?” You asked, hovering over him worriedly as he sat on the floor, working on a panel under the control console.

“It’s almost done,” he informed you quietly.

“Jungwoo, you don’t look okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“Is it the hydrogen? Or something else that you can’t get on Earth?” You went to press the back of your hand to his forehead. It was sticky with sweat, but simultaneously cold and clammy. “Shit, dude, you feel awful.”

“I’m—I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I just need to get back to-to Galaria.”

“Okay, yeah,” you nodded. “Let’s get you back. You said it’s almost done. What else do you need?”

“One of your friends is a mechanic?”

“Yeah, Yuta. He fixes cars.” You were slightly alarmed that he apparently couldn’t remember which one.

Jungwoo held out a long, thin black tube to you. “Could you ask him if he has something like this? Twice as long?”

“Of course! I'll go right now!” You took the tube from him. “You stay right here. Rest, okay?”

He nodded, leaning against the panel and shutting his eyes.

You ran into Yuta’s auto shop, skidding to a stop and nearly crashing into a bench and toolbox, drawing the attention of everyone in the shop. Every head whipped over to look at you, and Yuta pushed himself out from under a truck on the far side of the shop.

“Yuta!” You dashed over to him, ignoring the attempts at conversation from his coworkers as you ran by them.

“Off-limits, assholes!” Yuta yelled back at them before focusing on you again, grabbing a rag to wipe his hands off. “Y/N, what are you doing here?”

“It’s Jungwoo, he needs something like this, but double the length.” You held the tube out to him. “Do you have anything like it? I’ll pay for it.”

Yuta inspected it with a furrowed brow, and you dropped your voice even lower as the sounds of the auto shop rose again.

“Please, he’s-he’s really not doing well. I don’t know how much longer he can be here, Yuta. Something about Earth, it’s not good for him. I’m really worried.”

“Yeah, I would be if I were you.” Yuta handed the tube back to you, then crossed his arms over his chest. “I gave him a part just like that two days ago. He said it was the last piece he needed.”

“What?!” Your heart fell to the pit of your stomach.

“I gave him a new brake hose two days ago. Unless he blew it up again, this isn’t it.”

“I’ve got to go.” You took off towards the door of the garage. “Bye, Yuta! Thanks!”

“See you around!”

TEASER TAGLIST

@bee-the-loser @ppddpjdr @tearinka @yoursyuno @yutasputa69 @winkeuu

[allisluv]

hihi! this is my first time ever writing an ask thingy bc i don’t know how tumblr works but,,,anyway (feel free to laugh at me if im doing this wrong 😭)

imagine modern!finnick with an s/o who just got their wisdom teeth out (not saying this bc i just got mine out what…) imagine him trying not to laugh when he reads the attempts at text messages that his s/o sent right after surgery and calling them to make sure their okay. he shows up to their house to make sure their okay and comforts them through the pain. he doesn’t laugh at how puffy their face is or the mindless babble they come up with, he just holds them and spoon feeds them the soft food their allowed to eat <3

would you still love me if i was a worm?

pairing: finnick o'dair x fem!reader

content warnings: established relationship, use of pet names, reader has just had her wisdom teeth out, fluff, set in a modern!au <3

a/n: i'm so sorry it took me literal months to get around to this lovely! i hope you're feeling better and your wisdom teeth didn't cause a lot of pain! you requested just right, nonnie, feel free to send it any other requests you have and i'll try not to make you wait as long this time around lol <3

wc: 887

Finnick kills the engine outside of your house and grabs his phone from the passenger seat. The screen continues to light up with unintelligible text messages and he can’t help but laugh to himself. He knows for a fact that youre okay, mainly because he rang to check on you before he left his house, otherwise he would be panicking at the string of confusing messages. 

His hands are overflowing with supplies as he pushes open the front door with his hip. He doesn’t bother to knock; you already know he’s coming. “Honey, it’s just me!” He announces, setting a tub of ice-cream on the marble countertop in the kitchen. 

He frowns when he sees you, and you open your arms for him to give you a hug. “Oh, my baby,” he murmurs, crawling across the sofa and pulling you into his lap so you’re straddling his hips. You rest your face against his chest and he runs a hand through your hair, smoothing it out of your face. “Oh, baby, how are you feeling?” 

“Ouch,” you mumble, nuzzling your face into the fabric of his shirt and wincing when a spark of pain shoots up through your mouth. “Hurts,” you say softly. 

“I know, angel, I know, that’s because you’re coming off of the anaesthetic.” He coos, smoothing his hand up and down the length of your back. You mumble something a bit incoherent that he doesn’t quite catch and he presses a kiss into your hair. “What’re you saying, darling?” 

“Stay,” you mumble, clinging to the back of his shirt as tears spill out over your waterline. 

Finnick’s heart just about cracks in two in his chest at the sight of you crying. “Oh, honey, I know it hurts, but I’m not going anywhere. I’m gonna stay right here until you are all better. I’m gonna take care of you, yeah?” 

You nod against his chest as he shifts positions so that you’re cuddled into his side. He rests his chin atop your head and peppers your temple with soft kisses. 

Blindly, he reaches out for the remote control and you whine at the loss of contact, no matter how small. He thins out his lips to stop himself from chuckling. With the drug-induced state you’re in, he assumes you would only take it as him making fun of you, so instead, he says, “I’m not going anywhere, baby. I’m just gonna turn on The Wizard of Oz. I know that’s your favourite. How does that sound?” 

You huff at his explanation, registering somewhere in your mind that he’s telling the truth, but still wanting to be stubborn nonetheless, but in saying that, it’s hard not to melt when he’s being so damn nice to you. In fact, hes being so damn nice that it sends you into another wave of hysterical sobbing. 

Finnick doesn’t berate you for crying or try to figure out what’s wrong; he knows you’re feeling frustrated and in pain. He won’t get a straight answer out of you with the state you’re in, anyway, so he just pulls you closer to him and presses play on the recording of The Wizard of Oz. 

Once you’ve calmed down and your body has stopped shaking with sobs, he coaxes you into laying your head in his lap. You mumble something stubbornly but after a bit of gentle coaxing, he manages to get you to lie down. 

You drift in and out of consciousness as he threads his fingers through your soft locks of hair. He hums when you mutter something about the movie, agreeing with you despite the fact that he has not got a clue what you are talking about. 

As the end credits start to roll, you seem to sense that the movie’s over and straighten up, rubbing your knuckles in to your eyes to rid them of sleep. 

Finnick chuckles under his breath. You glare at him, but there’s no mirth behind it. Your eyes spin around to the big tub of Ben and Jerry’s ice-cream on the countertop and you head straight for it, with your boyfriend hot on your heels. 

Finnick grabs a bowl from the cupboard as you search for a spoon, but by the time he turns back around, you’ve already started scooping the ice-cream straight from the tub into your mouth. He laughs, shaking his head fondly as he takes you by the hand and coaxes you to sit back down on the sofa. 

