#would delete this in maybe a year or two later

[vynnyal]

Stuff I've made on my phone, I guess? Of varying levels of "quality"

[bluebellwren]

Maybe I'm just one of those people that looks at little things with incredible awe, but I can't imagine being one of the people that was bored by the turn of the century/didn't think it was interesting or exciting.

[sharkbit3z]

excuse my forsaken posting again but what the hell i actually didnt expect shedletsky to be so fun

[infinity-on-ri]

O yeah forgot I'm supposed to be writing that fic I talked about whoops

[bbokicidal]

Not a Need, but a Craving | Loser!Perv!SKZ

Warnings: Chris is lowkey a creep here lol, Perverted behavior; Panty stealing, slapping of tits/ass/face, hair pulling, up-the-skirt pics, one-sided masturbation, meandom?Jeongin Pairing: OT8 [individual] x Fem-implied!Reader Genre: Suggestive but not smut (well.. sort of. 18+) Notes: Based loosely off of this perv!skz post I did a while ago. <- read this first!

방찬

Relation: Trainees

❥ Chris tells himself he'll delete these pictures every time he takes them, but he always ends up adding them to the the album specifically curated towards you and your -- well, the panties he deemed so cute and so sexy, enough so that he needed the pictures on his phone or he'd die. It was the only thing that he could get off to at this point; Women just didn't ever seem to want to come home with him so he could actually get some pussy, so...

❥ He's almost... proud of himself with how slick he's gotten; Taking pictures up your dress at the club when you're dancing against him, sneaking a photo or two up your skirt on the train while you wait to get off, or even up your nightgown when you're in the kitchen making breakfast for him after he stayed the night because the ride home was hours long and you had too big of a heart to let him go so late in the night.

❥ And of course he knows you can never find out. You're pretty, popular amongst the trainees and he's -- yeah, he's been there a long chunk of time but he doesn't have a ton friends or go out with people like you do. If you found out, if anyone found out, he'd be kicked out of the company and he'd never see you - or your pretty pussy and cute lacy panties - ever again...

리노

Relation: College students

❥ Minho is always touching you. When he can, at least.

❥ It started all because you sat next to him when studying. He was there to help you, but you insisted on moving closer to look at the textbook he was gesturing to and the moment your thigh brushed against his own it was all over for him. He'd tensed up and choked on every word that tried to leave his throat, ears bright pink. He could even smell your perfume from where he sat.

❥ He knew almost immediately he needed more, so as he came over more often to help you with classwork - because that's all he was to you, a tutor - he would let you sit close or even ask you to come sit beside him instead of across the table so he could have you right there. He would think about it later, too; The way your hand lingered on his arm when you patted it and bid him goodbye that evening, the way your fingertips brushed over his own as you eyed the textbook together.

❥ Maybe he was a bigger loser than he thought, getting off just from the simple touch of a pretty girl he shares a class with. (Not that he'd ever admit to you that sometimes he comes in his pants when your thighs touch his own under the table...)

창빈

Relation: Gym buddies

❥ Changbin was... still shameless.

❥ But even less so, now. He'd begun asking you to come to the gym with him all three times of the week he went - his schedule a bit busier than normal these days - and every single time he would go home and right away hop in the shower to tug on his cock.

❥ He'd started doing this... thing. He swore it was so that at the end of the year, you could create a video that showed your progress over every day you spent together at the gym working hard - but really, Changbin took photos of you two together at the end of your workouts just so he could use them while he got off later that evening. The sight of your hair all messy, you in slightly damp workout leggings and a sports bra, skin shiny with a thin layer of sweat...

❥ He knew it was a little gross, using your body to get off like that. Especially when you were sweaty in all of the pictures - But he preferred it that way. He could hear your heavy breathing in his ears even hours after you'd parted ways, the way your chest bumped his arm as he flexed and you held up a playful peace sign and smile. Call him gross all you want - He knew what he liked, and what he liked was you.

현진

Relation: Friend of a friend

❥ The collection was growing day by day and Hyunjin was getting more and more bold with every move he made. He never got the real thing because girls just weren't interested in him with his long hair, glasses, and pretty round eyes; so this was the best he'd get.

❥ He'd started sleeping over more often, using Felix as a reason to even be there in the first place. You two were close, he was close with the Australian - so he was automatically invited too, right? Right! And when he was over at your house and you were distracted playing a game with Felix, well - what was Hyunjin to do but go through your drawers and find something to take home with him?

❥ He's got favorites, of course. Anything pink is by far at the top of his 'I want this' list, stealing a lacy pair the first time he came over - then two more pair, one set seamless and the other covered in cherries, the next time he visited. Luckily for you, he doesn't stay the night at your place too often, or you'd be running out of underwear constantly with how he's stealing them left and right.

❥ But Hyunjin swears he's seen you stealing glances at him here and there, so... maybe if you knew he was using them to jerk himself off every night or sleeping with them curled up near his face so he could rest with your scent right beside him, you'd be more open to just handing him a pair to keep.

❥ It's only a matter of time before he starts taking the used ones.

한

Relation: College Roommates

❥ Jisung can't help the way he's just so... submissive? Around you?

❥ Let me explain. Jisung's developed a real bad habit of acting like he needs help from you when you're around because if he needs help, you'll touch him. He'll eat messier than normal so you'll wipe his lips clean for him - and yes, he'll practically come in his pants at the feeling of your thumb so close to slipping in his mouth - or he'll almost act as if he doesn't know how to do something so you'll hold his hands while you explain or hold onto him as you help him learn how to do something. Even if he's just faking being a bit of a himbo so you'll help him.

❥ And one of the reasons he gets away with this ^ so easily? Is because he's a known loser around campus and he's constantly teased for it. And you..? Well, you're the pretty girl who takes pity on him.

❥ His favorite is when you come to check on him at night or peek in to see if he's sleeping before you shower. He'll hum out that his head hurts or that his back aches from training all day or working out - and you'll comb his hair through your fingers or rub your hands down his back until he's falling asleep under your touch. And while, yes, it does help him sleep in the long run - it also makes him rock hard. The moment you leave the room after he 'falls asleep' he's rutting his hips down against the mattress and whimpering your name into his pillow.

필릭스

Relation: Best friend's brother

❥ Felix is affectionate with everyone he's close to. But you -- you're beautiful, and soft, and your tits are just so...

❥ Call him a loser if you want - he knows it's what he is. A desperate, shy, sweet angel who's booksmart and tries way too hard to be cool, who hangs around the pretty, popular girl because she's his sister's best friend. Just the precious little brother who sees that gorgeous girl once or twice a week at his home and takes it as an opportunity to hang around her; Hugging onto you, burying his face in your neck, cuddling up close during movies.

❥ And you let him cling to you because 1) He's hot, and 2) You know it's the only touch from a woman he'll ever get. And you suppose you don't mind the way his hands wander over your body when he swears he's just cuddling close and getting comfortable. You're pretty sure he doesn't realize you know he's feeling you up and groping every curve of your body, but. Ignorance is bliss.~

승민

Relation:

❥ It starts as an accident.

❥ Seungmin's hand caught in your hair when he laid it on your back and as he pulled away, his ring caught and pulled. He'd moved away so fast it had been enough to make your head lull back, a gasp and yell of pain and laughter falling from your lips as you reach to push his arm away.

❥ And Seungmin... -- God. He's weak in the knees. He spots the way your mouth falls open, your nose crinkles and eyes close at the feeling of your hair being pulled. And he knows in that moment that he needs to see you like that again.

❥ So he does it as a joke; subtle and cautious about it at first. You'll play fight or bicker about anything and Seungmin will pull your hair, fingers fisted tight in the strands until his hand was so close to your scalp that he had full control of your head. On one instance he had pulled you close until his face was inches from yours, cocking a brow and listening to you whine about how tight he was holding onto your hair - and another, you'd dropped forward into his lap in laughter while he was still holding onto you and he swore he almost shot a load in his boxers. That was the closest a woman had ever been to his hips - And if you didn't feel the way his cock twitched against the side of your face, it would've been a miracle.

���이엔

Relation: Close friends

❥ Jeongin loves being a little mean to you because you're the only woman in his life who will let him get away with it.

❥ You're one of his closest friends, even if he's kind of lame and everyone looks down on him for being the youngest in his group - and you're the one who openly bickers with him, teases him, and he does it all back to you and you take it, which surprises him a little bit. You let him pull on you and wrestle with you or cling to you when he's tired, even if he's all sweaty and gross. But sometimes the wrestling or bickering turns to pushing and pulling on each other until you're both on the floor and he's holding you down while you're kicking to be free.

❥ The first time he spanks you, all he remembers is the way you cry out and feeling of your ass against his palm. He plays it off by laughing because that's what you do, completely disregarding it and brushing it off before spanking him as well in retaliation - and he lets it happen. Not because he's into it, but because he's too distracted with trying to figure out how to hide the fact that he's so hard it hurts.

❥ He's going to need more of that feeling in the future. He knows he does - so he does it again to test the waters and when you, once again, laugh at it and take it as play-fighting, he dares to go further. These days the two of you are always slapping at each other's arms and thighs and ass - but if he's feeling really bold he'll slap your tits and sometimes, your face. Gently, of course, little taps here and there when it comes to your cheeks. And each time you take it in stride with giggles and slapping him in return, while he gets off to it later that evening in the bathroom stall after practice, remembering the way you feel under his palms when he spanks you.

❥ And that's how Jeongin discovered his impact play kink.

Permanent Taglist :

@dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground

@thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

@jeonginsleftcheek @felixleftchickennugget @byeon-bae

[narcjsistx]

𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 | sae, kaiser, rin, reo and isagi

plot: domestic shit because I love fluff stuff 🌷 the characters chosen seem to me to be the most "visible" with little girls... so yeah. I'm actually not very sure of the result, maybe I'll delete it sooner or later to do it again

✶ 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

— sae itoshi

If there was one thing Sae had understood since becoming a parent, it was that having two children was complicated. On one hand he was now understanding all of his mother's concerns when, as children, Rin was unmanageable

We know however that males, if brothers, are somehow a little more manageable. Females, if sisters, are not. He was the father of two girls

As much as he loved them, he agreed with you when you said it would have been better to wait a few more years. But then he looks at his girls in the face, he regrets even thinking about it a little, because he loves them too much

In his eyes he sees him and Rin when they were kids: Sayami, the eldest, looks awfully like him because of her reddish hair, but in character she is like you. Semika, the youngest, is different from him in appearance but identical in character. Sayami brings out Semika's very hidden, but existing, sociable side. The only trait that makes girls similar are those damned undereyelashes that have marked the Itoshi family for generations

“Love, when are you going to let them go?”

"No."

"Sae, we've already talked about this..."

"I said no"

"Sae."

"I already said no, Y/n.”

"Y'know, they're already 7 years old. Sooner or later it will happen..."

"Not as long as I'm alive"

...a simple child had asked Sayami if she and her sister wanted to go play with him. Sae took their hand and walked out of the park as fast as he could with his treasures

✶ Sae tries hard to talk with her little girls. In a relationship not talking, or in any case having some communication problems, can be understood... with little girls no, because they would take it as a rejection. He ALWAYS goes out of his way to talk to them as much as possible, also because he loves the moments when they come home from school and, together, they chat about what happened during the day

✶ Let's be honest, Sae doesn't have much other knowledge or passions apart soccer, which was probably imposed on him as a child. He has not the slightest intention of making any of his girls leave school: if like him they end up having to change country to follow a sport, Sae will have to be absolutely sure that they are studying at the same time. He doesn't want them to be like him, because he knows how difficult is that life

Favorite father-daughter(s) activity: resting with them. Sae is often busy with his career, training and of course with his beautiful wife, but he always tries to make time in the evenings (if he's not out of town for a match) with his daughters. He likes to lie down on the bed or on the sofa, before dinner, with the girls who tell him everything exciting they did that day

When you and your little girl(s) show up at one of his games: he hides it well but LOVES when you come to watch him play. If he is normally a prodigy, in front of his daughters he must seem even better. When he scores a goal the first thing he would do is turn towards you, no celebration because it's not his style, but he would wave to his daughters who are cheering for him from the stands. Once the game is over he would ignore the interviewers, as he normally does, and simply come to you to claim his victory kiss

— kaiser micheal

Having children, whether boys or girls, was NOT in Michael's plan. I mean, how can someone who had such a complicated childhood have children? Even if he hides it, he has an enormous fear of being able to make someone of his own blood suffer, voluntarily or not, what he has experienced. He just knows that if something has to happen, it happens. And he doesn't know what fate has in store for his possible heir. He might hate his kid and disown him or her like his parents, if they can be called in that way, did with him

When he found out that he was going to become a father, and with a daughter, he seriously thought for a few moments about simply walking away. Not that he hated you, he couldn't, but it was really strange for him to think that someone of his own blood, his kid, was about to born

Kaiser can't explain how all the worries he had collapsed the moment he held Anneliese, his daughter, in his arms for the first time. Just by seeing and hearing her, he wondered how he could even remotely think that he could hypothetically hurt such a wonderful being

Anneliese quickly became the center of Kaiser's world, along of course with the beautiful mother of his little girl. It can be said that his daughter is a shameless copy of him, both in appearance and character: long, blonde hair, proud and always challenging temperament. One might doubt that she is your daughter but not that she is not Kaiser's. She is liteeerally him

...Sitting on the sofa, Anneliese is watching one of her father's old match. The assist with a teammate ends badly, but the ball returns to Kaiser's possession again and he scores a goal

“Dad, the next time you pass the ball to someone unworthy, I will be even more angry than I am now!”

"I understand, don't worry. I can't make my little girl angry again, can I?"

"Mihya, on the field you have to do what you feel, don't listen to her..."

"How can I not listen to our little girl, Schatz?"

✶ Kaiser loves to take his daughter with him everywhere: whether it's to an interview, to training or to a match, Anneliese is almost certainly with him or next to you. He loves when you and your little girl cheer for him during a match, even more if he knows that if he scores there will be your lips kissing him and the little girl's little arms hugging him. He shows a lot his family and his being a fantastic father (you tell him too, he's a little insecure about this) in front of his teammates. The emperor's family!