Your coordination is still a bit off, both from the pain and the medication, and you keep missing your mouth. Finnick gently takes the spoon out of your hand and starts to feed you, smiling softly when you insist that you’re not a baby (---- well, at least that’s what he thinks you’ve said; it’s still quite hard to understand you), 

Regardless of your protests, your hunger wins, and you let him feed you. You flick through the channels before settling on a rerun of Pop Idol, and once half the tub is gone and you’ve had enough, he sets it on the coffee table and pulls you back into his arms. 

“Finn?” You mumble, slightly more coherent now. 

“Yes, angel?” He kisses your forehead. 

“Would you love me if I was a worm?” 

Finnick stifles a laugh into your hair.

[mattserenity]

“chris, what the fuck! why are you playing s’bad today? something goin’ on?” matt shouted over the rapid gunfire sounds blasting through their game.

“s—sorry… i’m just a little distracted right now,” chris stammered into the mic, his voice wavering as he struggled to keep his cool. he glanced down, trying to stay composed, but his focus shattered when he met your gaze, filled with lust. your tongue dragged slowly along the length of his shaft, tracing the prominent vein, making it impossible for him to concentrate.

“whatever… jus’ try harder,” matt muttered, clearly unconvinced by chris’s flimsy excuse.

the moment you crawled under his desk, chris knew exactly what you had in mind—and he wasn’t about to stop you. even with thousands of viewers tuned in, none of them had any idea what was really happening beneath the desk.

he quickly muted his mic, releasing a moan he’d been desperately holding back. his head fell back in pleasure before he sat upright again, eyes flicking to the screen. hundreds of comments flooded the chat, asking if he was okay—some even saying that they could already see the edits coming.

“d-don’t stop,” he pleaded, unmuting his mic with shaky hands, his fingers tangling in your hair to create a makeshift ponytail. the mic barely missed the lewd sounds of you taking him deeper, the wet noises just out of reach but dangerously close to being heard.

"fuck!" he groaned, a bit too loud, quickly running his fingers through his hair to play it off as casual. you teased him mercilessly, flicking your tongue over his sensitive tip, sending a shudder through him. the chat immediately lit up with comments: “pause,” and “what was that noise, chris???” flooding the screen as he struggled to keep his composure.

“chris, what the fuck are you doin’?” matt asked, frustration creeping into his voice as the game slipped further out of focus.

“uh, i just hit my hand on the desk, sorry,” chris lied, his voice strained. his stomach tightened, the familiar coil of pleasure building as he edged closer and closer to his climax, trying to keep it together.

you continued your work beneath the table, determined to push him over the edge. pulling your mouth off with a soft pop, chris groaned at the sudden loss of contact. not wanting to leave him waiting too long, you wrapped your hand around him, pumping his cock a few times before focusing solely on his tip. you suckled on it, teasing your tongue over his sensitive slit, driving him closer to his breaking point.

“mmph—!” chris whimpered as warm ropes of come shot down your throat without warning, nearly making you choke. you swallowed it all, careful not to let any slip past your lips.

quietly, you crawled out from under the desk, making sure no one in the chat caught a glimpse of you.

“hi, everyone!” you said with an innocent smile, stepping into view of chris’s camera and waving. the chat immediately lit up with greetings, comments flooding in about how much they’d missed you. not a single person had any idea what had just happened moments before.

© mattserenity. please don’t repost, copy or steal my work without asking for permission or credits.

based off this post ✉️ @xxotothedeathx

[doctorgirlsblog]

Merz Prinzessin vs. Dutch Lion (series)

Part 3: Truth hurts, distractions help

Warnings: mentions of sex, swearing, Lando x Aria

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Max knew that he fucked up, as soon as he opened his eyes to Kelly screaming at him, waving his unlocked phone in her hand, tears falling rapidly from her eyes.

He sat up quickly, momentarily forgetting his pounding headache.

"Baby, woah, wait, slow down. I don't get it." He tried to grab her hand, but she pushed him away, showing his phone in his hands instead. Then she turned around and started rapidly packing her things into a suitcase.

He sat still, frozen, staring at his phone screen, not even trying to stop her.

"..Max...it's Aria."

"I fucked her so good, imagining you underneath me instead."

seen.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. What did he do last night? He sent those. He actually sent them. Aria read them. Kelly now also read them.

He threw his phone on the bed, turning to Kelly again, his face pale.

"Kelly, I...I didn't...it didn't mean...she..."

Words were stuck in the back of his throat, refusing to come out. He knew it was already done and gone, no matter what he tried to say or how he tried to reason. She turned around to face him, her eyes puffy and red, her expression completely broken. He winced.

"Why, Max? Why? And with her, of all people? Did I really mean so little to you after all these years? Did P mean nothing to you?"

He opened his mouth again to stop her, to beg for forgiveness and say how much of an idiot he is and that he does love her, but she raised her hand.

"Save it, Max. Save it for her. Don't you ever try to contact me again. We're done. I'm done with you."

Her suitcase already zipped up, the only thing visible to him was her back as she left the room, one last time.

He sat back on the bed, his throbbing headache and hangover now long forgotten.

He needed to see Aria.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aria woke up, rolling over in her comfortable pillows, when someone began knocking—no, rather, pounding—on her door. The fuck? She groaned.

"I swear, it is way too early for this shit." She mumbled under her breath, sleepily padding to the door. She swung them open, a scowl on her face, not even looking up to see who disturbed her beauty sleep.

"What the fuck could be so important, to be knocking my verdammte door down in the, -Max?!" Her eyes snapped up to his stormy ones in surprise.

He didn't say a word as he stepped beside her and entered the room, pacing around.

"Oh, please, do come in." She waved sarcastically.

"Good morning, Aria. Did you sleep well? Yeah, great, thanks for NOT asking." She turned to him and closed the door.

He was still silent. She looked him up and down. He looked terrible: mismatched clothes, bloodshot eyes, messy hair, and a terribly pale face.

He kept looking at her, his hands shaking at his sides.

Something was wrong.

"Max, are you okay? What are you even doing here so early?"

"Aria, I'm so sorry. For what I wrote. I really am. I was drunk and..I fucked up, really bad. Kelly saw those messages this morning. She left." He sat on the stool, putting his head in his hands.

Flashbacks of last night hit her all at once.

Shit.

She shuffled from the door and sat on the bed, facing him.

"Look, Max, for what it's worth, I'm sorry about your...relationship. But shouldn't you be going after Kelly instead? Why are you even here when you could have texted me your apology?"

His head snapped up, all his pent up anger coming to the surface. Last thread snapped.

"You're sorry? You're sorry?! You brought this upon me. You did this. I was happy and content with what i had! She kept looking at him pasively. "Everything is a fucking game to you, isn't it? All those teasings, flirting..what was your goal? To ruin me? My relationship? Well, congratulations. Job well fucking done, Aria."

She stood up calmly, looking up into his eyes.

"You ruined your relationship Max. Not me. You were the one fantasizing about other woman, all while fucking yours. " His hand reached out, wrapping around her throat instantly, forcefully slamming her down on the bed. He was fumming.