✶ Ness is practically the little girl's uncle. He never stopped idolizing Micheal, even more so when he discovered that now there was no longer just one Kaiser but two. Micheal is slightly jealous, he doesn't like that his daughter spends so much time with Ness... he hates seeing his Anneliese so happy with an adult other than him or her mother

Favorite father-daughter(s) activity: he loves when his daughter plays with his hair, especially with the blue parts. Seeing the cerulean blue on his little girl's pale hands, as she braids it or whatever it is, makes him tender. He once dreamed of Anneliese with the exact same hair as him and he admits he wouldn't mind seeing her that way. Maybe blue tipped hair could be the Kaiser's new trademark

When you and your little girl(s) show up at one of his games: whenever you and Anneliese come to a game, the first thing he makes sure to do is that you have a seat in the VIP section. He loves seeing the stadium celebrate for him because his family is there to see him, it's something that feeds his ego. As soon as the match was over he would have you go down onto the field with him, the little girl in his arm and his other arm around your waist as he holds you close to him

— rin itoshi

In his mind Rin, the few times he imagined himself, he always saw himself as the father of a son, and nothing more. Not brothers, as much as he actually liked the idea, just a child and above all a boy. He would have been happy like that

As much as he liked the idea of ​​a possible second child, with his job he wouldn't be able to dedicate the time he knows children deserve. At the same time he doesn't want to leave all the work to you, because parenting is something that is usually done by two. One child would have been enough

He doesn't know how but at a certain point in his life, he found himself with three daughters, all of whom were no more than two years apart. At first it was just a child, your beautiful Ayaka, then suddenly Homura also appeared and finally Rika

The idea of ​​just one boy dematerialized pretty quickly. But he loves his girls so much that, when sometimes he thinks of his original idea, he curses himself: how could he deprive himself of the presence and love of his girls?

All the girls resemble him tremendously, both in character (the one before the incident with Sae) and in appearance, obviously talking about the undereyelashes signed 'Itoshi'. Ayaka, only, is the female version of her father. Homura and Rika have taken something from their mother, but Ayaka could almost resemble Sae too... well, he is her uncle after all, right?

"Dad, Rika doesn't pass the ball when she plays!"

"You can't handle it either, Homura! You can't even pass me games at home!"

"Girls, calm down"

"Learn to score on goal first, before complaining"

...The situation seemed to be calm under Rin's control, but Ayaka broke the calm by scoring a perfect goal into the net of the private home soccer field. New prodigy?

✶ Rin often thinks about what might happen if, in the future, he ever does something that could divide her daughters. He has no preference between them, but he is always terrified that he might do something wrong that could create inequalities that he doesn't want, because in a certain sense, what happened between him and Sae must not happen in another generation of the Itoshi. He bond and love between his daughters must exist forever, not deteriorate as happened with his Nii Chan

✶ He would try to get his daughters to try as many sports as possible. As much as Rin loves soccer, his choice was influenced by the fact that Sae played it... what if he was now a world champion in, idk, volleyball? NO OKAY. He simply likes to make all 3 try new things, looking for something that maybe they could dedicate themselves with passion

Favorite father-daughter(s) activity: when his little girls organize themselves to do makeup on him. He's got a pretty mysterious look to maintain, but if Homura has decided that he's going to show up at practice tomorrow wearing orange nail polish, he'll show up that way. Not that he has any problem fighting anyone who has something to say against him, but no one dares. Rin loves to see them concentrate while putting on mascara or a completely disgusting shade of lipstick

When you and your little girl(s) show up at one of his games: if he knows that you are there to see him play, he will do everything to score as many goals as possible and, above all, quickly: he wants to keep his girls' expectations high. Once he scored a goal he would raise his hand to the sky, waiting for his girls to do the same thing because it has now become a gesture that only each other understands. At the end of the game the first thing he would do is go up to the stands to be with you, fuck his lukewarm teammates

— reo mikage

Looking after Nagi was like taking a pre parenting course. Nagi essentially has the needs of a child if you ignore the fact that he is 17 years old and 1.90cm tall, so Reo knows quite well what a child needs. Then, he always saw the maids in his house bring their young children to work when possible: Reo loved playing with them or picking them up, or just generally spending time with them. The idea of ​​having children, sooner or later and with a special person, has actually always interested him. He always said to himself, but in reality he hoped, that he would find the person who would love him for simply being Reo and not for his money... and then you came along!

His idea has always been of only one child because he is afraid that, sooner or later, two possible children could fight over the money of the Mikage company. Everything is unpredictable, right? So he doesn't want to risk anything

His original idea was respected. When he held Hikari for the first time he simply understood that he wouldn't be able to create, obviously with you, such a cute and perfect being again

The only similarity that links Hikari to her father is the same hair color, that strong purple. For the rest she is completely her mother, and Reo loves this even more: it's cute to see a mini version of you, but with some of his features, walking around the house. His new sweet treasure!!

"So, this... this, yes, also this... that... this"

"Reo, honey, what are you doing with that newspaper?"

"Nothing dangerous. Don't worry"

"What are you doing though? You make me curious"

"I told you not to worry, honey. Trust me."

...Reo was marking all the objects, approximately 300, in a catalog of toys and children's products. If he has money, why can't he spend it if he knows it will make his daughter happy?

✶ The first person Reo told that he was going to be a father was obviously Nagi. Let's say that at first Seishiro wasn't really believing it, but when he saw that pregnancy test... oh... yes, he definitely believed it. It often happens that Hikari stays with Nagi for days at a time, as the little girl sees him as a giant she can annoy. Reo often tells his daughter not to bother Nagi too much, but it secretly makes him laugh to see Seishiro so awkward with Hikari because he doesn't know how to handle children (himself??)

✶ If there's one thing he would never do, it would be to push Hikari into running the Mikage company once she grows up. Reo hated living his childhood with the knowledge that he already had a predetermined destiny, and he doesn't want Hikari to have the same treatment. She want to become a doctor? It will become one. She want to become a farmer? It will become one. She want to become president of the world? It will become one. He simply wants her to do what she loves

Favorite father-daughter(s) activity: travel the world with his daughter or of course with you too. The money is there, and what better way is there to spend it than learning and traveling? Hikari, at less than 5 years old, had already visited half the world. Reo loves taking her to different places and seeing her reactions so amazed. His favorite will remain forever when they arrived in New York, where Hikari didn't stop smiling for a second

When you and your little girl(s) show up at one of his games: it is obvious to say that he would pay to let you have the VIP of the VIP, his girls deserve the best, right?. He would feel amazing among all his teammates knowing that his family is there for him while there is no one for them. At the end of the game he would let the cameras record him hugging you and Hikari, why would he hide all the love he has for you from the cameras?

— isagi yoichi

Isagi was relatively happy as a child: his parents loved him, he played the sport he loved, he didn't do badly at school. Everything was happy for him in his early life. The only thing he often noticed were his classmates with older or younger siblings, who yeah argued with each other, but at the same time loved each other very much. He didn't suffer from loneliness from being the only child, not that, but he was always intrigued by the concept of not being the only child in the family

Since you've been dating seriously, and even before actually, he's always thought that his future family would model what he had: loving parents, one child, two if they had the chance

When Fujiko was born there was this plan in his mind: okay, now we dedicate ourselves to her, we give her everything she needs... then, if we want, we will have another child. Both you and Yoichi were very convinced that a max of 5 years after the birth of the kid you would try again, but Fujiko filled your lives so much that you decided that only she was good for the whole life

Fujiko's appearance bears little resemblance to her father's, maybe just a few facial features. If we talk about character, however, everything changes completely: it's a kind of Isagi 2.0, the same determination coupled with a lot of kindness. We will find out later if she also has bipolar disorder on and off the field like her dad- WHO SAID THAT??

"Fujiko, why aren't there any more pencil in your pencilcase?"

"Mom, I had to give them to some friends. Otherwise they couldn't write what the teacher said"

"This kindness reminds me of someone"

"Who? Who? Who?"

"Think about it: who do you consider to be the kindest person in the world?"

"My dad!"

...doing homework with your daughter, you noticed that some things were missing. Isagi is kind, one of the kindest in the world; when you told him about it he was perplexed, because he too would have done the exact same thing... just like his little girl

✶ Having now become a professional striker, he often does not have the opportunity to spend long periods at home due to champions or special training sessions. When this happens he is happy to leave because soccer is his passion anyway, on the other hand he dies inside every time he hugs his daughter or you for the last time. He loves his family, he would like to always be with you and Fujiko because you give him courage, but he understands that always moving with him from city to city, or even from country to country, is complicated and, above all, tiring

✶ He would like to direct Fujiko towards soccer, but at the same time he knows that he cannot choose something that is actually up to her. He has the belief that Fujiko would probably be good as him, unlocking her own version of the meta vision, but he prefers to see her little girl happy with the things she has chosen and loves

Favorite father-daughter(s) activity: he likes when they watch the games Isagi has already played. Television often replays reruns of recent or even old matches, and whenever Isagi is present on the field, Fujiko is the first to ask to watch them together. Yoichi enjoys seeing her so amazed by the actions on the field, commenting on anything that she doesn't understand because she rightfully doesn't know the rules of soccer. The thing that amuses him most is explaining to her who are the people he passes the ball, whether they are his friends or not, but now for Fujiko there is only Bachira with the title of dad's friend

When you and your little girl(s) show up at one of his games: the mere fact that you come to see him play is a lot for him, but since you and Fujiko once showed up wearing a jacket that said "biggest fan of number 11" on the back, he understood that he didn't it would matter if he were to be burned alive if he did it for you. Unfortunately the insults would always be there, but he would try to contain himself in front of his little girl. At the end of the game the first thing he would do is come to you and let you onto the field, making you celebrate with him

[ahiijny]

previous reblogged post

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Conrad deserves better than Belly. After he sees Jere and her kiss, he get his ass to Stanford and meet this cute and smart maybe tutor girl (Haley James style) and falls in love with her and then they show up at Jere's wedding years later and Belly is jelly

I've spent the last five days working on this one.

p.s. it's 2k words...

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

When Conrad finished his exam, he went back to Jeremiah and Belly. He was going to tell and confess his love to her before she had to get home, but when he got to his car, the scene Conrad walked on made him sick to his stomach: Belly and Jeremiah were full on making out against his car. He stopped short of the car and cleared his throat, causing the two to spring apart from their heated kiss and see Conrad looking right at them. 

Conrad’s face was white. He would rather have had someone shoot him in the head with a nail gun, repeatedly, than have to watch the two of them kissing.

He didn't know who he was more angry at. Belly, who, not even a day ago, had told him she would have fought harder for him if she knew he loved her that much. Or Jeremiah, who, although he knew how much Belly meant to his brother and how fucking in love he was with her, seized the opportunity to kiss Belly the moment he was alone with her.

‘’Conrad—’’ Belly started, guilt settling in her guts. 

He cut her off, his voice cold and cutting. ‘’I don’t want to hear it.’’ 

His gaze shifted from Belly to Jeremiah. There was so much hate in his eyes. How could Jere do that to him? They agreed to stop hiding things from each other and talk, but Jeremiah must have forgotten already. 

‘’You broke up with her, Con, remember? We did nothing wrong,’’ Jeremiah said, pulling facts in his favor to make himself feel better — less guilty — for kissing his brother’s ex.  

When Conrad kissed Belly on the beach last summer, he didn’t know she and Jeremiah were a thing — if he could call it that — or that he liked her. If he had, he wouldn’t have kissed Belly or confessed his feelings to her. Had the situation had been in reverse, Conrad wasn’t sure Jeremiah would have backed off. 

‘’I’m done.’’ Conrad's voice was resolute, his heart heavy as he turned away, unable to bear the sight of them any longer.

Jeremiah moved to follow, calling out Conrad's name. He didn’t stop, needing to be as far as possible from the painful scene. His mind was racing with a jumble of emotions. Anger, betrayal, and a profound hurt gnawed at him. He had trusted both Belly and Jeremiah, yet they pulled this shit behind his back. 

‘’Why do you always have to act like that?’’ Jeremiah said as he quickened his pace to catch up. 

Finally, Conrad turned to face Jeremiah, his expression a mix of sorrow and resentment. ‘’You don’t get to tell me how to react, Jere. You kiss the girl I love outside my school, against my car while she’s wearing my sweatshirt. If you don’t see how disgusting and messed up it all sounds—’’

‘’She kissed me,’’ the younger one quickly defended. 

 Hearing this made him want to pack his bags, get his ass to stanford and focus on school. He needed to turn the Belly page, and in order to do that, he needed to be away from both she and Jeremiah. California seemed far enough, right?

*

The first days and weeks were tough for Conrad, struggling to accept the definite end of the relationship. She was still all over him like a wine-stained shirt he couldn’t wear anymore. 

He blocked both Belly and Jeremiah’ numbers. If he wanted to move on, he had to keep his distance from them. For a while, at least. Then, he deleted all the old pictures he kept of Belly on his phone. There was no going back for them anymore. 

He was done.

*

You met Conrad a little before Christmas break. Just like those cliché rom-coms, you walked right into him and spilled your chai latte all over his sweater. You wanted to break the cliché and not fall for the victim of your clumsiness, but after one look into those beautiful blue eyes, you knew it would be impossible. 

 After that day, you kept crossing paths around campus and, one afternoon, you asked him out. He was so surprised, but he said ‘yes’. 

Although you had sealed the end of the night with a few kisses, you decided to take things slow. You had a very busy schedule with the tutoring lessons on top of your regular program, and Conrad was unsure if it was too soon to get in another relationship, if he was ready for it. The scar Belly had left on his heart was healing, but was he ready to open his heart to someone again? 

‘’Have you ever been in love?’’ you asked one night in his dorm while studying. 

Your question had caught Conrad off guard. It was visible on his face. 

‘’Have you?’’ he returned, not taking his eyes off his textbook. 

He was trying to dodge the question. 

‘’I asked you first,’’ you said, seeing through his plan.

‘’Then yes.’’

‘’How many times?’’

‘’Once.’’

His answers were flat, annoyed he was by all your questions. He wished you would stop and get back to studying in silence, but you kept going. 

‘’On a scale of one to ten, how in love were you?’’

‘’You can’t put being in love on a scale,’’ he said, lifting his head with furrowed eyebrows. ‘’Either you are or you aren’t.’’

‘’But if you had to say.’’

Conrad started flipping through his notes. He hadn’t thought of Belly in months. He missed her — in a different way he used to. She was his friend before they got tangled into this mess.