She laughed, straight at his face.

His hand was tight on her throat, making it hard to breath, but she still managed to keep talking.

"See? Even when...you hate me, you still want...me.." her laugh came out as a cough, eyes shining, challenging him silently.

"So go on Maxie. Kill me..or kiss me. We both know..what it will be." he pulled away from her instantly. She laughed again, coughing slightly, rubbing on her neck.

"See? You're way more fucked up than you think, Max. You did this to yourself. Not me. " she sat up, putting her hand on his cheek, moving his head to face her.

His expression was stoic, but his mind..

He wanted to push her away, to yell again and blame her for everything. At the same time, he wanted to kiss her until her lips bruised, until her moans were the only sound filling out this damned room. He knew it was his fault. He let her play this game, thinking he can win, until she crawled under his skin and changed everything.

She was still starring at him, those green eyes looking through all of his carefully zipped up layers, peeling him bare before her. Her soft hand was warm against his cold cheek, what made him involonterily lean more into her touch. What did you do to me Aria? He didn' realise he said it ouldloud, until she answered. His eyes snapped up to hers.

"I didn't do anything Max. You just fell for me, like everyone else does."

Her words were sweet, but cocky, slapping him like a cold shower. He quickly pulled away from her, standing up from bed, peacefull moment now long gone.

"This," he pointed between them with his finger, "whatever it is, stops now. I'm done playing with you."

He turned around, ready to leave, to go and try to contact Kelly, to save the remains of what was ruined. Her voice stopped him at the door, hand already on the handle.

"You can run Max. It won't change the truth. You want me. And you hate that you can't change it. " his grip on the handle thightened, his fingers turning white.

"So whether you like or not, I'll win next week. And I'll make you good deal on that bet of ours. In the meantime, viel Glück."

He opened the door and stepped out, not turning back, letting them slam behind him. She let out a breath she didn't realise she was holding. He did the same on the other side.

---------------

Aria got dressed, deciding to go downstairs to breakfast. After all that happened, she needed some energy back.

She was sipping on her coffee, when someone pulled the chair beside her. She looked up, smiling Lando starring back at her.

"Morning Aria! Mind if I join you?" His dimples even more visible, no traces of his hangover visible.

She traced her eyes across his body, his hoodie and instantly thought about Max's mismatched outfit this morning when he stormed in her room.

"Morning Lan. Of course, take a seat." She smiled. Maybe she needed a distraction at the moment. She knew that Brit before her was more than happy to provide it. And he was sure to brag about it later, to whom of course if not his dear friend Max. Sweet smile turned to smirk. Lando shuffled in his chair, turning to face her.

"Listen Ari, I'm sorry for last night. I was really drunk and kinda needy.." he laughed, before she interupted him. "Oh, kinda needy? Not begging at my door?" She teased him.

"Well, you did leave me with a boner..and that combined with alcohol, yeah..hah." he smiled again, light blush appearing on his cheeks.

Her finger landed on his lips. He looked down at her, like deer caught in headlights, gulping.

"It's okay Lan.. I'm aware of the effect i have on you." her voice dropping down, finger brushing across his lips, before she continued. "I didn't want you drunk. That's all."

Lando gulped again. So, she wanted him..now??

"Ari, I-"

"Shh..let's finish our breakfast. Then we can move to tge dessert." She smirked again, before pulling away and continuing where she stopped.

Lando was done. His mouth snapped shut, he tried to pull his hoodie down more, to hide the semi hard on he was currently sporting, thanks to the little minx beside him, who was peacefully eating.

Few minutes passed in comfortable silence, nbefore he felt her hand on his right thigh, massaging the place slowly. He almost choked on his smoothie, trying to wiggle away. Her hand was steady and she hardened her grip on his leg.

"So..i'm done Lan. Care to join me upstairs?" She didn't even need to ask, he was already up and behind her, following her through the lobby like a horny puppy.

She smiled to herself. Let the games begin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lando dropped beside her, panting hard, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.

"Baby, that was...wow. I...bloody hell." he chuckled, trying to pull her to his side. She swatted his hand away, standing up and putting her clothes back on.

"You can go ahead and shower before you leave, Liebchen. I have some errands to run." Lando's smile fell.

"You're leaving already?" She turned to him, smiling sweetly.

"Lan, honey. I have to; I have things to do. It was good sex, but there won't be anything more than that. You know that."

"Yeah..." he mumbled.

"Good! Thank you for understanding. Please take your time, I’m coming back later this evening. See you around, handsome.” And with a kiss to his lips, she was gone.

Go on, Lan, text your friend and brag about it, she thought, smirking to herself as she stepped out.

In the meantime, Max was sitting in his room, desperately trying to get ahold of Kelly, but with no success.

His whole life turned upside down in one fucking day. But it has been long coming.

His phone pinged, Lando texting him.

"Mate you wont believe the shit that just happened."

Max scoffed, not in the mood, but answered nonetheless.

"What happened mate?"

"So, you know how Aria was all over me last night? Well, she didn't let me in the room at the end." Max smiled.

"But then I saw her getting breakfast this morning, and she practically pulled me to her room afterward."

Max froze, his phone slipping from his hand. Aria slept with Lando, right after he left?

He left him on read, standing up, and pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One empty bottle later, Max was back to repeating last night's mistakes.

His hands worked faster than his drunken mind, and he was pressing send before he even registered it.

"You think that kid can fuck you the way you need it? You have no idea."

Reply came almost instantly. Like she was waiting for it, knowing he would do it. Like a viper preying on her next victim. He cursed.

"You seem to be tough only when you're drunk, Maxie. Oh and btw, i didn't need to imagine anyone else to be able to cum. Unlike you."

Max smashed the glass against the wall. Fucking hell.

Why does she keep doing this?

He texted her again.

"Hilton, Room 603. I can show you better. Way better than that kid."

Seen. Of course she didnt answer. Nor did she come over. He was stupid to even think so.

Reply though, came eventually, a couple of hours later, with a photo attached.

Max was fast asleep when the phone lit up the dark room. Squinting and opening the chat, his heart dropped.

Her sweet smile was the first thing he noticed. It wasn't flirty, it wasn't teasing, and it most definitely wasn't the smirk she usually served him. In the nape of her neck, cuddled into her shoulder, was a mop of messy brown curls, sleeping peacefully, a faint smile visible from the side of his face.

"And so the coward claimed he was The Lion. Sleep well, Max. I sure will."

She wasn't his. She wasn't even his friend. Most of the time, they were able to tolerate or tease each other. So why did it hurt this much then, seeing Lando beside her?

They didn't talk the next day nor the rest of the week. They avoided each other like the plague at media day, just like Friday and Saturday afterward. Race day kept the same rhythm until she parked in the Parc Fermé in front of No. 1, celebrating her first win of the season.

[petriwriting]

You Deserve Better - JJ Maybank X Reader

Requested.

A/N: Not my best work but It was a good writing exercise.

Your boyfriend, Todd, was anything but loving and caring. He had money, so you would get gifts, flowers sometimes, and expensive jewelry. but lately it seemed like you were just an accessory, something to make him look better. someone to bring to family events and parties, although he would pay you no mind once you had been introduced to people. He was also a heavy drinker, and there were rumors that he did drugs when he and his friends went boating together. It started as a decent relationship, he was cute and tall and funny. But lately he had been wrapped up in what you tenderly referred to as "Kook Bullshit." 

You were fortunate, you lived comfortably. you certainly didn't come from millionaires. But because of this you were referred to as a Kook, even if you didn't consider yourself to be like the others. You began going to parties and meeting all kinds of new people, particularly a group of Pogues. almost instantly you took a liking to JJ Maybank. His golden blonde hair and sea blue eyes were enchanting, and despite your relationship it was an irresistible temptation. You kept it quiet, and secretive. 

You were currently waiting on the edge of the beach with your phone. You opened your phone and were met with its bright screen contrasting the darkness of the night. The wind chill tousled your hair. you searched for his contact. Blondie. and sent him a quick text.

Busy rn?

             Nah

pick me up?

              otw

You smiled. It was a guilty pleasure, you enjoyed spending time with JJ, he was sweet and funny and he wasn't abusive, or rude. He paid attention to you and listened to you talk. You sent him your location and waited in the darkness for another few minutes, listening to the chatter and music from the beach party that was not far from where you stood. After a while the twinie came rolling up, JJ was driving and he rolled down the window. "uh, Uber for Y/N?" he joked. you laughed and got into the passenger seat. He must not have been far when you sent your location to him. 

"So no grand plans tonight huh?" he asked as he drove further from the island towards a more secluded area. "Not interested in the party." you explained. It was lame, some kids had stolen a bunch of beer and were all drunk playing beer pong in the sand. "Where's the boyfriend on this lovely evening?" he asked you. you sighed and looked over at him. It was stupid, but the moonlight made his eyes twinkle... "He's staying in charleston with his friends." JJ nodded. He always asked about Todd. It was strange, but deep down he just cared about you, and wanted to make sure you were in a safe situation. Being a victim of physical violence himself, he hated to see it happen to others. "So he's out of town?" he asked quietly. "Yes." you replied. 

JJ pulled up to an abandoned field, mostly dirt and sand. The weather was nice and it was a pretty delicate evening with the moon shining down and the area being quiet, all you could hear were the southern cicada's singing their songs and the subtle sound of waves lapping not far beyond the clearing. You hopped out of the van, and JJ followed suit and helped you on top of the van, where he had just laid out an old beach blanket. He laid on his back and you did the same. looking up you saw how clear and bright the stars were. 

"Thanks for picking me up." you begin. "I've had a lot of stuff going on and I just needed to get away." you admit. JJ looks over at you understandingly. His hand brushes yours, barely touching but not holding hands. "It's alright. I get it," he retorts, running his fingers through his hair with his other hand. "I like to get away sometimes too." he says.

For some reason, the air is thick with tension. You'd been seeing each other and hooking up in the twinkie for 4 months now. It became a routine. After several moments spent in silence JJ spoke finally. "I've been thinkin." he says. His voice is straight to the point. "You should leave Todd." he states flatly. Slightly offended, you turn to look at him. "JJ you know why I can't." you say. "Who cares what he says?" he pleads. "He-" you swallow hard, a gulp. "He might hurt me." you admit, your eyes are glazed over, embarrassed almost. "Rafe told me he saw him doing coke with his buddies. They trashed some expensive yachts, and they were high off their asses playing with a gun they found." 

JJ is silent for a minute. "You know I wouldn't let anything happen to you right?" he says finally. "I know but this whole thing just feels wrong. What if he finds out?" you continue. "He might try and go after you. I don't want that." you state clearly. "Well he can try, but he won't get to touch me." JJ says confidently. you went back and forth at the idea, you wanted out, but not where you could be hurt. you also felt safe with JJ, you knew that the islanders from the cut stuck together no matter what. You were like an honorary pogue. "fine."

You finally say, pulling out your phone and drafting a message to Todd, he always reads your messages almost instantly, but he barely ever replied. "How does this sound?" you said after typing away for a few minutes. 

We're over. I don't want my stuff back. Don't talk to me anymore.

JJ looked over the message, and before you could freak and and be doubtful he hit send. there was a rush of relief followed by panic. "Oh my god." you uttered. "Oh my god!" you said louder. "JJ i'm officially single now." you said. "Yeah, so that means we can get inside the van right now without any guilt?" he smirked, leaning over to you, you had a pit in your stomach but you kissed him anyway. 

[zepskies]

First of all, welcome back, Wayne! I'm so glad you're here and it's been so lovely to catch up. And now I'm so excited to see what happens next with this story!!

“Oh, nice try. But I won’t confess to anything until you two have told me a little more about yourself,” Diane announced cheekily. “You talk – I talk. My rules. My game. Let's be honest. You don't have anything to nail me down. Zero, really. You two need this. I'm giving you a win, Sheriff.”

Oooh Diane's playing a tricky game. I sense cat and mouse vibes forming, and now I'm scared for both Beau and the reader...

“If her husband was your partner, you must feel at least a little guilty for fucking his wife as soon as he was six-feet-under. Did you have feelings for her when they were still married? You did, didn’t you? I wonder what he’d say if he were still alive.”

Dear GOD this bitch. 😭 The sad part is I can so see her getting under Beau's skin and picking at his guilt, since she's basically hit the nail on the head as far as his feelings are concerned.

Also I appreciate the authenticity of Grey's Anatomy in Spanish show playing on the screen when we get that first flashback in Mexico lol. "Prince charming," eh? Foreshadowing? 😂

‘Así que, elígeme a mí. Escógeme a mí. Ámame a mí…’

Oh, definitely foreshadowing. 🥰 (Even if it's bittersweet in this context lol)

“But sometimes, just for a blink of an eye, I caught myself wondering, you know? What it would be like to be with you… Hell, I wondered all the damn time. Even on your freaking wedding day,” he confessed. “That’s the kind of horrible person I am. And now, that I am with you and so fucking happy, I feel guilty every time that things worked out the way they did. ‘Cause it does feel like I’m happy that I’m with you, and he’s not.”

It's so painful and messy, but I love how the reader didn't sugar coat things even when she was reassuring him. She was honest about how she had an inkling he felt the way he did, but knew he would never act on it when Randy was alive. I'm also glad she specified that her love for Randy and Beau were never at the same time. It's such an important detail, and yes it sucks that Diane is preying on Beau's insecurities, but hopefully he and the reader come out stronger for having hashed this stuff out.

Beau’s features were stone-cold. He was pissed, radiating that fire burning inside of him for miles. He made the Yellowstone supervolcano look harmless. “Stand up and turn around. Hands behind your back.”