He didn’t look at you when he finally said it. ‘’Ten.’’

*

The more time he spent in your presence, the more Conrad was — unknowingly — letting go of his past. 

The pictures he deleted months ago became pictures of you, filling his phone until there was no space left. The smell of your perfume lingered on some of his clothes and in his car. He had your coffee order memorized, along with your favorite study-break snack, which he made sure to have in stock in his dorm. 

You became part of his routine — part of his life —, brightening his days even on his darkest, saddest nights. 

He didn’t want to bother you, but nothing was calming the ache in his chest. He tried getting some air and smoking weed, he even thought of calling Laurel, but it was almost 2am in Pennsylvania. Conrad didn’t want to scare her. 

So he pulled up your contact and called, the weight of his grief still heavy in his heart, wishing Susannah was still there. He couldn't believe a full year had gone by since she took her last breath. 

You were about to slip into bed when you saw his name flashing on your phone. You almost didn’t pick up, but you got a gut feeling that he needed you. 

When you opened your door, a saddened look was etched onto Conrad's face, his beautiful eyes glistening with unshed tears. The sight pulled at your heart and you wrapped your arms around him, holding him for the whole night.

Supported each other through finals and all-nighters.

‘’Getting tired?’’ you said, catching him actively fighting against his own eyelids. 

Conrad shook his head, taking a long gulp of his coffee. ‘’No time for sleep. I have this huge exam first thing tomorrow and I still have a lot of chapters to cover.’’

‘’You can take a short nap if you want. I’ll wake you in thirty minutes,’’ you kindly offered, flipping through your notes for a specific annotation. 

‘’Nah, I’m good.’’ He flashed you a soft smile, then returned to his studying. 

A few minutes later, and you couldn't help but notice that Conrad's eyes had begun to droop. They would halfway close and then he would either blink a bunch of times, or widen his eyes until they were bug eyed. It was cute.

‘’Con? Conrad?’’ you called out gently. 

‘’I'm not sleeping. I'm resting my eyes,’’ he mumbled defensively, fighting fatigue.

There was no way he was getting through the night, so you put your notes down and slipped on Conrad’s flannel shirt that was on the back of your chair to shield you from the night air. ‘’We’re gonna need more coffee.’’ 

As you came back with two fresh cups of coffee, you found Conrad fast asleep on your pillow, still clutching his pen.

And held his hand through the rainiest times — literally.

‘’Isn't California supposed to be the sunniest state?’’ Conrad asked, watching the downpour through the windshield, drenched from head to toe. ‘’The seats are all wet...’’ 

‘’You gotta learn to live with the consequences of your own actions, Connie baby.’’ 

It was his idea to get waffles when the sky was looking very gray and angry. He insisted that it would clear out, but a loud clap of thunder echoed on your way back to the car and rain started pouring. You took the road back to campus, but it got too dangerous, forcing Conrad to stop the car on the shoulder of the road and wait for the rain to calm. 

You wiped your face with the sleeve of your hoodie and a smile curled on Conrad’s lips, still the most beautiful to his eyes despite your wet hair and the slight smear of mascara under your eyes. 

 ‘’Rain happens everywhere. Even in the dryest desert,’’ you reminded him, pulling out your phone to check the weather app.‘’Unfortunately, this one isn't gonna stop anytime soon.’’

You toed off your sneakers, making Conrad draw his eyebrows.

‘’What are you doing?’’

‘’We’re gonna be here for a while.’’ You peeled off your hoodie — also wet from the rain —, leaving you in your skirt and dainty bralette. ‘’Might as well occupy ourselves,’’ you explained before leaning over the middle console and kissing him, fastening yourself to him with a stitch. 

The kiss took him by surprise, but he wasn’t complaining. He could spend hours kissing you and never get bored. 

You crawled over the console and on Conrad’s lap without breaking contact, your hands easily finding grip on his hair as you felt his hands all over your body, caressing and pulling. The windows were fogging quickly around you, creating a veil of privacy as more layers were peeled off.

Conrad once believed he had found love, that Belly was it for him, but the feelings he felt back then were nothing compared to how he felt right now. 

‘’You’re the best thing that happened to me,’’ he confessed, his forehead pressed against yours. 

*

The invitation came in a few weeks before the wedding. Conrad couldn’t believe his brother was going through with this. Everything was happening so fast and seemed rushed. Him and Belly weren’t even twenty. Who gets married so young anymore? 

He arrived in Cousins a few days prior to the wedding, surprising everyone — and stealing the attention from the soon-to-be-weds — when they saw a girl with him. 

The only person who knew exactly who you were was Steven. A few months ago, you had posted a picture with Conrad at the beach and tagged him, leading to Steven finding out about his friend’s new girlfriend. He was surprised when he saw it, but very happy for Conrad. He deserved better than someone who plays between two hearts. 

Laurel put down the table-center she was holding and went over to pull Conrad in a hug. She turned to you, making quick introductions, and Conrad held his breath. He’s always been close to Laurel and her approval meant more to him than his father’s or Jeremiah’s. 

While the two of you engaged into a conversation, he saw her. Belly. Dressed in a white sundress and talking to Taylor, she looked just the same. The only difference was, Conrad felt nothing. No pain, no old feelings rising back. 

For the first time, what’s past was past.

‘’Belly, come greet Connie and his girlfriend,’’ Laurel called out to her daughter. 

Although you had never met her, you could tell exactly who she was in the room — and not only because her dress was white. The jealousy filling her eyes when they fell on you gave her away.

—

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[nadvs]

imperfect strangers (one-shot)

pairing zach maclaren x female reader

rating mature 18+

summary after a painful break-up, you and zach go no contact, agreeing it’s best to cut yourselves out of each other’s lives. when he cracks and texts you a month later that he’ll be at your college for a game, you lie to yourself that seeing him can’t be that bad of an idea.

» masterlist

· · ── ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ── · ·

Zach has been dreading tomorrow’s game. And it’s only because it’s at your college.

He keeps going back and forth on if he should break the promise he made to you and himself that he wouldn’t contact you.

He blames the fatigue from a strenuous practice. It’s what muddles his mind and makes him give in.

You two agreed that cutting all ties was best. But he’s just reaching out to an old friend that he might run into. That’s what he tells himself.

You’re sitting in a lecture when Zach’s name flashes on your phone. Your heart leaps at the notification and you hate that it does that.

You were supposed to delete his number, but it felt wrong. He wasn’t just your boyfriend. He was your best friend.

Removing him from your life wrecked you, so little things like keeping his contact information and the promise ring he gave you the day of your high school graduation feel like acts of rebellion against the hardest decision you’ve ever made.

Zach: Hey. How are you? I’m playing at your school tomorrow. Just wondering if you’ll be watching :)

You reread his text a few times. You know he has a game here tomorrow. You’ve been following his soccer season even though you know you shouldn’t.

On the screen, you see the last messages you exchanged, a little over a month ago.

Zach: Wish you nothing but the best. You deserve it.

You replied: you, too.

The night of your break-up was agony. Your video call lasted three hours.

Zach’s eyes were glossy, matching yours. His dark honey hair was tousled and sticking in every direction after he raked his hand through it over and over in frustration.

Your dorm rooms slowly got darker as night fell, neither of you bothering to turn on a light. It was a cruel reminder that you’re not even a timezone apart. Your schools have only four hours between them and you couldn’t manage to make a one-year relationship work over the distance.

Hurtful words were exchanged. You accused him of neglecting your relationship. He told you his extra efforts in school and soccer didn’t mean you weren’t a priority. He said you were giving up on him. You retaliated that you were working harder to stay together than he was.

Somehow, things still ended civilly. You agreed that the distance was too much of a big, ugly, unavoidable wedge driving you apart.

You’re convinced that ending on good terms hurts more than ending on bad terms. It would be easier to hate him.

Your fingers hover over your screen, wondering what you should say. If you should say anything. You realize this means he didn’t delete your number, either. Maybe he’s been holding onto hope, too.

You decide to reply, trying to act casual and in good spirits.

You: I’ll try to make it! Just don’t be mad that I’m cheering for the home team :)

He’s grateful you texted back. He misses you so much that it hurts.

Getting better has been a slow climb for Zach. You two lasted a couple of months of long distance before calls slowly shortened and texts became infrequent. It was too hard juggling everything.

Now, he’s putting his all into school and soccer. It’s all he has left.

When dark clouds roll in on the day of the game, you think about how Zach never liked the rain and you hate that you’re doomed to remember these insignificant things about someone you’re not supposed to be in love with anymore.

You decide not to go to the game. It’ll be too hard watching him play like you used to.

But eventually, you lie to yourself that it’ll be fine and your feet are dragging you to the stadium on campus, your umbrella blocking the raindrops. You join the roaring crowd, sitting in the bleachers.

You always sat behind the opponents’ net. At every one of his matches. Zach is a striker and whenever he’d score a goal, he’d be right in your eyeline.

He would find you in the crowd when he scored, beaming at you before his team swallowed him in a group hug.

But that’s where you sat when Zach was your boyfriend. And he’s not anymore. So you find an empty seat on the side, close to the middle of the field.

You spot him immediately. He’s running down the field, his cheeks flushed.

The same boy who nervously asked you out the second day of senior year. The same boy you gave your first kiss to. The same boy who called you the moment he found out he was granted a full-ride scholarship. Now slowly becoming a stranger.

This is too hard. You need to leave.

But then you watch Zach gain possession of the ball and he’s running fast and suddenly, he collides with a player on the opposing team, sliding in one of the mud puddles scattered across the field.

The crowd erupts in a mournful whine, reacting to what was surely a painful impact.

You’re on your feet, rigid, heart racing as you watch him in the distance. He’s not getting up. Why isn’t he getting up?

You wedge your way out of the aisle and rush to the bottom of the bleachers, hands gripping the cold, wet barricade at the same level as the field.

A medic runs out onto the pitch but when he reaches Zach, he’s slowly standing up on his own. But then he leans over, hands on his knees, shaking his head.

The medic beckons Zach to put an arm around his shoulders and leads him off the field while the referee holds up a yellow card against the other player.

Zach’s hamstring is throbbing in pain as he limps through the wet grass, his cleats heavy, but when he sees you standing at the front of the stands, everything feels better.

He thought you wouldn’t attend. His lips quirk up in a smile. Your stomach twists.

Zach’s coach is trying to get his attention once he reaches the sideline, but he mumbles something to him and disconnects from the medic and closes the distance between you two, his steps short and quick.

“You came,” he says, blue eyes travelling over your face. It’s only been a month but he swears, it feels like it’s been years since he’s seen you.

The bright stadium lights are emphasizing every plane and feature of his handsome face. His hair is soaked and plastered to his skin, his uniform muddy.

“You okay?” you ask over the loud chattering crowd surrounding you.

No. He’s far from okay.

“Survived worse,” he says with that smirk that is so typically Zach.

“MacLaren!” his coach calls.

“I’ll find you later?” he asks. Your eyebrows lower in confusion. You know he typically goes straight back to his school after a game with his team. But you just meekly nod.

The game ends in a tie. Zach texts you that he’ll meet you outside in front and takes a rushed, hot shower in the locker room.

You’re standing under a streetlamp outside of the stadium, spectators pooling out of wide doors. The rain is simply spitting now, your umbrella closed in your hand.

When you watch Zach pace towards you, all cleaned up after a shower, a big duffel bag over his shoulder, you’re so happy you came. Even though it hurts, it also feels so good to see him.

“You’re walking totally fine,” you say when he approaches you. “Did you fake it?”

He loves how you make a joke right away because that’s what you would do when you were together and it’s nice to feel like you are.

Zach laughs and pulls you in for a hug and you hate how the smell of his shampoo makes an uncomfortable nostalgia rush through you.

But this is who Zach is. He’s always been warm and affectionate and cheerful.

He notices how tense you are in his arms and pulls back quickly. Maybe giving into the impulse to hold you was a bad idea.

“A yellow was ridiculous, right?” he asks. “That deserved a red.”

You gaze up at him now that he’s so close to you and try not to get enamored.

“How bad is it?” you say, glancing down at his leg. The concern in your eyes makes his whole body feel like it’s been wrung out.

“Just a sprain,” he says. “Didn’t pull anything.”

“Good,” you say, nodding. “How long are you out for?”

This feels like a conversation you’d have when you were together. Next, you’d ask if he needs a massage and that would always lead to making love, but that’s not happening this time.

“Next game isn’t until Wednesday, so I might be fine,” Zach answers. You know all about his team’s schedule, even their standings, but you don’t tell him.

A tense silence settles between you now that the small talk has been used up.

“So, this is no contact?” you ask.

Now that the break-up has been acknowledged out loud, Zach is disappointed. He liked having his head in the clouds and pretending like you’re still his.

“You texted back,” he teases, his eyes glinting in their usual playful way.

“Back,” you emphasize, pointing to him, finally cracking a smile. “You started it.”

“We can be friends, right?” Zach says. “It’s weird not talking to you.”

Being friends hurts. You both agreed to that. But he’s here already and things feel so good with him, so you ignore your instincts.

“Sure,” you simply say. Your short response throws him off.

“Nice campus,” he says.

“Yeah,” you agree. “I was gonna give you a tour when...” When he visited as your boyfriend. You never made it that far.

It was unlike Zach, the way he started to flake on promises to visit or call. You gave him grace, but you eventually reached your limit.

“You can give me a tour now,” he says, pushing the conversation into easier territory. He always had a knack for that.

“You sure you can walk?” you ask. He misses that tone of voice of yours. When you’re worried about him.

“Come on,” he says with an exaggerated scoff. “You’re acting like I’m some kind of baby.”

In reality, he always loved being babied by you.

“When are you guys heading back?” you ask. You already noticed the massive branded bus you assume he arrived on parked in the stadium lot.

“I drove up by myself, actually,” he tells you. “I’m gonna go see my family later.”

Your college is only half an hour away from your shared hometown. You nod and turn, silently beckoning him to walk with you.

“How are they?” you ask.

Zach shrugs, looking down. He’s always been close to his family and they always loved you, so telling them you broke up was almost as hard as the break-up itself.

“Mad at me,” he admits. “I told them it was mutual, but…”

“Yeah, your mom texted me,” you say.

“She did? What’d she say?” He sounds surprised.

“I probably shouldn’t tell you if she didn’t tell you herself.”

His mom’s message went into just how perfectly you fit into their lives, how upsetting it is that Zach let you go, how happy you make her son. You didn’t have the heart to tell her you don’t make him happy anymore.

You remember so clearly how she ended the message. I hope this is just a temporary bump in the road.

“Come on, tell me,” he urges with a joking tone.

“Zach,” you say quietly. “I’m sorry - I, um - we shouldn’t get into this, right?”

His smile fades. With a deep breath, he nods and looks at the ground again.

“Right,” he says.

Like always, Zach gently complies. You naturally took on a more dominant role in your relationship, leading while he happily followed, even during intimacy. It’s what you bring out in each other and falling back into your roles feels effortless.

“How much time do you have?” you ask, checking your phone to see that it’s merely minutes past six.

“Couple of hours,” he tells you. “You hungry?”

You know if you tell him you’re not, he’ll feel bad dragging you to a restaurant.

“There’s a place I think you’d like,” you say.

You’re soon sitting across from each other at an on-campus eatery, talking to each other like friends, covering safe topics like classes and dorm life.

It’s not exactly easy, but you were together for so long that holding a conversation with Zach is second nature.

“Aren’t you going to eat that?” he finally asks, pointing to your plastic-wrapped sandwich. He’s almost done with his food, while you haven’t taken a bite.

“Later. I’m not hungry.”

“What?” Zach watches you from his side of the table, heart thrumming at the adorable way you shrug.

“You wouldn’t have gotten food if you knew I wasn’t going to eat.”

“Oh, my God,” he laughs.

“You know I’m right.”

“You didn’t have to do that, babe.”

You both awkwardly straighten in your seats, bodies firming as far apart as possible. Your knees pull together. He rubs the back of his neck.

“Sorry.” Zach’s voice is low, eyes focused on the table. The term of endearment he used to always use for you just slipped out.

You feel stupid for thinking this would be okay. It’s way too hard to pretend like you don’t love him. You collect your bag and umbrella off the table.

“I should go. It was good to see you,” you mumble.

“You’re leaving?” Zach asks, a slight whine to his tone.

“This was a bad idea,” you say, avoiding eye contact, words quiet and rushed. “You should go see your family.”

You rush out of the building into the dark evening, the cold air pressing against your skin, hot tears welling in your eyes.

Zach’s leg is aching as he jogs behind you, but he’d do anything for you just talk to him, at least look at him one more time.

“Wait,” you hear. “Please.” The desperation in his voice is what gets you to slow down, letting him close the rest of the distance.

You’re standing on a pathway between a building and a courtyard, chewing on your lip, grateful nobody else seems to be around.

When Zach catches up to you, his chin dips as he studies your face, raising his hands inches away from your cheeks just to promptly lower them.

Your eyes are just as wet as they were the night you broke up.

“What?” you mutter.

“I’m sorry I called you that,” he says, breaths shallow. “Old habit.”

“We said no contact,” you tell him. You swallow hard. “We should have stuck to it.”

“Are you mad at me for texting you?” His stare is deep and so painfully sorry.

You’ve been on the receiving end of this look so many times. He was always on the sensitive side, needing reassurance that you weren’t upset with him.

Despite everything, you’re not mad. Your heart is broken, but you’re not mad.

“No,“ you say, “But we can’t be friends, okay? After what we… I just can’t.”

“So, nothing?” he says. “We’re just nothing now?”

“It’s what we agreed on,” you respond resolutely. “Just because this is easy for you doesn’t mean it is for me.”

“You think this is easy for me?” Zach puts a hand over his heart. You scoff at this, looking down, gently wiping under your bottom lashes. “It’s not.”

He puts his hands on his hips, grimacing.

“Why’d we break up?” he asks, voice thin.

“Zach,” you breathe. Just like that, the wound you’ve been working on patching up splits open again.

“I love you,” he says, hot tears building in the corners of his eyes.

“You can’t do this,” you say. The fact that you don’t say you love him back breaks him. “Do you not remember how bad it was?”

“We made each other so happy,” he retaliates.

“We weren’t even a couple by the end,” you say. “You got too busy for me, remember?”

“Don’t,” Zach mumbles. “I wasn’t too busy for you. You stopped trying.”

“We’ll just talk in circles,” you sigh, frustration bubbling inside you. You had this talk so many times. “I don’t have another three-hour conversation in me.”

He still has bad dreams about that night.

“See?” he says with a frustrated shrug. “You gave up.”

“You used to act lucky that you had me,” you say, your temper flaring. “Then I became a chore. Would you fight for me if I made you feel like a chore?”

“I’d fight for you no matter what,” he says.

“You’re not listening to me.” At this point, he’s being selfish by talking this to death. It’ll end the same way.

“As soon as it got hard, you left,” he says.

“As soon as it got hard? I tried for two months, Zach. You were so busy and got so distant and-”

“That didn’t mean I wasn’t thinking about you,” he counters. “There’s so much pressure on me with soccer and my scholarship.”

“I know and I tried to be there for you but I only added to that pressure,” you say. “Keeping up a relationship was too much work.”

“No, babe, I-” He winces. “Sorry. Just… Don’t you remember how good we used to be? How the summer was?”

You try not to think about it. The summer before college was perfect. You spent all your time together. You gave each other your virginities. You were sure you’d be together forever.

“I remember saying we’d find time for each other no matter what,” you mutter.

Guilt floods him.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Zach says.

“I know you are.”

He apologized so many times and nothing changed. He said he’d drive up to visit you. He never did. He told you he’d call you. Then he bailed more than half the time. That wasn’t the man you knew. You could feel him falling out of love with you.

“I thought we could get through the hard times,” he says. There’s that unrealistic idealism of his. You shake your head.

“My best wasn’t enough for us, Zach,” you say.

“Yeah, neither was mine, apparently.”

You nod, throat aching from your tears.

“Go see your family. They miss you. And don’t tell them we saw each other,” you suggest. “It’ll just give them false hope.”

Zach both loves and hates that the last thing you say before you walk away is something protective and considerate about his family. But your kindness is one of the many things he fell in love with you for, so it’s no surprise.

An hour later, you’re curled up on your bed, watching a comfort show with the lights off when you hear a knock on your door.

Zach’s heart is pounding in his ears. He still has your address from when he sent you flowers as a sorry for flaking on a video call you two had planned back when you were still together.

All he did since you left him standing by the courtyard is sit in his car and think and cry. He feels like an idiot for ever making you feel like a chore.

When you pause your show, turn on the lights and swing open the door, your body goes cold. His eyes are red and puffy from crying.

“Did you stop loving me?” he asks. “I need to know.”

You take his hand and pull him into your room so that your neighbors don’t hear your private heartbreak.

The door shuts behind you and you stand across from him, trying to let go of his hand, but he doesn’t let you, his cool palm pressed against your fingers.

“Did you?” Zach urges.

You glare up at him, cheeks burning from how many tears you wiped away.

“No,” you admit.

“Then why aren’t we together?” he pleads. “You just have to remember why you love me.”

You let him continue to hold your hand. The contact feels so good.

“I never forgot,” you say.

“Then tell me,” he urges. “Tell me why.”

“I…” You look down.

“You want me to go first?” he says. “I love you because you bring out the best in me. I love how when we joke around, we annoy the people around us and you never care.”

You huff a chuckle. Too many times to count, you’d send each other into a fit of laughter, leaving your friends or families confused over what was so funny.

“You went to every single one of my home games in high school,” he continues, “even though I know you hated it.”

“I liked it,” you counter. He smirks. You always had such a big heart.

“Try for me. Please,” he says. “We’ll make it this time.”

You’re silent and it scares him. You could be seconds away from telling him to leave.

“This is why I love you,” you say. “You’re so optimistic that it’s irritating.”

Zach laughs, still holding onto your hand.

“What else?” he asks lowly.

“You’re funny and sweet and…” you say through tears. “When you care about someone, you care so hard. That’s why…”

You loosen your hand out of his grip. His heart feels like it’s been wrung out.

“That’s why it hurt so much when you didn’t make time for us. It felt like you stopped caring. Like you stopped loving me and you didn’t know how to tell me.”

“I never stopped loving you, babe, I swear,” he says. “I just didn’t know how to deal with everything.”

Zach didn’t anticipate how hard keeping up with classes and practices and games would be, especially with the weight of his scholarship looming over him. He failed making you a priority. He knows that.

“It was hard and it only got harder when we broke up,” he says a little quieter.

You frown and Zach cups your face with his hands. His thumbs slowly rub over your cheeks as his gaze penetrates you.

“I’m not saying that to make you feel bad,” he says, words rushed. “I just want you to know you were never a chore. You were the best thing in my life. I messed up.”

The way your lashes flutter as you blink away tears makes what’s left of his heart crumble.

“What’ll it take?” he asks. “I’ll drive up here every weekend. We’ll talk on the phone every night. I’ll text you all day and I promise I won’t flake.”

“That’s crazy,” you say with a soft laugh.

Although he’s the more passive of you two, he’s determined that he’ll make it with you. He can’t picture a world where you’re not his and he’s not yours.

“I’ll do it.” You meet Zach’s eyes and you can tell that he wholly, sincerely means it.

“That’s not what I need,” you tell him with a small smile. The love in your gaze is exactly why you always felt like home to him. “I just need the you who kept promises and made time for me. When we were together, you were present. Like this.”

“Anything you need,” he says eagerly, head bobbing with quick nods, making you giggle. “Can I kiss you? Please?”

You revel in how his long thumbs drag over your skin, gazing at you through desperate eyes. Being so close to him causes a gentle heat to trickle through your body.

“You can do more than that,” you reply. He smiles and exhales sharply in excitement, leaning down to kiss you passionately.

Zach’s stomach tightens the second he feels the softness of your lips and the taste of your tongue. He slowly dips to kiss your neck, breathing in the sweet scent of you that he has smelled so many times.

His hands trail down your waist and over the curve of your hips, pulling you as close to him as possible, gripping just tight enough not to hurt you.

You always loved this about him. He makes you feel so cherished.

Your hands are in Zach’s hair as his hot mouth smacks on your skin. His body curves against yours perfectly, a piece completing the puzzle you missed being a part of for so long.

You can feel him growing hard against you and you lower a hand to rub him over his jeans, making him groan against your neck.

“Already?” you tease in a whisper. He chuckles, missing your touch and your voice and how hot it is when you taunt him.

“Fuck, I missed you,” Zach groans. You smile. He hardly ever swears, usually reserving it just for moments like these.

His fingers dip below the hem of your shirt, his skin warm against yours. He feels you nod, granting him permission.

As soon as he pulls your top off of you, he groans in delight when he sees that you’re braless. As he leans down to kiss you again, you push his jacket down his shoulders. He promptly and impatiently tugs it off, followed by his shirt, earning a laugh from you for his enthusiasm.

You gently push him backwards, straggling to your bed together. Zach lies down, desperately reaching for you as he watches you lean down over him.

You straddle him, kissing him deeply, his arms wrapping around you tightly as your bare chests press together.

His love for you consumes him, driving him to pull back and kiss you all over, puckering his lips over your cheeks and your nose and your forehead.

“Babe,” you laugh.

“I’m so sorry I made you so sad,” Zach says between kisses. “I’m so sorry I let you walk away.”

“I’m sorry, too,” you say as he continues to pepper soft kisses over your skin. “We’re never fighting again, okay?”

“Never.” You always say this after a fight. It never sticks, but you both love pretending it will.

You thought you were destined to experience these shared quirks through memories only. But now Zach’s here in your dorm room, panting beneath you, holding you like he might die if you pull away.

You feel him buck his hips forward, his hands squeezing your waist. You press your forehead against his, biting your lip.

“You want me, hmm?” you purr, the power you have over him filling you with excitement.

“I need you,” he whines. His breath is warm against your cheek. “So bad.”

“What do you want to do?” you ask, rolling your hips. The sensation of you grinding on him is so perfect. He couldn’t ever feel another girl like this and he wouldn’t want to.

“I wanna taste you,” Zach says. “I wanna make you feel good.”

“Take my pants off.” You shift to kiss him, smiling against his lips as he pushes your bottoms and panties down with eager hands.

You kick off your clothes and shuffle to hover over his face, your naked core inches away from his mouth.

Zach’s hands hook around your thighs, beckoning you to lower your hips, hungry for you. You inhale sharply once you feel his hot tongue press against your folds.

He knows you well, knows where to lick and suck to earn moans from you. You look down at him, his eyes closed as he laps at you, fingers dug into your flesh.

“That’s so good,” you say. “You’re so good with your mouth.” The praise makes him suck even harder. You tremble as you slowly roll your hips on his face.

“I love how you taste,” Zach says, muffled. “I can’t live without you.”

You throw your head back, pleasure flooding your body at the sensations and his words. You put a hand in his hair, lightly tugging as he works his mouth with slow, hard movements.

You start to breathe harder, tension coiling in your stomach.

“Can we…” he asks. He’s starving to feel you from the inside. You look down to meet his striking, needy eyes. You know exactly what he wants.

“You wanna be inside me?”

“Please, yes, yes.”

“You’re so cute when you’re desperate,” you coo. He nearly rolls his eyes from the pleasure of hearing you talk like this again.

You put him out of his misery when you pull his pants and briefs off of him. You sit on your knees above him, taking his length in your hand and earning a groan from him.

“Where’d you hurt your leg today?” you ask, stroking him up and down. “Want me to massage it?”

“I just want you to ride me, babe, please,” Zach shudders.

“Don’t you want me to take care of you?” Your eyes are locked on his as you caress him, rolling your wrist.

“You are,” he says, whimpering at this point. “Please let me feel you. I miss you.”

Your body remembers Zach’s perfectly. As you sink onto him, sitting up, every muscle in your body loosens. He dips his head back, lips parting, jaw sharp.

“Shit,” he groans as you squeeze him in your soft heat. “You’re perfect.” His hands run over your thighs, your hips, your waist. He pulls you down so he can kiss you again.

“So big,” you whisper, noses nudging together as you rock slowly.

“I’m always going to be yours,” he says, his voice gently shaking. “Even if you don’t want me.”

“Zach,” you whisper, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. He’s crying again. “I’ll always want you.”

You drag a thumb under his eye, cleaning away a warm tear. He nods, looking at you with a sorrowful gaze.