*shivers* Oooh, I love it when he gets angry. 😏

Beau swallowed the thick lump in his throat, forcing the name out that had haunted him all those past years. “It’s Randy.”

Whyyyyyyyyy?!!! 😭😭😭😭 Oh God, this is about to get SO messy, and now I'm biting my nails to see what'll happen next. Especially because there are still quite a few chapters left. Brilliant cliffhanger even though it just about gutted me lolll. Can't wait for Friday!

Polaris – Chapter 8

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, fluff, angst, serial killer, Diane is her own warning, Grey's Anatomy & alcoholism, uhm... hard to explain the last one without spoilering. You'll be fine 😂

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: Oh boy, I'll save you guys long explanations. Life got in the way, so let's just all be glad we're back here 😅 Some of you brilliant sleuths already caught breadcrumbs of my scheming in the last part, so here's The One You've Been Waiting For...

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 8: Chemical Bonds

“Where is she?”

Your boot soles thudded on the floor as you dashed inside the station, your questioning look aimed at Jenny, who leaned against her desk with crossed arms and a stern brow. Beau was hot on your heels, just jogging in behind you. You practically raced him from the car across the parking lot.

“She’s in Interrogation Room 3,” Jenny informed you.

“Is she cuffed?” Beau asked, his voice carrying a hint of anger caused by concern. He had a whole car ride to the department to rile himself up and let his head spin with reasons. None of them soothing; all of them terrifying.

Jenny shook her head. “No. She’s not officially under arrest and hasn’t confessed yet, either. ‘Sides, she willingly came in and just all too happily sat down. She’s clearly playing a game. I’d be careful.”

“Alright, thanks,” Beau said and looked at you. “How you wanna do this?”

“Let’s just go in and talk to her. See what she has to say and what angle she’s playing,” you suggested, and Beau agreed with a nod, both of you falling into step as you headed down the hallway.

“My favorite couple. There you are,” Diane greeted you with a smirk that could only be described as lunacy as soon as you and Beau walked into the interrogation room. “Hope I didn’t disturb your evening.”

“Not at all,” you replied with an easy smile and took a seat across from her, Beau settling down right next to you and leaning back in his chair. “What can we do for you, Diane?”

“Well, I figured I come here before you call in the cavalry. There’s no need for all this drama. I have a feeling you two have enough of that,” she quipped and grinned devilishly at the both of you.

“So, you waltzed in here to confess to twenty-four murders?” Beau arched a disbelieving eyebrow at her.

“Oh, nice try. But I won’t confess to anything until you two have told me a little more about yourself,” Diane announced cheekily. “You talk – I talk. My rules. My game. Let's be honest. You don't have anything to nail me down. Zero, really. You two need this. I'm giving you a win, Sheriff.”

Beau and you shared a look. Neither of you liked this, but you supposed you had to play along if it led to a confession. You nodded at Diane. “Fine, what d’you wanna know?”

Diane grinned in triumphant satisfaction and folded her arms on the metal table, curiously leaning forward. “Look, I think it’s cute you two found each other… after divorce and death, of course. ‘Cause who likes a cheater, right?” she posed theoretically, her smirk getting wider. “I guess, for me at least, it’s just hard to believe there’ve never been any feelings before that. Seems kinda odd to me.”

You smiled wryly. “Well, for me at least, it seems kinda odd and, frankly, hard to believe some psychotic bitch would murder over twenty innocent people just because her husband was a cheating dirtbag. Yet, here we are.”

“Here we are indeed, Agent,” Diane snarked with a pleased smile. “And I’d be wary throwing the word ‘innocent’ around so carelessly. After all, just look at you two. I mean, I’m not saying you’ve planned this little hot love affair, but c'mon! What, no lingering looks? No fluttering hearts, dirty thoughts, or wistful what-ifs?”

You remained cool and held your gaze stern. No quiver of a lip, no twitch of an eye, no flinch of a muscle betrayed you. But Beau must’ve signaled something when Diane’s eyes drifted to him. She tilted her head with a delighted sneer forming on her face. Your heart halted in your chest. You knew she’d locked in on a target like a lioness on the prowl.

“Whoop, Sheriff Arlen, do you have something to tell me? You seem awfully quiet and… shifty,” Diane prodded the tip of her metaphorical knife into his ribcage, prying it open just enough to see inside. “If her husband was your partner, you must feel at least a little guilty for fucking his wife as soon as he was six-feet-under. Did you have feelings for her when they were still married? You did, didn’t you? I wonder what he’d say if he were still alive.”

“Okay, enough,” you snapped and drew a line in the sand, noticing how Beau withdrew more and more upon her words. She was getting to him and enjoying it. “Neither of us has done anything wrong, got it?”

Diane chuckled amusedly. “Sheriff Arlen, you should learn from your girlfriend here. She’s better at acting than you are. Or is it lying?” Her questioning gaze turned to you.

“What d’you want, huh?” you prompted with stern annoyance, hoping to take some heat off of Beau. “You want some weird confession, so you can throw one of us into a bunker?”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Agent. We’re just having a friendly chat among colleagues, getting to know each other.” She grinned, her icy gray eyes sparkling with devilish joy. She leaned closer to Beau, circling in on him. She could smell he was close to a breaking point and aimed her sledgehammer at him. “Tell me, Sheriff, were you happy when your partner died? I mean, you must’ve been. She was finally free and all yours for the taking. Is that why your marriage crumbled so soon after his death? Why you followed her all the way to Mexico, leaving your family behind? Be honest, did you lead her husband into that warehouse on purpose?”

“Shut up!” Beau yelled and bristled, his voice trembling with anger as did every single muscle of his. He jumped up from his seat and kicked the chair roughly against the wall before storming out and slamming the door loudly behind him.

Shocked, you rose from your seat as well and threw Jenny a worried look through the one-way mirror. As you followed Beau outside, you could still hear Diane’s heinous laugh.

November 2020

‘¿Recuerdas que en tu infancia creías en cuentos de hadas? En la fantasia de lo que podría ser tu vida. Tu vestido blanco, un príncipe azul que te llevaría en sus brazos a un castillo sobre una colina…’

A knock on your door rattled you and snapped your attention away from the small, old TV in your room. The image was grainy at best, and you were sure the television itself was bought sometime in the early 2000s. Yet, you still managed to hook it up to your laptop and stream a few shows. Drinking and watching television was all you had for entertainment down here whenever you were on the lay-low and had some time off.

Oh, and there was the crying, of course.

You hurriedly blew your nose in one of the tissues in your hand and wiped the tears out of your eyes. Bolting into the bathroom first, you did a quick check of your appearance in the stained, wonky mirror. Well, good enough. Who were you trying to impress? You were a grieving widow. People expected you to look like shit.

Beau blinked at you as the door opened. He offered you a friendly smile, although he could tell you had cried again. You never admitted it, always telling him you were fine and brushing away any and all of his concerns. But your red and puffy eyes were hard to hide and even harder to ignore when he stopped by your room at night. It broke his heart every single time.