“Do you promise?” he asks.

“I promise,” you say. “My sweet boy.” He trembles at your words. You kiss him again, your pace starting to quicken, the pressure of him inside you so nice.

Zach swallows hard, forcing himself to believe you. Breaking up shattered him. He can’t go through it again.

“Hey,” he says against your lips.

“Hmm?”

“I’m gonna marry you one day.” You’ve loosely talked about the future before, but he has never said these words to you out loud. Your heart numbs.

“Do you promise?” you whisper with a smile. The coil in your core tightens again, making your breath shake.

“I promise.” Zach feels you clenching around him and he can’t stop himself. His muscles tense and he tightens his jaw as he feels himself reach his peak.

“There you go,” you praise as he shudders beneath you. The drunk look on his face is what makes you climax, joining him in his euphoria.

He’s heaving beneath you, your skin taut and warm and sticking together. You shift to rest your head on his shoulder and he finds your hand immediately, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss your fingertips.

“I love you,” he whispers. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” you say, your heart burning.

Zach holds your hand inches away from his face, a finger tracing down one of yours.

“Do you still have it?” he asks, afraid of your answer. You look at your ring finger, where you used to wear his promise ring.

“I couldn’t get rid of it if I wanted to,” you say. He shifts to meet your gaze, his eyes still glossy. “It’s in my dresser.”

“Will you wear it again?”

“Of course,” you say. “And I’ll get one for you, too.”

The thought of having a constant reminder of your love for him on his hand makes his stomach flip. His dimples cave into his cheeks as he beams at you.

“How’d I play today?” he murmurs. Zach would always ask your opinion on how he did after a game. Tonight’s no different.

“Amazing,” you say. “I… I’ve actually been following your team. I know we said no contact, but…”

Zach’s elated that you cared enough to follow his progress.

“I’ve been checking every social media account you have every day,” he admits.

You giggle and he hugs you tightly, burrowing his nose into your hair. Suddenly, the memory of your argument outside rushes back into your mind.

“Wait, did you go home?” you ask.

“No, I just… sat in my car,” he tells you.

“What? Zach,” you say, voice heavy. “Aren’t you going to see your family?”

“I never told them I’d be in town,” he confesses. You shift to look at him again. “I knew that when we saw each other, we’d… realize we should be together. And I knew I’d only want to spend the night with you. I’m sorry - I only didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to feel pressured.”

Zach’s undying faith in your relationship melts you. Even after a messy break-up and a month apart, he believed in you two making it.

You nod, pinching his cheek, making him smile again.

“We could go now, if you want,” you offer. “They’d be so happy to see that we’re back together.”

Hearing you confirm it out loud makes Zach’s heart leap.

“Next time,” he says, squeezing you tight. “Right now, it’s just you and me. And eventually, we’ll be sleeping in the same bed every night and there won’t be any distance at all.”

You can’t wait. Neither can he.

(continuation blurb)

author’s note: i started this blog with the intention to write for rafe only but my friend showed me the zach maclaren light and for that @juniebugg i owe you my life 🫡

[axetivev]

~ Summary: You were a vigilante in Gotham who happened to marry the Dark Knight himself-Bruce Wayne.

~ Warnings: Fluff! Reader is a vigilante under the name; Trailblaze.

~ Words: 652.

~ A/N: Here ya go! Firstly, I forgive you many for taking 6 days fuckin' to finish your request. Secondly. I accidentally. Yes. Again—delete the anon's request and I forgot to screenshot it. FINALLY, I hope you and others love this fic, thank you for your patience!

~ Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Male!Reader

The very day you’ve met Bruce Wayne. There’s something in your heart that just stung you in a good way. You’d just admire him, even knowing you both work together—both in daylight and dark nights. Batman and Trailblaze roam Gotham for crimes together, while hiding that heroic image as husbands.

It was a casual afternoon in the Bat-Cave. Jason was fixing his bike, Tim was on the Bat-Computar, and the most important—You and Bruce training. After some quick sit ups and other activities later, you sat close to Tim, all sweaty in your gray top and white training Bruce bought for you. Tim glanced at you for a second, shrugged before continuing whatever he’s going. Jason still fixing his bike. But your attention aren’t to them. But Bruce.

Standing sweaty, Bruce’s costume made black top with the writing “Best Father”, as sweat slowly darkened the fabric, this just made you stare. And the moment he wiped his sweat with the tower Jason throws at him, damnit. Why does he looked so… hot? You’ve work with him for so long. Known him long as well. Your heart always bumping so fast seeing him.

“I want to be impregnate by him—” Those words escaped your lips without a second thought. Tim turned his head to you, raising and eyebrow. Jason soon, followed Tim. Looking at you with the most questionable expression man can imagine. Bruce in the other hand, didn’t heard anything.

…But seriously. Besides that sometimes your bottom instinct kicks in. When the sun fall, everybody knew Gotham is filled by crime. Even after years of working together, violence is more of your thing. Yes, Batman also beats his enemies. But not as aggressive as you were. Batman’s no kill rule is something you struggled with, the fact that the Dark Knight had to dragged you back when you went a little rough on the tugs made Batman—under his mask slaps himself. He can’t do much because you are his husband.

Patrols are sometimes your date night with Bruce. How? Well…

When you two became vigilantes, and someway somehow, there were low crimes happening. You two standing on one of the buildings on Gotham. Bruce—Batman would stood firm, his cape covering his fine body and muscles. While you sat on the edge, legs swinging smirking to yourself. Occasionally Batman would look at you, he’d sometimes ignored you which led making you annoyed him.

“Baatttsss~!!” You’d call him with a whiny tone which making the Dark Knight sighed. Responding with a grunt.

“C’monnnn! Can’t we do something fun? I–I don’t know! Like maybe slacking off patrol and went on a small date?” Batman when looked at you after you finished your words, sighing. “Keep yourself professional, Trailblaze.” Batman would reply with his usual deep tone as he gently pushed you down, making you fall. Of course Batman just realized when you let out a quiet yelp, making his eyes wide, immediately looking down from where you sat.

“M/N…? M/N!” His voiced echoed, Batman’s expression harden. But then—a long sigh escaped his lips, turning his head to find you walking from the other edge of the building, twirling a pocket knife with a smirk.

“I’m surprised you forgot by how much I love risking my life, Bruce.” You said, Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine… what you want?” He asked. Making your eyes lit up.

“…”

“Uno? Seriously, Trailblaze?”

“Ah ah ah! It’s M/N, Bruce.” You poke your husband’s cheek, Bruce sighed. You swore you saw a smile on his face, it’s almost odd to fine the literal Batman smiling. But it made your heart felt warm…

“You simply have a big and strong body… in reality, you’re still a child.” Bruce commented, as he watched you shuffled some of the cards.

“Oh! You damn bastard!” You chuckled to his words, as you saw Bruce smiling.

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Mr Gaiman! I come here in hope of getting some sort of advice if possible. ♡

A month ago one of my teachers offered me to be a part of a writing contest, and I accepted. So I spent the next weeks writing, in my point of view, a good story. In the details of the contest it said that the tale was supposed to be 10 pages long, and it is 10 pages long. The problem here comes when I change the settings of the document to what the contest asks for and the 10 pages turn into 16 pages.

And I've tried to change parts of the story and delete some things, but it's gotten to the point where its going to lose all sense if I keep deleting stuff.

The contest closes in two days, and I've been feeling extremely down and I'm so disappointed, because I fell that all my effort was for nothing and that it's completely worthless now.

I don't know what to do or if I should try and rewrite it completely, or just let it go and maybe try next year. What would you do in my place?

Thank you for reading. <3

I'd be very grumpy.

When I sold my first story (it was called Featherquest) I was overjoyed by the acceptance letter and also destroyed by it. It said that they would love to publish the story, but I needed to cut it from 8,000 words to 4,000 words.

So I did. I was convinced I had destroyed my story, but they published it.

Many decades later I published the original story, and suspected that it wasn't made any worse by being cut in half.

I'd suggest talking to your teacher about what you did and see if they would be willing to work with you on editing it. Start scenes later, finish earlier, remove things you've already said, make fewer words work harder.

[ninisdollie]

Sad girl - Sim Jake 𓈒ིུ ❤︎ ˖ ݁

"In which reader is stuck being the side chick of an older, rich man, but she convinces herself that she likes it that way"

content: +18MDNI fem!reader x jake, older man!jake x younger!reader (both over 20, not age specified) kind of angsty, cheating plot, protected sex, dirty talking, oral sex (m recieving) fingering, corruption kink, humiliation, jake is kind of an asshole in this i’m sorry, reader is kinda dumb

i do not intend to normalize cheating with this story! i was just inspired by one of my fav lana del rey songs, entertainment purposes only <3

You stared at your phone, eyes sticked to the screen, your body laying down on your bed. You watched the time, 5:50, just ten more minutes and you could call him.

If someone had told you years ago that you would be involved in an affair with a married man, you would’ve laughed straight to their faces. You always hated those type of girls, who didn’t care about destroying couples by sleeping with taken men, you thought it was the most shameless, heartless thing to do.

Until you met him.

Jake Sim was the man of your dreams. A successful, renowned business man, Ceo of his own company, born into a wealthy family, impeccable physique, always wearing entire suits that fitted his body like a second skin, all costume made by the best designers in the country. He walked with so much confidence, posture always perfect, silver rings from the most expensive jewerly houses decorating his long fingers, and obviously, his wedding ring.

You didn’t know he was married when you first saw him (that gave no one comfort but you, he would always say) but when you found out you were so deeply in love that you didn’t really care, you were okay with having him, just a few hours a week, for yourself, pretending that you were his wife, that he was choosing you, even if that was far from being true.

Your relationship was weird, complicated, stritc rules applied. You would meet once a week, when his wife went to visit her family away from town until the next day, never outside of this schedule. He would always pick you up, but never before 6:00 pm, he was a busy man after all. You had to be always looking pretty, dolled up for him, he hated girls that didn’t take care of themselves, so he would always buy you the best dresses and make up, but obviously, you could only wear them for him, nobody else. You could never, never text him first, you always had to wait for his message, and he demanded you to delete everything after your encounters were over. You could call him when you were ready, but again, never before 6:00 pm, and you must never make him wait for you outside for more than 5 minutes.

Maybe it was a little bit extreme, but you understood, he had a reputation to keep clean, his career would be over if this ever came to light, and you were perfectly fine with any rules if that meant you could keep seeing each other.

Every week you would wait for the day to come, daydreaming about him in class, not being able to focus. He was your everything.

You just wished you were his too.

6:00 pm. You tapped on his contact, the tone ringing in your ear.

One, two, three rings later, he answered.

“Always so on time, my pretty girl” And you smiled widely at the sound of his voice, his beautiful Australian accent sending shivers down your spine, feeling the flush in your cheeks, getting up from your bed.

“I’m ready, Jakey. Will you be here soon?” Your voice always sounded extra cloy and high pitched when you talked to him.

He hummed on the phone, and you bit your lip, your heart pounding on your chest with anticipation.

“On my way, baby, wait for me.”

He hung up, and you jumped accross your room to pack a few more things in your purse, your lip combo, your wallet, and condoms.

You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time, just making sure you were looking perfectly polished. Long hair resting on your waist, natural makeup decorating your delicate features, the white, lacy dress he bought the last time for you covering your body perfectly, you smiled at your reflexion, hoping he would like it, you couldn’t wait for him to shower you in compliments.

After exactly 5 minutes, a honk on your driveway. You walked through the door enthusiastically, running to the car and getting inside real quick, so your mother wouldn't ask many questions. He saw you approaching, his hair perfectly slicked back, his shirt rolled up to his elbows, no ring on his finger, he always took it off when you saw each other. He was the most handsome man you'd ever seen, such a beautiful, perfect face, his lips were thick, red, and he had the cutest smile ever. He always smelled so good, Sauvage Elixir by Dior, that was his signature perfume. You smiled at him, placing a little kiss on his lips.

"Hi Jakey, missed you so much" he smiled back at you as he started the car again, driving along the streets towards your usual hotel.

"How was class today, angel? You doing well? You know i appreciate you keeping up with your studies" and you nodded a few times, fixing the skirt of your dress and looking at the front.

"It was good, nothing much happened, i just couldn't wait to see you" He didn't respond, just humming quietly.

The car drive was short, you didn't talk much because to be honest, you never did. Jake said he preferred to keep feelings out of this affair, you two only meeting to do your thing, so he never asked you that much about your life, your conversations were usually shallow, and to be honest it was mostly you talking as he just nodded and hummed in response. Not because he was annoyed by you, but because he found your business immature, being much older than you and having real life problems. So you didn't talk to him about stupid things like gossip and issues with friends, because at the end, you knew he didn't really care that much.

As to the nature of your relationship, he never really gave you a reason to why he was cheating on his wife with you, you knew it was an arranged marriage, or something like it, but obviously he was lacking something, otherwise he wouldn’t be searching for it in you. He did told you though, that his wife was a complicated woman, terrible temper, and he made emphasis in that she would kill you both if she’d ever found out about your affair.

Other woman in your situation would feel used, humiliated. But for some reason you didn't care about that, it was good enough for you that he preferred you over his wife to satisfy his desires as a man. It made you feel good, powerful.

Silly you.

"Is that the dress i gave you last time? You look so gorgeous, princess". And you smiled widely, blushing, because his compliments meant everything to you.

Feeling your heart flutter again, you watched him pull over in the parking lot, and he got out of the car towards your door and opened it for you, immediately placing a hand around your waist, kissing softly behind your ear and you sighed at his closeness, not wanting him to ever let you go.

He walked you through the hallway, a silence full of complicity between you both, and you rested your head on his shoulder as the elevator went up to the last floor, the private suite waiting for you both. You reached for his hands, and smiled at yourself at the size difference, yours looking so small and delicate in comparision with his manly, veiny, thick hands.

Jake wasn’t very lovey-dovey to you, he just wasn’t like that, he didn’t act like a boyfriend, and you didn’t mind, because you knew loved touching you and noticing little details like those too.

"A drink?" he asked, heading towards the mini bar, once you were inside the room, and you nodded happily, sitting on the corner of the big, king sized bed.

He poured a glass of wine, whisky for him, and stretched his hand, you took the glass and sipped, feeling the hot alcohol burning your throat. Then he loosened his tie, closing his eyes as he cracked his neck, groaning quietly, this made your skin jump, the sound of his voice was enough to affect you.