“Hey, I know you haven’t eaten dinner yet, darlin’,” he said and tried not to sound too scolding. Since Randy’s death you’d been basically on a grief diet, although you seemed to be more willing to eat since you’d come to Mexico. But Beau had taken it upon himself to ensure your stomach was always full.

“Uh, thanks, but I’m not hungry,” you said quietly and were already keen to close the door to get rid of him again. Sometimes it worked. Most times it didn’t.

Beau frowned and already slid his boot between the door and its jamb. “You know I’m not leaving till you ate. And since you’re being particularly difficult tonight, I’m just gonna have to watch you till that whole bag is empty. Now, trust me. This ain’t fun for me, either. Don’t make me spoon-feed you and do airplane noises. It’s been a while, but I have experience in that field. You wanna hear my lecture about your essential vitamins and minerals again?”

You sighed dramatically and were close to a whine. “Beau, I’m really not in the mood right now. Can you please just–” You stopped when you noticed the man wasn’t even listening to you. With a curiously furrowed brow, he cocked his head and leaned inside your room with a skillful weight shift, his green eyes focusing on the TV.

‘Vamos a domir a tu casa esta noche.’

‘¿Qué?’

‘¿Por qué siempre dormirmos en mi casa? ¿O no tienes una?’

“What are you watching?” Beau had fully stepped inside your room, and you knew your probability of kicking him out again sunk by the second. You sighed once more and closed the door behind you two.

“Grey’s Anatomy in Spanish. I already know the episodes, so I figured I could learn a little. I already forgot most of it from school,” you replied.

“Huh. Never watched this show.” Yet, he sat down on the foot of your bed and seemed hooked. His eyes were glued to the screen, brow lightly creased above the bridge of his nose that showed his interest. If you had popcorn, you would’ve handed it to him.

You rolled your eyes a little but smiled nonetheless. Randy had been the same. He’d teased you for watching till he caught one episode and was immediately enthralled. Afterward, you weren’t allowed to watch a single episode without him anymore.

“You wanna watch with me?” You grabbed the bag of food and crawled onto your bed, leaning against the headboard. You quickly discarded the tissues that were strewn all over your mattress. Luckily, he hadn’t noticed them yet, or you would’ve received a look full of worry and pity.

“Sure.” Beau nodded and smiled at you over his shoulder, happy you had decided to eat, after all. “So, what’s this show about?”

“A hospital in Seattle. But honestly, everyone’s just sleeping with everyone…”

It took a while till you had explained all the intricacies of each relationship to him. Fortunately, this was only the first season. He gasped when you informed him the show had seventeen of it – so far. By the end of the episode, he had joined you by the headboard, sitting next to you as you shared the remaining tacos.

‘Me gusta el helado de café, whisky de malta de una sola destilería, de vez en cuando un buen habano.’

“Ah! Now that’s a home,” Beau declared with a broad and longing smile, raising his beer bottle to the TV. “You know, I’ve always wanted an Airstream trailer exactly like this.”

“Uh-huh. Un remolque.”

His brow quirked. “Is that Spanish for trailer?”

“Yes, he just said it. You need to pay attention,” you chided playfully and took a sip from your beer.

“Hey, look, I’m just glad I can keep up with who’s sleeping with who, alright? Don’t need to add Spanish vocabulary to the mix,” Beau quipped, making you giggle. “I actually almost bought a trailer like that when me and Carla first got married.”

You grinned knowingly. “Lemme guess, Carla said no and almost shot you?”

Beau snorted a laugh. “Ha! Yeah, she definitely came close that time. But Emily was already on the way, so I guess it would’ve been impractical with a baby.”

“Smart choice.”

As your eyes traveled back to the TV, Beau’s gaze landed on you. He watched as your cheeks moved when you laughed with your whole heart. How your pink, full lips sealed around the bottle opening whenever you sipped on your beer. How your shimmering hair fell into your face in waves as you leaned forward and hugged your knees. Lingering looks.

“You wanna open a bottle of tequila with me and watch another episode?” you asked with a mischievous glint in your eyes as you looked back at him over your shoulder.

“Hm? Oh, uh, yeah. Let’s do that,” he agreed, swallowing lightly. A part of him almost felt caught in his shameless staring. But he was willing to do anything as long as it kept you from crying yourself to sleep for another night.

Jumping up from the bed, you sauntered over to the mini bar and bent down, hauling a bottle of tequila from the small fridge you’d stored in there earlier. Beau tried not to stare at the curve of your ass and how tightly those dark blue jeans hugged it. But he couldn’t control his heart as it undeniably accelerated and thumped loudly against its prison. Fluttering hearts.

Four episodes and two Margarita pitchers in, you stretched with a yawn, barely able to keep your eyes open. You glanced at Beau with an amused smile as he was still transfixed by the TV and heavily engaged in the show.

“I’m beat. You mind if we turn in?” you checked and laughed a little when his green eyes blinked at you in surprise.

“Oh, uh, sure. I’ll head back to my room,” he said, nodding. “You, uh, wanna do this every night, maybe? I mean, it’s not like there’s much else to do here… We could hang out and binge-watch, as the kids say. Netflix and chill.”

You snorted. “Beau, that’s not what you think it means…”

His brow furrowed. “Well, what does it mean?”

“Sex,” you said bluntly and watched his mouth open and close. It was rare to render that man speechless.

Beau pursed his lips, his cheeks redder than the desert sand. “Yeah, uh, no Netflix and chill, then.” He cleared his throat a couple of times while you stifled your laughs. “Can I just finish this episode before I go?”

You giggled, getting up from the bed. “Sure. Knock yourself out. I need some bathroom time before, anyways.”

As you sauntered into the small, dingy bathroom, you briefly glanced back and saw Beau’s focus was already back on the sexy doctors. You laughed a little, shaking your head before you began to wash your face and slip into your pajamas, which were just a pair of sweat shorts and an old college shirt of Randy’s. Go Cougars!

Unbeknownst to you, Beau’s gaze didn’t remain on the TV for long. At first, he only caught a glimpse of you from his periphery in the bathroom mirror through the cracked door. For a moment, he stared, unable to tear his eyes away as you shed out of your shirt. But when your bra came off as well, he averted his eyes shamefully back to the TV. His mind, however, still wandered, incapable of shaking the image of you, various unholy ideas gathering for a villainous summit. Dirty thoughts.

‘Así que, elígeme a mí. Escógeme a mí. Ámame a mí…’

“Still hooked, huh?” Amused, you arched a brow at him as you strolled out of the bathroom and saw he was still enchanted by the magic of dramatic television.

“He’s gonna go back to the cheatin’ ex, isn’t he?” Beau asked without looking at you. He sat on the bed with arms crossed and his brow scrunched.

You pressed your lips together as you smothered another laugh. “Oh, no spoilers from me, but it’s a bit of a ride. And we haven’t even gotten to Dr. Caliente yet,” you said, grinning.