"Had an awful day at the office today, fired a bunch of useless idiots." He sighed deeply, and you pouted, placing the glass over the nightstand, running your delicate hands through his torso, up to his broad shoulders, squeezing softly, massaging him.

"Sorry to hear that, hope you're not stressing too much" You talked with sweet voice, and he chuckled, grabbing your hand and placing a little kiss on your palm. Then he downed his drink at once.

"You will help me with that." You grinned as he leaned in, hand on your chin, crashing his lips with yours.

The thing with Jake is that he kissed you differently than boys your age. Hungrily, deeply, dirty, messy, as if he was an starved man. Warm, wet tongue exploring your mouth and teeth pulling your lower lip, it made you whimper below his, hot breaths colliding. He always tasted like cigarettes and whisky, his perfume's scent invading the air and going straight through your lungs, you loved it. It was addictive. As he tangled his tongue with yours, head tilted, his big, manly hands ran through your body, firstly caressing the soft, always shaved skin of your thighs, lifting the skirt of the dress you wore only for him, then going straight to your ass, squeezing, groping, and you moaned breathles as you fell onto the bed on your back.

He leaned over your body, between your legs, dress now pooled around your waist, your delicate, lacy lingerie in display, his hands now tracing around your inner thighs, and you whimpered again, lifting your hips, needing more of his touch, your skin starting to burn hot beneath his fingers.

"Always so fucking needy." he whispered with thick voice, his lips now lowering along your jaw, then your neck, sucking, licking, and you tilted your head so he could have more access. "Fucked you a thousand times now and you still beg for my touch so pathetically".

You bit your lip, moaning as his hands now rubbed your core above the fabric of your underwear, two fingers in your clit, rubbing, softly, tracing circles, and you couldn't help but arch your back desperately, already soaking wet as the jolt of pleasure went down straight to where his touch was, he always got you so worked up this fast, you couldn't resist it. His other hand went up to your chest, lifting your dress completely until your bare breasts bounced out of it, nipples hardening as the cold air hit your skin. He cupped them with his hands, squeezing softly, face now buried in them, kissing, sucking, licking, and you leaned to his touch as you gasped.

It was as if he knew your body perfectly, where to touch, where to kiss, where to suck, it made you twitch and tremble so easily, no other man had ever made you feel like that.

He stood up in front of you, unbuttoning his shirt with one hand, the other traveling back down to your clother pussy, and you opened your legs wider, sluttier. He grinned, biting his lip.

"Oh, my little angel is feeling slutty today?" He chuckled thickly, slapping you above the clothes, and you jumped in your place, whining with broken voice. "C'mon, show me how bad you want it".

He let his shirt fell onto the ground, chest now bare in front of you, you could never get tired of him, his well maintained body, how the lines of his abs glistened beneath the faint light of the room, and you squirmed on the bed, shaky, clumsy hands running through your body until your fingers touched the lace of your underwear, and you pulled, leaving yourself exposed, swollen, needy, dripping pussy right in front of his eyes. His lips curved into a smirk, his eyes shining filled with lust and hunger. Jake lifted his chin, a silent order.

Looking straight at him through your hazy view, you rubbed yourself, spreading your folds and wetness all around your core, showing him how much you needed him right now. You whimpered, bringing your own soaked digits to your watery mouth, licking yourself clean, tasting your own arousal, and he slapped your thigh, hissing between his teeth. You bit your lip, your thin fingers now covered in your own spit, and you shoved two of them inside of you, arching your back and moaning his name high pitched, touching yourself in front of him, legs spread all the way, pussy swallowing and pulsing and clenching around your fingers as you thrusted them in and out of you.

"Fuck, such a dirty little slut." He whispered, and you nodded tremblingly, pathetic.

You saw him unbuckle his belt as his pants fell onto the floor along with his boxers, his thick, hard-rock, veiny cock in front of you, tip swollen and red and dripping with precum, he stroked himself as you kept your movements in and out of you, whining, telling him you needed him now.

"J-Jakey please, need you so bad..." Your voice was weak, begging.

"Shut up, not yet, whore." He grabbed your wrist with force, making you stop touching yourself. He was being extra mean today, you didn’t mind, you loved it. His rough voice speaked to you precisely. "Knees."

You obeyed almost immediately, even if your legs were shaking and you could barely keep balance, you fell onto your knees on the floor in front of him, his grip now sticked to your hair, strong, hurtful. You glanced at him from below, cheeks red, eyes sparkly, and he lifted his chin again. You looked at his throbbing, thick length in front of your face, and you wrapped your hand around it, not wasting time in sticking your tongue out and tracing circles on the head of his dick, whining at the salty tasted making contact with your taste buds, and you took a deep breath before loosening your jaw, taking him deep in your mouth until he reached your throat, and you sniffed, suppressing a gag, eyes watering. You loved feeling him in your mouth, the taste of his flesh, big, hard as you bobbed your head enthusiastically, taking him out and in again with ease. You've gained enough experience at this point, thanks to him.

"Fuck, such a perfect little mouth." He said between his teeth, sighing deeply as he watched how his member disappeared inside of your warm, wet mouth.

Then his veiny hand reached for you throat, and you choked around him as he tightened his grip, the cold silver of his rings pinching your skin, throat closing around his length, and he thrusted his hips. Your heart pounded faster on your chest, your lungs desperately looking for air, your face turned red as you felt the wet, warm, salty tears falling down your cheeks, and you shut your eyes as he face-fucked you at a strong, selfish pace.

“So fucking beautiful, crying as you choke around me. My good girl”. He praised and you whined around him, rubbing yourself against your toe, desperate for some friction.

He saw this and pulled back, taking his cock out of your mouth as you gasped for air loudly, sniffing through your nose, chest going up and down, vision hazy. He gave you a few seconds, eyebrow raised, like mocking you, but he kept his hand under your chin, thumb caressing you as you caught your breath. Then he thrusted again, deep, to the back of your throat, and you gagged around him, spit falling from the corners of your lips down your neck and to the floor, it was a mess.

Jake wasn’t very loud, but you knew the expression on his face when he was close. His jaw clenched, his eyebrows frowned, low, thick hisses between his teeth, his movements erratic, the grip on your hair getting tighter minute by minute.

You felt it then, warm discharge down your throat, and you coughed pathetically, swallowing most of it. He cupped your face and kissed you deeply, wiping your tears with his thumbs, his touch sweet, making you tremble and whimper above his plushed lips.

Then he lifted you with ease, making you fall onto the bed again, face now buried in the sheets.

“Lift your ass, babygirl.”

And you did, shakily leaning on your elbows you arched your back and lifted your hips towards him, perfectly curving your body just how you knew he liked it, chest against the white sheets as he grabbed your waist and you felt his weight sinking into the mattress, heavy, strong. The anticipation, the need, the desire were killing you, your aching pussy needing to be filled, leaking until it was dripping in your inner thighs.

Then you heard him unwrapping the condom, and you moved your hips side to side, an invitation to take you now, glancing at him over your shoulder, you fluttered your eyelashes with fake innocence.

“Don’t give me those big slutty eyes or i will fuck you all night until you fucking pass out.” Punishment or reward, you thought. You knew how to get him too, after all, he had a thing for ruining your much younger, naive being.

He put on the condom, kneeling behind you and grabbing your hips, you sighed, shutting your eyes as he marked his fingers on your skin.

“Please Jakey… can’t take it anymore, just fuck me please.” Your voice was broken, you just needed him inside of you.

Jake chuckled, mocking you, rubbing the head of his cock between your soaked folds, one, two times, teasing you, and you felt your thighs twitching, trembling, needy. Finally, after a few seconds, he slid inside of you, stretching your walls and making you sob as you grabbed the sheets in your fists, and your entire body shivered, pleasure taking you over once he started thrusting, hard, fast, deep.

“Shit baby, always so fucking tight and perfect no matter how many times i’ve fucked you.” His hand reached for your hair again, and he pulled so you arched your back even more, you moaning once he started fucking you so raw, so selfishly.

The skin of his thighs crashed with your asscheeks as he rocked his hips, the obscene sound combined with your broken moans and his low groans, you loved when he fucked you like this, as if you were his personal doll for him to use as he pleased, so you could only scream and sob his name asking him to please go faster.

“Slutty pussy so perfect around me, fuck.” He leaned down to whisper in your ear, and you whined in response, your pussy clenching around him, giving you away, and he bit your ear lobe, hot breath as he chuckled, slightly breathless “You like that, yeah? You like being my personal slut, not giving a fuck about the fact that i’m married. You are so dirty.”

“F-Feels so good, don’t care, Jakey, wanna be your side chick forever…” He slapped your ass with his palm and the rings on his fingers stinged your sensitive skin, and you screamed high pitched as his thrusts became rougher.

“My pretty dumb slut.” He placed kisses down your back, not stopping his movements.

Then he pulled out and you were about to let out a cry at the empty feeling, but he flipped you over, back now resting on the mattress facing him. His eyes studied your face with a dark look in them, his hair was now messy and sweaty, and he grabbed your legs so you could place them around his neck, and thrusted inside of you again, the new position making him go deeper until you could feel him in every inch of your insides, and you screamed again. It felt so good when he fucked you like this and folded your body as if it was a feather, you turning into a broken mess. Teeth bit your thighs as he slammed his cock into your g-spot over and over, making you see stars, feeling as if your soul was leaving your wrecked, used body.

“Fuck, look how you swallow my cock baby, so fucking good.” His thumb went straight to you clit, rubbing, precise circles that made you whine and gasp, new tears falling down your red, flushed cheeks. “Will never get tired of how twisted your pretty face gets when i’m fucking you.”

“J-Jake, please…” Your voice wasn’t even the same anymore, just pure begging, weeping in it, and he grabbed your chin, attacking your lips agressively.

“You wanna cum, baby? You’re gonna cum all over my cock like the good slut you are?” You nodded desperately, the tension in your lower belly starting to build.

Skins crashed as his heavy weight fell over you in erratic, rough, messy thrusts, and you knew he was close too. His thumb kept rubbing your swollen clit, other hand gripped aroung your thigh until it was red and marked.

“Do it, cum for me, show me how good of a whore you are.” His hand now wrapped around your throat, depriving you from air and you opened your mouth as he spat, you choked on it, gasping loudly.

You came hard, crying, your whole body twitching, your back arched, and your pussy clenched around him so good, the orgasm taking you over in an unnatural way, your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as the most obscene, pornographic scream left your mouth.

“Yeah, that’s it, fucking whore.”

Then he came too, filling up the condom inside of you with his cum, guttural groan leaving his throat, the veins on his neck showing up, his head thrown back. Jake thrusted his hips a few more times, prolonging his orgasm, now moving a little weaker.

He pulled out with a pop, and you closed your eyes as you tried to catch your breath and see clear again, feeling his body falling by your side. A hand reached for your waist, and brought you closer, you smiled as you closed your eyes and layed on his chest, warm, sticky skins together. His heart was racing too, and he placed a little kiss on your head.

You stayed like that for a while, silent, your pussy sore and pulsing, sensitive because of the strong orgasm.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand, and he stretched his body over yours to take it on his hand, reading the message, no expression on his face. You didn’t ask, because it wasn’t your business, so you closed your eyes again, while his fingers traced circles on your lower back, fingers moving accross the screen as he replied back. You placed your chin on his chest, looking up at him, and he glanced at you from his phone, smiling softly.

After a few seconds, you broke the silence.

“I was thinking next week maybe we could order room service first?” You asked, kissing across his chest, filling your lungs with his smell.

His face changed subtly, and he locked his phone before putting it back on the nightstand, running a hand through his hair, he let out an exasperated sigh, and you frowned your eyebrows. He seemed to hesitate, his fingers going from your back to your shoulders.

He swallowed.

“I forgot to tell you, baby. There will not be next time”.

Your heart stopped beating on your chest.

“W-What do you mean…” You asked, your voice really low, you just hoped he meant that he would be busy next week or that he had a business trip.

He sighed again, his hand squeezing your arm softly, like trying to comfort you for something you didn’t know yet.

“This is the last time we can see each other.”

You sat on the bed, trying to find your heartbeat on your chest, feeling dizzy suddenly. This couldn’t be happening, he just couldn’t drop you just like that. You didn’t even noticed you were crying until the tears wet your cheeks, and he sat too, bringing you close for a hug, but you pushed his chest, looking at him through your watery eyes.

“W-Why? Did i… Did i do something? You don’t like me anymore? Please Jake just tell me i’ll do anything—"

“It’s not that.” He cut you off, and you freezed. “I’m moving back to Australia.”

And then you laughed, but not because it was funny, because of disbelief. He was leaving the country, in less than a week, and he didn’t even had the courage or decency to tell you. You just weren’t that important to him, you were just what he said, a dumb, slut, side chick.

You sniffed, getting up and running a hand through your messy hair.

“Baby…”

“Don’t call me that, Jake. Are you being for real?” Your arms fell on your sides, and you stood in front of him, naked, you saw how his eyes scanned your body for just a fraction of a second. Bastard. “You’re telling me, we’ve been in an affair for months now, and you just couldn’t even tell me that you were leaving soon? That you would leave me here—"

“Leave you?” He raised an eyebrow, and you shut your lips, staying very, very still, your blood starting to boil as he was the one laughing now. “I’m married, y/n, and you knew that from the start, you are not my wife, and i’m not your husband, and we both are very conscious of that fact, we knew from the start that these wasn’t because we love each other so much. It was pure, physical lust.”

You swallowed, more tears.

And then in hit you, of course, how could you’d been so dumb. Of course you knew he wasn’t yours, of course you knew he had a wife and that he didn’t have feelings for you apart from lust and desire, and the morbidity that the nature of your encounters caused in him. You knew all of this. You weren’t a teenager, god.

But still, a very, small part deep in your heart really wished that he cared enough for you, even just a little bit.

You were just so fucking dumb.

“This relationship had benefits for both of us, you gave me something i lacked, i gave you something you lacked.”

You widened your eyes, really wanting to punch him right now. But a wave of shame showered your body, your whole being.

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean? Are you calling me a whore now? I wasn’t with you because of your fucking patrimony!”

He stayed silent now, groaning as he grabbed his hair. He stared at you for a few seconds, and then streched his hand, holding yours, thumb rubbing softly.

“C’mon, get back in bed, let’s make the most of the time we have left.” He spoke softly, and you crossed your arms, feeling so ashamed.

“No.”

“Y/N…”

You sobbed again, now full crying in front of him, and he immediately got up, wrapping his arms around you and you hid your face on his chest, sniffing against his bare skin. That smell again, this was the last time you would feel it. He kissed your head, but it didn’t feel sweet now, it was mostly like he felt sorry for you. It made you sick.

“Just, know that i had a good time with you, princess. I really did, you made me forget all of the shitty things about my marriage and…”

You stepped back, wiping your own tears.

“Just don’t.”

A good time. Months being in love with him, wishing for him to text you, to go pick you up, to feel his touch, his kisses, to hear his voice. Months of you isolating yourself from any opportunity to have a healthy relationship with any other guy, to find what your heart truly desired.

He just called it a good time.

And your eyes opened, reality hit you right in the face. So you started getting dressed real quick, a numb look in your face.

He stayed there, just anylising you.

“What are you doing?”

“I wanna go home, please.”

One, two, three seconds of silence. He started getting dressed too.

You cried all the way back home, and he didn’t say a word to you, not even sorry, not even trying to explain himself. But who were you fooling, you weren’t the victim in this situation, you accepted this from the very beggining, never thinking of the consecuenses it might bring.

That was the last time that you saw Jake Sim.

Because the next morning, with eyes swollen from crying, vision hazy as you just woke up, the news hit you like a slap on your face when you opened your social media. And the tears came again once you read the headline.

“Jake Sim, famous Ceo, soon to be a father.”

[nowoyas]

Trying to make sense of the Nanowrimo statement to the best of my abilities and fuck, man. It's hard.

It's hard because it seems to me that, first and foremost, the organization itself has forgotten the fucking point.

Nanowrimo was never about the words themselves. It was never about having fifty thousand marketable words to sell to publishing companies and then to the masses. It was a challenge, and it was hard, and it is hard, and it's supposed to be. The point is that it's hard. It's hard to sit down and carve out time and create a world and create characters and turn these things into a coherent plot with themes and emotional impact and an ending that's satisfying. It's hard to go back and make changes and edit those into something likable, something that feels worth reading. It's hard to find a beautifully-written scene in your document and have to make the decision that it's beautiful but it doesn't work in the broader context. It's fucking hard.

Writing and editing are skills. You build them and you hone them. Writing the way the challenge initially encouraged--don't listen to that voice in your head that's nitpicking every word on the page, put off the criticism for a later date, for now just let go and get your thoughts out--is even a different skill from writing in general. Some people don't particularly care about refining that skill to some end goal or another, and simply want to play. Some people sit down and try to improve and improve and improve because that is meaningful to them. Some are in a weird in-between where they don't really know what they want, and some have always liked the idea of writing and wanted a place to start. The challenge was a good place for this--sit down, put your butt in a chair, open a blank document, and by the end of the month, try to put fifty thousand words in that document.

How does it make you feel to try? Your wrists ache and you don't feel like any of the words were any good, but didn't you learn something about the process? Re-reading it, don't you think it sounds better if you swap these two sentences, if you replace this word, if you take out this comma? Maybe you didn't hit 50k words. Maybe you only wrote 10k. But isn't it cool, that you wrote ten thousand words? Doesn't it feel nice that you did something? We can try again. We can keep getting better, or just throwing ourselves into it for fun or whatever, and we can do it again and again.

I guess I don't completely know where I'm going with this post. If you've followed me or many tumblr users for any amount of time, you've probably already heard a thousand times about how generative AI hurts the environment so many of us have been so desperately trying to save, about how generative AI is again and again used to exploit big authors, little authors, up-and-coming authors, first time authors, people posting on Ao3 as a hobby, people self-publishing e-books on Amazon, traditionally published authors, and everyone in between. You've probably seen the statements from developers of these "tools", things like how being required to obtain permission for everything in the database used to train the language model would destroy the tool entirely. You've seen posts about new AI tools scraping Ao3 so they can make money off someone else's hobby and putting the legality of the site itself at risk. For an organization that used to dedicate itself to making writing more accessible for people and for creating a community of writers, Nanowrimo has spent the past several years systematically cracking that community to bits, and now, it's made an official statement claiming that the exploitation of writers in its community is okay, because otherwise, someone might find it too hard to complete a challenge that's meant to be hard to begin with.

I couldn't thank Nanowrimo enough for what it did for me when I started out. I don't know how to find community in the same way. But you can bet that I've deleted my account, and I'll be finding my own path forward without it. Thanks for the fucking memories, I guess.

[hrtbeomi]

୨୧ — HAVING A HEATED ARGUMENT WITH THEM .ᐟ

pairing. OT5 x fem!reader (separately)

warnings. bad grammar, overreacting, reader overthinks a lot, insecurities, abandonment issues, reader being insecure in soobin's one, yeonjun being a little dumb, hyuka's based on a real story .ᐟ

a/n. you may remember this one maybe if you were around 2022,, i had an old user (ihrtrep) but that acc got deleted and took some time off from writing actually but here we are ! i hope you like this <3

CHOI YEONJUN ୨୧

it's no surprise that yeonjun is the type to stay late at night practicing his dancing, not worrying about sleeping or eating, that was something you were always concerned about, sure, you tried to tell him to take care of himself but he would just scoff you off telling you that you were just overreacting.

but the thing is, this went on for a weeks now, he didn't answer your calls or your texts, and that was the last straw for you. reason why you were now in hybe, directly going to see your boyfriend, who was practicing for god knows how long before you got there, it was 2:30am and he looked so tired, he had big bags under his eyes and he looked much thinner since the last time you saw him. you stopped the music, making him finally notice you were there “what are you doing here?” he asked, approaching you quickly “you didn't return any of my calls and didn't answer my texts or anything, i was worried” you said as you watched him frown, and that's how you found yourself stuck in a big argument about what was or was not good for your boyfriend's health.

it all ended with you letting out violent sobs that you were trying to hold back as you walked out of the building after probably ending your two-year relationship with yeonjun.

he was quick to follow you, immediately regretting yelling at you and fighting over something you were clearly right about. when he saw you, he immediately wrapped you in his arms, filling you with sweet words and thousands of “sorrys”, saying that he was carried away by stress and lack of rest, which was completely true. you turned to him, hugging him properly, admitting that you also let yourself be carried away by the insecurity that he was avoiding you because he didn't wanted you around.

you were glad that you finished the stupid argument, yeonjun kissed you gently and lovingly, grabbing your hand and heading to the building to get his things and finally go home with you.

CHOI SOOBIN ୨୧

soobin as your boyfriend was a total sweetheart, he was everything you dreamed of and more but being insecure about yourself was something that would affect your relationship with him sooner or later and it seemed that that moment was today.

currently, you were backstage, waiting your turn to perform on stage, you and soobin were sitting together, giving each other mutual support until some members of lesserafim approached you two, asking soobin if they could talk to him, to which he agreed, of course. you were never the jealous type but that slight insecurity you had slowly started to grow and grow as you watched kim chaewon and huh yunjin talk to your boyfriend, you didn't hate them or anything like that but due to your overthinking, you began to believe that maybe soobin would be better with one of them than to be with you because come on, they were beautiful, kind and talented, everything you were insecure about which caused that when he finally returned to your side, you began to throw passive-aggressive comments at him about it, causing him to yell at you about how you were starting to sound a little paranoid.

“if i'm as paranoid as you say, you better go and be with one of your girlfriends ! they sure are better than me! ” you snapped, and just when soobin was going to say something, you were called on stage to perform, so you wiped away the little tears that had begun to sprout from your eyes and you left.

after finishing your performance and going backstage, your boyfriend was sitting on the couch, waiting for you, he seemed to be thinking of the incident that had happened earlier because as soon as he saw you, soobin got up from his place and went to you, hugging you and filling you with kisses. finally apologizing, you explained everything you felt and that you feared that you could lose him to someone better than you but he hugged you again “you shouldn't worry, love, i love you more than anyone in the world and no one's better for me than you are.”

CHOI BEOMGYU ୨୧

for you, quality time was probably the most important thing in a relationship so you were glad beomgyu was on the same page as you but this can become a problem when you start feeling overwhelmed by each other's presence, that time had come when everything you did was a reason for you to get upset.

you were in the kitchen, making chocolate chip cookies together and it was impressive how none of you were killing each other yet.

until your boyfriend threw flour all over your face.

“what the hell!? why'd you do that!?” you said angrily as you saw him laugh at you.

you couldn't take it anymore, you started yelling in his face to stop being stupid, he looked at you surprised and contradicted you, saying that you should “stop taking everything so seriously!” and that you should enjoy the moment once and for all instead of being so pessimistic all day. you guys went on like that for a while until you finally realized what you were doing, you looked at each other surprised before letting out a “sorry, i shouldn't have said that" and an “it's my fault for bothering you,” anyway, it all ended with you kissing apologetically at him and then finishing the cookies, promising each other to communicate better next time before going to see a movie on the couch of your apartment and cuddling for the rest of the night.

KANG TAEHYUN ୨୧

you and taehyun had good fame as a couple, everyone envied you for the incredible communication you both had, every day you talked about everything that happened to you, whether it was good or bad.

your boyfriend wasn't necessarily known for being a cotton candy due to his sarcastic personality or "his rudeness" as it would appear, you had never understood this bad reputation he got about being "cold" and "serious" but you were able to understand this when he suddenly started answering your messages differently than he used to. of course, this could be due to the fact of not seeing him for a few days because of his busy schedule but whether or not it was for that, you overthought the situation and you couldn't help but feel that he had become much more distant, which was really out of character for him.

when you finally got to see each other, you confronted him about it but the only thing you got was a negative reaction from him, it was no surprise that he was going to react like this because even you knew that you would be mad too but you couldn't help those intrusive thoughts that kept appearing in your head, it was something you couldn't control. you could see how the people in the cafeteria were watching you argue about some text messages and when your small disagreement turned into a big fight, one of the waitresses had to kindly kick you out of the cafeteria.

taehyun looked at you, and you noticed right away because you were looking at him already, both confused by how was it that you got carried away by such a ridiculous situation as the one you were in, this was not normal for you, this was not how you two solved your problems, so you walked along the sidewalk for a while, both completely in silence until at the same time you began to apologize, him admitting that he was feeling so overwhelmed and stressed lately that maybe he didn't even want to talk to you at the time, which you understood but still confessed your concerns to him in case you made him mad or something.

“everything is fine now, okay? we don't need to let this happen again, dear,” he said, taking your hand and kissing it “i love you”

HUENINGKAI ୨୧

usually, when we think of hyuka, the first thing that comes to our mind is "he's a sweetheart", right? this case was no different, he was the best boyfriend you could ask for, you didn't even know what you had done in your past life to deserve someone as incredible as him, he seemed like he came straight out of a taylor swift song, something that made you feel in the clouds.

you were in the honeymoon phase, so you didn't expect to fight three months after dating.

it all started on a tuesday morning, you woke up as if all your energy had been drained, you felt completely miserable and you let your boyfriend know about this, who did not hesitate to hug you and promise to stay by your side all day until you felt better.

soon the afternoon came, 16:30pm and the whole panorama of you and kai was to be in each other's arms, your discomfort still present and just wanting to be with him. he asked you what was wrong, if something had happened the day before or in the morning before you saw him but you weren't even able to answer him, feeling weak, small and unable to answer without your voice cutting off in the middle of you talking, you felt like you'd collapse right there but your boyfriend did not seem to understand it, because even with being the best boyfriend in the whole world, he had a difficult time dealing with this kind of situation.

yeonjun had approached you, asking to speak with him for a moment, you certainly didn't want to let him go since his friend clarified that it wasn't really important but not to your boyfriend, being the kindest person in the universe, he insisted on talking with, giving it way to your meltdown.

not taking it anymore after telling him that if he wanted to go, he could and him responding with a “then i'll go if you want,” his voice strong and the harsh tone in it made it all worse.

yeonjun didn't know what to do when he saw how you fought, throwing cruel words at each other that you would soon regret. when you finished arguing, both of you going their own separate way and not speaking all day until the morning after had arrived.

“i'm sorry,” you said when you saw him for the first time that day “i shouldn't have taken it out on you, it's just that- i've noticed you've been acting different lately and i'm afraid you'll leave me or that you've gotten bored of me,” you confessed with a voice barely above a whisper but your boyfriend was capable of hearing it.

he wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head softly and rubbing your back “i'm sorry too, love, but hey, all couples fight, right? besides, now we can tell how was our very first fight to our grandchildren” he joked, making you chuckle “and you know i will never get bored of you, you're my soulmate, my other half.”

© HRTBEOMI 2024

[temilyrights]

43) “god you’re so emotionally constipated.” for Emily x Reader please.

history smothers us

emily prentiss x gn!reader

summary: years of unspoken words and misconceptions threaten to destroy what remains of a once close relationship. you couldn't imagine your life without emily. now you look at her and feel every part of the ocean that destroyed you both. featuring prompt "god you're so emotionally consitpated" from my prompt list.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: angst with a happy ending. mention of blood. no use of y/n. set in season 12. unit chief prentiss.

a/n: thank you so much for the request <3 sorry it took me a while I struggled to find the right idea. I imagine this wasn't what you had in mind but I do hope you enjoy it anyway. also side note: i've deleted my taglist, i'm restarting because it was years old so if anyone would like be re-tagged or anyone new would like to be added pls lmk!

The police lights flash in the midnight sky. Agents and local police spread across the farmhouse. And you, sitting in the back of an ambulance, blood dripping down the side of your head, the beginnings of a headache making itself known.  

The bright torch shining in your eyes makes you wince, but the EMT clears you of a concussion and hands you pain meds to swallow. You drag your hand through your hair, a frustrated sigh leaving your lips. 

The unsub had come out of nowhere and whacked you over the head with a metal pole, and he probably would’ve done a lot more if it wasn’t for Tara being two steps behind you. 

Honestly, you were fine. A little banged up, with a nasty bruise already forming, but the blood had been wiped away and it was almost like it had never happened.

Well, apart from the very angry Unit Chief Prentiss stalking towards you. 

You wish this was an unfamiliar sight, but god she’d been back months now and you don’t think her smile had been pointed in your direction once. 