You waited a moment for Beau to catch the hint that you wanted to go to bed. But soon you realized it wasn’t going to happen. The man had done a full deep dive into that show, and there was no way of pulling him back out.

“You know, you can stay and keep watching if you want to. I don’t mind. I’ve been sleeping with the TV on, anyways,” you said.

His gaze met yours, brow finally rising with realization. “Oh, uh, sorry. No, I can go. Let you catch some–” His eyes wandered back to the TV before he shook his head and tried to refocus. He blushed. “Sorry.”

“It’s really okay. You can stay. I don’t care,” you assured him with a soft smile and climbed under the covers, resting your head on the pillow. You switched off the lamp by your bedside table, the blue glow of the screen remaining the only source of light.

“Maybe just this episode,” he mumbled, his shoulders deflating as he sunk back into a more comfortable position again.

“This is nice,” you noted with a blissful sigh and closed your eyes. “I kinda hate being alone.”

Beau watched you as you peacefully fell asleep, the TV suddenly forgotten. For once you didn’t cry yourself to sleep. Tears, nightmares, and loneliness gone. And he wondered – what it would be like if he watched you fall asleep every night. What if he was still there in the morning. What if he could hold you as you wore his shirt. Then, the guilt came swiftly like the rising tide and washed those thoughts away. Wistful what-ifs.

“What the hell happened in there?” you hissed as quietly as possible as you caught up with Beau in the lowly lit hallway of the station. Luckily, the other cops had enough sense to stay away and keep their distance while the two of you hashed things out.

Beau dragged a hand over his face, kept his palm clasped on his mouth as he paced in a circle. You were surprised he hadn’t punched a wall yet, judging by the tension in his shoulders.

“You can’t let her get to you,” you reminded him gently, your face softening when you noticed how distraught and upset he really was. What Diane said to him must’ve cut deep.

“You know it’s not true, right? What she said in there? I-I didn’t kill him. I wasn’t… Fuck!” His eyes were brimming with desperate tears, his breathing quick. You could hear his heart race from feet away.

“Of course not. She’s a deranged psychopath,” you emphasized, although you didn’t understand why you had to spell it out for him. He already knew that. “Why are you so upset? Don’t let her get under your skin. She’s thriving off it like a hyena.”

“I know. I just-…” He took a deep breath. “What if she’s right?”

Confused, your brow furrowed. “About what?”

“Me. Us,” he said, not making necessarily more sense. “What if it’s true, huh?” He blinked at you and swallowed harshly, completely out of breath. “Look, uhm… I-I don’t know how to say this. I’ve never admitted it before, but recently, things have become a lot clearer to me…” He paused for a moment, rubbing his mouth with two fingers before he found your eyes again. “I’ve always had feelings for you, you know? There’s always been this… pull. Even back then. Since the first time I met you.”

You inhaled sharply, your lungs incapable of fitting more air as you held your breath for several heartbeats. “Beau, it’s okay.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know if it is,” he said. The tortured tone of his voice pained you. “I mean, I would’ve never done anything. You need to know that, okay? I would’ve never hurt you or Randy. I never would’ve come between you two.”

“I know that,” you assured him. You wanted to take his hands in yours, touch him, hold him. But you knew it would only make the turmoil of emotions worse instead of better, like pouring oil into the fire.

“But sometimes, just for a blink of an eye, I caught myself wondering, you know? What it would be like to be with you… Hell, I wondered all the damn time. Even on your freaking wedding day,” he confessed. “That’s the kind of horrible person I am. And now, that I am with you and so fucking happy, I feel guilty every time that things worked out the way they did. ‘Cause it does feel like I’m happy that I’m with you, and he’s not.”

You let out a heavy sigh through your nose and finally took his hands in yours, intertwining your fingers as you squeezed them. “I know all of that,” you said, his brow rising in bewildered surprise. “In terms of being honest… I guess a part of me always knew you felt this way, but I never let myself go there. And yeah, considering everything, it’s only natural to feel guilty. But you’ve still done nothing wrong. We’ve done nothing wrong. You can’t control how you feel. Neither can I. And I’m not saying everything always was exactly right, and we did everything by the book, but I loved Randy with all my heart. There wasn’t room for anyone else… And now, I love you. But it was never at the same time, you know?”

Beau pulled you into his arms and held you tightly, kissing your crown. “No, I know. Trust me. I know that part.”

“I love you, okay?” You tiptoed to claim his lips, putting your whole heart into the kiss. You didn’t want to hurt him, but you wouldn’t lie, either. “Diane doesn’t get to use that against us. Everything that happened, everything we’ve done right or wrong – that’s between you and me… and maybe God at some point. But surely not that psychotic bitch in there. She’s doesn’t know what we think or feel, so don’t give her ammunition, alright?”

Beau nodded and pecked your lips, his hands caressing your cheeks. “I love you, too.”

Jenny cleared her throat as she carefully snuck up on you. “You guys okay?”

You gave her a soft smile. “Yeah. What d’you got?”

“Well, since Diane walked in and became our prime suspect, the new DA on the case signed a search warrant for her property, office, car, and all her devices,” Jenny informed you.

“Alright, take Pops with you and head to her house first. Call me if you find somethin’ we can burn that witch with,” Beau ordered, putting his sheriff hat back on, jumping into the saddle full-throttle.

“On it, boss.” Jenny gave him a resolute nod and hurried down the hall.

January 2021

“¡Feliz navidad!”

As you opened the motel room door, you found Beau on your doorstep with a giant grin on his freckled face and not one but two bottles of tequila. One in each hand that he joyfully wiggled in the air.

You chuckled, shaking your head at him. “Christmas was two weeks ago, payaso.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t here, so merry belated Christmas,” he retorted and strolled right in as you held the door open for him. “Can’t believe you stayed here and didn’t go home for Christmas.”

“Meh, wasn’t in the mood to be placated and pitied by my whole family. I know they all mean well, but if I get one more concerned head tilt and a ‘How are you holding up, sweetie?’, tendré que apuñalar a alguien,” you huffed.

Beau narrowed his eyes at you, slightly amused. “I only understood the word ‘stab’, but I think I get the gist,” he joked, laughing. “I see your Spanish is getting better. So, how was your depressing and lonely Christmas without your family?”

“Nice guilt trip, asshole,” you retorted playfully and scoffed. “Great, actually. I went out with the guys from our team who stayed here, too. Got insanely drunk on some Christmas cocktail Ignacio created. And some hot guy taught me how to Salsa dance. He got a little handsy towards the end, which, granted, is the most action I’ve seen in five months, so…”

Beau’s lips thinned as he weighted your words. “Huh, so to recap: you got wasted with five guys in a dingy bar and second base with some stranger. Sounds like Christmas-y fun.”

You frowned slightly, watching him open one of the bottles of tequila. “Alright, there were no bases being hit, Judge Judy. How was your Christmas?”

“Not as fun, I can tell you that much,” Beau muttered and gulped some tequila straight from the bottle.

Your nose scrunched, lips pursed. “You and Carla got into it again?”

“Oh yeah, big time,” he replied. “I’ve only been home twice, including Christmas. You’d think she’d be more happy to see me, but instead I get yelled at for not being home more and criticized like I’m some drunk.”

Your narrowed look drifted to the bottle of liquor tightly clasped in his hands as he plopped down on the bed with a sigh. “Well, you know, not really making an argument for yourself there, gaucho.”

He scowled at you. “Who’s side are you on?”

“No one’s!”

“What, you think I’m some alcoholic?”

You pursed your lips and hesitated briefly. “No… But I do think you have a slight issue with... occurrence and... volume.”

He sent you a small glare. “That’s the same thing, just different words.”

“Look, I get it. It’s not like I’ve been a healthy example these past months,” you said, hoping a softer approach would work. You sat down next to him on the bed. “It’s been hard for all of us. Grief wrecks you. But you have a family to think about. Maybe it’s time you go home… for good.”

His brow drew into creases, green eyes drilling a hole into you. “Do you want me to go?”

Your lips parted for a moment, reluctant to answer as his question hung in the air between you two. “It’s not about what I want. You should do what’s best for you.”

Beau considered your words, his head bobbing. “I wanna stay. I need to see this through. For Randy,” he declared, although it was only partially true. Another part of him stayed for you. There was an electrostatic force, invisible to the naked heart and irresistible to the free mind. A force that kept him in your orbit and bonded his atoms with yours.

Maybe you should’ve told him to go home, been more insistent on making him leave, clearer on what was best. But truthfully and selfishly so, you liked having him around. He was your constant, your little piece of home in a strange land and an even stranger new life. And you didn’t want to navigate this new life alone.

“You sure?” you still asked for the sake of your conscience, but the determination on his face over his decision made your heart sing in relief.

“I’m sure. Just wish things were easier…”

Walking back into the interrogation room, you smiled victoriously as you slapped a folder full of evidence on the metal table in front of Diane. The deputies had found “a buttload” in Poppernak’s words.

Regardless, you knew Diane wasn’t stupid. If the deputies found something, she had wanted you to find it. For some reason, she wanted to be arrested. But you didn’t care what sick game she was playing. Cuffing her meant there’d be no more bodies, no more victims.

She gave you a titillated sneer, glimpsing at the file in front of her before finding your eyes again. She bit her lip, smirking. “Oooh, lookey, what you found there,” she mocked.

“It’s over, Diane. You’re under arrest for multiple murders among a plethora of other charges. But you already know that,” you told her firmly.

Beau’s features were stone-cold. He was pissed, radiating that fire burning inside of him for miles. He made the Yellowstone supervolcano look harmless. “Stand up and turn around. Hands behind your back.”

Diane did as told without any protest. She grinned at you the whole time when Beau manhandled her roughly into her handcuffs, bending her over the metal table as he read her the Miranda rights. You couldn’t shake the eerie feeling in your stomach, though. You had your killer, but somehow this felt far from over. You knew she had an ace up her sleeve and was waiting to lay it on the table.

“But we were just getting started,” she snarled. “Aren’t we having fun?”

“Fun usually looks a little different for me,” Beau retorted and forced her back onto the chair as soon as she was cuffed.

“I bet it does, Sheriff,” she purred with a flirtatious glimmer in her gray eyes. “I think I’ll wait with my confession till tomorrow. Let you two lovebirds enjoy your last night together.”

Beau and you shared a wary look at that. But deep in your heart, you knew there was nothing that could tear you apart. And you hoped Beau knew it, too.

“Look, bitch, I don’t care what you think you’ve planned, but it won’t drive a wedge between us. All it’s gonna do is piss us off more, got it?” you threatened and leaned forward on the table with an angrily knit brow.

Diane chuckled. “Confident. I always liked you, Agent. Aren’t you even a little curious what I’ve got in store for you?”

“No,” you replied without hesitation. You looked up at Beau and rose from your seat. “Let’s go. She’s not gonna talk tonight.”

Beau nodded, putting his hand on the small of your back, leading you outside the door. And just as your hand reached the handle, Diane decided to play her ace of hearts.

“It’s about your husband,” she noted innocently. You could hear the satisfaction in her voice as your whole body stiffened, muscles freezing. Beau felt it, too. His heart began to race. “Dead husband, of course. I always forget that part. Silly me.”

Beau’s hand on your back gave you a soft caress, telling you it was okay to turn around and find out. You didn’t want to care. And most of all, you didn’t want Beau to see that you did. But as you met his forest-green eyes, they were full of understanding.

“What about him?” you asked bravely, your chin held high as you faced her.

Her grin widened before her gaze wandered to Beau. “It’s in my pocket. Mind giving me a hand, Sheriff? You can even touch. I know you have a hard time keeping those hands to yourself,” she taunted.

You scoffed exasperatedly, rolling your eyes. “I’ll do it.”

“Oh, c’mon, Agent. Let me have a little fun. I’m about to be felt up by enough women,” she quipped.

You ignored her, hauling her to her feet by her elbow and holding her in place as your other hand dived into her back pocket. Your brow furrowed as your fingers identified a small plastic stick. Your frown deepened as you pulled out a familiar thumb drive. It wasn’t the first one you had received from her.

Twenty-five.

Had she taken another victim before giving herself up? What was so special about this one? What did it have to do with Randy? Did he ever cheat on you? Did Beau know?

You found that quite unbelievable. In fact, you knew there was no chance in hell that was true. But that did nothing to ease your conscience.

Your hand trembled in sync with your palpitating heartbeats. You tried to steady it as best as you could and keep your jumpy nerves in line as you slipped the small drive into its designated outlet on your laptop, not wanting the team that had gathered around and behind you to catch on to your unnerving emotions.

As you clicked on the MP4 file, your heart came to a standstill when a video popped open in the player. Pressing Play, you sucked in a breath and then forgot to breathe at all.

It only took you a glimpse to die inside.

“Oh God…”

It felt like suffocating. Like jumping off a steep seaside cliff and drowning. Your body hit the ocean rocks; your heart split open.

It only took Beau a second longer to catch on. The horror in your voice had put him on immediate alert before he recognized the figure on the screen, too.

As your head spun and your stomach turned upside down, you couldn’t find any words and bolted outside. You needed fresh air. You needed to breathe. And you needed to goddamn puke.

“Beau, what’s going on? Who’s the guy on the video? You know him?” Jenny asked, her gaze worriedly flashing in the direction you had fled.

Beau swallowed the thick lump in his throat, forcing the name out that had haunted him all those past years. “It’s Randy.”

Chapter 9: Marooned – NOVEMBER 29

Dun, dun, dun... The dead have risen in Montana! This is where it becomes a Walking Dead crossover (at least if you ask Donno 😂). Did you call the little resurrection action beforehand? 👀 Lemme know all your wild thoughts in the comments! 💭

So happy to be back with y'all! 🤍

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[thesundanceghost]

merry christmas, ive decided i would risk it all for this little capitalist macy’s man from miracle on 34th street