“What were you thinking?” She scolds, voice sharp and eyes narrowed. You don’t miss the shaking of her hands as she holds them tightly on her hips or the rising flush of her cheeks, both she would blame on the cold but you knew they were born out of concern, not that she’d ever admit it. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realise the FBI now required its agents to have the abilities to see through walls.” You roll your eyes, the half-joke an attempt to fix her glare, but you know even as the words pass your lips it’s futile. Your shoulders slump, already too tired for the fight ahead,  “He came out of nowhere, Prentiss.” 

Her lips purse, “They require you to be able to clear a room. It seems you might need a refresher course. Maybe until you can be trusted and I deem you requalified it’s best you stay back in quantico.” 

“What?” You ask incredulously. Of all the dumb things- “Let me get this straight, you’re benching me over nothing? Tara was through that door seconds later. I wasn’t defying your orders. You have no reason to do this!”

“I want you to redo your basic training so I know you can be trusted in the field.” She demands, stoic, serious, and so far away from the soft woman you used to be able to reach out to. 

You laugh, but the noise is sad and wild. You shake your head in disbelief, watching the woman in front of you that years ago used to be the person you were closest to in the world. Now you stare at her and feel every part of the ocean that destroyed you both. “God, you’re so emotionally constipated.” 

“Excuse me?” 

You push yourself off the end of the ambulance, bringing yourself to your full height and meeting her gaze. You knew the day she accepted the unit chief position this wouldn’t end well, there was too much history, too much the two of you had left unsaid, hurt and anger smothering any possible relationship left. 

“Let’s not pretend this has anything to do with my performance.” You begin, words low enough that if she didn’t listen the words threatened to disappear with the wind, “It’s because I got hurt and you’d rather damage my career and ruin the tatters of our relationship than admit that me getting hurt scared you.” 

Emily steps backwards, face stricken. Her hands fall from her hips, her mouth opening and closing as she struggles for words. 

You decide there’s nothing left she can say. You excuse yourself and grab a lift with Luke, happy to leave the crime scene and your boss behind. After everyone’s finished at the farmhouse and packed up at the police station it’s nearing two am and everyone is ordered back to the hotel to catch a few hours of sleep before the flight in the morning. 

Your feet are dragging by the time you make it to your room. The meds have done their job though and your headache had faded away, but nothing but sleep was going to help your heavy and aching bones. You wave a tired goodbye to Tara, who unlike Emily had no issues checking in and making sure you were okay, and then retreat to your room. 

You slump into the chair at the desk, telling yourself you’ll find the energy to get ready for bed in one minute. But so thankful to finally be off your feet. Your reprieve lasts only minutes before a knock sounds at your door. A withered sigh leaves your lips and you consider ignoring it but still find yourself pushing yourself upright and making your way back to the door. 

When you open it, you wish you’d listened to your thoughts. 

“Hi?” You say hesitantly, staring into the tired face of Emily Prentiss. There’s no anger, her shoulders are almost slumped, defeated maybe? You look away, too scared to analyse further. 

“Can I come in?” 

You open the door further allowing her entrance. She smiles, tight lipped at you, nodding her thanks. You close the door and wait for her to speak, pondering how in the hell you both got to awkward silences and forced tight lipped smiles when years ago you two could share looks across the room and know what the other was thinking, spent hours talking and laughing together, how you had built a life and never thought there would be a day that she wasn’t in it with you. 

“We can’t go on like this.” She starts eyes meeting yours before flickering away, “Things between us have not been right since I returned and I think maybe we should clear the air. I want to be the Unit Chief, I want to be back here at Quantico but that only works if we can be a team.” 

You scoff. It slips from your mouth, uncontrolled and harsh. Emily’s gaze snaps to yours, her surprise at the sound clear. You shake your head, “What is there to say?” Where would we even begin?

“I-” She chokes, blinking as the emotions claw at her throat. “I’m sorry for hurting you.”

Your brows draw in confusion as you shake your head, “What are you talking about?”

“After everything that happened with Doyle-”

Your eyes bulge, “You think I'm still upset about that? God, do you think I’m a monster? You survived. You lived. That’s all that matters.” 

Tears pool in her eyes, but she blinks them away, her gaze shifting to the wall as her fingers pick at a hangnail. She looks back at you, still picking, gaze more open and lost than you’ve seen in a long time. “Then why? I hurt you. I can see it in the way you can barely stand to be around me, like it hurts you to even be in my presence.” 

You blow out a breath, eyes moving around the room before they land back on her and then away again. “It’s not your fault.” You breathe, emotions lodged in your throat and heart beating wildly against your chest as you try and force the words out. “You didn’t hurt me, I hurt myself. There was never going to be a life I led that you weren’t right with me, you know?” You laugh, wet and broken. 

Emily’s mouth falls open, her eyes emotional pits that you don’t dare hold. 

“And then you left for London and I couldn’t exactly be upset because I had no say in what you did with your life. We were just friends. I knew it’s what you needed and I don’t resent you for that. I just…” You take a breath, “I was so angry at myself for missing you, for thinking that I could be someone you would stay for.”

And there it was. The truth. Because at the end of the day, you’ve always just wanted to be enough for the woman in front of you. For her to see you as more than just your friend. To one day have your feelings returned. 

She’d left and you’d both been busy and you’d deliberately tried to separate yourself as well, drawing back from the painful reminder that you weren’t enough. And since her return, all those emotions have been resurfacing, however much you tried to keep them buried. Because falling out of love with Emily Prentiss was just not something you were capable of, and you’ve spent years trying too. 

Emily approaches you, the space between you closing ever so slightly. Your gaze sticks to the ground, scared to see the easy to read emotions across her face. She takes a breath, the sound muffled by the beating of your heart.

“After I came back from Paris, I used to find myself looking at you and knowing I couldn’t be that woman you remembered, the one you sought for. I wanted to. Desperately.” Her voice hitches, and then lowers to a hoarse whisper, “I wanted to be the woman you fell for.” 

Your eyes finally rise, against your will. Tears make their way in delicate paths down her cheeks, she looks every bit as lost as you feel. The only thing stopping you from falling apart is the fear that if you let go you may never recover. 

“I didn’t need you to be anyone. I just wanted you to be yourself. I wanted you to trust me.” You respond gently.

She shakes her head, “No, everyone was looking for that version of me that I couldn’t grasp onto.”

“Emily,” You sigh painfully. Her face crumples, eyes squeezing shut at the sound of her name from your lips. It’s been so long, you know. “You were healing from a trauma. I’ve always wanted the authentic you, whatever that includes. Why would that suddenly change?” 

She nods, a deep frown on her face as she accepts your words. Then a wet laugh, as she wipes away her tears. “I’ve missed you. Every day. I hate being in the same room as you and it being awkward. I used to be able to look at you and know what you’re thinking. I want that back.” 

A small smile curves your lips, “Me too, more than anything.” 

“Yeah?” She questions. Her teeth run across her lip, as she dares to hope. “You think we could get back there?” 

Your heart hammers. “I just need you to be really clear here. What exactly are we getting back to?” 

She steps forward, finally close enough to touch. Her hand hesitantly reaches out and touches yours, her cold fingers intertwining with your warm ones. Your body remembers her touch, relaxes and leans into it automatically. You eat it hungrily, tracking the movement before your eyes rise to meet hers and find soft, open eyes watching you. “I want to make you fall in love with me again.”

Your breath catches in your throat, tears pooling in your eyes as your hand shakes in hers.

“And this time, I promise, I’ll be there to catch you.” 

“We might have a slight problem with that plan.” You laugh, trying your hardest not to sob.

She frowns, nose wrinkling in the way you adore. “What’s that?” 

“It’s pretty difficult to re-fall in love when I never stopped loving you in the first place.” You huff, and Emily laughs, rich and free and bright. Her face joyful and happy, and with the wide bright smile you’ve waited months to feel pointed in your direction. God the sight makes your head spin.

“Is that so?” She asks, hand moving up to cup your cheek, eyes full of love and pointed at you. 

You can only nod, dizzy from her attention and the emotions coursing through your body. 

When her lips find yours it feels like finally coming home. Soft and delicate, both too scared to push too hard, exploring slowing even as her hand holds your cheek and yours fists in her shirt. You’ve waited years for this, and if you get more of these than it will be worth it. Everything is worth it for the feeling of Emily in your arms. 

When she pulls away, it’s too soon. You follow her mouth and she concedes and gives you a couple more slow kisses before she stops herself, resting her forehead against yours.

“I just want to say sorry for earlier.” She whispers into the safe space you’ve built. “You were right, I was scared when you got hurt. Dave’s already kicked my ass for my response, you won’t receive any disciplinary action.”

You nod slightly, her forehead moving against yours, “Thank you.” 

“It won’t happen again.” She promises, sealing the words with a kiss to your lips. 

“I know.” You kiss her again, but this time you break out into a yawn midway through. Your momentarily forgotten exhaustion, making itself known. 

She melts against you, caressing your cheek. “Oh, you need to sleep. We can talk more tomorrow. I’m taking you out for dinner.” 

You bite your lip to hide the smile threatening to take over your face, “A date?” 

She chuckles, rolling her eyes. “Yes, a date. But only if you sleep first.” 

“Your wish is my command.” You can’t stop the grin from taking over your face anymore. You press a peck to her lips and lead her back towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow.” She agrees, eyes fluttering over your face as if she’s committing every aspect to memory. “Sleep well.” 

“You too.” 

She presses one last kiss to your lips before she opens the door and makes her exit. You close the door quietly behind her, sinking back into it and allowing the giggle to finally escape your mouth.

What the fuck had just happened. 

Emily Prentiss kissed you. 

Emily Prentiss has feelings for you. 

You weren’t alone.

You bite your lip and push off the door, finally ready to get ready for bed and praying come morning that this would still be your reality.

taglist: @aburman03

[sweetfcwn]

I think I would cry actual tears of happiness for a Will fic. I’ve tried to get back into the writing game but am about ready to delete mine 🥲 absolutely living for any sort of friends to lovers vibes!!

quiet shifts - willne.

i get how you feel!! writers block and lack of motivation is a pain in the arse. but i LOVED your will fic!!! i've never written for him before so i don't think i've quite got his characterisation right yet - let me know what you think!

you and will met years ago, back in school, through mutual friends. at first, it was just casual—the kind of friendship that forms over shared lunch periods and awkward group projects. but somewhere along the way, things just… clicked. you both liked the same music, had the same sarcastic sense of humor, and somehow ended up on the same wavelength even when no one else did. it was easy, natural. no effort, no force. just the kind of friendship that felt like it was always meant to happen.

now, it's years later. you’re both older, busier, but still somehow managing to stay in each other’s lives. even though you’ve both taken different paths, when you meet up, it’s like no time has passed. the inside jokes are still there, the easy silences, the unspoken understanding.

tonight, it’s just the two of you again. you’re sitting on the couch in his living room, a quiet evening after a busy week, and you’re not really sure how you ended up here—on his couch, with him, talking about everything and nothing. but it feels like this is exactly where you're supposed to be.

“do you ever feel like… life’s just sort of moving too fast?” will asks, breaking the comfortable silence. he’s leaning back, arms stretched across the back of the couch, eyes on the ceiling like he’s thinking hard about something.

you glance over at him, a little surprised by the question. “all the time,” you answer honestly. “sometimes i feel like i blink and everything’s different.”

he nods, his gaze turning towards you. “yeah. i guess it’s weird, though. it doesn’t really feel like we’ve changed, you know? like we’re the same, but also not.”

you don’t have to ask what he means. you feel it too—the way everything seems to be moving forward, but somehow, you and him are stuck in this comfortable space, untouched by time. your friendship has always felt steady, even when the world around you changes. but now, there’s something more to it, something that feels like it’s been there for a while but neither of you have addressed.

you shift slightly on the couch, suddenly aware of how close you are to him. it’s not that the space between you has ever felt awkward, but tonight, for some reason, it feels different.

“yeah,” you say quietly, “it’s like we’ve been stuck in this… in-between place, and i’m not sure if it’s a good thing or not.”

he turns his head towards you, eyes meeting yours, and there’s a pause. for a moment, everything else fades out, like the weight of the world is put on hold just for this moment.

“what if it’s a good thing?” he asks, his voice soft, but there’s something serious in it now. something that wasn’t there before.

you feel a flutter in your chest. you don’t know how to answer, but the words feel like they’re on the tip of your tongue. you’ve always had this unspoken connection, but lately, it’s felt like it’s been moving in a different direction. you’ve been ignoring it, pushing it aside, but now, it’s impossible to ignore.

“maybe it is,” you whisper.

he doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches you as if he’s trying to figure out the right thing to say. the tension between you is quiet but there. like you both know something’s shifted, but neither of you wants to name it just yet. but as he moves slightly closer, your heart skips, and you realize you don’t need words to understand what’s happening.

he reaches for your hand, his fingers brushing lightly against yours, and it’s such a simple thing, but it sends something through you. you don’t pull away. you don’t want to. instead, you let your fingers intertwine with his, the connection between you both feeling more electric than it ever has before.

“you know,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over your hand, “i think I’ve been thinking about this for a while.”

“about what?” you ask, your voice quieter than usual. the air feels thick, full of unspoken words and things left unsaid.

“about how… maybe we’re meant to be more than this,” he says, his voice still low but clear. “more than just friends.”

your heart pounds in your chest. for a moment, you don’t say anything. the words feel right, but there’s a hesitation, an uncertainty that comes from years of friendship, of knowing each other so well but not knowing what happens when you cross that line.

but when you look at him, when you see the sincerity in his eyes, the uncertainty melts away. it’s there. you’ve always known it was there, buried under the surface.

“yeah,” you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper, “i think I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

he smiles then, a soft, almost relieved smile, and there’s something in his expression that makes you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. no grand gestures, no rush—just the quiet, steady shift of your friendship turning into something new.

without saying another word, he leans in, his lips brushing against your forehead, soft and gentle. and in that moment, you realize it’s not about forcing anything. it’s about letting things fall into place. no pressure, just the feeling that this is the next step in something that’s always been quietly there.

and when you pull back slightly, you smile at him, a slow, content smile. “i think this is the best thing that’s ever happened to us.”

he laughs softly, his thumb brushing over your hand again. “i think so too.”